Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Challenge/Prompt: nekid_spike Song Prompt: Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Bad Moon Rising" (one of my favorite oldies!)
Word Count: 1,325
Date Written: 30 May, 2016
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Whedon, not the author, and are used without permission.
She's standing at her window when her enters her room, chewing at her bottom lip. He knows well what that simple gesture means. She's worrying about something. She doesn't look to him as he walks up behind her and wraps his arms around her. Her hands clutch at the arm that brings her lithe shoulders back against his chest. He feels the need therein and gently, reassuringly kisses the back of her blonde head before following her gaze out of her window.
Spike immediately frowns for he sees nothing but yet another night of slayage coming. There's been no news of any new apocalypses, and he's still the baddest thing in this town. He kisses her again and murmurs, "What is it, pet? What's got you worried?" Maybe it's something with one of the new kids, something about which he hasn't heard yet.
She shakes her head. He loves the way her long, blonde hair (she's grown it out again) feels against his arm and cheek, but he can't help worrying still because he knows there's something gnawing at her mind. "I dunno," she finally answers. "I just feel like . . . " She chews her bottom lip again. He'd love to suck her lip into his mouth, but he knows now is not the time. She shrugs. "Like something's coming, I guess."
"Pet," he says gently, "there's always something coming."
"Yeah, but . . . This one's worse. Bigger." She glances at him for reassurance. "Does that make sense? I mean, I don't know why I'm feeling this way, but I am. It's almost like I can feel it on the wind."
He doesn't feel anything new on the wind tonight, but he learned long ago not to doubt her instincts. He nods instead. "You're the Slayer," he says gently. "You get warnings sometimes."
Buffy glances back outside to the settling night. "I just wish I knew what it was."
"Whatever it is, luv," he says, hugging her more tightly and meaning every word, "you'll take it down."
A long moment stretches between them. Normally, silence between them is comfortable, almost reassuring. They don't need words; they don't even need actions sometimes. Once in a while, it's enough for him just to bask in her presence. But tonight, it feels different.
Finally, she looks at him again. Her eyes are so big tonight, and . . . yes, he swallows hard, fearful. She's afraid tonight. He'd love to rip out the throat of whatever's making her afraid, but he can't rip apart something whose existence they haven't even found yet.
"What if I can't?" she whispers, and her words tear immediately at his heart.
He can't stand the thought of her dying ever again. Twice is two times to many for this wonderful girl, for his girl, his mate. His hug turns fierce as he almost growls, "You can. Whatever it is, you'll beat it and send it back to Hell where it belongs."
"But . . . if I can't?" She turns in his arms to face him completely.
"Then I will," he vows.
"And if you can't?"
Suddenly, he needs a smoke, but he won't leave her to light one or light it here in her room. He knows how she feels about his smoking, and he's very well aware of the dangers of second hand smoke in her mortal lungs. He isn't leaving her to smoke. He isn't leaving her for anything.
He doesn't like where this conversation is going, but when she turns to look at him, he sees the truth in her sweet, green eyes. This isn't the first time she's considered these questions. It's only the most recent and the first time since they found each other again that she's dared to talk so openly about her fears with him.
He touches her cheek, strokes his long fingers slowly down her gentle flesh. "I can't imagine anything you can't beat, pet. You've saved the world so many times."
"But one night, Spike, I'm not gonna make it. Something's gotta to be faster, harder, a better fighter -- I'm going to fall, and you might not be able to pick up the pieces this time."
"Sh," he whispers softly, bringing his stroking fingers to a stop over her open lips. "When that time comes, luv," he vows, locking his eyes with hers, "I'm going with you. You fall, I fall." She starts to speak, but he presses his cold, pale fingers harder against her supple lips. "No arguments. I fell in you a long time ago, Slayer, and this time is borrowed. We never know how much time we have, but when yours ends, mine ends. Simple as that."
He waits as she considers her words. He sees the flare in her eyes that means she wants to argue, but then her beautiful face softens as she realizes this is a debate she can't win. She both wants him to survive without her and, he knows, wants him to come with her when she goes. He knows, because he shares the same torn up mess of feelings. He'd surrender his entire existence for her in the breadth of a mortal's single heartbeat. He already has, but at the same time, he doesn't want to think about what might happen if he goes again without her. They're meant to be together, and together they will be, bloody, stupid end of time again or not.
When he finally lifts his fingers from her lips, she's smiling. If a tinge of sadness remains on her lips, he pretends not to notice. "Spike," she shakes her blonde head in hushed amazement, "have I told you tonight I love you?"
"Not yet." He grins, no longer needing that cigarette. "But a bloke likes to hear it."
Her arms slide around his body, and he's suddenly warm. He's only warm when he's with her. This woman -- amazing as she is --, this Slayer -- as kick ass as she is --, completes him. There's no joy or desired survival for him without her. Stepping closer, she breathes against his lips, "I love you," and kisses him deeply.
It's only when she moves from his arms that he feels the wind rising outside. There is a storm brewing, and knowing their luck, it isn't a physical one. She's moved to get her gear as he steps to the window and slams it shut. She looks at him, but this time, she has no questions. She only nods.
He gazes at her for another long moment. He'd love to be able to tell her to stay put tonight, but he knows she'd never listen. Buffy's the most giving woman he's ever known. She'll never shy from a battle or stay home when she thinks she's needed, and she will be needed tonight. They both will.
She looks at him when she's finished arming herself to the teeth. "Ready?"
Ready to lose her? Never. Ready to fight by her side? Hell, yeah. Ready to die beside her, or turn to dust as she dies? Never, but nothing can keep him from her side ever again. "Yeah," he says simply, despite the turmoil of emotions clawing for dominance inside of him. "Ready to follow you anywhere, pet."
She smiles and leads the way. He follows quickly, but as they step into the night and he senses the coming apocalypse again, he murmurs, "Slayer?"
"I love you."
Her smile is brighter than a thousand suns he'll never see. "I love you, too," she answers, and he knows that whatever happens tonight, as long as he stays with her, he's ready. He's complete.
He nods. "Let's do this." But he does light up this time, because if they're going out tonight, what's a little bit of second hand smoke after all?
Her smile doesn't falter. "Yeah," she agrees, and together, they head into the night, the rising wind, and whatever it may bring.