The Bloody Awful Poet

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~ As much as you've burned me, baby I should be ashes by now ~ As I sit here watching her little sister doodling in a notepad and her mother snoozing in my chair, I have to smile a little. Buffy. Came. To. Me. For. Help. Not that it erases how much of a bitch she usually is to me --- but it's nice. I would have said yes even if she hadn't been gazing up at me with those big luminous eyes of hers. It's funny how the urge to pluck her eyes out of their sockets has left me. Now I just want to gaze into them for hours on end. Bloody hell! The wee one just glanced over at me. I guess I said that out loud because her eyebrows are raised and she's got her sister's 'curious' look on her face. "Are you all right?" she asks me. "Fine," I reply and stand up, making my way to where she's sitting to glance down at her notebook. She's writing something about a book she's read. "School report?" She nods and scrawls a couple more lines, then pauses, looking back up at me. "Did you really try to kill Buffy at the high school during parent-teacher night?" Well, that came out of nowhere. I puff up with pride and grin. "I sure did." "Why didn't you?" Dawn closes her folder and crosses her arms, studying me closely. It strikes me that maybe she sees a little more than she lets on. "I didn't have a chance." "That's not the way Buffy tells it." "Your mum interrupted us." I pull a cigarette from my pocket and she makes a sound of disgust so I put it away. "How did Buffy tell it?" "She said you had every chance. She said you were on top of her and could have done it really fast, but you didn't. And she said you could have done it again during Halloween and you faltered. I think that's kinda pathetic." She smirks and so help me, I get an urge to strangle her. I have to clasp my hands together to keep from doing it. "Is that right?" I ask through clenched teeth. She nods again, enthusiastically. "I'm fourteen. I've seen crushes. I've had crushes. You're crushing on my sister and you have been for a long time." Well now I want to kill her slowly, not smash her windpipe. That's too easy. She's going to blab to the Slayer. "That's the most ridiculous thing---" "So, the book of poems that I found in my front yard isn't yours?" She reaches behind her and digs through her backpack. 'You happened to sign every one with your name. 'Spike'. And way cool art to make the 'i' in your name a railroad spike." Holy Shit! She's got my book of poems! The ones I wrote for Buffy! I was wondering where it was. I thought maybe Harmony had stolen it. She flips it open and glances up at me. "Allow me," she says with a grin. "She's little like a midget / A flighted fairy gnome /But she could kick my ass / From Sunnydale to Rome / What is it about her / That fills me up with need / I don't know if I should kiss her / Or hit her until she bleeds." "That could be about anyone!" I growl and lunge for the book. Before I can make it, she's got a crucifix aimed at me and is flipping pages furiously. "Give me that right now, little bit!" I have to say it in a low voice to keep from waking Joyce. And I sound so less than menacing that Dawn doesn't even acknowledge my command. "It could be anyone, huh?" Still holding the cross, she reads another one. "Buffy is the oddest name / Something you'd name a kitten / Now I have her envisioned / With a puffy tail and tiny mittens / I picture her all the time / I like to picture her nude / I'd like to see the real thing / But she has a shitty attitude." Grinning, she wrinkles her nose a little. "You're in lo-o-ove." "Clearly that's lust. Love has nothing to do with it! Now give it here." She flips a few more pages and clears her throat. "I sometimes love the beast in me / When it tells me I should hate you / Because all that I will ever be / Is a thing that cannot take you / I want to be the mortal man / The one who slips inside / Not the monster who lurks in the dark / With everything to hide / I want to be able to admit it / Just say the words out loud / I love you with my undead heart / Even though I'm not allowed." Marking her spot with her fingers, she looks up me. "And the fact that you've scribbled her names in the margin . that's a dead giveaway." "Give me that before I kill you even deader than the old hag in this tomb!" I growl, sitting down angrily on top of the stone slab. "You wouldn't dare. You want to know why? Because any chance you have with her would die right along with me." Huh? "You think I have a chance with her?" "Do you have a penis? Sure you do! Buffy gets around." "Watch your mouth!" I snap. "I've read her diary, okay? Angel, Parker, Riley and-" "Stop right there! I don't want to hear this." Who am I kidding? "Never mind, tell me -- does she say anything about me in there?" Getting to her feet, Dawn comes and sits next to me on top of the tomb. "Remember that spell Willow did? Where you and Buffy were all in love and -" Do I remember? "Yes," I say quickly. "What about it?" "Buffy wrote down that she liked it. She liked the way you kiss and the way you were so sweet, but still kinda . unpredictable. Like, you didn't coddle her to death, you were still Spike, still a bastard-" "Hey!" "Sorry. You were still kinda snippy and challenging toward her. You didn't really let her walk all over you. It was more equal. She said Riley wasn't like that and neither was Angel. They both treated her like some kind of breakable china, but you didn't. She dug that." "She wants to be mistreated?" I ask. "Not mistreated. Just not like a baby. Not like she needs protection or something. More like an equal." She chews her bottom lip, just like Buffy is prone to do. "See, Riley messed up when he always wanted to be the hero. She doesn't need someone to champion her because she's capable of taking care of herself. She wants someone who knows and respects that but still sees her feminine side. See?" "Oh, I see it alright!" I nod. "Very small, very curvy, very delicate and-" "That's quite enough." She looks disgusted for a second, holding up her hand, then continues. "What are you going to do about this?" "What do you mean?" "Hello? She's single! And she's lonely. And she's probably in sex withdrawal, which ewww, but still . make a move." "Why are you rooting for me?" "Because if you distract her then she'll stop mother-henning me to death." "I think she worries about you." "And I worry about her being alone and single. She's not exactly likely to live a very long time, you know? And besides, I think it's sweet that you wrote poetry about her." She hands me back the book of poetry and smiles shyly. "You're not bad at all." "I'm bloody awful," I reply. "I like the last one." Grinning, she puts her elbow on her leg and props her chin against her fist. "And I think you'd be good for her." "Good for who?" Joyce asks, sitting up with a yawn. "Oh," Dawn says urgently. "We were talking about that deranged soap opera you guys watch. Spike is jonesing for Tabitha." Tabitha! It's my turn to think 'ewww'. Joyce looks perplexed, but stands and stretches. "Shouldn't Buffy be back already?" Well, speak of the Devil. The Slayer pushes the door open and walks inside. She's got a renewed bounce in her step and I can't stop looking at her. So confident. So sure of herself. So damn sexy. Her mom rushes toward her and gives her a hug. "What happened with the Council?" "I'm an official Slayer again." She shrugs her shoulders, glancing at Dawn. "Get your things, Dawn." "They didn't fire you good and proper?" I ask her in my most taunting voice. "I thought for sure they'd see you for what you are after I gave them an earful about you." "Shut up, Spike," Buffy snaps without looking at me. To her sister, she adds, "Was he a gentleman or was he Spike?" "He was both," Joyce tells her, then turns to me. "Thank you for sharing your home with us, Spike." "Yeah, whatever." I try to appear cavalier, but the wee one shoots me a glance. Damn it. I wonder if she read the poem about mothers. "Do call again, Joyce. You can even bring the wee one." I rumple Dawn's hair as she walks past me and she playfully punches my arm so I tickle her, causing her to shriek. Buffy is watching us closely, so I try to look charming and give her what has to be my cockiest smile, letting Dawn go. She rushes out after her mom, still giggling. "You ticklish, Slayer?" I extend my hand in Buffy's direction, wiggling my fingers. She tilts her head to one side and crosses her arms. "Try to find out and I'll crack your ribs. As I drive a stake through them." "Oooh, kinky," I say in a low voice, so that only she can hear me. Buffy rolls her eyes and heads toward the door. I follow lamely, watching the sway of her ass. When she's outside, I lean against the door frame and stuff my hands in my pockets. "Hey, Slayer, if you need a place for them again, you don't have to ask." She pauses and glances back at me. "Thank you. I appreciate it." "I'm not doing it for you," I reply nonchalantly. "It's nice to see that you're still in that very self-involved place you like to frequent. Or did you just trade in your guest pass for a permanent home?" "What's it to you?" Her eyes lock on mine and for a long time, I think maybe she's getting it. She gets what she means to me. Then the look fades from her eyes and she looks away. "Whatever your very selfish motives are, I still appreciate it." Damn. "You're welcome," I tell her. "Next time, bring blood and board games." She turns to walk away again. I can't just let her go. "Hey, Summers?" "Yeah?" Turning again, she bites her bottom lip. It drives me wild. What was I going to say? What do I think I'm doing? I notice that Dawn and Joyce have stopped walking. Dawn is giving me a discreet thumbs up while Joyce prattles on at her about something. I clear my throat and look at Buffy again. So. Beautiful. "Do you like poetry?" She raises an eyebrow. "Hello, left field, nice of you to toss things my way." She glances at her family and takes a step toward me. "I suppose. Why?" I want to tell her it's a good thing, since she's been the driving force behind my latest literary endeavors. I want to tell her that she makes me want to rhyme and that nothing really endearing rhymes with her name. However, the words I love so much seem to have failed me. "No reason." "You're very strange. Is that chip in your head making you insane?" I lift my chin defiantly and glare at her. "Maybe having to tolerate you lot daily is making me insane. Ever think of that?" "Whatever." She turns to walk away, then pauses and looks back at me. She just looks. Her eyes on mine. Television hair fanning her face perfectly. One hand resting lazily on her bag. And she smiles. She smiles so big and so prettily that my legs go weak at the knees and I have to lock them to stay upright. I want her to run back to me, wrap her arms around me, anything. Or just stand there and let me keep looking. I could look all night. Then she lifts her hand and flips me a bird. Damn her to hell for what she's doing to me! I stalk back into my crypt, angrily slamming the door to block out her laughter, and grab my poetry book. I want to rip it to shreds. Maybe burn in. Maybe roll it up and hit her in the head with it a dozen times. Wait. Dawn liked the last poem, right? Let me find it. Ahh, that's the one. The noose around my neck Tightens when we touch The pit of fire inside of me Burns me so damn much You fascinate and violate The corners of my mind And this is all that's left of me I'm here for you to grind Feed me to the masses Hide me in a cell Loving you is killing me So send me straight to hell Torture me with kisses Maim me with your tongue Intoxicate me with violence And kill me when you're done I almost wish Dawn had shown this to Buffy. Maybe then she'd see what she's doing to me. And stop leaving me in need and killing me so slowly that I dangle from her fingertips when I should be dangling from her lips. Lips. Fingertips. Oooh, that's a good one! Damn. I'm a poet. And she doesn't know it. -Finis

Buffy/Spike fic