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Princess

 

 

 

She had become his princess, succumbing to his heart after almost a decade of their dancing.  Her thirtieth birthday was the last she spent as a human. The lines that delicately framed her eyes, the subtle sagging of her breasts, and the aching loneliness between her legs had brought her to him.

 

At first he laughed. Scorned her bold request until the tears had fallen from those emerald jewels he once fancied he could lose himself in. It hadn’t happened. None of his dreams had happened. Never was he acknowledged in front of her friends. Not one thank you ever passed their lips for his constant support. And never, ever was his love for her taken seriously, by her or by them.

 

His heart had given up a few years after she returned from the heavenly dimension. He went away for a time, searching for something else to fulfill him. But nothing could like she did. Not wine, hard liquor, fucking, the sights of his homeland, or even the return to the killing fields. The soul he won for her destroyed his ever being the fearsome creature he had once been. The evil that enticed him was now a source of guilt. The human sacrifice to his new born knowledge was lovingly buried in a church yard cemetery, left to rot while he returned to the source of his purgatory.

 

There was some satisfaction for him when he saw the relief in her eyes upon seeing him again. He returned to her side, never asked where he had gone or what had brought him back, and he never volunteered. She seemed more appreciative this time. She was twenty-five and her friends were moving on. Even Dawn had left her behind so she could study. Something Buffy was never able to return to.

 

The first give was her simple request for him to return home with her. She had a huge house, she explained, that she was living in alone. Why shouldn’t he have somewhere dry and clean to exist? He accepted. It took almost a year of that dance before she opened her bedroom to him again. He learned to live with the half a loaf. It was better than the crumbs of before.

 

The others knew. They just pretended they didn’t. The first love returned when his world fell apart but Buffy sent him away. She couldn’t believe enough to even try. Spike would always be second choice, always the substitute, because he was a loyal dog. Fed, petted, expected to perform but never an equal.

 

The years slipped away in the dance that had become nothing more than mindless steps. A routine established while life beyond them continued to flash by in colorful plumes. He watched the bitterness take root, the depression wrap around her like a dark cloak, and her turn to him more and more. Who else could she expect to stand with her? They had moved on. Married, having children, buying homes, leaving behind the calling she couldn’t. They brought her back because they needed her then discarded her when they didn’t.

 

He never left. His love was spoken to her through touch. Their life inside 1630 Revello Drive was different from their life outside. The truth was carefully hidden. She still had an image to hold onto. Their princess and she wore her crown with contempt. She was the almighty Slayer, the sun that they once orbited around, and the friend that changed their lives. Never mind that she had dreams that couldn’t be fulfilled. The loving aunt but never the mother, the sexual toy of a vampire but never anyone’s girlfriend, and no one came to her for advice. She was the single woman in their coupledom kingdom.

 

If only they had asked him. He would have told them to leave it be. He tried to tell them but they wouldn’t listen. He was only the evil bloodsucking demon that had somehow seduced their friend. The party was a surprise. She put on a happy face for them. She showed excitement at the sameness of the presents, weapons, clothes to fight in, things that showed they didn’t see the woman beneath the Slayer.

 

It was that very night that she first asked. He refused, assuming that with time she would regret it. Every so often she would ask again. Once she whispered that the only way it would ever be over was for her to die. He told her Faith was the next in line and she was still alive. She retorted that Faith was unable to assume the calling. Who else was there?

 

He tried to tell her just to leave. He would take her anywhere that she wanted to go. He would give her anything that she wanted. He loved her. A small hand was waved to chase away his words. Then one night everything changed. She sent him to patrol alone, saying she didn’t feel well. She had cramps. He went needing time away from her, from the whining, from the cloud that hung around her. He lost himself in the violence and it was nearly dawn when he returned.

 

The stench of blood reached him even on the sidewalk. Fear clutched at him but as he tore into the house, he could still hear her heartbeat. The bathroom door was locked. He almost wanted to laugh as he kicked it in. Did she really think it would keep him away?

 

Her beauty was still there. Even in the paleness of her death mask, her body stained with the bloody water she lay in, her heart and soul only one step away from returning to the place she still missed. He pulled her from her chosen death bed, his cries unheeded as he begged her to wake up.

 

She had left him with no choice. Her happiness flooded him as she drank from his chest. Intimately she was born to him again. For him. Willow was called and her soul restored even before she woke again. Then he sent them away so he could wait for her alone. Sitting at her bedside, he mourned the girl he had fallen in love with. Never again would she be golden brown from the sun. Never again would she warm him with her body. She was forever altered. No longer the girl they had caged inside a castle of expectations.

 

She had gotten what she wanted. The woman had made a choice, forcing him to follow through. But wasn’t that what he did? He was her protector. Now he was for eternity.

 

He watched as she transformed before him, the demon changing the landscape of the face he adored. It demanded food like any newborn and he led her to his throat. His hands soothed her as she nursed.

 

Words were hard to find. Anger, sadness and despair held him in their grip, but yet there was a relief and an admiration taking hold, too. She stared at him then cupped his cheek. Cuddled together they slept until the phone interrupted them. A new Slayer had been called. The Council was refusing to accept a souled vampire as their champion.

 

Finally she had earned her release. Her requests had been ignored, her pain unheeded, and now only a death they couldn’t force her to return from was the key to her freedom.

 

She smiled at him.

 

“How does Paris sound?” She asked.

 

“Sounds lovely, pet.”

 

He never rose to be her equal. She had lowered herself to be his. It didn’t matter because she was now free to love him with nothing or no one standing between them.

 

~~~The End~~~



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