Hope Eternal

by SpikesKat

there’s a pain that sleeps inside
it sleeps with just one eye
and awakens the moment that you leave

Spike’s shoulders slumped as the Slayer beat a hasty retreat from his bed. Scrambling to grab her clothes from where they’d been haphazardly tossed in the throes of passion, she quickly slid into pants, shirt, and shoes before fleeing up the ladder that lead to the upper level of the crypt and out into the night. In her haste to escape the scene of another one of her “mistakes,” Spike noticed that she hadn’t even bothered to try and locate her discarded undergarments.

After the first few times of trying to coax her back into bed, with soft touches and even softer words, he’d finally given up. Now, he just let her run. He may be “love’s bitch” but there was only so much pleading he’d do to keep the girl by his side. Besides, he knew she would be back tomorrow. And if not tomorrow, then the next day. Apparently, he - a soulless demon - was the only one capable of making her feel alive. He’d laugh at the irony if it didn’t hurt so bleeding much.

When he’d goaded her into that brawl in the warehouse district, his only thought had been to give her back some of the taunts and humiliation he’d been made to suffer since being “chipped” by the Initiative. After they’d crashed through one of the doors and into an abandoned building, still trading blow for blow, he’d exhilarated in their dance. He would never in his wildest dreams have expected that it would change.

But then, she’d kissed him.

And that had lead to another kiss, and another, until finally she had shoved him up against a wall and jumped him. Literally. Her toned legs had locked around his waist.

Then he’d heard the sound of his zipper lowering. And before he could figure out what was going on, she had his cock out, her knickers pushed out of the way, and she was sliding home. In his century plus of living, he’d never felt anything like it. The way her slayer muscles enveloped him, squeezing him so tight while she lowered herself down on his length. At the time, he’d figured he’d been dreaming, knocked out by one of her punches or something. Then she’d started to move and he knew. Knew it wasn’t a dream.

He was actually making love to the Slayer.

Well he’d tried to anyway. Make love, that is. But, she’d wanted none of that. Just a cold, hard fuck for his girl, thank you very much... or not. She surely hadn’t thanked him. Not the first time. Or the fifth.

The Slayer was too good for that.

And heaven forbid she actually exhibit a bit of tenderness towards him. A soulless demon. Never mind how often he told her that said soulless demon loved her. Never mind how he tried to to show her.

Shoot, did she think he actually liked helping her so-called Scooby friends? Bloody hell no! But, to prove his love, there he was, night after bloody night, attempting to fight their “good fight.”

Anyway, no gentle loving for his slayer. With her, it was all about fists and fangs and claws and teeth. The more it hurt, the bloody better, as far as she was concerned. Like it was his mission to prove that she was in hell or something. And, it wasn’t that he minded so much the rough stuff between the sheets. He was a vampire after all. But, for her to think that was all she was worth...it literally broke his undead heart.

But, he wasn’t going to refuse her request. Couldn’t refuse it, to be honest. After so long spent waiting... waiting for that tiny crumb. He’d be a bloody fool to let the opportunity slip away.

After a time, Spike got out of bed. He located her bra and knickers and hid them in his chest with the others. If she kept this up, she’d soon be all out of undergarments to wear, then she’d have to come back. Turning away from the chest, he moved back to the bed and slid beneath the sheets. He wasn’t tired, but he enjoyed basking in the scent of the Slayer after she had gone. If only to remind himself that she had been there in the first place.

though I try to look away
the pain it still remains
only leaving when you’re next to me

The following night, Spike lay in bed, unmoving, as he heard the crypt door creak open and then close. The Slayer. She’d come back. He heard rustling as she moved across the crypt towards the hole in the floor that lead to the lower level. She was trying to be quiet. Why, Spike wasn’t quite sure. She knew he was able to hear every sound she made, right down to her heartbeat.

Then she was climbing down the ladder. He could hear the whisper of clothes as she peeled them off her body piece by delectable piece. The scent of her arousal had his cock stirring to life as he lay naked underneath the silk sheets. Her softly spoken words caused his eyes to open, pinning her in place with his gaze.

“Tell me you love me,” she demanded softly from the other side of the room.

“I love you.”

“Tell me you want me,” she whispered as she sashayed across the floor, making her way towards the bed.

“I want you.”

Then, Buffy surprised him. She crawled up on the bed, straddling him over the sheet. Leaning down, she ran her lips lightly back and forth over his own. Spike growled low in his chest, but made no move to grab her. He wasn’t sure what had come over the Slayer, but he was loath to break the whatever spell she seemed to be under.

She broke the kiss and Spike waited for the violence that was so much a part of their “dance.” Instead, she just gazed down at him, her hazel eyes shining brightly with unshed tears. He stared back, helpless to look away, wanting to ease whatever it was that seemed to be troubling her.

“Love me,” she whispered. Not a demand. More like a plea.

“Oh... Buffy. I do. I will,” he whispered back. He reached for her, guiding her down and then onto her back, rolling with her so that he loomed over her, his upper body covering her but not crushing as he supported his weight on his elbows. He lowered his head and took her bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling lightly. 

Spike kissed her like he had all the time in the world. Hopefully, he had. He prayed that he did anyway. Right now, the Slayer appeared to have pushed aside all her negative thoughts about what she was doing with him and was just allowing herself to feel, to be loved. By him.

do you know that every time you’re near
everybody else seems far away?
so can you come and make them disappear?
make them disappear and we can stay...

In the afterglow of their lovemaking, Spike held Buffy in his arms. It was the first time she had ever let him hold her afterwards and he wanted to weep tears of joy. Instead, he just held her tightly to him, one hand idly running up and down her arm in a soft caress.

“Stay.”

The word, so softly spoken, left his mouth - too late to be called back. His body tensed and his hand stilled on her arm as he waited for her answer. Mentally, he prepared himself for her rejection. After all, it wasn’t like she hadn’t done it before. Repeatedly. So he waited anxiously, as the agony of silence slowly killed him.

She never answered him verbally. But, he felt her nod against his chest. And just like that, the tension seeped out of his body and he allowed his hand to resume its gentle caress up and down her arm.

For just a short while, they were the only two people on the planet... tucked away as they were in the lower level of Spike’s crypt, sequestered beneath the satin sheets and down comforter that made up his bed. No Watcher. No friends. No job. No worries. Just the two of them, basking in the presence of the other. Exchanging soft touches that neither commented upon. Soft touches that grew into something more. But each time, it was slow, unhurried, with none of the violence that marked their previous encounters.

Finally it was too much and they collapsed back against the pillows. Their bodies too sated for more. They rolled towards each other, slight smiles playing across their lips, eyes shining with new awareness.

Surprisingly, Spike was the first to fall asleep. Lulled by the steady thump thump of Buffy’s beating heart, the heat radiating from her body.

Buffy watched him for a minute, staring wistfully down at sharp features that looked boyish in slumber. Her hand reached out, wanting to feel for herself, before she reluctantly pulled away. If she were to touch him, he would no doubt wake, and she couldn’t bear to see the accusation in his gaze when he saw her get up to leave. But, she needed to get home. Especially before Dawn and the others woke. She wasn’t up for twenty questions just yet... if ever.

With her heart in her throat, Buffy slid out of bed, senses alert for any sign that Spike was waking. Breathing a sigh of relief when he did no more than roll over to occupy the warm spot she’d just vacated. A reluctant smile found its way to her lips. Finally she turned away and donned her clothes, then with on last glance at her forbidden lover, she turned and left Spike’s crypt.

so I stand and look around
distracted by the sounds
of everyone and everything I see

Spike sat at the bar inside the Bronze nursing his beer. It had been a week since he had woken up alone in bed, the Slayer evidently having pulled a runner once again. If it hadn’t been for her scent so prevalent upon the sheets and the single sheet of paper with the words “thank you” written on them, Spike would have thought the entire night had been a dream. 

He took another sip of the beer that had long since gone flat, remembering how he’d dressed and paced the confines of his crypt, waiting for the sun to finally set. Nearly singeing himself as the last rays had dipped beyond the horizon in his haste to be away. He’d gone out hunting. Only, his prey had been elusive, and after traversing his third cemetery for a hint of the Slayer’s scent, he’d come to the conclusion that she hadn’t wanted him to find her.

So, he backed off. Gave her the space she apparently needed.

She’d be back eventually... just like she always was.

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself, as one day turned into two, and then four... until an entire week had gone by. He’d tried looking for her; the third night he’d broken down and tried to find her, haunting every cemetery that Sunnydale boasted. But there’d been no sign of her. No scent of her either.

It was like she’d bloody well disappeared. Even trips to her house produced no results. The Slayer wasn’t home, and neither Red nor the Bit knew where she’d gotten off to.

Buffy was avoiding him.

Which was why he was sitting in the Bronze, drinking horrible, watered-down American beer and praying she would show... so they could finally talk about “that night.” An hour later, he was still nursing the same beer. He refused to drink himself into oblivion by switching to something stronger because she’d so obviously run from him. The bartender had come over at some point, grumbling under his breath about him hording a primo spot at the rather packed bar but refusing to order more than the single beer, but a quick flash of yellow-tinted irises had the man leaving him alone to wallow in his misery in peace.

and I search through every face
without a single trace
of the person, the person that I need

For what seemed like the millionth time that night, Spike gazed out over the crowd of young kids dancing and socializing. Their accelerated heartbeats, along with some of the more amorous ones’ arousal, permeated the air, providing him with a momentary distraction. He thought longingly of days past when he’d show up at “teen central” looking for an easy meal, and an easy lay. Then, he shook his head, remembering. He bagged it now. At first, it had been the chip that required the necessary adjustment in his diet. But, he knew now if he got the thing out tomorrow, he’d probably still bag it.

For her.

Because it would hurt her if he went back to his killing ways.

do you know that every time you’re near
everybody else seems far away? 
so can you come and make them disappear?
make them disappear and we can stay...

He knew the moment the Slayer walked through the front door of the Bronze. Awareness shot through his entire being, making his demon stand up and take notice, as she entered his “comfort zone.” Sights and sounds faded to white noise as he concentrated on her alone. She was by herself, looking like she didn’t particularly want to be there; her mouth had a slight moue of disgust, her brows furrowed as some buzzed teenager nearly bumped into her. She wasn’t wearing her usual “Bronze” attire either. Actually, she looked like she was about to head out for patrol. Long, lean legs were encased in a pair of jeans and sturdy boots covered her feet. She wore an ordinary sweatshirt, the dark color allowing her to easily blend in with the night. Her short hair was pulled back in matching ponytails secured at the nape on either side of her neck. She looked about twelve; he thought she looked bloody gorgeous. 

Then he really took notice of her features. Her face seemed more drawn than normal, as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. And the majority of the times she did. Didn’t she realize that he could help? That he’d do anything for her? If the dark circles under her eyes were any indication, she obviously hadn’t been sleeping much either.

Her eyes scanned the crowd, obviously looking for someone. Jealousy reared its ugly head, and it was all he could do to keep his butt in his seat at the bar, hidden in the shadows. That night – their night – obviously hadn’t meant much to her if she could leave his side and search out his replacement here among the crowd. He watched as she continued to look over the patrons, her gaze pausing over a couple near the back – obviously vampires.  She let out a sigh, not bothering to interrupt their sport, and his eyebrows nearly buried themselves in his hairline. He had half a mind to walk over there and tell her to get on with the business of staking the bastards. But only half a mind. The rest was consumed with watching her... to find out the identity of her secret rendezvous. His jaw clenched, imagining what she’d been up to this past week. Almost missing as her eyes continued their search, her gaze scanning the catwalk, again barely pausing as they lighted on yet another vamp. Then, the corners of her lips turned down and her brow furrowed even deeper.

Spike watched as Buffy, with a look of determination on her face, started making her way deeper into the Bronze. His gaze never left her as she meandered through the club, her stride purposeful, and he silently willed her to break off the search of whoever it was she was determined to find and come towards him instead. He held an unnecessary breath as she appeared to do just that. Her gaze ran down the occupants of the bar before settling on him, still tucked away as he was in the shadows. Like she could actually see him. He could feel his jaw dropping as she quickly wended her way through the crowd to his side.

can you make them disappear? make them disappear...

“Hi,” she greeted softly, now that she was there in front of him, refusing to meet his gaze. Spike was still in awe that it had been him she was actually looking for, so he could barely get out an answering greeting.

She obviously had something to tell him, intent as she’d been on finding him, and knew instinctively that he didn’t want to hear what she had to say. Yet, he stayed where he was, well and truly “Love’s Bitch,” his head cocked slightly to one side, while he waited for her to speak. His fingers picked nervously at the label on the bottle of beer he held. Struggling to keep the yearning he felt for her from showing in his eyes. The hope yet certain devastation he knew he was about to suffer. Unconsciously, he held his breath. Waiting for her stake to find its mark and literally end his existence. Waiting for her to say that their night together, their perfect night, had been a mistake. That it was finally over - she could no longer be with him. 

When he could stand her hemming and hawing no longer, he held up his hand, stopping her before she could let lose with the words that would cripple him.

“No, just... don’t!”

Her mouth hung open for a moment, a flash of hurt stole across her face and quickly disappeared. Her mouth clicked shut.

“Think you’ve made your feelings perfectly clear, Slayer. No need to rub salt in the wound. I’ll just be off,” he practically snarled, surging to his feet and depositing his half-empty bottle on the counter, leaving a stunned Slayer standing by the vacated seat as he quickly made his way to the side exit.

So intent on getting away from there, from her, before he thoroughly disgraced himself, he didn’t hear the Slayer dart after him. Failed to feel her until her hand closed around his upper arm, stopping his departure a few short feet from the exit. Head lowered, he stared fixedly at his boots, his jaw clenched and unclenched as he fought back the angry words on the tip of his tongue; he refused to turn around and look at her. Refused to see the pity, the finality of whatever it was the two of them had had, in her expressive gaze.

Then she uttered the one word that made his poets heart sing. And he twisted abruptly, unsure if he’d heard right.

“Stay.”

Oblivious to anyone else, Spike pulled Buffy to him in a bone-crushing hug. Somewhere in his addled brain, he realized he was probably holding her too tight, but since she was voicing no complaints, he refused to slacken his grip one whit. He didn’t want to take the chance of her changing her mind, or that somehow he was dreaming again.

Then he heard her mumble something against his chest.

Spike.

He reluctantly loosened his hold and waited...

What he saw reflected in her eyes filled him with hope. And as the band continued playing its set and the kids continued to dance, Spike leaned down and kissed her.

The End

**Lyrics by Hoobastank (Disappear)

Want to leave a REVIEW?