Chapter 2
“Vows are powerful things," he said. "They set things in motion.”
― John C. Wright, Orphans of Chaos
You knew you weren’t the first mortal that had been wooed by a demon of the night. Whether that be by an actual demon, a vampire or any and all things in between. You knew most mortals that had been on the receiving end of said wooing were very, very dead now. You also knew the type of mortal this specific, bleach-blond vampire had claimed to love before.
And if anything, you were nothing like the infamous slayer; Buffy Summers.
William “The Bloody”, aka Spike, and yourself had been dancing around each other for years. Due to your innate ‘fight’ response when confronted with a flight or fight situation, Buffy had saved you some time ago and as luck would have it you became a part of the Scooby Gang.
However, in high school, you had been a few grades below them all and still felt like more on an outsider in the group. This would lead you to sitting just outside the group or a step back from them on “missions” which Spike picked up on.
--“Us outsiders have to stick together,” he said one day after he yanked you by the collar of your sweater to avoid getting your face scratched off by a demon.--
There had always been a sense of camaraderie; a closeness. But you could see, despite the closeness and your budding feelings, that the undead, brain-chipped man only had eyes for the gorgeous slayer. And who wouldn’t? So, you tucked it away and told yourself it was a teenage crush.
Then there was Glory and Buffy sacrificed herself. Eventually Willow brought her back, but she was. . . Different.
This Buffy seemed to, maybe, feel the same for Spike that he had been feeling for her. When that song and dance demon came you were more than happy that everyone else seemed to be paired off. No chance for a song to force it’s truth out of you. But before he was officially gone, you had seen them. Together.
You broke that little bit more. No, not break. Your heart was torn that bit more.
As an outsider, without a love or a love to recover from like Xander, you could see what was happening. Like looking inside while being locked out.
Willow was losing her grip. Things had been strained before the song and dance of truth and death. Then they reached a peak.
But eventually Tara would forgive her. You just knew that look of love, despite everything they do to hurt you; intentionally or not. Like when they sleep with someone to get over someone else, and then everyone is hurt.
Absolute shit hit the fan when Warren did the unthinkable. Attempted, and almost succeeded in killing Buffy. Murdering Tara.
The Willow you knew was gone. Spike was gone. Something had happened, but no one was talking.
Then, in what felt like a snap, everyone was back. But different. And the apocalypse was nigh again.
Yay.
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Now, with his soul back, Spike was picking up your dance like nothing had happened over the years. Like your heart was bright, and shiny and new. No one had bothered to look outside the house at you. You who had also changed and grown in ways similar and so very different from them. Always there. Dependable.
Enough.
“Spike, what are you doing?” you mumbled in an exasperated tone. “We have stuff to do. All those teeny-boppers in there need places to sleep with pillows and blankets. We aren’t in this store to fuck around.”
While you pushed a cart through the looted store to get things to return to the Summers’ house, he was messing with a small radio in the corner. Fiddling with the knobs even though you both knew there was no station anymore.
“Trying to find some bloody music, love.” Then he seemingly gave up and let his eyes rove around. “Aha!”
His small smile was disarming as he took quick strides in your direction to reach past your face to grab a small package off a shelf. He brought it up to face you while he scanned the back. A CD.
You were going to fucking stake him. Here and now.
Quickly, he was back at the radio and starting the CD with a light hum. Rolling your eyes you turned on your heel to continue searching the store for anything everyone would need. Your mission was aborted as a larger hand grabbed your wrist firmly and tugged you back to Spike as the first bars of Bon Jovi’s ‘You Give Love a Bad Name’ started filtering through the speakers.
“Seriously William,” you intoned incredulously.
“What?” he asked with both dark eyebrows raised up to his hairline.
“That’s really enough.” You were now more upset over your aching heart than his refusal to help you search the store, as you had been a few minutes ago. And, unfortunately, you were an angry crier so you were trying to move away so as not to be caught. But nothing really goes your way in these situations does it?
Spike had gripped both of your shoulders as you were turned back to face him, but that didn’t mean you had to look at him. You tensed up to seem more angrily-distant than you were, and prayed to whatever deity that this would be over soon.
“Okay Poppet, that’s it,” he began. “What is going on? We always find a way to have a bit of fun in the bleak. Remember? ‘Us outsiders have to stick together.’? But you’ve been avoiding me for a bit now, and just now you were angry. Bitterly angry.”
Silence.
Another sigh from him, “It’s been like this since I came back. I know I did some things, and I have to earn forgiveness. But that’s why I got my soul? I thought you- I thought having a soul would-”
“Would what? Impress Buffy? Yeah, we all know that.” you cried out as the dam you had built completely shattered. Tear-filled eyes locked onto his, “‘Outsiders stick together’?? You left me. I was fine how things were. You loved her. You PICKED her. But at least I had you on the outside with me. Then you just left us. Me. And now you want to do this thing? Playing around on an important mission? Grabbing at me? Trying to dance to cliche rock songs? Making me- Feel. So. Much. Like it’s a game. . .”
Sobs were wracking you, and despite all you had said your body craved his for comfort.
And he didn’t fail to tug you into his arms; clinging to you like you had said you were the one leaving.
“You’re right,” he muttered and you could feel the vibrations in his chest, the breath on your hair and his slight shaking as he teetered between gripping too tight and knowing his strength. “I did pick her.”
You went to break free, but he just twined his arms a little tighter while one hand came up to cup the back of your head. “I picked her because she was unattainable, at first. The one I wanted, they were too good for me. They could escape this all if they just decided to walk away. I wasn’t going to be their chain to the horrors of the night. Then. . . Then Buffy was broken. Not quite human or whole. Like me, and I dove into it because the one I loved was tempting and pulling. But love isn’t about what’s best for you. It’s about them.”
Your sobs had died down to shaking breaths as you let yourself relax a bit. But not daring to hope.
“I’ve done terrible things. I didn’t want to be the terrible thing that happened to them. Then I made mistake after mistake to claw my way out of my infatuation. Something she, Buffy, said made me think. I could be a better man. And if I was, then- Then I may be a step closer to deserving the one I love. Getting this soul broke my mind a bit, but I found my way back. I thought I could do this right. Right by them. Start with the friendship we always had.”
“Them. . .”
“You. Always you. Even when loving you broke my heart.”
Now you shoved off his chest a bit and he let you. Hoping this was the thing that would mark your turning point. Knowing, one way or another, things would never be the same.
“I don’t think hearts break Spike,” The breathy words left you of their own volition. All your love, heartache and pain over the years coming to the surface. “Shattered things can only be broken once. But torn things can be mended again and again until it’s all scars and stitching.” A pause to catch your breath. “How can I know? I’m not like them. Any of them, let alone a remarkable, strong, beautiful slayer like Buffy. And now? Of all times, this is when this happens. Of course. The fucking apocalypse is practically here and-”
Truth be told, he had barely heard anything after you spoke of your torn heart. The love, and pain from that love, bleeding through to his own heart and soul. And now you were rambling. His thoughts were simultaneously racing and non-existent as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.
Your words and breath were caught in your throat, eyes wide. But as his mouth pressed more insistently against your own all thoughts fled your brain. Your hands lifted to feather through the hair at the nape of his neck, and he groaned as his hand cupped your head again to pull you closer. Your lungs cried for relief and you slowly pulled away as he rested his forehead against yours.
Both of your eyes were closed as he spoke up, “I promise- No. I vow to never let your heart be torn again. To never leave you outside looking in alone. To always be there, in arms reach when you need me, love.” He took a deep breath as both of your eyes opened and locked onto one another’s again. Faintly thinking back to your rambles he went on, “You will always know. Know I love you. Cherish you. See only you. Choose you. And if this is the end. Of the world or just of our lives; I will find you. Time and time again. I vow to love you in this life and all the others we may have. I vow that I am yours. If you will be mine?”
A tear slid down his face, but his eyes only held truth.
“I always have been,” you said as you looked into your future. Your forever and always.