Setting: Between Him and Conversations with Dead People.
* * * *
He walked quickly, pulling her by the hand and leading her to the edge of the U.C. Sunnydale campus where few people walked at night. The lights were dark and it was the perfect place for them to be alone. She hoped he didn’t have too much planned, but then again, Nora would probably enjoy it regardless.
They stopped in front of a marble park bench. The man turned to her for the first time since they’d locked eyes at the party and she was once again startled by his intense gaze.
“Um,” she began lamely, wilting slightly beneath his stare. “Thanks for getting me out of there. The party pretty much blew, but you know that.”
The smile she had plastered onto her face faded when he didn’t respond. He merely stared at her as if searching for something, reminding her of when someone recognizes a person they haven’t seen in a long time.
“I am kind of disappointed I didn’t get to dance,” she said hopefully, stepping closer towards him. She gasped in surprise when he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her body against his.
“I don’t want to dance,” he said. Cute and British. Maybe a little too intense, but she was still trying to figure him out. “I’m sick of dancing.”
He practically attacked her with his lips. Nora placed her hands on his chest, pleased at the firm muscles she could feel beneath his black shirt. She pulled away when he slipped his tongue in her mouth.
“I’m sorry,” he said guiltily, pulling back and looking away. She could see so much pain in the way he stood, and she wondered if she was making a mistake.
Nora slid her hands up to his shoulders, causing him to return his eyes to her. “Don’t expect me to sleep with you,” she said evenly. “I’m not like that.”
The man nodded fervently, pulling her closer and lowering his head. “Alright.”
His lips hungrily met hers again, and this time she didn’t pull away when his tongue entered her mouth. He was an extremely good kisser, which she attributed to what must be many years of experience. Nora could tell he was older, and as his hands traveled into her long hair she wondered what he was doing at the frat party in the first place.
They sat down together on the bench, neither breaking contact as they straddled the cold marble and pressed against each other. Nora hoped that Jason didn’t see them. Wait, no, she hoped he did come out here and find her making out with a guy who was ten times hotter than he was. She wasn’t good enough for him? Please.
It wasn’t until she felt tears burning in the corners of her eyes that she realized all her bitterness was just a cover for her pain. She’d loved Jason, and this guy was probably with her in an attempt to get over whoever had hurt him. But who would be fool enough to turn this guy away?
She pulled back again and met his eyes. “This is about a girl, isn’t it?”
A look of annoyance flitted over his features before the misery returned. His eyes fell to the ground as one of his hands subconsciously crawled up his chest, coming to a rest over his heart. “Yes and no.”
As she’d thought. “I’ve been hurt too, you know.”
He smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Who would hurt a pretty thing like you?”
Nora blushed as she felt a tingling in the pit of her stomach. His eyes were so intense. She reached up and ran her fingers along the platinum hair at his temple, idly thinking about dying her own hair. “I know how you feel,” she told him.
The troubled man looked at her in amazement, shocked by her tenderness. He had probably expected a silent make-out session, but he obviously wasn’t disappointed. There was such gratitude in his eyes.
This time Nora leaned in and kissed him. It was a kiss shared in mutual understanding of the pain love causes. She could kiss him for eternity.
* * * *
Spike tensed and slowly pulled away from the dark-haired girl. He looked past her at the intruder, his hands still on her shoulders.
“I didn’t know you’d get over me that quickly.”
Buffy walked towards them with her arms folded across her chest. There was something in her eyes that was unsettling yet strangely familiar. She’d never looked at him like that.
The girl he held in his arms stared at him in confusion. “What is it?” She turned around and saw nothing there. Buffy laughed at her.
“Maybe you’re not over me quite yet.” She approached the bench and stood beside Spike, staring down at the girl thoughtfully. “She’s tall, dark… has some kind of ethnic thing going on. Hmm, brown eyes. Maybe you’re trying to get away from me.”
Spike looked away. He had been looking for someone all night, purposefully staying away from the blondes in his search for a partner. This girl had everything Buffy did not, and nothing that she did. She was the perfect choice for a night of forgetting. He could hold her against him and not think of the girl he wanted as he tried to forget all the things he’d done.
He returned his eyes to hers, finding again confusion… and something else. The shape of her eyes, the curves of her lips…
“Oh, I see,” drawled Buffy, grinning down at him. “You’re not trying to forget, you’re trying to remember. You’re punishing yourself with this one.” She gestured at Nora. “I remember her well. 1926, wasn’t it? You cornered her outside a little café in Paris and made her think you were interested in her as more than a meal.”
Spike listened as Buffy circled around the bench, talking to him casually as if this was some sort of planned meeting. To her… to it, it might be.
“That was the night Drusilla started moaning about Angelus, wasn’t it? Yes,” Buffy grinned. “She said she missed the way he killed so artfully. She was tired of your bite-and-go method of destruction. She wanted art… and you gave it to her. Yes, this girl reminds me of Magalie. That was her name, you know - the Parisian girl you killed. I remember all their names. You don’t… but apparently you remember their faces.”
Spike stared at the girl in front of him with wide eyes. He hadn’t even thought about the girl in Paris when he’d spotted her at the party. Was this how it was going to be from now on? Not only would the soul give him nightmares filled with guilt, but it would torture him in his waking hours as well?
“What’s going on?” Nora asked softly, drawing his attention to her.
“She wants it, you know,” Buffy whispered tantalizingly into his ear. He felt his bloodlust bubbling to the surface and he tightened his grip on Nora’s shoulders. “The moment she saw you she had dirty little thoughts. Similar to the ones you’re having now.” Buffy grinned as he let go of the girl.
“What’s up with you?” Nora asked, genuine concern in her voice.
“Ooh, she wants it bad. And you want it too.”
No, thought Spike. He wouldn’t do it. He didn’t want to hurt her, she’d already been hurt before…
“Aww,” Buffy pouted, standing up straight. “Well, like they say. Sometimes you’ve got to sing for your supper.
Spike stared at her, his newly regained innocence fleeting before the demon emerged. Nora screamed as he roughly pulled her towards him, his fingernails digging into her arms. As his fangs pierced her flesh he could barely hear the song over the loud pumping of blood flowing from her veins and past his lips.
“I heard a
* * * *
Nora clawed at his shoulders as the pain overwhelmed her. What’s happening? Vampires… is he really a vampire? Am I going to die? Oh god, this hurts…
Spike pulled away and held up the girl’s limp form. Her eyes were glazed over and her head rested limply on her shoulders.
He slashed his fingernail across his arm, cutting deep enough to allow the still blood in his veins to flow freely. He took Nora by the hair and guided her lips to the wound. She sucked eagerly like a baby calf.
What am I… ? Oh god, this is so… What am I doing? I can’t stop drinking. If I stop I’ll die, I know it. God, it’s so good… Jason…
Nora’s body fell off of the bench and onto the ground with a thud. The First grinned down at Spike, who looked up at her like an obedient drone.
“How could you use a poor maid so?”
* * * *
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel
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Unrequited - est. May 26, 2005.