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| What I did for Love |
| Spike rolled over and slowly, painfully stretched out his arm; he dazedly watched his hand start to ignite. He pulled it back quickly from the sun’s rays. He looked around wondering where he was and then he remembered. She’d left him there. She’d beaten him and then she’d just walked away as he’d fallen into unconsciousness. He slowly stood up, edged over to a shady spot where the morning’s sun had not penetrated and gingerly felt his battered face, chest and stomach. He was covered with his own dried blood. He looked desperately around for an escape route, but all he could see was a dumpster at the far end of the alley. He limped painfully over to the dumpster, took a quick look around to make sure no one noticed him, lifted the lid and clambered slowly inside, closing the lid behind to encase himself in darkness. The dumpster must have just been emptied. He flicked on his lighter and saw a few cardboard boxes and some old broken toys. "No real garbage, thank goodness, at least I’ll be spared that indignity," he thought. He crawled over and broke down the boxes to create a makeshift bed for himself. Curling up on the boxes, he began the long wait for night. “Well it’s more spacious than a coffin,” he thought dejectedly, “and at least I won’t have to crawl through dirt to get out.” He shifted around, trying to get comfortable and finally realized that there was a lump under his back. He sat up and lifted the cardboard to see what it was. It was an old stuffed rabbit, torn and soiled with much of it’s stuffing fallen out. “What do we have here, a bit of company to see me through the day?” He rearranged his bed and lay down again with the rabbit pressed to his face as a pillow. “She was very bad last night, Fred,” he spoke to the rabbit, whom he’d christened Fred. “I can forgive her just about everything, don’t mind being hit, being the brunt of her anger, her cruel words. But just bloody leaving me like that, just don’t think I’ll ever, ever get over it. I did it for her Fred, I did it for love.” He drifted off into sleep, his body knowing that sleep was the best healer. For several hours he lay completely immobile as his demon spirit worked to regenerate his physical body. But there was nothing that would heal his mind. He woke to the sound of her voice calling his name. He could see through the crack in the dumpster lid that it was nighttime, safe and dark. “Spike! Spike! Oh my god! Where are you?” She cried.. He raised the lid of the dumpster slightly and watched her search the ground with a flashlight. “Looking for ashes, pet?” he called out. She turned around suddenly at the sound of his voice. “Spike, oh thank god, you’re safe.” She came over and helped him get out of the dumpster. He flinched at her touch. “What were you doing in there?” she asked impatiently and then was suddenly silent at the look on his face. “Fred, I think it’s time we went home.” He clutched the rabbit under his arm, turned his back on Buffy and walked out of the alley, leaving her standing there speechless. He walked out of the alley, through the streets of Sunnydale, through the cemetery back to the beloved safety of his crypt. With each step of that long walk home he’d felt that he let a little piece of his love for her fall away. Each step was a relinquishing of a memory of how she didn’t love him, couldn’t love him, would never love him, each step was a decision to never, ever do for love, what he’d done last night. He propped Fred up on his table and opened the refrigerator to get a quick drink of blood. He raised his cup in a toast to the rabbit, “Fred my man, it’s time to start over.” * * * * * For the next few weeks as Spike’s body healed he avoided any contact with the Slayer. She’d come by his crypt almost every night, pounding on the door, begging to talk with him. He’d sit inside and listen impassively to her cries. He knew that one day she’d just stop and it would be over. He couldn’t feel anything, not anger, nor sadness, just a long black empty, detached and somewhat peaceful feeling. As the days passed his resolve grew. He’d never love her again, never speak or touch her again. It was curious to him that after she’d stopped coming by, as he’d suspected would happen, that he felt nothing. One night he awoke with a strange feeling. He couldn’t figure it out, was it fear? It made him feel slightly giddy and almost alive and he realized in that moment that he’d truly, truly banished her hold over him. He felt free. “So what’s next Fred?” Spike stuffed the rabbit in the pocked of his duster and decided a night at Willie’s bar was in order. “No more Bronze for me, time to socialize with my own kind, my friend.” Spike was dressed in a red silk shirt and a new pair of black jeans that he’d nicked out of the Laundromat. “I feel good.” The walk to Willie’s was uneventful. Willie’s was packed with the usual crowd of demons and vampires. Spike took at table in the corner and scanned the crowd. “Some new faces here, and my, isn’t she luscious,” he thought as he watched the back of a young female vampire dancing suggestively several yards from where he sat. He felt a surge of lust, the first in a long time, stream through him. He started to stand up, when he felt a strong small hand push him back into his chair. “Where do you think you’re going?” He felt a sudden shock at her voice. She grabbed his wrists behind his back and pulled him roughly to his feet, carefully keeping behind him, avoiding his face, his anger. She pulled him back into a darkened corner and turned him to face her. “I have something to say to you. You’re going to hear me out.” She placed her arms on either side of him blocking him against the wall. “Are you crazy?” he muttered, “They’re going to tear you apart if they find you here.” He nodded his head toward the crowded room. “I don’t care,” she said flatly, “I really couldn’t care less, ‘cause you need to hear what I’m going to say.” He felt an uncomfortable, familiar feeling, rising in his chest, in his heart. “Oh, no, please no.” he thought. She moved her hands and placed them on his shoulders, she looked deep into his eyes and said, “Spike I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But if you don’t forgive me, I think I’ll just die.” He was desperate to hang on to his newfound sense of detachment and freedom. He closed his eyes, just didn’t trust himself to look into her eyes. “Spike look at me, please, please I’m begging you.” Her voice began to rise and some of the demons around them began to get curious about their strange scene. “Be quite," he said roughly, "you’re gonna get yourself killed." “I don’t care anymore, do you hear me? Look at me?” Her voice rang through the room. Spike grabbed her to him and started to drag her out the door, covering her face with his duster. When they were safely outside he unleashed his anger on her. “Of all the stupid, human, idiotic, bloody insane things to…” She silenced his tirade by roughly pulling his face down to hers and giving him the deepest of kisses. She wouldn’t stop, she kissed him, pressed her tongue deeply into him, she devoured him with her kiss. She pulled him back into the alley next to Willie’s and pushed him up against the rough brick wall, she molded her body tightly to his, rubbing her breasts her thighs desperately against him. She suddenly pulled back and stood shivering before him. “That was lust Spike,” she said, her voice trembling. She moved slowly back against him, slowly caressed his face, her fingers delicately touching the scars she’d made. She kissed him tenderly, and he could feel her longing, her warmth engulf him. She put her arms around him and cradled his head against her neck, she kissed his hair, his cheek, she placed her soft lips against his ear and whispered, “This is love.” He couldn’t quite remember how they got back to her house. They stripped each other, ripping each other’s clothes off in frenzy. He picked her up and literally threw her on the bed, he covered her quickly with his body, his body which she grasped and caressed in joy, calling his name over and over. He began to thrust into her and then suddenly stopped. She looked up at him in puzzlement, moving her hips in hunger for him to continue. “Ah… Buffy…would really like to hear it again.” He looked down at her with a small smile. She laughed and pulled him down roughly, forcing him to penetrate her, to fill her to her very heart. She wrapped her legs tightly around him, preventing him from pulling back. “I love you Spike, love you and will never push you away or let you out of my sight again.” The next morning he woke in her bed, in her arms, and though she was still sleeping she clasped him strongly, true to her word. He glanced down at the floor and saw Fred, peeking out of the pocket of his crumpled duster. “Never say never, Fred.” Dark Dreams |