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Spike's Will be Done. by TalesofSpike
Chapter 1 - Cemeteries
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Wednesday, May 1st, 2002

Spike sat on top of the stone pillar that supported one of the cemetery gates, watching Buffy's retreating back. According to her, her friends would cope with the news that they'd been sleeping together. She could do anything and they would still love her. His problem was, he felt the same way about her. That was why he couldn't help calling after her retreating back.

"In that case, why won't you sleep with me again?"

A second vampire, who had just been released by Spike, turned back from his pursuit of the slayer, stunned by what he had just heard. He stared at the master vampire, his jaw hanging open, right up until the point where it turned to dust and fell to the ground along with the rest of his body. Buffy had already replaced in her stake in her pocket and was once more walking away from Spike.

"Because I don't love you," she called back, not even turning her head to acknowledge him.

Spike's eyes all but glowed electric blue with pain and anger. "Like hell," he retorted, his voice fierce but quiet enough that his were the only ears it reached.


Thursday, May 2nd, 2002

Spike had stayed away from Buffy the night after that unpleasant scene. He had been aware of her presence at a distance a couple of times when she was on patrol. Instead of moving to intercept her as he once would have done, he moved away doing his best to stay outside the range where Buffy would normally be aware of him.

Buffy gave up on patrol early that night, deciding that for some reason the demon population were all having a peaceful night in, but she was wrong, and one demon in particular was anything but peaceful. The vampire knew Buffy's patrol routes so well it was easy for him to sweep the areas she would visit. He just got there first. His kills for the night ran to double figures and still his black mood was with him when he finally returned to his crypt.

Friday, May 3rd, 2002

He was preparing to follow a similar plan the next evening when the door to his home slammed open at the slayer's hand. Spike was aware of something flying toward his head and grabbed it from mid-air before it impacted. He looked curiously at the equipment in his hand.

"What's this?" he asked, looking up at the slayer.

"It's a camera."

"Yeah," Spike replied, his tone mildly sarcastic. "I got that part. Why am I holding it?"

Buffy started her accusatory diatribe. "Someone was using it to spy on me, on the house. Xander thinks it might've been you."

Spike's temper got the better of him and the sarcasm meter hit overload. "Oh, the great Xander thinks so! Shudder! Gasp! It must be true!"

"Spike-", Buffy tried to interrupt, but the vampire was too intent on venting his ire.

"That ponce has always had it in for me. Every chance he gets, he sticks it-" Spike was stopped cold by the slayer's dubious expression.

"You believe him, don't you? You think I was spying on you." He became the accuser. He waited for Buffy to deny the charge, but as seconds passed in silence he continued. "You think I could do that."

Buffy's anger rose to match his. "Yeah, righteous indignation is absolutely the way to go here, 'cos you don't kill or lie or steal or manipulate-"

The vampire's rage flashed from hot to cold and he placed the camera back in the slayer's hands, his motion and the words he followed up with deliberate and cool. "I don't hurt you ."

Buffy looked down at the camera, sobered by the truth in the vampire's words. "I know."

"No," Spike countered, "you don't. I've tried to make it clear to you, but you won't see it. Something happened to me. The way I feel. about you. It's different. No matter how hard you try to convince yourself it isn't, it's real."

Buffy's voice was soft when she replied as if the pain her remarks would inflict were proportional to the volume at which they were uttered. Maybe she enjoyed carving his heart out and didn't want him to have even a crumb of comfort from the thought the words were carelessly spoken in anger. "I think it is. for you."

Spike stared at her aghast. She could have pulled his intestines out with her bare hands and caused him less pain.

"I know that's not what you want to hear. and I'm sorry." It sounded false even to her own ears. "I really am. You just. have to move on. You have to-"

Spike was unable to do anything but watch as she deliberately destroyed his hopes. It might have been bearable except for her obviously insincere attempts at making him feel better, despair and rage seething from him until he couldn't bear it any more.

"Get out," he cut in, using a voice as soft and dark as black velvet. The slayer hesitated as if there was more that she wanted to add, but Spike gaze was frigid, the conversation obviously at an end. She left, pulling the door of the crypt closed behind her.

Spike waited until he heard the door shut behind her and then stalked over to the chest that held his supply of hard liquor. He pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels and removed the cork throwing it across the room. He raised the bottle to his lips and poured its contents straight down his throat, thankful that he had no need to breathe. Once it had time to get into his bloodstream the alcohol left him mildly tipsy, but he knew the feeling wouldn't last. He started sorting through the chest and some boxes nearby in a search for more. He found another bottle with an inch left in the bottom and quickly drained it.

He wanted oblivion. He wanted to forget what a slayer was, never mind forgetting his slayer and how he felt about her and how she treated him. There was no more alcohol to be found except the beers in the fridge and his metabolism meant they wouldn't have any significant effect.

He pulled open a cardboard box. There were candles, crystals, bags of dried herbs, jars of who knew what and books. The vampire pulled out the topmost book and started looking for a spell that would somehow make him forget the pain, a numbing spell, a spell to block his memory of her, anything that would get the job done.

He tossed aside the first book and pulled out the second. Half way through he came to a spell he remembered.