Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Challenge/Prompt: nekid_spike Moody Weekend: Rebellious and sunnydalescribe DC 2: Belong
Word Count: 1,678
Date Written: 15 August 2018
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Whedon, not the author, and are used without permission.
Buffy woke to find Spike standing at her bedroom window, staring at the darkening night. The day had been rainy, and she had dozed off sometime near sunset, tired from saving the world again the night before and from her job, being the responsible one between herself and her sister, caring for that sister, trying to keep Willow and Xander on the right paths . . . from everything, she thought, stifling a yawn so that Spike wouldn’t know she was awake yet.
She blinked. God, when did she become the responsible one? It seemed just years ago and the night before that she had been pestering Giles to let her off of her Slaying duties so she could go out on a date. With a normal guy. A normal, boring guy, who didn’t look half as good as Spike, or Angel. Yeah, that was some time ago, she thought, slipping off of her bed and padding over to where Spike stood doing what he and Angel both did best, brooding.
“What’s wrong?” she asked softly, touching his leatherclad shoulder and feeling his muscles already tensed beneath her touch.
“I was just thinking,” he muttered.
“Brooding is more like it.”
“Remembering, actually, pet.”
She frowned up at him. “Remembering what?” Remembering being the Big Bad? she thought fearfully. Remembering how people used to cringe at the sound of his name? Remembering how many times he came close to destroying the world? How many millions of lives he took?
“How I used to belong,” he said simply, looking back over his shoulder at the night. “Say what you want about being fanged and everything, but I did belong there. For a time.”
Her hand flattened out on his shoulder. She stroked his leather, and him through it. “You never did belong when you were human,” she spoke quietly, thoughtfully, watching the emotions flicker over his handsome, pale face, “did you?”
He shook his head. “No. The only one who used to have anything at all to do with me was my ol’ Mum.”
She could relate to that. Her mind instantly went to Willow, who had stood out at Sunnydale High when Buffy had first moved to town like a sore thumb. She had been one of those kids who even Buffy would have targetted instantly once upon a time. Xander had also been a geek. He still was. She herself would never have fit in anywhere again if it hadn’t been for the two of them. Yeah, they were all freaks, and they all would have been alone if not for each other. But Spike, from everything he’d told her about his history before he’d been turned, hadn’t even had one friend.
“I rebelled at first, you know,” he reflected aloud, lost in his own thoughts. “I rebelled against me ol’ Mum an’ doing what she wanted me to do. I didn’t want to hear that Cecily was out of my league. That’s just enough to make a lost soul want to go after a girl even harder.” He glanced at her, but the look he gave her made her feel like he’d almost forgotten she was there. “Playing hard to get’s a sure fire way to get the chap interested every time.”
At one time, she would have told him she hadn’t played hard to get, but she didn’t comment tonight. She just let him talk, let him remember, and stood close to him as he mused, her quiet presence a silent offering of her support.
“I rebelled against Dru, too, when she first turned me. It didn’t take me long to want to strike fear into Cecily’s hearts and the hearts of the others who had made fun of me. It’s not easy not using power against someone who’s mistreated you.”
“I know,” Buffy whispered softly. How many times had she wanted to stop a human being from mistreating someone by using her Slayer strength? For that matter, how many times had she wanted to strike Cordelia down when she’d teased her in front of the other students at school? She still remembered almost losing her cool and control on her one time when she made Willow cry. A boy had broken Dawn’s heart just a few weeks ago, and Dawnie had had to talk her down from chasing after him and literally beating sense back into him.
And she was the Slayer. She was born destined to be good. Spike had no such thing to compel him to restrain himself. Vampires were supposed to be evil. It really was no wonder he had killed Cecily and the rest.
“I had fun at first, making her scream, but when I came to, when I realized I had done . . . I hadn’t meant to take it that far. I hadn’t meant to kill her. I tried to rebel against the Demon inside of me, but the power . . . It was intoxicating.”
She nodded wordlessly. She knew too well what he meant. It would be so easy to use her own strength to get everything she wanted. It was a lesson Giles had tried and tried to drill into her, and if it hadn’t been for Faith . . . Buffy bit back a silent shudder. She could have been the one to kill a human. She could have been the Slayer to go dark, to go rogue, to wind up in jail. She could have been the wicked one. She still could. If someone was to do something to Dawn . . . to Willow, to Xander . . .
She blinked back the tears brimming in her green eyes. It was no wonder Willow had come so close to destroying the world when Tara had been killed. Her hand became softer on Spike’s shoulder. She stepped closer to him.
“But what was even more intoxicating,” he continued, “was the feeling that I actually belonged somewhere, with someone. No matter what I did, if it was evil, it was good to them. They goaded me on. They cheered me on. Dru and Darla were always making me feel like one of the team. And I wanted to belong. Eventually, I gave up fighting. I surrendered to my Demon, and it felt so good.”
He blinked, coming back to the present moment and fearing he’d said too much. He shrugged as though he didn’t really care about everything he had just shared with her, about that dark part of his soul he had exposed. “Like I said,” he said, pointedly turning away from the window and the night, “I used to belong.”
“You still do,” she told him. A small grin played at the corners of her mouth. “It’s kinda hard for a Vampire not to belong to the night.”
He looked down at her. Buffy swallowed hard. He was suddenly gazing so deeply into her eyes that she felt as though he was reading her soul, learning secrets about her of which she’d been reminded tonight but had attempted to share with him. She licked her lips, but the feeling of her soul being bared naked before him wouldn’t go away.
Yet Spike wasn’t thinking about her. He wasn’t trying to read her secrets. He was still considering his own self, contemplating how he didn’t really belong to the night any more though he certainly didn’t belong to the day. He helped to save the world far more often these nights than he tried to end it. He no longer took mortal lives, but he would without a second’s hesitation if it meant saving Buffy’s life, or Dawn’s, or perhaps even Red’s. Buffy wasn’t the only one who had grown into a responsible adult. He finally had too, and there was far more things he did these nights that were completely unlike any other Vampire than was like his own kind.
He didn’t belong with them any more. He didn’t belong to the night. But he knew where he did belong. There was one woman who had changed everything about and for him, one woman who meant everything to him, one woman who was the reason why he saved the world, why he fought to protect friends he’d never thought he had, one woman who had helped him come to care for a teenager like she was the little sister he’d never had, one woman who, ultimately, was the one place where he still belonged.
Spike reached out and took Buffy’s hands in his. She swallowed hard again as, still gazing deeply into her green orbs, he lifted her hands and kissed them. “I know where I belong,” he said quietly. “It’s just funny how I had to stop rebelling and then start rebelling all over again.”
He smirked down at her. “I do rebel against my own kind now, Slayer, every night.”
She smiled tremulously. “I . . . guess you do,” she said at length. “But I thought you said you no longer have poetry in you?”
He shrugged. “You bring out everything that’s good in me, luv. I belong with you; I belong to you.”
She searched his eyes and could find only truth and love there, no hidden meanings or doubt whatsoever. “I . . . “ Her voice wavered. She wished she could tell him that she belonged to him too; she wished there was no doubt in her mind or in her heart that she loved this man, this wonderful man he’d fought so hard to become, and had become all for her. But she couldn’t say those words until she was absolutely certain she meant them.
She knew what she could do, though. She smiled up at him. She moved closer to him, standing with him before the night, before their pasts, before their own, private world. She leaned up on her toes and kissed him long and deep, letting her lips and her tongue do the talking. Perhaps she couldn’t tell him yet what he meant to her, but she could show him, and she did with every ounce of her body, her passion, and her strength, all of which Spike took gladly with never a complaint.