Songs of Lament

AN: I don’t really know what I was feeling when I wrote this. Many things, like depression I know, a lot of people refer to Dark Reflection as my one hit wonder so now I’m here to prove them wrong. Thanks to my beta Spikez_tart, she’s awesome.


I cry…

I can’t help it, tears stream down my cheeks, and a sob catches in my throat. I have never felt so dead in my a hundred and twenty years of unlife. I’ve never felt so dead, so robbed of existence. I cry, because I’m living in an echo, a poor imitation of life with the Slayer, and it’s no longer enough.

I once asked her for crumbs, now I want the whole bloody cake.

She doesn’t love me, I know it. I’d be a fool to think she did. But, she loves what I can do to her, that is my power. That is the reason she comes back to me, the reason she returns to my dark, desolate crypt. She rides my dick with no abandon, no care for what pleasure I receive, as long as she is pleased, I don’t matter.

Her nudity is my heaven, her quim is my hell.

Her beautiful body is glorious, the rapture I receive is so spectacular, I can only compare it to spiritual. Her golden hair waves about, her jade eyes void of life, void of the spark. Her sensuous lips mash against mines, she slides her tongue past my lips to tango with me. Our tongues clash, and she moans in my mouth. Her small hands are strong, gripping my shoulders cruelly, her nails digging in, blood trickling out, desperate for release.

But, this is not love.

This, according to the righteous bitch, is wrong.

I have no soul, so I’m dirty and evil. She gives me no chance at redemption, no chance to be good.

I want to be good.

Sometimes. She wants me to be bad, because the only time she’s really alive is when I’m bad.

If I’m good, she hits me.

She tells me to go faster, harder, my cock slides into her, slicked with her juices. I’m hopeless, a fool for love, and we’re addicted to each other.

She’s addicted to the pain; I’m addicted to her body. She’ uses me like a stripper, except instead of me spending money, I’m spending tears. She refuses to love me, and it hurts, it hurts so bad that her rejection makes me want to walk in the daylight for the last time. I want the pain to stop. I want her to love me for who I am. I try to tell her, but she kisses me to shut me up.

She knows…

She offers me the creamy column of her neck, and I want nothing more than to sink my fangs in her, my frenzied thrusts evidence of my desire for her. I’m inside her all the way to the hilt, my pubic bone slams against her clit, and she mewls underneath me. She bites my nipples and draws blood, tantalizingly sliding her tongue across the wound, and I can’t take it any more.

I lower my head to her neck, still pounding away at her wanton quim, her muscles constricting, squeezing my dick until it threatens to burst. I let out a ragged moan, my demonic features rising to the surface, and I hover over her neck, hesitating.

I want to, but I mustn’t.

All I want to do is sink my fangs into her neck, to taste her hot blood and let it pour down my needy throat. But I’m already addicted to her, if I bite her, I’m giving her more power and control.

She arches her hips with a violent force, her hot core draining me slowly, undead seed filling her up.

I decide to torture her…

I slowly pull my cock out of her, and she pants hard, her eyes begging me to finish. I hover over her, rubbing the head of my cock slowly across her wet folds, making her gasp my name.

“Spike.” Buffy pants out, her voice needy, her juices seeping through the sheets.

I reach down with one hand and apply pressure to her clit and she screams. She begs me to fuck her, but I don’t.

“Fuck me Spike. Please, I need you to fuck me.”

“We have to talk, pet.” I lower my head down and lick her nipple, still rubbing away at her clit. My sheets are soaked in her juices, the scent of her arousal only serving to make me that much harder. My straining cock is begging for another release, and its agony is almost too much to take.

“Not now Spike, I need you….” Her voice is ragged, she’s breathless.

“No, you don’t.” The overwhelming shame of it all is unbearable. I slowly raise my head; my watered eyes stare into her green depths. “You need this hurt, this pain to feel.”

I pull away from her and sit on the edge of my bed. My demon and body want nothing more than to ravish the hell out of her, but the man in me, sweet, bumbling William, still thirsts for love.

She sits up and slides next to me. “Spike, what is it?” She urges me, her voice pleads, but I already know what she wants. She wants another round of fucking.

I’m disgusted with myself, with her too. I let her use me, and get nothing out of it. It’s all for her, I tell myself, but deep down I knew I hit an all time low. Even I deserve better than this, but for her, I’ve taken meager crumbs just to keep her here, with me.

“I love you, you know. I have for a while now, kitten.” I began. My voice catches in my throat. Agitated, I run my fingers through my hair to straighten it out.

“I know that Spike.” she slowly admits, as if it pains her to say it.

It hurts her to admit that I love her.

Am I that disgusting? Am I really that filthy that it makes it hard for her to admit it?

My demon howls within me, threatening to make another appearance. It wants nothing more than to wreak havoc, because she won’t accept him.

“I know you don’t love me, and I can’t do this anymore.” I say.

She reaches her hand out to cover mine, a bit of warmth to a cold body.

“I can’t keep giving you everything, and only get back so little. It’s killing me.”

I reach out to cup her face, my fingers desperate to feel her for the last time. It tears at me inside because I’m giving up the only thing I ever had with her.

“Spike, I’m sorry, but what future would a Slayer have with a soulless vampire?” she asks me, and I damn near lose control.

“A happy one, Buffy. I can’t give you kids, or a soddin’ white picket fence, but I can make you happy, if you let me.” Tears blur my vision, and I stand up, walking over to my cabinet where I keep a bottle of Jack Daniels waiting for me. “I could give you anything, money, I have it so you wouldn’t have to worry about bills, and it’s all legit too. I’m strong, I can fight with you and make sure you’re the longest lived Slayer, I could help, if only you’d let me. You know I’d never leave you.”

She looks at me with disgust for a second, and stands up, grabbing her clothes. “Right,” she snaps at me. “Because soulless vampires don’t ever hurt people. You’re just a bunch of cute little fanged teddy bears. You guys are like Mr. Gordo only with bloodlust.”

I ignore her and take a swig of the liquor, and set it down for a second. I reach into my cabinet and pull out a pack of Morleys, open up the pack and pull a fag out. I peel away at the cellophane and toss it away. I grab my silver Zippo and lit it up, smoke curdling around my naked body.

“Every time we fuck, I lose a piece of myself, Slayer. It hurt so bad when you were dead, and I was so happy to have you back, but now, it’s worse than when you were dead. We’re just two corpses fucking, Slayer.” I said.

She gave me a cold glare. She was livid, I could tell, and ready to punch me.

“That is not true. I am not dead inside. You’re the corpse in this twisted relationship,” she snaps at me, and chokes back a sob.

I grab the bottle. I chug the rest of it, and drag some more smoke from the cigarette and blow some smoke out of nose. “Am I really the dead one, Buffy? I’m not the one that has to fuck a cold body to get my jollies. You do. You never had it as good as me. It’s why you keep coming back. Even now, when you’re pissed at me, you still desire me.” I could tell. Her arousal was heavy in the air.

“I’m the best you’ll ever have, Spike. You sure you want to give up on that?” Buffy asks me.

I wanted to say no, but if I took her back, I’d lose that self respect. I needed to respect myself, or else no one would respect me.

I set the bottle down and walk over to her, flicking my cigarette across the room, a glowing ember in the shadows threatening to swallow it whole.

“That’s where you’re wrong love. I could find me another woman, one who could fuck better than you, who is prettier than you, who might even love me. Only problem is that I love you too much, and that’s what buggers me. You treat me so bad, and I keep coming back, but I’m done, Buffy. I’m not putting up with your pity ditty any more. We can have something real together, or you can find another corpse to abuse.”

There, I finally said it. This mimicry of a relationship had to end. Though it hurt to say it, there was an odd sense of relief, I finally let go of all the anger I built up over the course of my undead life.

“You’re a pig, Spike.”

I snap. I sprint towards her with vampiric agility. I grab her by her shoulders and slam her against the crypt wall. Her arousal grows and she grinds her denim-clad crotch against my raging hard on.

“If you really loved me, you wouldn’t go.” She looks up at me, tears in her eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere, pet. But I can’t do this with you anymore. I’ll be here, watching over the bit like I promised, but this ‘freak show’ as you once put it, is going to end.” I wanted to take her back into my arms, and let her keep using me, but she’s degraded me, I’m no longer this Big Bad.

If I let her degrade me any further, I’ll just be the Big Bitch.

After Angelus and Dru’s abuse, I finally had my full.

“This ends, Buffy.” I let her go, and turn away.

A sob escapes her throat.

Surprised, I turn around to look at her and see unshed tears shining in her eyes. Maybe what I said finally got through to her; she might actually care about me.

My eyes glimmer with unspoken hope.

“Don’t leave me, Spike.”

“I can’t take this anymore, pet.”

I can’t help it, I’m drawn to her. I walk over to her and wrap my arms around her, and she moans against my chest.

“I’ll change. I’ll tell my friends, but I can’t lose you, you’re the only thing real to me now.” She reached out to me, and I let her wrap her arms around me, tears dampening my chest.

I let her cry for a few minutes. Her bright green eyes stare into mine and she looks looking into me. She sees the demon, but she also sees the man, and William is no longer thirsty. He has his crumb. “It’s okay, pet.”

To her, I’m no longer empty inside, no longer a filthy, evil thing. She could see me, the real me.

“No, it’s not okay. Spike, I loved you before I died. Then, I came back and realized I was still in love with you, and I was so scared of what that could mean, so I tried so hard to break this feeling, because I thought I shouldn’t love you, not according to my friends or the Council, but I was wrong. You don’t need a soul, Spike, I already love you.”

Her clothes are off in seconds, and she is back in my arms, loving me, holding me.

“I need you, Spike. I need you.”

“I need you to wake up, Spike.”

I shudder and wake up. The sun shines through the cracks in the crypt. I’m lying on the floor, underneath the rug with Buffy, who is looking at me, quizzically.

“You finally up, Sleepyhead?” Buffy asked. Her arms circle around my waist.

“I’m definitely up love. If you know what I mean.”

She wraps her legs around mine, and slides on top of me, and sucks me up inside her.

Yeah, there was definitely hope.