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Scattypaws
bogwitch

Fic: I love her, I hate her (Spike/Buffy)

It's calove's birthday!

Too celebrate, this I offer some fic! I had a rummage through my ideas folder and decided to finish this one off.



I love her, I hate her – Bogwitch
(Season Five, post No Place Like Home? Spike/Buffy. No beta. Spike is still a bit confused by his new feelings toward the Slayer...)



He has a routine.

Sundown and he’s out. First up cigarettes, nicking enough to last the night and the long day after. Hand. Pocket. Gone. He’s out of the shop before anyone sees and he’s on his way to his next stop.

A few dollars from a swiped wallet buys him enough blood to get by. Picks up some TV snacks too. Strong flavours, dry stuff he can crumble into the blood, whatever he fancies. Dumps it home before heading back out with more important objectives.

He tries the Bronze first or the parties around the college campus; anywhere he thinks he might be able to engineer a chance encounter with the Slayer. Finds her at the Magic Box. Waits outside, veiled in shadows, unseen, before following her out on patrol. Stays out of sight. Just watches. Keeps a close eye on her back, clearing out the stragglers just in case. Can’t risk them getting the jump on her. Lets her concentrate on the real monsters because he loves watching her fight.

He admires the easy grace with which she moves, the way her sweetness belies her strength. She’s a ray of deathly sunshine cutting through the night. He wants more than anything to fight her again, to test his strength against hers. Regrets that the damn chip stops him now from giving her a tumble.

Before she turns for home, he’ll reveal himself, casually saying his hello with an acerbic comment or biting insult, conveying ‘I love you’ with his eyes and hoping she’ll notice. The resulting blow to his nose feels like a kiss and he’ll return to the crypt invigorated enough to shag Harmony until she’s tired enough to sleep the sleep of the dead. Then it’s up and out again to take his position under his tree to watch out the night.

He doesn’t know what he’s waiting for, a chance maybe, but he knows he needs to stay close. Can’t help himself. He has to do this. Has to be near her. Cannot bear to be away from her for a second, even if the moans from her room cut him to the quick. By his tree he can hear everything that goes on in that front bedroom. For better or worse. He squeezes his eyes shut, tuning out everything but the sounds coming from above. He tries to imagine that it's him up there in her bed, making her pulse race, making her skin tingle from his touches, but the deep animal grunts the young soldier is making make it hard to hold on to the fantasy.

Too many long nights he’s spent like this, thoughts full of envy and tenderness, his love unrequited, and it is all the worse since he already knows how her glossy lips feel on his mouth. Jealousy turns over and over in his head until he can’t think of anything else. He makes countless plans, detailed campaigns of how he’ll woo her, to make her see that she needs him as much as he’s beginning to need her. Plans he knows he’ll never act upon, where he grabs her and demands that she see the love that he feels, and she always does because they’re connected somehow, twisted together by all this love and hate that they can’t help generating. Then there’s the slow way, where her love grows as time goes on. The furtive glances across the cemetery that acknowledge their attraction and lead to something more. He imagines kissing her again, making love to her in his mind, pressing her to the bed as their mouths fuse in lust. He wants to make her feel as magnificent as she really is.

Many hours, many cigarettes later and he hasn’t seen anything, but he listens to the even breathing of her sleep and he’s happy just to know that she’s safe. He tries to pretend that it’s only one set of soft, sleepy breaths he hears.

He doesn’t know what he’s going to do. He might be dead, but his romantic heart isn’t; yet he’s never been good at courting the women he wants. Buffy is a modern, living girl and the gaudy things that had kept Dru so sweet, aren’t what she needs. She already has a boyfriend, a lunk that can walk with her in the daylight and share her world in the sun. A heart beats as surely beneath that broad chest as his own does not. What could a vampire have to offer except a tattered crypt and the whole of his universe? It’s one thing to play out those scenarios in his head, another to face the reality of this. She’s a Slayer, he’s a vampire, and it’s wrong, wrong, wrong for him to feel like this on so many levels. But he’s crossed that line between love and hate and it’s a lonely place.

He shuffles, eventually stubbing out his spent cigarette. He doesn’t know what he’s doing here – as if he had a bloody hope anyway. It’s more than time he sorted his thoughts out. I love her, I hate her, he thinks in turns and he doesn’t know from one moment to the next which one he’d choose. Knows he’s fucked either way.

He’d give up, let the love hollow him out from the inside alone, but he’s not like that. It doesn’t matter that it’s a hopeless cause. Those feelings don’t go away even when he runs through all the things that annoy him about her. Funny how they can also charm him so sweetly. There’s no point denying the way he feels when she looks his way, even if it’s with contempt, because if he can’t have her love then he’ll take the passion in her punches instead.

He doesn’t have a bloody clue anymore.

It’s hopeless. He turns to leave. Bugger this. Then he remembers the flick of her hair that captivates him so, and he leans back again against the solid trunk of the tree and starts another cigarette.

There’s still a few hours until sunrise. There’s always a chance.


The End


Right, back to work on my seasonal_spuffy. So nearly finished!

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Awwwwwkk! That was such a lovely pick-me up.


I wouldn't have thought an exploration of the churning mix of love, hate and jealousy was a pick-me-up, but thanks! :D

What can I say, coffee just does not cut it some days:)

I'll have to remember that.

Lovely. You're using your new writing style. Short, punchy sentences suit you and this ficlet. It captures all the ping-pong ambivalence Spike's feeling. Does this mean you're cured of the sentence that goes on forever, now?

I love how you've underlined Buffy's fear that punching Spike is like Third Base.

Just one thing to corect -
He admires 'the' missing from here easy grace with which she moves, the way her sweetness belies her strength.

Fixed!

>>Does this mean you're cured of the sentence that goes on forever, now?

Um. Probably not.Because a lot of this is actually quite old. Shh! I think it looks different because I don't often use the present tense. It does lend itself to getting under the skin of a character though.

Oh, wow. Fabulous! Completely fabulous. I love this Spike and his musing and plans and wishes and about-turns. Bless him - he's adorable and totally perfect.

I love the style (as you know!) and that even in this shorter sharper prose you fit in the descriptive "a ray of deathly sunshine cutting through the night." Lovely.

Thank you so much for this. I'll cherish it always :)

((hugs the wonderful fic))

PS I haven't forgotten the ss entry - just short on time to give it the attention it deserves. Nearly finished, huh? Haven't even started mine... *frets*

No problem. Happy Birthday.

Our boy is very confused and conflicted, poor thing.

It wouldn't be me without some description, would it?

As for the ss thing, no worries. I've written another part which I'm polishing up and added more here and there. Still lacking ideas? or is life too hectic.


Poor, poor boy. :loves him: :loves you:

Beautiful and sad.


Thanks, I always think that pre-soul, he should be written with a good dollop of hate too.

Poor Spike, you catch his complete obsession so well.

Kind of been there, I know how it feels. :S

Ahem. I seem to recall someone doubting when they were complimented on their particular ability to capture a character's ambivalence. ::whistles innocently::

I really enjoyed this. Love the way you show Spike caught between pessimism and hope. I also like that you leave the story where you do at the end, without forcing an external resolution on it. That image of Spike at the end, hoping in the face of every rational argument against it, so alone and caught between worlds, is quite moving.

Er. Depends on the fic, I suppose.

I love all the conflict in him at this time. He's caught in such a nasty trap. I identify with him very much at this point.

Loved it, very much!
Wonderful exploration of Spike's insights at that time of his journey, between longing and hope, vulnerability and cockiness.
Buffy begins to be the center of his world..

Before she turns for home, he’ll reveal himself, casually saying his hello with an acerbic comment or biting insult, conveying ‘I love you’ with his eyes and hoping she’ll notice.
Won't forget his gorgeous eyes filled with adoration and expectation.

-Congrats on your awards won at VKA !

Thank you. Spike at this point has all these feelings, but not the first clue what to do about them.

>>Congrats on your awards won at VKA!

Thanks again. I had good week. I won two at Love's Last Glimpse as well. I meant to do a post about it, but I couldn't work out what to say.


Excellent S5 BtVS Spike. He hasn't a clue what to do...

Thanks.

I think his plan is to hang about a bit and pull her hair.

Ah! You pack a mean punch in a couple of paragraphs. The sparser style and use of the present tense work to give this piece a sense of perfect immediacy, and cobey the inner confusion of the character very well. Makes me remember why I felt for Obsesso!Spike so much when this whole BtVS-thing started for me.

I have another fic coming up that's in a similar style, but way meaner.

>>Makes me remember why I felt for Obsesso!Spike so much when this whole BtVS-thing started for me.

Oh god, yes.

That's our Spike all right. Poor boy. Spike liked being a vampire, believed it was something meant to be. Giving it up, even with the chip, wasn't easy and he waffled. That's what made him such a wonderful character, and you've captured that very well here.

I hadn't realized you had written with the shorter style in the past. Did you come to the longer, more involved style later or play with both?

Oh, and congratulations on your award. I hadn't seen the post and I probably won't get too much further on my flist so I better give my congrats now!

I never actually made a post about it. I'm not really into boasting like that. The WIP got Best Saga and WIP at Love's Last Glimpse and The Raven Banner got Best Romance and was Runner Up in the Fluff category.

>>I hadn't realized you had written with the shorter style in the past.Did you come to the longer, more involved style later or play with both?

Um. Neither had I! I suppose that not entirely true. When I went over this today, I did tend to break it up a little more, so I'm still in that mode, but it's not all that different.

Btw. I will reply to your email later when I have a bit more time to go over it.

*sigh* I miss Season 5. It was a simpler time - Riley aside.

This was lovely, anyway. And sqee for the seasonal_spuffy fic!

I miss season 5 too, I think it's my favourite seson by a nose.

The ss fic keeps growing, just when I think it's done...

What could a vampire have to offer except a tattered crypt and the whole of his universe? It’s one thing to play out those scenarios in his head, another to face the reality of this. She’s a Slayer, he’s a vampire, and it’s wrong, wrong, wrong for him to feel like this on so many levels. But he’s crossed that line between love and hate and it’s a lonely place. Poor Spikey, he's got it bad and he knows it's never going to make him happy.

I'm not convinced that love has ever equalled happiness for him.

Love it. Season 5 has a unique ambience and you capture it perfectly.

Thanks. i do love season five.

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