It's Not Enough

By:  Morrigan


A/N:  Most sincere apologies for taking so long.  It has been an insane couple of weeks for me.  Hope you all like this one.  It has a bit of a twist, and will be a two part scene.  Thanks again, everyone, for sticking it out with me.

As always, this was beta'd by the one who I refer to as the benevolent ruler of all things wordy, Blacknblue2.  Thank You!!!


Disclaimer:  All characters are property of Joss Whedon and ME.  *grumble mumble groan*




As Spike followed Buffy's scent through the woods and back onto the main road into Sunnydale, he had plenty of time to fume.

"Look at yourself, mate," he grumbled to himself.  "You are a sodding wreck!"

"Bloody daft chit never listens.  Doesn't give a piss about anythin' she's told.  But, then, you already knew that, didn't you?"

He kicked a soda can across the pavement.  It skidded and bounced several yards ahead of him, the tinny sound it produced did little to nothing to satisfy his frustrations, and seemed to mock him with its rattling clamor, which echoed in the street.

"What does she think?  That I'm just going to shrug this off?  Pat her on her daft little head and say, what's done is done?  Pretend, in front of her chums, that nothin' happened?"

He found himself mildly surprised when her trail led him back to the house on Revello drive.

"Not bloody likely," he concluded, walking up the drive and through the front door.

He followed his senses up the stairs and down the hall to Buffy's room, telling himself that he was going to give her a good piece of his mind and possibly a long overdue thrashing to boot.

All of his worked up ire threatened to abandon him, however, at the site that greeted him upon throwing open the door.

She had changed into a camisole blouse and thin blue pajama bottoms and was sitting cross legged on her bed with her arms wrapped around herself.  Her hair was disheveled, and her eyes were red and puffy from crying.  But instead of turning away, as he would have expected, she met his gaze openly.

Ever fiber of his being screamed at him to go to his claimant and ease her pain, before he reminded himself that it was her fault.  She wasn't the one who was standing here, marinating in her own blood!  She wasn't the one who had been claimed and ditched... No.  He wasn't going to cave, this time.  Not now.  She might own him, body and soul, but the rules had changed.

"You," she stammered, her voice cracking and broken, "You're still bleeding."

"Yeah," he retorted.  "I wonder why that is?   Oh, wait...   I remember. It's because you didn't finish what you started!"

Buffy flinched at the venom in his words, but continued to hold his gaze.

"I didn't mean to...  hurt you," she said.  "I was scared that you were gone, before...  Something inside me said that I would know...  That I would always know if you were alright if I-"

"So you claimed me so that you could have a permanent tracking signal on me!?  Hell, why not just put another bloody chip in m' head!  T'would hurt less!"  Spike bellowed, pacing back and forth in front of the door.  He knew that she was a little soft and selfish, sometimes, but he had never pegged her as being that cruel.

"Yes," she started, then, shaking her head, she amended, "No!  I mean, I did it so I would know...  But, I wanted to know because I couldn't stand how I felt when I thought you were gone!  And..." She looked him up and down, noting the blood which quite literally, now, covered the whole front of his shirt and was seeping down onto his jeans.

Buffy pushed her hair out of her face and wrung her hands together as she continued, saying, "And, I don't know what you mean, when you say I didn't finish what I started!"

He stopped his pacing, abruptly, turning on his heel and marching to the bed, gripping her roughly by the shoulders, his ice cold fingers digging into her skin.  Before Buffy could say another word, he had hauled her up to her feet, looking her in the eyes with frightening intensity.

Buffy's heart hammered wildly in her chest.  Her instincts were on high alert.  And yet, she could feel his fingers tremble from the blood loss as he held her there, and knew that his force of will was the only thing that kept him from collapsing.

"Time for decisions, Luv," He stated.  You need to decide what you really want.  There's no taking this back.  You've bound me to you.  And, now, my fate is yours."

"Spike," she whispered, "I don't understand-"

He chuckled, darkly, "That's the rub, though, in'nit?  You really don't. So, let me spell it out for you. You claimed me as yours.  Then you left. Claim wasn't finished.  This.."  He pulled her closer to him, the blood on his shirt now seeping through her blouse.  "This is what happens.  So, you need to tell me.  What do you want?  Do you want me, Buffy? Because, if you don't, I'll leave you be.  It'll kill me to do it, but I swear that I will..."

The blood loss wouldn't kill him.  He knew that.  But, he had seen other unfortunate vamps who had been either starved, or left in this very state, and it wasn't pretty.  Eventually, he would become nothing more than a living skeleton.  Anything he tried to take in would simply pour back out and leave him with nothing.

However, that was the least of his concerns on this matter.  To be
rejected by her now, after she had bound them together, was a pain he knew he could not endure.  And yet, if she were to turn him away, he could do nothing but grant her her wish.  But, he'd take a walk in the sun before he'd stick around to live with it.

While Buffy waited for Spike to continue, his grip loosened for a moment, and she watched as his eyes glazed over with an expression of fathomless sorrow and foreboding.  Then, just as quickly, the look vanished and he tightened his grip again.

"But, if you do...  Want me.  Then you have to.  Finish. This."  He emphasized each word between clenched teeth and stared at her intensely for a few more seconds, before he released her, completely.

Buffy swallowed hard and struggled to find the words she wanted to say - To tell him that she didn't want him to leave, but all that came out was a stuttered, "H-How?"

Though, her question would implicate that she did, in fact, want Spike to stay, she was perplexed upon seeing another wave of hurt cross his features.  He slowly shook his head as he answered her.

"Sorry.  I'm not letting either one of us off the hook that easy, Pet.  Somethin' inside of you tol' you how to start it.  Reckon, if you want this bad enough, you'll figure out how to finish it, too.

His energy sapped, Spike staggered back a few steps and regarded her,
impatiently, certain that he was about to have his walking papers handed to him.  He was determined that no matter how much it hurt him, he would keep his pride, and leave without arguing.  But, Buffy's bewildered expression and trembling hands made it increasingly difficult for him to stay focused on that goal.

Awkward silence stretched between the two of them.  It was only a minute, but it felt like an eternity.  Taking her lack of response as her answer, Spike set his jaw and nodded tersely, in acceptance.  Just as he began to turn toward the door, Buffy stepped forward.

One step, then two, she reached one trembling hand toward him, and he steeled himself against the rush of emotions that threatened to overtake him.  He shook his head in refusal, not wanting her to break down the wall that he had spent the past hour building up.  He just wanted to get out of this room with some shred of his dignity still intact.

He looked away, no longer wanting to see the regret in her eyes, and shuddered as her hand ghosted, tentatively, over the angry mark she had made.

"Buffy, Don't," he pleaded, hating the desperation his voice betrayed.

Panicking, he felt Buffy step in closer, her other hand coming to rest on his chest, unmindful of the gore that covered him.  Finding himself helpless to resist her advance, he closed his eyes and tilted his head to allow her better access her mark, cursing himself for his weakness.  If only she could understand how her tender actions would break him!

Spike brought his hands up to push her away.  So, why was it that they were now holding her?  Traitorous hands!  Her breath whispered over her mark, and his own breathing hitched, piteously, in response.  His forehead came to rest on her shoulder as her lips met his skin, placing feather light kisses over and around the wound.

Believing Buffy's actions to be nothing more than those of sympathy, and regret, Spike moaned, in spite of himself, at the sensations her lips caused.  Then gasped in astonishment when he felt her tongue soothe over her mark.

His eyes opened, only to fall closed again, his vision blurred through tears he had fought so hard to hold back. She continued to lave over her mark, between kisses, instinctively nicking her own tongue with her fangs, mingling her blood with his and sealing the wound.

Although still weakened from the blood loss, Spike felt re-energized by the sheer joy of her acceptance.  Never before, even before his turning, had he felt so alive.

"I do," Buffy began, between licks and kisses, "want you..."  She let the statement hang in the air, as she peeled away his blood stained shirt and tossed it aside before she finished, saying, "To be mine.  I was so scared," she continued.  "I thought I had lost you forever."

Her reminder of what had led them to this point caused his mind to snap back into focus, his eyes opening and then narrowing, as he recalled his anger.  Buffy's rash, childish and ill fated plan that he had told her was suicide, to begin with...  Her stubborn refusal to heed any warning, thinking she was so high and mighty...

Reacting suddenly, with a burst of energy, Spike quickly spun them around, himself sitting on the edge of the bed and causing Buffy to squeal in surprise, as she found herself slung bodily, across his lap.  Before she had time to voice any type of protest, he had yanked the back of her pj's and panties down to the tops of her thighs and brought his hand down forcefully across her exposed bottom with a loud, resounding, *SMACK!*