girlpire | Ficlet: Salvaged

Title: Salvaged
Author: girlpire
Rating: R
Pairing: Spike/Buffy
Disclaimer: This story is based on the "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" series, with which I am not affiliated in any way. Joss Whedon is my master, etc.
Distribution: Please no. kthnxbye. :)
Summary: The first time they take it slow, Buffy cries.
Warnings: Het sex, cunnilingus. (But not graphic.)
Author's Notes: HAPPY BIRTHDAY

elisi!!! I... can't believe I wrote Spuffy. AGAIN. This was inspired by our conversation about Spuffel, and I was originally going to write Spuffel for you, but any Spuffel plot bunnies I have are way too long to sit and write in a couple hours. So you get this instead.
Author's Notes 2: This story is set during season six of BtVS. Should fit into canon.

*

The first time they take it slow, Buffy cries.

It had been a bad day anyway – like all of her days – and when she finally comes home from work, she discovers that they're out of milk. They're also out of bread, eggs, cereal, peanut butter, and anything that can be considered remotely healthy. So she goes to the all-night supermarket to pick up a few things for Dawn to eat besides Doublemeat leftovers, and on the way home she has to take care of two vamps. By the time she's done fighting them, all of her purchases are strewn down the sidewalk for almost an entire block, and the loaf of bread is lying in a puddle, slowly soaking in old rainwater.

Spike is standing on her front porch smoking a cigarette when she gets home. She shoves her dirty groceries in his arms and unlocks the door, and he follows her inside without comment.

It starts out like usual, the denial, the arguing, the telling him to leave but not really meaning it. He keeps touching her while she's trying to put away the things that can still be salvaged. Standing behind her at the sink while she washes mud off the milk carton, his hands pushing inside her shirt, cupping her breasts while he whispers nasty things in her ear. And it feels wrong, letting him put his hands on her while the lights are on.

Dawn’s staying with a friend so they do it right there in the kitchen; he lifts her onto the counter and stands in front, pushing her knees wide open and bending down to bury his tongue inside her. She hits her head on a cabinet, twists her fingers in his hair, calls out when he makes her come. She’s still wearing her shoes, skirt pushed up, panties looped around one ankle. His fingers go where his mouth just was, pushing inside as he reaches to unbutton his jeans with his other hand. And then she notices the ice cream she bought for Dawn still sitting out on the counter beside her, melting.

She pushes him away, drops down from the counter, straightens her skirt. Kicks the panties off her ankle. You can leave now, she tells him, grabbing the ice cream carton. It squishes in her hand; some of the melted liquid drips out over her fingers. She puts it in the freezer, even though it won’t be good later.

He looks kind of confused. We’re not done yet, he says.

Yes we are. She grabs a paper towel to wipe up the stickiness. Don’t let the door hit your dick, she mutters. Her hands are shaking.

Hey, he says. Takes her by the shoulders. Look at me. You alright?

I’m fine. Leave me alone.

You’re shaking.

What do you care?

Tell me what’s wrong.

Look at this stuff, Spike! It’s all ruined. I ruined it. She sighs. Just go, okay? I need to...

It’s not all ruined, he says. Picks up a plastic packet of Kraft Singles and waves it under her nose. A little water and presto, good as new. The wonders of modern packaging, yeah?

He’s trying to make her feel better. A soulless demon standing in her kitchen, trying to make her feel better. This is what her life is now. She turns her back to him. Please just go away, she says. Doesn’t want him to see her cry. She wipes at a muddy apple with the paper towel.

He doesn’t go away. Puts his hand over her hand. Leave it, he says.

I can’t.

Just leave it, Buffy.

Says the guy who doesn’t actually need food.

He pulls her close as she passes a hand over her eyes, puts his arms around her. She doesn’t fight him. Sometimes it’s easier not to.

You’ll get it later, he says.

She doesn’t say anything, just nods, still trying not to cry.

Come with me. He starts to move toward the kitchen door, but she just stands there, staring at the dirty apples on the counter, at the packet of cheese. So he comes back and lifts her up, and he carries her out.

Spike carries her up the stairs and into her own bedroom. He sets her on the bed, and she doesn’t look at him, doesn’t watch him pull off his t-shirt or his boots. She lets him take her shoes off, but when he reaches for her shirt, she shakes her head.

Lie back, he says, and she does it. He climbs on the bed beside her and starts kissing her neck.

And she lets his hands move over her body, lets him be gentle and slow. They’ve never done it this way before; she didn’t know he knew how. When she closes her eyes and he doesn’t say anything, she thinks for a moment that this is what it might be like if she and Angel were still together, if they’d had the chance to learn each other’s bodies this well, if he could be the one here with her now. The idea makes her heart ache, and she lets herself feel that for a while as she kisses the vampire in her bed, pretending. But when his jeans come down and he enters her, she makes herself open her eyes, makes herself look at him.

He still feels like Angel, though. He still feels like he might love her.

Stop it, she whispers.

He doesn’t. Stop what, luv?

Being something you aren’t. Just stop.

Don’t know what you mean.

When he kisses her again, that’s when she starts to cry. She cries, but she kisses him back. Pulls him closer, tries to pretend again.

Buffy, he says. Shhh. It’s alright.

She nods against his shoulder, sniffing. Holding his cool body to her, letting herself believe what he tells her.

Love you, he says, still moving slowly.

Don’t say that, she answers, letting her eyes fall closed again. Don’t say anything.

*

Page 1 of 2 << [1] [2] >>

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

elisi

Oh God! This is like... *is speechless*

I mean first of all: You wrote me Spuffy!!!!!!!!!

Second: Utterly perfect, gorgeous, heartbreaking Spuffy!

It's late and I'm way too tired to adequately explain my delight, so just believe me when I say that my face can't decide whether to smile because this is wonderful, or sniffle, because it's so beautifully angsty!

Thank you SO much! *lotsofhugs*

From:

open your thighs to fate.

Ficlet: Salvaged

Page Summary

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags