Fic: Retrograde

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Title: Retrograde
Paring: Buffy/Spike
Word Count: 849
Rating: R
Time Frame: Season 6 through “Hells Bells”
A/N: Thanks to obiwahn  for being my second eyes and my beta for this fic. You’re a doll. 

Buffy walked through the silent graveyard in thought, her boots crunching the fallen leaves that littered the beaten pathway. She couldn’t breathe. Every day she made the effort to wake up and pretend. She had to pretend. They would never understand. They didn’t know that everyday felt like hell.

Am I in hell?

They watched her too closely. She could feel their eyes boring into her, silently asking if she was alright. She could see the guilt hidden beneath the surface of their temperate conversations. Buffy wished she could ease their guilt. But she was just as guilty as they were. She couldn’t be what they expected her to be. She wasn’t the same person she was before. She was broken. And they could never know what she was capable of. They would never understand.

They were satisfied with her papery smiles that barely veiled the emptiness in her eyes. Her laughter didn’t quite ring true, but they accepted it because they couldn’t face the truth. Everyone played their part and said the right lines. But everyone was afraid of the truth. Everyone — except Spike. He was the only one who understood. He was the only one she could open herself to.

She hated herself because of it.

He stood outside the entrance of his crypt door, waiting for her. Buffy closed her eyes tightly and sucked in a sharp breath. She could feel the pain slice through her every time she went to him, but she didn’t hesitate as she moved closer, her eyes never leaving his. Spike watched her carefully as she closed the distance between them. He could see the conflict in her eyes. He knew it was costing her to come to him, to be with him. He cared, but he still wanted her anyway he could have her.

Buffy stopped within a few inches from where he stood. As they watched each other silently, neither one spoke. Spike nodded his head slightly and stepped aside to let her in. He knew what she wanted that night. He could see it written all over her face. He would give her whatever she needed.

Buffy moved hesitantly into the dimly lit crypt. A part of her want to run. She closed her eyes as the door shut heavily behind her. She was trapped. Spike watched her expectantly as she turned around to face him. He could feel her throat tighten with unchecked emotion. He knew if he told her how he felt, she’d leave. He wanted all the time he could have with her, even if she wasn’t really with him.

Silently, he moved toward the battered sofa and sat down. Buffy watched him for a few moments before she slid down beside him. She could feel his arms wrap around her tightly as she laid her head against his silent chest.

No heart beat. No soul.

****

Let me love you, Buffy. I can love you.

This wasn’t love. Buffy locked her hands around his wrists and held him down beneath her. Her hips moved furiously, urging him on. Her breaths were shallow as they continued to move against each other. He looked up at her with worshiping eyes. Buffy closed her eyes and moved faster, driving him harder. Her body slapped against his with unchecked force as she rode him. She didn’t want his love. She didn’t want him inside of her masquerading as love.

Spike surged his hips up, forcing her to take more of him. She pushed him back. He touched her gently. She dug her nails into his flesh.

****

Buffy’s hands gripped her stake long after the vampire dusted and blew away. With a tired sigh, she looked down at the hem of her green dress. It clung around her ankles damp from the rain. It was ruined now. She’d never have to wear it again. Buffy stared down at the ruined dress and frowned.

He didn’t say a word. He just stood a few feet away watching her. Buffy lifted her head slowly. They had smiled at each other warmly earlier that day. Anya’s day. Spike gazed at her Anxiously. He knew she’d change her mind. Buffy knew what he wanted. She knew what he expected her to do. They’d fallen into a pattern. She’d leave, he’d let her go, and she’d always come back.

She’d tell herself a thousand times it was over. Each time she meant it. Each time she’d go to him and he’d welcome her back as if she’d never left. Buffy took a hesitant step back before she turned away from him, leaving him behind her.

Spike stood silently after her and watched the distance between them grow.

 

Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/363225.html

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