Soft Repose Disclaimer: I do not own these characters with which I play. They belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy and I'm sure UPN doesn't want me fiddling with them either. I promise not to get them too dirty and return them when I'm done in nearly mint condition. Maybe just a little tired and sweaty is all. Ditribution: Maybe. Just drop me an email and reviewing is always nice too. Reviews: YES, GOD, PLEASE! Ooh, did I shout? Dreadfully sorry. It's just a click. Won't hurt a fly. Rating: Nothing too racy yet but it will be NC-17 I'm sure. They all end up that way. Summary: Post 'Two to Go' so Spoilers till the end of season six. S P O I L E R. Spike has his soul and he and Buffy begin having dreams. It's also kind of a songfic as i was inspired to write it tonight as I was watching the Jewel "Break Me" video. (lyrics below). "Break Me" I will meet you In some place Where the light lends itself To soft repose I will let you undress me But I warn you I have thorns Like any rose And you could hurt me With your bare hands You could hurt me With the sharp end Of what you say But I'm lost to you now And there's no Amount of reason That could save me So break me Take me Just let me Feel your arms again Break me I'll let you make me Just let me Feel your love again Feels like being underwater Now that I've let go And lost control Water kisses fill my mouth Water fills my soul So break me Take me Just let me Feel your arms again Break me Make me Just let me Feel your love again Kiss me once Or maybe twice Oh, it never felt so nice So break me Take me Let me Feel your arms again Break me Make me Just let me Feel your arms again Just let me Feel your love again Buffy patrolled through the graveyard. Nothing new. Nothing different. Just a night. Like most other nights. A vamp leaned in the darkness. See? Nothing new. His hand snapped into the light with a light flick of his wrist. He was twirling a yo-yo. You don't always see that. "Ooh, do I get one?" Buffy asked with mock innocence. The vamp laughed. Definitely new. They didn't usually get her jokes. Quips. Whatever. "You should be careful who you play games with, little girl," the vampire said, still idly twirling the bright yellow yo-yo. "Oh, it's you," Buffy said, scrunching her nose. Why hadn't she known? The vampire pushed off the monument and stepped more fully into the gray moonlight. The familiar curl to his lip, the unnatural light blond hair, all just the same. So why did he seem so different. "Yeah. Me. Good ole Spike," he said, stepping closer to her, that panthery prowl in the dip and step of his body. Definitely very familiar. "Well, good," Buffy said because she couldn't think of anything else to say. He'd been gone for a month now and she'd tried not to admit to herself that she missed him. She lost track of her brain for a second as a steamy image of what she really missed jolted through her head. She jerked herself out of it as quickly as she could but his eyes narrowed nonetheless. Sometimes it was like he could read her mind and his....differentness....was throwing her off. He reached out toward her. She didn't pull back. Her lips tightened in denial but she didn't pull back. He ran his hand down her cheek and his face was reverent, as if it was truly the first time. She opened her mouth to deny him. Shut him down. Cold turkey. But her voice came out more tremulous than needed to accomplish the goal. Her voice kind of tripped over the word as she said, "Spike..." "Buffy," he answered. More acknowledged, actually, as his voice came from an equally emotional place in his throat. She opened her mouth again. Cold turkey. Clean break. "I missed you," she said, her face scrunched on the breathless verge of tears. His voice broke on a choked laugh. "As often as I thought of coming back," he paused, looking into her eyes and letting his hand slide up from her cheek to bury a little deeper in her hair, "I hardly imagined you saying that. Although I did imagine a lot of things. Did you?" This was dangerous ground. Buffy knew that. Knew it like she knew she was the Slayer. "I didn't imagine you coming back." That was cold. That was good. And it was true. She'd missed him like an ache in her chest but she'd also thought it best. Kind of pictured him falling off the edge of the world. That would have been best for her. Spike sucked in the tiniest breath, his face closing just a bit. "I told you it was your calling," he said with a twisted smile. "What?" Buffy asked, only half-confused. "Nothing, it doesn't matter anymore," Spike said softly and there was a fierceness in his eyes she'd seen before. So often in those last months. When her need had consumed her. When she'd found her steps veering to his crypt every night just to see that look again as he'd bury himself inside her and....No. She had to stop thinking. Had to stop remembering. Had to convince her feet to step back and take her out of his grip. "Spike," she said again, an ounce of control seeping into her voice. "It doesn't matter because I am back, Buffy," he continued, cutting off the denial he saw forming. "But it's still the same, Spike," she said, reaching up to grab his hand and pull it away from her cheek but only managing to lightly clasp it. "No. It's not," he said and dipped his head as he grasped the nape of her neck and pulled her a little forward. His lips touched hers and she was sunk. She hadn't felt his lips in what felt like too long a time. She kissed him back. Passionately. This was the one place she couldn't quite deny him totally. He pulled her close and her body sang like Jimmy Hendrix's guitar would only sing for Jim. She was intrinsically the slayer when she was in his arms. The power and the thrill of the slayer, the primal force, poured into their lovemaking....wait, no, their sex. Best to always remember, compartmentalize, keep her sanity. And it had been too long. She felt the power like an explosion inside her as she grasped her hands into his clothes. Which were different. Part of the overall differentness about him. He wore a soft gray, long-sleeved shirt that did wonderful things for the blue of his eyes and the lines of his chest. She didn't know why she expected him to be wearing his duster. It was up in her closet. She'd occasionally even taken it out and sniffed it. But only when the house was empty and she was very tired. She pushed back and they tumbled backwards. His arms went around her waist and caught her to him as he fell. The little string of the yo-yo broke and rolled a few yards away. Maybe she hadn't expected them to fall together. Maybe she'd just meant to shove him away. She didn't know anymore as she looked down into his eyes. Maybe he saw the confusion, uncertainty, uncontrolled desire there. Maybe even he knew it wasn't right. Not like this. Either way he just wrapped his arms more tightly around her, guiding her head to cuddle into his shoulder, and they were both content to feel the other's arms again. Buffy closed her eyes. And when she opened them she was hugging a pillow to her chest in her bedroom. The late morning light filtered in slants across the bed and she groaned as the dream lingered around her warm and tingling body. Her closet door was open and her eyes went to it. She couldn't help it. There was his black leather duster nestled among her fashionable, although slightly behind the fashion, clothes. She didn't let her mind drift farther than the duster. Not to wonder where he was, what he was doing, or why she might even remotely care. And definitely not why she desperately wanted to feel his arms again. -->Continue
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters with which I play. They belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy and I'm sure UPN doesn't want me fiddling with them either. I promise not to get them too dirty and return them when I'm done in nearly mint condition. Maybe just a little tired and sweaty is all. Ditribution: Maybe. Just drop me an email and reviewing is always nice too. Reviews: YES, GOD, PLEASE! Ooh, did I shout? Dreadfully sorry. It's just a click. Won't hurt a fly. Rating: Nothing too racy yet but it will be NC-17 I'm sure. They all end up that way. Summary: Post 'Two to Go' so Spoilers till the end of season six. S P O I L E R. Spike has his soul and he and Buffy begin having dreams. It's also kind of a songfic as i was inspired to write it tonight as I was watching the Jewel "Break Me" video. (lyrics below). "Break Me" I will meet you In some place Where the light lends itself To soft repose I will let you undress me But I warn you I have thorns Like any rose And you could hurt me With your bare hands You could hurt me With the sharp end Of what you say But I'm lost to you now And there's no Amount of reason That could save me So break me Take me Just let me Feel your arms again Break me I'll let you make me Just let me Feel your love again Feels like being underwater Now that I've let go And lost control Water kisses fill my mouth Water fills my soul So break me Take me Just let me Feel your arms again Break me Make me Just let me Feel your love again Kiss me once Or maybe twice Oh, it never felt so nice So break me Take me Let me Feel your arms again Break me Make me Just let me Feel your arms again Just let me Feel your love again Buffy patrolled through the graveyard. Nothing new. Nothing different. Just a night. Like most other nights. A vamp leaned in the darkness. See? Nothing new. His hand snapped into the light with a light flick of his wrist. He was twirling a yo-yo. You don't always see that. "Ooh, do I get one?" Buffy asked with mock innocence. The vamp laughed. Definitely new. They didn't usually get her jokes. Quips. Whatever. "You should be careful who you play games with, little girl," the vampire said, still idly twirling the bright yellow yo-yo. "Oh, it's you," Buffy said, scrunching her nose. Why hadn't she known? The vampire pushed off the monument and stepped more fully into the gray moonlight. The familiar curl to his lip, the unnatural light blond hair, all just the same. So why did he seem so different. "Yeah. Me. Good ole Spike," he said, stepping closer to her, that panthery prowl in the dip and step of his body. Definitely very familiar. "Well, good," Buffy said because she couldn't think of anything else to say. He'd been gone for a month now and she'd tried not to admit to herself that she missed him. She lost track of her brain for a second as a steamy image of what she really missed jolted through her head. She jerked herself out of it as quickly as she could but his eyes narrowed nonetheless. Sometimes it was like he could read her mind and his....differentness....was throwing her off. He reached out toward her. She didn't pull back. Her lips tightened in denial but she didn't pull back. He ran his hand down her cheek and his face was reverent, as if it was truly the first time. She opened her mouth to deny him. Shut him down. Cold turkey. But her voice came out more tremulous than needed to accomplish the goal. Her voice kind of tripped over the word as she said, "Spike..." "Buffy," he answered. More acknowledged, actually, as his voice came from an equally emotional place in his throat. She opened her mouth again. Cold turkey. Clean break. "I missed you," she said, her face scrunched on the breathless verge of tears. His voice broke on a choked laugh. "As often as I thought of coming back," he paused, looking into her eyes and letting his hand slide up from her cheek to bury a little deeper in her hair, "I hardly imagined you saying that. Although I did imagine a lot of things. Did you?" This was dangerous ground. Buffy knew that. Knew it like she knew she was the Slayer. "I didn't imagine you coming back." That was cold. That was good. And it was true. She'd missed him like an ache in her chest but she'd also thought it best. Kind of pictured him falling off the edge of the world. That would have been best for her. Spike sucked in the tiniest breath, his face closing just a bit. "I told you it was your calling," he said with a twisted smile. "What?" Buffy asked, only half-confused. "Nothing, it doesn't matter anymore," Spike said softly and there was a fierceness in his eyes she'd seen before. So often in those last months. When her need had consumed her. When she'd found her steps veering to his crypt every night just to see that look again as he'd bury himself inside her and....No. She had to stop thinking. Had to stop remembering. Had to convince her feet to step back and take her out of his grip. "Spike," she said again, an ounce of control seeping into her voice. "It doesn't matter because I am back, Buffy," he continued, cutting off the denial he saw forming. "But it's still the same, Spike," she said, reaching up to grab his hand and pull it away from her cheek but only managing to lightly clasp it. "No. It's not," he said and dipped his head as he grasped the nape of her neck and pulled her a little forward. His lips touched hers and she was sunk. She hadn't felt his lips in what felt like too long a time. She kissed him back. Passionately. This was the one place she couldn't quite deny him totally. He pulled her close and her body sang like Jimmy Hendrix's guitar would only sing for Jim. She was intrinsically the slayer when she was in his arms. The power and the thrill of the slayer, the primal force, poured into their lovemaking....wait, no, their sex. Best to always remember, compartmentalize, keep her sanity. And it had been too long. She felt the power like an explosion inside her as she grasped her hands into his clothes. Which were different. Part of the overall differentness about him. He wore a soft gray, long-sleeved shirt that did wonderful things for the blue of his eyes and the lines of his chest. She didn't know why she expected him to be wearing his duster. It was up in her closet. She'd occasionally even taken it out and sniffed it. But only when the house was empty and she was very tired. She pushed back and they tumbled backwards. His arms went around her waist and caught her to him as he fell. The little string of the yo-yo broke and rolled a few yards away. Maybe she hadn't expected them to fall together. Maybe she'd just meant to shove him away. She didn't know anymore as she looked down into his eyes. Maybe he saw the confusion, uncertainty, uncontrolled desire there. Maybe even he knew it wasn't right. Not like this. Either way he just wrapped his arms more tightly around her, guiding her head to cuddle into his shoulder, and they were both content to feel the other's arms again. Buffy closed her eyes. And when she opened them she was hugging a pillow to her chest in her bedroom. The late morning light filtered in slants across the bed and she groaned as the dream lingered around her warm and tingling body. Her closet door was open and her eyes went to it. She couldn't help it. There was his black leather duster nestled among her fashionable, although slightly behind the fashion, clothes. She didn't let her mind drift farther than the duster. Not to wonder where he was, what he was doing, or why she might even remotely care. And definitely not why she desperately wanted to feel his arms again.