Be Careful What You
“Spike, no. Please...” Buffy’s voice was weak, her life obviously fading. The vampire frowned, glancing at his arm where he’d used his teeth to open it for her.
“Don’t you want to live? Trying to do you a favor here, you stupid bint.”
“Do you hate me that much?”
Even with his vampire hearing, he barely caught her words. He growled in frustration. If pressed to explain what he was doing, he couldn’t have said for sure. When he’d found the Slayer bleeding out and near death, he hadn’t stopped to question his motives. As soon as he’d heard her heart slowing down, he’d ripped into his wrist and held it out to her. Now she’d made him think.
Did he hate her? Of course he did. Bane of his existence, she was. So why was he trying to save her? Was she right? Was he trying to turn her into one of the very creatures she gave her life fighting because he hated her and thought it would be the ultimate triumph?
Or, perhaps more disturbing, was it because a world without Buffy Summers in it wasn’t worth contemplating? Even a Buffy Summers sharing her undead body with a demon?
Memories of a night spent with a warm, loving Buffy on his lap filled his head. Loud, smacking kisses while everyone was watching; softer, deeper kisses and stolen caresses when their attention was elsewhere. A fight almost to the death in bright sunlight – a fight he was winning until his own inability to curb his mouth gave a beaten slayer the anger she needed to rip the ring off his finger and send him scuttling out of the sunlight. Visions flew through his brain – “No, Spike, it’s going to hurt a lot.” “Hello, Cutie.” “I’m all you’ve got.” “I’d rather be fighting you.” “Mutual.”
Swearing in several languages, and heedless of the blood dripping from his wrist, he kicked the body of the demon Buffy had died fighting until it was only a pulpy mass covered in vamp dust. He dropped to his knees beside her, lowering his face to her bloody neck and licking the blood still oozing slowly. Her heart was barely beating, only the soft whoosh every now and then indicated it hadn’t quite stopped yet. He shivered at the taste of her blood, something he’d smelled before, but never been able to sample.
He raised his face, his lips only inches from hers. Her eyes were open, but he couldn’t tell if she could still see him or not. He brushed his bloody lips across hers, then slowly brought his wrist to her mouth.
“Your decision, Slayer. I won’t force you... but if decide not to join me, I’m going to miss the bloody hell out of you.”
He was sure he imagined the faint twitch of a smile as he waited, bleeding wrist just touching her still-warm lips, for her to make his decision for him.