Chapter 3
The incident with Katrina and Warren, the time shifters, her horrific beating of Spike and Tara’s revelation that she was fundamentally the same person as before . . . all of it blurred together in its terrible remembrance. Buffy had felt like she was grasping at anything and her couplings with Spike had reached an intensity that frightened her. He was bringing her into the dark, but she’d wanted it so much.
In those quiet, shadowed, unholy places, she could put away the troubles of her minimum wage job, her troubled best friend, the bickering of the soon to be wed couple and the terrible parenting job she had done with Dawn. His touch, the feel of his body sliding against hers. The sweat, the friction, everything was intense beyond any sexual encounter she’d ever had before him.
Any time he’d wanted to slow down, to worship her body, to engage in gentle teasing foreplay with soft caresses and murmurs of his love, she’d reacted badly, to put it mildly. Only when he was hard and brutal and dark with her would she allow his attention, or in some cases, demand it. She still remembered the day he told her she was an animal, and her indignation at his statement. But somewhere, after her weeping confession to Tara, she’d known that he was partly right.
She wasn’t a demon. She was still fundamentally Buffy, but Buffy 1.0 and 2.0 had both had a thing for the dark side. Just a little, not a Faithesque fascination, but she did like a little monster in her man. She had liked to see the monster in Spike when they were together. As long as he was the monster and she was an animal, clawing, biting and giving as good as she got, then as real as it felt, as much as it recharged her batteries, it wasn’t permanent. A quick roll in the hay, a series of one night stands, an orgasm friend, to use Anya speak.
But there were times when his kisses would soften, his hands would slow, and he would try to make her look him in the eyes as they shivered and ground their way towards climax. Buffy fought these moments, distracting him by sinking her teeth in his neck, or scoring his flanks with her nails, throwing a little pain in the mix to be sure he didn’t get too lovey dovey. That was her, the hellcat on the Hellmouth in bed.
But her subconscious betrayed her and after those wild rounds, when she was back in her pastel and pretty room, she would find in her dream life that Spike was with her. The same scene would play out again, but so much more. Her heart would clutch as he worshipped her, soft light kisses on her face, covering every inch of her skin, her cheeks, her forehead, her eyelids, the tip of her nose. Gradually working his way to her lips, the usual fierce battle of tongues and teeth instead giving way to languishing soul kisses that lasted forever. And so it would go until she would wake, panting, her heart racing and breaking at the same time for what she could never, ever, have with him. Because he was an evil, undead bloodsucking fiend. Because her friends would mock and ridicule her, under the guise of protecting her. Because, while she knew using him was wrong, sometimes she wondered, deep inside, if what was happening between them was beginning to cross the line and become too real. If maybe, just maybe, what she felt was a little more, and if she just gave it half a chance, she’d know for sure. But that was something she couldn’t do.
Her birthday came and went, with the abortive failure to set her up with Richard, a nice boy, but one that left her cold and unmoved. She couldn’t even bring herself to mildly flirt with him, to turn on the old Buffy charm beyond the usual hostess politeness. Spike lurking in the hallway, trying to seduce her with that horrible reminder of her unfettered anger on his face in the black eye she had given him, had come so close a few times. If it hadn’t been for the Tara interruption and the trapped with a horned, sword-wielding, demon thing, he might have persuaded her and she might have given in to something softer, more loving, allowed herself to be adored and cherished by him. After all, everyone deserves to be adored on their birthday, right? But circumstances had not permitted. After that night, she had avoided him for a few days, as she contemplated what to do. Should she risk opening her heart and letting him end some of the loneliness that was omnipresent these days? Should she let him in? Should she risk feeling more than the exquisite physical sensations he was skilled at wringing from her as they came together? Every time she came close to concluding that life was too short, as she knew from first hand experience, carpe diem, etc., she chickened out, fear of all that could go wrong with such a course of action swamping her into near paralysis.
She couldn’t love Spike, couldn’t have a legitimate relationship with him, because, because, because…so many reasons she could write books about them. The nagging Good Buffy voice would say, Remember Angel, remember how badly that turned out? Pain and heartbreak and angst that made her want to split in two – and that was with the soul. Without, Angelus had brought death and sorrow and nearly the end of the world to her and those she loved. Vampires bad.
Then Shallow Buffy was make a sly comment, like, But they’re so pretty, the line of Aurelius. Maybe it was a family thing, maybe the demon of that line just had exquisite taste, but Angel and Spike, the dark and the light, were both so beautiful.
Bad Buffy would rear her head to agree and chime in, Let yourself have one perfect night with him, just one night where you soak up all that love and adoration you’ve been missing for so long, where you can revel in really feeling more than just the physical. One night won’t change anything if you truly don’t love him, and to feel again, without reservation, that heady tumble where your heart raced and your stomach lurched and you felt the stirrings, the possibilities of love that would last. One night to play with all of that, then, back to the same old, same old. Because, part of touching the fire is more than the physical burn.
Buffy’s inner voices continued to debate the wisdom of this plan as she finally crawled into bed and feel into a deep sleep.
She knew somehow, instinctively, that this was a dream she was in, but not a Slayer dream thankfully for once, just an ordinary dream, but a very vivid one. She could feel the sunlight shining on her shoulders, and see the vivid greens of the forest she was being ridden through. Suddenly, Buffy was aware that she was clutching someone to keep up right on the horse they were riding. Wait, she was on a horse? Huh, this was a new one. She turned her attention to the man she had such a firm grip on and realized he was wearing some sort of armor or mail. A brief moment of panic washed over Buffy at the thought that this was indeed a Slayer dream and somehow the Knights were back and after Dawn.
Her dream self seemed to have no such fears and wrapped her arms more tightly around the man in front of her.
“Are we close?” Dream Buffy asked.
And the voice that responded, not surprising given her pre-bedtime musings, was the deep British tones of her current paramour.
“We’ll be there soon, my lady,” Spike responded.
My lady? Was this Spike? He was prone to the pet names, but she couldn’t recall ever hearing him her call my lady before. But Dream Buffy must not have found it strange, she simply sighed and clutched him more tightly.
A short while later, they reached a small clearing before the entrance to what looked to be a small cave. Dream Spike slid from the horse’s back and turned to face her for the first time. Buffy knew that indeed, despite the armor, the man whose cerulean blue eyes she stared into were her Spike’s eyes. Wait, her Spike? Dream Buffy slid from the horse into his outstretched arms and pressed herself against him.
“Lancelot, will we be discovered, is this safe?”
“My lady Guinevere, we are alone and should be free from prying eyes here.” Dream Spike paused and gazed down at her. “The king is on the hunt today, we have some time before he and the others return.” He pressed a soft kiss on her lips and then continued.
“Guinevere, my love, are you afraid? We can return to the castle and no one will be the wiser.” He gazed at her softly, and Buffy realized he would abandon this little tryst in a heartbeat if she said the word. “My love, you know I am yours, body and soul, forever. I want to be with you, here, today. But if we leave, it changes nothing. I know we were never meant to be. I know you have a special place and calling. I am but your humble servant and you may do with me as you will.”
Dream Buffy blinked and tears threatened to spill.
“Lancelot, are you afraid? The costs are high and you will bear them as much as I, if not more, if we are discovered. I should never have urged you to bring me here. I have no right to ask you to take this risk for a brief moment of pleasure.”
Spike caught Dream Buffy’s chin in his hands.
“Dearest, no, never, to be with you, to hold you and make love to you, even just this once, is worth the price, any price. Once to keep in my memories, no more.”
“Then love me, for I am eternally yours.”
The pair kissed more ardently, and Buffy, in that strange disembodied sensation of dreams, could feel the smoothness of her dream lover’s lips pressed to hers, the beginning of tears as her dream self clung to this man and found something so intense, so spectacular, she’d risk a kingdom for it. And then she woke up.
Buffy looked around the darkened room. It was 5:00AM, she had a few more hours, but sleep wouldn’t come. Maybe the dream was the answer. She needed to feel that kind of emotion that she had channeled in her dream, that incredible passion, to touch the fire again. Maybe the reason she kept running to Spike was because she knew he could give her that kind of flame in spades, in a way no one else could right now. But despite the marathon shagfests they’d had, she hadn’t been allowing any emotional spark. Maybe that was the key to making things better and moving past Spike.
Good Buffy prissed up chanting her usual mantra, Don’t go there. Evil undead, no soul, can’t be trusted, blah blah blah, don’t even think about it.
Bad Buffy recalled the joy and intense emotions of Buffy as Guinevere in the dream and urged just such a sojourn in the land of Spike love to explore these emotions.
Good Buffy retorted that this would be using him and would be wrong.
And then, out of nowhere, came the wild little thought, Make it a game.
Bad Buffy perked up, A game, a role play, Spike will go for that and you can explore the tricky little emotions in a safe way with no real commitment – because its only a game.
Good Buffy still seemed troubled, but acknowledged that if Spike knew they were only playing and willingly agreed, they weren’t really using him, were they? He’d be a willing participant. Buffy mused some more as to how to put such a game in motion as the clock continued to tick toward wake up time. She wasn’t really up on sex games, or how one broached them with someone you were shagging, but not really speaking with regularly.
She had to admit, before Spike, she’d had what could at best be described as a conventional sex life, aside from the fact that Angel had been a vampire. But even then, their time together had been sweet and slow, appropriately gentle for her first time, at least until he woke up.
Riley, bless his heart, had no imagination in that area and she’d been loathe to rock the boat and ask for something new. If she’d had any clue he was sneaking around to vamp whores after finishing with her, she might have gotten creative, but in retrospect, it wouldn’t have been worth the effort. It was far enough in the past for her to acknowledge that she and Riley were never meant to be in a long-term sense. Probably she was never meant to be with anyone in a long term sense, but maybe, for a little while, she could live in a fantasy world and pretend.
The question was, how did one establish the parameters of these games so Spike wouldn’t misinterpret things? This wasn’t really a sex game, she wasn’t going to be asking for bondage etc. But exploring emotions was a whole lot scarier than handcuffs or most of the other kinky things Spike had thrown her way. Could you use safe words to indicate you were feeling too much love?
Should she ask Anya? Of all the Scoobies, she certainly was the most open about sex and relationships, and based on past comments, she and Xander played Shiver Me Timbers and other role playing games on a regular basis. What Buffy wanted to propose to Spike was certainly different than naughty nurse, but maybe if she could bring the subject up, Anya would spill forth tidbits that could be of use – assuming Xander wasn’t around to stop her.
Buffy finally relaxed, content with this new plan, just as the alarm went off.