Rating: PG-13 for some slightly bad language. Summary: Spike decides he needs to have his say at the end of Crush. Pairing: B/S Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own all.
Spike was stunned.
He stared at the Summers’ front door with a mixture of sorrow and disbelief etched on his face. She’d dis-invited him, even before he’d completely bollixed it all up with the tazer and chains. Even pre-chip she hadn’t revoked his invitation, so why now? Why now, when she knew without a shadow of doubt that he cared for her?
The pain of her dual rejection was unbearable; first from her heart, and then from her home. Head bowed, he turned away and began to slowly descend the steps, the very picture of a dejected, would-be suitor.
Wait a tick.
He paused on the bottom step, struggling to take deep, calming breaths. He cringed mentally at his whipped puppy attitude.
What the bloody hell am I doin’? Just ‘cause the girl locked me out doesn’t mean I have to act like the brooding, gelled poof!
Whipping around, he glared resentfully at the now forbidden entrance to her house, welcoming the surge of righteous indignation that assailed him.
She’s the one bein’ a right bitch! I’m gonna tell her where she can stick that soddin’ stake of hers!
Knocking on the front door would do no good. She’d just ignore him until Joyce got pissed off at him for all the noise and possibly attracting gawking neighbors.
Tree climbing and bedroom window it was then.
Scaling the tree with the ease of years of practice, Spike peered through the glass to see if the Slayer had made it up to her room yet. Spotting a huddled form in the middle of the bed, he rapped loudly, announcing his presence and startling her.
Buffy jumped from her bed with a look of indignation on her face, stomping her foot in anger. “What the hell do you want, Spike? I thought I made it clear that you aren’t welcome.”
Spike was taken aback by the sight of her wet cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. What possible reason could she have for crying? Got what she wanted, didn’t she? Squashing down his feelings of remorse at being the probable cause of her tears, he drummed his fingers mockingly against the barrier guarding her fortress.
“You might’ve shut me out of your house, pet, but I’m gonna have my say before I go. Might as well just open the bloody window and listen, or I’ll stay perched here playing a nice tune on the glass for you all night.” Spike smirked. “And you know I’ll do it, Slayer.”
“What else could you possibly have to say to me?” Buffy snapped, stalking forward and shoving the window open with enough force to cause a small crack in the glass.
The smirk faded and he glared at her with anger filled eyes. Raising his hand in front of her face, he began to count off his points on his fingers. “One; I tried for weeks to talk to you, but little Miss High and Mighty couldn’t give me the time of day. Two; you completely ignore the fact that I’ve changed for the better, even without the poncy clothes that I wasted good money on! Three; my sire comes back- the woman I loved for more than a century- offerin’ to feed me fresh kills and tend to my needs, but I didn’t take the easy road and go back to bein’ my old self, did I? No, I tricked my dark princess so I could prove my love to you. You mocked what it would’ve meant for me to kill my sire. Not just my sire, but someone I still care for. Four; you acted as if I’d tried torturing you to death instead of spillin’ my soddin’ guts at your feet, telling you things that you can use to do more damage to me than any stake ever could. Five; you shut me outta your house. I’ve had an invite since Angelus and his Acathla shit when I still wanted to kill you, and you bloody well shut me out because I have feelings for you!” He leveled an emphatic finger at her nose. “You’re the twisted nut job outta the two of us, little girl.”
Buffy stood stock still, her mouth gaping open and eyes wide with sudden clarity. What could she say to that? She knew he was right. Hell, she’d known while chained in his crypt that what he’d offered to do was amazing. She’d seen the truth of his loving confession in the swirling intensity of his expressive eyes, but she was the slayer and he a vampire. What good could possibly come from a relationship between the two of them?
Spike’s eyes lit up while watching the emotions play across the Slayer’s face. Something a kin to fear flashed in her eyes as she started to respond and he knew then it was all for show.
“You’re scared,” Spike interrupted before she could speak, his voice an awe filled whisper. “Well, bugger me! You’re afraid of how you feel about me.” A bellow of joyous, relieved laughter broke the silence of the night around them. “I won’t be givin’ up, Slayer, especially not now. I’ll come at you from all sides, showing you what kinda man I can be and lovin’ you so good, those walls you built up will crumble. I’ll never let you go. Never leave. And never try to hurt you. You will be mine.”
A sob broke from Buffy’s throat as she flung herself through the open window, grabbing his duster and attacking his soft, cool lips with her own.
Wanting it to last forever, Spike slowed her frenzied kiss with soft, gliding brushes of his lips across hers. “I love you, Buffy,” he whispered as she pulled back to look at him and took his hand in hers.
“Come in, Spike.”
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