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The Spell	By : Dee12 Category: -Buffy the Vampire Slayer > Het - Male/Female > Buffy/Spike(William) > Buffy/Spike(William) Views: 4028 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Spell
- 1
Disclaimer: If I owned them, Spike and Buffy would be together and happy, surrounded by fifty million snotosedosed kids...okay, really they'd just be together, the kids part is kinda hokey. Since I don't own them, I just dream up stories where they are together and continue to live in my dilluted fantasy until Joss chooses to throw me a bone :D.

It�s amazing, the amount of sleep you can get in a classroom. Sure, in college it�s kind of hard since you don�t have that big desktop to rest your head on, but you learn how to sleep upright. I�ve mastered this technique single handedly.

Usually when I sleep during one of Professor Walsh�s riveting lectures, it�s pretty dreamless, but today I have one of my reoccurring night dreams. The dream goes like this; I�m in my room sitting at the desk surrounded by a mountain of books and papers, slaving over homework, my glasses crooked on my face (I don�t wear glasses but in the dream I have glasses). There�s a knock at the door andive ive a very tired �Come in!� and in walks Parker. I scramble to my feet, trying to pull myself together, you know, straightening out the hair and the clothes. He tells me that I look fine, beautiful in fact, and that he�s here because he can�t stop thinking about me. He realized that he really cares for me and is sorry that he hurt me. At this point, he takes my hand and begs for my forgiveness and wants another chance.

I always wake up after the begging because that�s where Will�s snoring kicks in, and it�s fine. I throw something at her to stop the buzz saw, then I turn over, spend a couple minutes choking back tears, and when I feel like I don�t want to shatter into a million pieces, I go back to sleep.

Today in class, as usual, I wake up after the begging. Only instead of being surrounded by my blankets and sheets, and snoring Willow, I�m surrounded by my many faceless classmates and a Professor who�s shooting daggers at me as she speaks, because this is the third day in a row she�s caught me napping. I dow down at the row in front of me and there�s Parker, pawing all over some brunette. Feeding her the same lines and clever witticisms he fed me. And she�s buying it, exactly like me.

Will, gives me a small smile, the comfort smile, and gestures towards the bit of drool in the corner of my mouth.

After class ends it�s time to waist another meal card in the cafeteria. Oz mentions that the Dingo�s are playing a party tonight at the Lowell e ane and of course Will thinks I should go. I�m not exactly in party mode, but I humor her just to avoid the pouty face. It�s hard to say no to Will�s pouty face, it�s like kryptonite�kryptonite? I�ve been hanging around Xander way too long. The rest of lunch is spent watching Parker and the brunette from class from over the top of Will�s head.

I hate her�no, wait, I hate him. He�s the poop-head as Willow would say. He doesn�t deserve someone like me, I�m much better off, he�s lower than low�

She just kissed him.

I hate her.

The party was pretty uneventful. I stood around, ogled cute guys from afar, stammered all over myself when someone tried to talk to me. It was the usual. I told Willow goodnight "What, you�re leaving? But it�s still early�" and headed back to the dorms.

I called up mom "Hi. No, I�m fine�really. Could I maybe bring over some laundry?" and afterwards, decided to patrol. It�s still a little early but I figured it would be like getting a jumpstart on battling the evil. Giles would be kind of proud if he heard me say that and then he�d get that very British look of disappointment when he�d learn my enthusiasm is out of boredom and loneliness.
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Slaying may sound exciting but really it�s just as boring as watching paint dry. Where did that expression come from anyway? ��as boring as watching paint dry.� Did someone actually have to sit and watch paint dry to find out it�s really boring? Anyway, after a while it becomes sort of like falling off a log (another strange expression). Here�s some evil. Kill the evil. Here�s some evil�

It�s an endless mundane cycle. �As boring as watching paint dry.�

It�s been nearly two hours and nothing. Not one big smelly demon or one vampire. Nothing. Just me, some leaves, a bunch of headstones, and, a traumatized black cat, that was nearly pinned to the ground by a stake. Right now, as I�m sitting on one of the many monuments that in the cemetery, I�m listening to the soft sound my boots make as they thud against the marker. I love these boots, they�re comfortable, safe, reliable, normal�kinda like I thought Parker would be�

And there I go again. I can�t even go five minutes without thinking about Parker.

The Slayer senses kick in, and I notice a thick heavy smell in the air�not really the smelly smell of evil, more like the smell of a being convenient store late at night. A heavy Marlboro smell�

"Oh, bloody hell!"

Great. Spike. My night is complete.

I turn my head, giving my eyes a break from looking at my boots, and I see him. He�s staring dead at me, a cigarette dangling from his lips, and a scowl on his face. Duster, Red shirt, black jeans�does Spike have any other clothes?

"Slayer, don�t you have a hobby or something?" He yells, approaching me quickly. "I can�t go one night without having to see your face."

"Nice to see you too." I deadpan. He eyes me and gives me another smirk before taking a drag off of his cigarette. too too bad lung cancer only affects the living�

"Getting slack on the job, aren�t you?" He scoffs. "Oh, I�m sorry, this must be a union break."

"It�s a slow night." He hasn�t even been standing here five minutes and already he�s annoying the living hell out of me. "Not much evil afoot."

He gasps as if taken aback and gestures towards himself.

Right, Spike�s about as evil these days as Drusilla is sane. "I said evil, not a shell of evil." I smile. Hey, if there�s nothing around to kill, a girl�s got to get her jollies elsewhere, and kick the Spike is damn near my favorite past-time.

He tosses the cigarette to the ground and stamps it out with the tip of his shoe, and manages to scowl at me as he does so. I, wonder if he keeps scowling like that will his face stay that way, like the way it does when you cross your eyes too long? Or maybe that�s just another mom myth.

I jump down from my post and start to head in the other direction. I might as well see if any badies have decided to drop in on the other side of the cemetery.

"Hey, where are you going?" He calls after me. I stop and turn around to face him. He�s still standing back by the monument, his hands now shoved in his pockets. I don�t exactly hide my shock from the question and he shrugs his shoulders.

"It�s been a slow night for me too."

I shake my head at him, turning back around. Strange vampire. Very strange.

I can hear his shoes crunching loudly over the dead leaves and pretty soon he�s fallen in step with me. He�s actually following me. He must be as bored as I am. I turn my head back to scream something smart and witty, and in my attempt to do so, I completely missed that huge hole in the ground. The only �witty� thing to make it out of my mouth is "Shit!"

Freshly dug graves can be a pain in the ass.

I didn�t have to look up to know that he was standing up there on the surface, looking down at me. I could hear him laughing. More like guffawing, complete with snorts and everything. Did I mention how much I hate him?

I might as well climb to my feet. I may not be wearing my most stylish outfit tonight, but grave dirt is just as hard to get out of sweats. I try to stand and just as quick, I�m back on the ground. My ankle�s throbbing. Great, I must have twisted it or something. Perfect end to a perfect night.

"Slayer, are you okay?" He asks. It almost sounds like genuine concern but, maybe, my judgment, is clouded by the blinding pain shooting from my ankle. He extends his arm into the grave. "Here, pet, grab hold."

He pulls me out. I�m immediately back on the ground, grabbing at my ankle and nearly whining like a baby. Slayer strength be damned, when it hurts, it hurts.

"Did you hurt your ankle?" He asks, and I give him the �duh� look. He drops to his knees and grins at me.

"Sorry, stupid question." He says, slowly taking off my boot, and rolling back my pant leg. My ankle looks like it�s swollen to the size of a grapefruit. He grimaces at it and lightly touches it, causing me to wince in pain.

"Oh yeah, baby, I think you�ve got a very bad sprain there." He says but not really to me, it sounded as if it was more directed towards his self and did he just call me baby?

Before I know it, he scoops me up into his arms and starts walking off with me. What the hell does he think he�s doing?

"What the hell are you doing?!"

"I�m taking you to get bandaup.up."

"The hell you are!" I donealleally feel like being carried like some helpless infant and especially by Spike. "Put me down!"

"Fine." Spike says coolly, dumping me right on my feet.

He watches me hobble around in pain, like a moron, before I finally drop to the ground. He stands over me, his hands on his hips. He kind of reminds me of my father standing over me, when I was a little girl, and had done something very dumb. As soon as I�m able to stand without falling back down, I�m staking his ass.

"Are you ready to stop acting like a bitch now?" He asks and I nod stupidly. I have to admit that being carried in his arms was a lot better than hobbling around on that ankle, okay, not *that* much better, but close enough.

He scoops me up again and we continue on, making our way to his crypt. He manages to open the door, even with the bundle of me in his arms, and we walk in. It�s completely dark, but he has no trouble seeing. He gently sits me on top of his sarcophagus and mutters something about getting bandages and lighting candles.

I could hear Spike shuffling his feet and soon the darkness gave way to eerie candlelight. He had really done a lot with the place, a few pieces of furniture here and there, a small TV, and not one unicorn poster in sight. I guess Harmony moved out.

He puts a box of gauze and a ziplock bag full of ice next to me on the coffin. "Give me your leg." He practically commanded. I hate it when someone uses that tone of voice with me. It makes me feel like a kid. I lift my leg up towards him anyway, even though I was tempted not to, and even more tempted to, kick him in the face with it. I figured if I didn�t, he�d toss me right back on my feet and watch me do the dance of pain.

"The swelling is already starting to go down." He mumbles, reaching for the bag of ice, and placing it on my ankle. "Is that better?" He asks, looking at the ankle instead of looking at my face. I nod and give him an �MmmHmmm�.

"Hold this for a sec." I obey, putting my hand on the bag of ice. I watch him as he unravels the gauze and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. This is my mortal enemy, a vampire, who�s wanted to snap my neck and bathe in my blood, and has told me so a million times. Now he�s taking care of me? I guess you could call it that, but saying it in my head only makes me want to laugh harder.

I remove the bag and he wraps my ankle, actually being gentle, being careful not to hurt me. He looks up at me once he�s done and he smiles. It�s not a smirk or a scowl, but an actual smile.

He looks very strange when he smiles. With those mile-high cheekbones, the poufy white hair, and the strange tricks of the candlelight, it gives a small hint into what Victorian Spike must have looked like. Like a poet directly out of my British Literature class.
"There. You should be fine in a few hours but until then you need to stay off of it."

I nod stupidly again. That seems to be my bag for the night, nodding stupidly. I don�t know what else to do. Should I say �thank you�? It feels beyond weird to even think of telling Spike thank-you�

The words manage to tumble clumsily from my lips and he smirks at me. The smirking is back.

"What was that, Slayer? I couldn�t quite hear you? was was grinning from ear to ear now, and he placed his fingers under my chin, lifting up my face to meet his. He even manages to turn a meager �thank-you� into a reason to gloat.

"I said, thank-you, Spike."

He grins. "Alright luv, I�ll put you on the couch and we can watch a little telly."

"Um, did you fall and hit your head?" I ask him, partly out of sarcasm and partly because I think it might be true. Spike and I sitting on a couch, watching �a little telly�? I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing again.

Spike shook his head at me. "Would you rather walk home on that leg or sit here until it gets better, because if you�d rather leave now, I�m more than happy to put you down." He says, grabbing my waist. I wince again. Obviously there�s a big hurt there on my side that I missed earlier, while I was focusing on the searing pain in my ankle.

"Jesus, Slayer." He mumbles, reaching out and poking me in the side with his index finger. I jump again when he pokes me, taking in a sharp breath. Even when I don�t fight anything I get to go home with fresh scars and bruises�

"Don�t stake me for doing this, alright?" He says, placing his fingers on the zipper of my hoodie. "I just want to see how bad you�re hurt." I nod, (typical) as he unzips me, and slides the cotton hoodie off of my shoulders.

He stands there for a moment and I can feel his eyes tracing me. It�s like being under a microscope. I turn my head away from those eyes, the longer I look at them, the more self-conscious I feel�

I hear him clear his throat and then I feel his fingers tracing my side. I jump again. Not so much from the pain this time, but from his cold touch, and the extreme closeness.

"It�s nothing. Just a big bruise, you�ll be fine." He says, looking up at me. He smiles a little, his fingers still, lightly circling the bruise.

I�m starting to get that nervous lump in my throat. I give Spike a weak smile and then I start swallowing like a mad woman, trying to make the lump go away. It�s not working, the lump�s still there, and his fingers are still lightly grazing my side.

My mind�s starting to wander. I had forgotten exactly how cool a vampire�s touch could be. I mean, I don�t really notice when one is smacking me in the face with a fist, at that time, its mainly just another fist hitting my face. But being in close contact of the non-violent kind�it almost burns it�s so cold, if that makes sense. It always made me shiver when Angel would touch me, extreme cold meeting extreme heat. At the time, I figured that was just one of the many affects of Angel on me, but my body�s reacting in the same way to Spike�s fingers�

Neither one of us has said anything in a while. We�re locked in this awkward gaze and his fingers are still touching me. I avert my eyes from his, they�re starting to have weird affects on me, and I focus in on my one boot and my bare foot.

My comfortable, safe, brown boot that reminds me of Parker. The nice guy who opened doors for me, who shared his innermost thoughts and feelings with me on our second date, the guy that was supposed to be my safe �human� boyfriend, the guy that managed to make me feel almost lower than Angel did the day after�

I make some lame comment about staking Spike if I don�t find my other boot, and lie about it being expensive, then he kisses me.

It�s hard and awkward, and I�m not sure if I should even be attempting to kiss back. Our lips are fumbling over each other, as if trying to find their footing, and my Parker boot is banging against the coffin.

He pulls away and I can�t quite read the look on his face. It�s a mixture of confusion and some other thing I can�t put a finger on. He pulls his lips in and looks at me for a second before dipping his head in to kiss me again.

I�ve obviously gone insane.

This second kiss is less awkward and more, sure of itself. It�s slow and gentle. I feel the tip of his cold tongue press against ips ips and I part them, letting it slip in. I try and trick myself into believing that this is Angel that I�m kissing because he has a soul and that makes this okay, but it�s not working. This isn�t Angel, there�s no soul, and it�s not okay.

Spike pulls me closer, deepening the kiss. I seem to have forgotten my need to breathe and I pull away. I�m panting hard, part breathlessness, part arousal, part shock that he kissed me and, part shame that I let him. I mutter something about my ankle feeling good enough to walk on and he nods.

We�re still locked in the same position we�ve been in. Me sitting on top of his coffin and he between my legs, his fingers still grazing over my bare skin. He lowers his lips to my throat and begins to rain soft kisses over it, and I let him. I like the closeness and the cold. I like feeling wanted�

"Harm left me, you know." He says it like an afterthought, between the kisses and nips at my neck. He moves one of his hands and unclasps my bra. Do I want this? Why am I not pushing him away? I *have* gone insane. His lips move from neck and I feel his tongue on my breast. I arch towards him, my fingers now entangled in his hair, holding him closer to me.

He pulls away from me. He�s panting. Spike�s panting. The sight of it makes me want to laugh, and I bite my lip.

"Do, do you want to do this?" He asks. Do I? I still haven�t answered the question in my own mind, but I can feel myself nodding �yes�. My fingers, of their own violation, reach out and unbutton his shirt. He mewls when I run them across his chest, and I shiver and burn from the cold.

His mouth is on mine again, and his hands snake around to the drawstring on my pants. He slides them off and his fingers make their way past my panties. He mutters something against my mouth, as he slides one finger inside. I break the kiss, as breathless as I am, I form enough to ask him what he said.

"Can you be her?" He whispers near my ear. "Harm could never be her�"

I shut my eyes and try to concentrate on the feeling of his finger moving in and out of me. The extreme cold, meeting extreme heat. His words echo inside my mind �Harm could never be her�� and I realize that Parker could never be Angel and neither could Spike for that matter, and I could never be Dru, there are tiny differences between us like hair color, body temperature, and sanity. But, I�m willing to pretend, just like he is with me.

I open my eyes again and I meet his. I smile, I don�t know why I�m smiling�and the words "I can try" fall from my lips.

I wonder what the gang would say if they knew what I was doing�what I was about to do. Willow would "Oh, Buffy�" me to death in her disappointed tone, and Xander would probably faint, then threaten to stake Spike after we revived him, and Giles�oh, Giles would get extremely British with his "Oh dears" and clean his glasses until the lenses cracked.

They never have to know and I�m never going to tell them. But incase the ever find out, I�ll tell them that I was under a spell.
The End
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The Spell