xgirlanachronism245x
Cutest Of The Scoobies
Spike's POV
It's just a little insight to how he feels about Buffy coming back from the dead.
He reflects on what he and Buffy know.
Sometimes she screams.
Other times, the rare times when she comes to me of her own volition, she sighs. I think I've started to learn the difference in her moods now. Her moods, they change so quickly. So abruptly, that it is hard to sense them, or make sense of the pattern. But there are signs, and there is a pattern. I know that now.
It surprises me how in tune I've become with her. I can sense the subtle changes in her scent and her disposition. I listen to the faux appreciation in her voice when she talks to them and to the genuine pain that laces her speech when she comes to me. She talks of heaven, and warmth, and of her mother. I understand her. She knows that. I know that.
I never would have thought that I would be the one she comes to for"”well let's call it what it is"”release. That is what this is I know that. It's not love or lust or even like. It's raw, unpolished and unrefined, emancipation. I am liberating her from this life. I began to realize that a few weeks ago. I had run into her during her patrol. She pulled me behind a mausoleum, shoved me into a wall, and had her way with me. She got no resistance from me, and I just watched as she left me there without my release. I will not rob her of her salvation. Not like those friends of hers. I will let her take what she needs from me to manage this burden on her shoulders, and I will not stop her. She knows that. I know that.
She came to me tonight. It was 4 a.m. and she came to me sad, lonely, confused. Broken. She never lets me touch her with kindness when she's like that. She needs her punishment. She needs the rough aggressive element of my touch. I'm the only one who she knows will not coddle her. I will not pity her. Because I love her. She knows that. I know that.
Sometimes, I want so desperately to take her in my arms and kiss the pain away. Really kiss her pain away. I can't. I know that. She'd be gone faster than lightning. She doesn't want that from me. If she wanted that, she'd go to Angel. I know this. So, I give her harsh and demanding. Just how she needs it, just how she wants it. I have to be cruel to be kind. Tonight and every night.
Her eyes connected with mine and something flashed in them. Something almost like understanding. Peace, even. Her orgasm ripped through her body and she screamed and went slack beneath me. I finished seconds behind her. She stayed for a moment longer than usual. She wrapped her arms around me and held me to her while her heartbeat returned to normal.
It didn't last. It never does. She threw me off, dressed, and was gone. Like always.
I know I'm helping her by giving her this. Her friends tore her from heaven, brought her back to hell. They were selfish. I give her something that will make her feel alive again. I'm letting her be herself, the girl behind the slayer. I'm allowing her an escape. She knows that. I know that.
She puts on a face every day. A smile that doesn't reach her eyes. Her eyes that used to be green. They're gray, now. Perpetually gray. I cry for her since she will not allow herself to. I fight so her burden will be less. I offer her this so she will know that there is one person who will do anything for her. I listen to her scream so I will know she's still with me.
She'll come to me tomorrow. I will not turn her away. She knows this.
I just hope that knowledge is enough to save her.
~Fin
Feedback appreciated.
It's just a little insight to how he feels about Buffy coming back from the dead.
He reflects on what he and Buffy know.
Sometimes she screams.
Other times, the rare times when she comes to me of her own volition, she sighs. I think I've started to learn the difference in her moods now. Her moods, they change so quickly. So abruptly, that it is hard to sense them, or make sense of the pattern. But there are signs, and there is a pattern. I know that now.
It surprises me how in tune I've become with her. I can sense the subtle changes in her scent and her disposition. I listen to the faux appreciation in her voice when she talks to them and to the genuine pain that laces her speech when she comes to me. She talks of heaven, and warmth, and of her mother. I understand her. She knows that. I know that.
I never would have thought that I would be the one she comes to for"”well let's call it what it is"”release. That is what this is I know that. It's not love or lust or even like. It's raw, unpolished and unrefined, emancipation. I am liberating her from this life. I began to realize that a few weeks ago. I had run into her during her patrol. She pulled me behind a mausoleum, shoved me into a wall, and had her way with me. She got no resistance from me, and I just watched as she left me there without my release. I will not rob her of her salvation. Not like those friends of hers. I will let her take what she needs from me to manage this burden on her shoulders, and I will not stop her. She knows that. I know that.
She came to me tonight. It was 4 a.m. and she came to me sad, lonely, confused. Broken. She never lets me touch her with kindness when she's like that. She needs her punishment. She needs the rough aggressive element of my touch. I'm the only one who she knows will not coddle her. I will not pity her. Because I love her. She knows that. I know that.
Sometimes, I want so desperately to take her in my arms and kiss the pain away. Really kiss her pain away. I can't. I know that. She'd be gone faster than lightning. She doesn't want that from me. If she wanted that, she'd go to Angel. I know this. So, I give her harsh and demanding. Just how she needs it, just how she wants it. I have to be cruel to be kind. Tonight and every night.
Her eyes connected with mine and something flashed in them. Something almost like understanding. Peace, even. Her orgasm ripped through her body and she screamed and went slack beneath me. I finished seconds behind her. She stayed for a moment longer than usual. She wrapped her arms around me and held me to her while her heartbeat returned to normal.
It didn't last. It never does. She threw me off, dressed, and was gone. Like always.
I know I'm helping her by giving her this. Her friends tore her from heaven, brought her back to hell. They were selfish. I give her something that will make her feel alive again. I'm letting her be herself, the girl behind the slayer. I'm allowing her an escape. She knows that. I know that.
She puts on a face every day. A smile that doesn't reach her eyes. Her eyes that used to be green. They're gray, now. Perpetually gray. I cry for her since she will not allow herself to. I fight so her burden will be less. I offer her this so she will know that there is one person who will do anything for her. I listen to her scream so I will know she's still with me.
She'll come to me tomorrow. I will not turn her away. She knows this.
I just hope that knowledge is enough to save her.
~Fin
Feedback appreciated.