Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Character/Pairing: Spike/Buffy, past Angel/Buffy
Challenge/Prompt: nekid_spike A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words: Day 18:
Word Count: 643
Date Written: 22 August 2017
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Whedon, not the author, and are used without permission.
A Slayer’s skin isn’t supposed to keep bruises. She’s supposed to heal swiftly and never leave a scar behind, never leave proof behind of what she does and what she sacrifices every night of her short life to protect the human species. Her body should be flawless, and although Spike’s never seen anything as beautiful as Buffy’s bare body, there’s one tiny flaw left on the side of her neck.
He presses his lips to the mark, trying not to let his jealousy override. He knows her past. He knows she was with his grandsire. He knows she almost couldn’t fight him, wouldn’t have been able to fight him, indeed, if it had only been herself versus Angelus. It had been for the sake of her friends and family that she had fought the monster he’d become. He’d been safe from her wrath for the most part until he’d killed Willow’s fish. Buffy, Spike knows, will always fight for her friends even when she won’t fight for herself.
His tongue flicks out and licks the spot. He feels her tense in his arms. “Spike -- “
“It’s okay, luv,” he says and kisses her again there. They aren’t the same people they were when Angel marked her. She’s grown a lot since she gave her virginity to the other Vampire, and so has he.
“Spike, I just want you to know -- “
He sighs, careful not to let too much of his frustration show, and pulls back to face her. Gazing down into her eyes, he finishes for her, “That he was a big Poof of a mistake?” He realizes, as soon as the words leave his tongue, that that’s not what he should have said.
Anger flashes in Buffy’s green eyes but then cools. She strokes his face. “I know it’s not easy for you,” she tells him.
“You still smell like him,” he grumbles, “there.”
She takes a deep breath before boldly challenging him, “Then make me smell like you. Loving Angel wasn’t a mistake, but he is my past.” She cups his face and holds him still so that she can look directly, solemnly into his eyes. “You are my present and my future.”
Spike grins. “Well, when you put it that way -- “
“I’m saying the truth,” she whispers softly, and he nods. Angel is his past just as Drusilla is his own. They may have been with the right people for them at the time, but they were never destined to be their soul mates. He has found in Buffy, at last, the missing part of his soul. Now he understands why he had never been able to keep it working with Drusilla and why Angel had been cursed.
If they had never let go of the first two, great loves of their lives, they never would have found each other as they have. She might have staked him long ago or proved to be the third Slayer he killed. He brushes the hair away from her face and lets his fingers linger on her smooth cheek. He couldn’t bare to live with himself if he killed her. He knows that now, but he hadn’t known it then.
“Tell me again,” he whispers, threading his fingers up into her blonde hair.
She grins as she tells him, “You are my future.”
His broad, answering grin reveals the tips of his deadly fangs, but he doesn’t feel her cringe with disgust or fear as she used to. “Damn straight,” he snarls and, pulling her head back slightly, buries his fangs into her neck. He’ll never turn her. He’ll never try to change her, not like she did to Angel or Drusilla did to him, for he loves her just the way she is. But this one small mark on her neck . . . This, he will change. After tonight, she’ll never smell like Angel again.