Princess
She had become his princess,
succumbing to his heart after almost a decade of their dancing. Her thirtieth birthday was the last she spent
as a human. The lines that delicately framed her eyes, the subtle sagging of
her breasts, and the aching loneliness between her legs had brought her to him.
At first he laughed. Scorned
her bold request until the tears had fallen from those emerald jewels he once
fancied he could lose himself in. It hadn’t happened. None of his dreams had
happened. Never was he acknowledged in front of her friends. Not one thank you
ever passed their lips for his constant support. And never, ever was his love
for her taken seriously, by her or by them.
His heart had given up a few
years after she returned from the heavenly dimension. He went away for a time,
searching for something else to fulfill him. But nothing could like she did.
Not wine, hard liquor, fucking, the sights of his homeland, or even the return
to the killing fields. The soul he won for her destroyed his ever being the
fearsome creature he had once been. The evil that enticed him was now a source
of guilt. The human sacrifice to his new born knowledge was lovingly buried in
a church yard cemetery, left to rot while he returned to the source of his
purgatory.
There was some satisfaction
for him when he saw the relief in her eyes upon seeing him again. He returned
to her side, never asked where he had gone or what had brought him back, and he
never volunteered. She seemed more appreciative this time. She was twenty-five
and her friends were moving on. Even Dawn had left her behind so she could
study. Something Buffy was never able to return to.
The first give was her
simple request for him to return home with her. She had a huge house, she
explained, that she was living in alone. Why shouldn’t he have somewhere dry
and clean to exist? He accepted. It took almost a year of that dance before she
opened her bedroom to him again. He learned to live with the half a loaf. It
was better than the crumbs of before.
The others knew. They just
pretended they didn’t. The first love returned when his world fell apart but
Buffy sent him away. She couldn’t believe enough to even try. Spike would
always be second choice, always the substitute, because he was a loyal dog. Fed,
petted, expected to perform but never an equal.
The years slipped away in
the dance that had become nothing more than mindless steps. A routine
established while life beyond them continued to flash by in colorful plumes. He
watched the bitterness take root, the depression wrap around her like a dark
cloak, and her turn to him more and more. Who else could she expect to stand
with her? They had moved on. Married, having children, buying homes, leaving
behind the calling she couldn’t. They brought her back because they needed her
then discarded her when they didn’t.
He never left. His love was
spoken to her through touch. Their life inside
If only they had asked him.
He would have told them to leave it be. He tried to tell them but they wouldn’t
listen. He was only the evil bloodsucking demon that had somehow seduced their
friend. The party was a surprise. She put on a happy face for them. She showed
excitement at the sameness of the presents, weapons, clothes to fight in,
things that showed they didn’t see the woman beneath the Slayer.
It was that very night that
she first asked. He refused, assuming that with time she would regret it. Every
so often she would ask again. Once she whispered that the only way it would
ever be over was for her to die. He told her Faith was the next in line and she
was still alive. She retorted that Faith was unable to assume the calling. Who
else was there?
He tried to tell her just to
leave. He would take her anywhere that she wanted to go. He would give her
anything that she wanted. He loved her. A small hand was waved to chase away
his words. Then one night everything changed. She sent him to patrol alone,
saying she didn’t feel well. She had cramps. He went needing time away from
her, from the whining, from the cloud that hung around her. He lost himself in
the violence and it was nearly dawn when he returned.
The stench of blood reached
him even on the sidewalk. Fear clutched at him but as he tore into the house,
he could still hear her heartbeat. The bathroom door was locked. He almost
wanted to laugh as he kicked it in. Did she really think it would keep him
away?
Her beauty was still there.
Even in the paleness of her death mask, her body stained with the bloody water
she lay in, her heart and soul only one step away from returning to the place
she still missed. He pulled her from her chosen death bed, his cries unheeded
as he begged her to wake up.
She had left him with no
choice. Her happiness flooded him as she drank from his chest. Intimately she
was born to him again. For him.
She had gotten what she
wanted. The woman had made a choice, forcing him to follow through. But wasn’t
that what he did? He was her protector. Now he was for eternity.
He watched as she
transformed before him, the demon changing the landscape of the face he adored.
It demanded food like any newborn and he led her to his throat. His hands
soothed her as she nursed.
Words were hard to find.
Anger, sadness and despair held him in their grip, but yet there was a relief
and an admiration taking hold, too. She stared at him then cupped his cheek.
Cuddled together they slept until the phone interrupted them. A new Slayer had
been called. The Council was refusing to accept a souled
vampire as their champion.
Finally she had earned her
release. Her requests had been ignored, her pain
unheeded, and now only a death they couldn’t force her to return from was the
key to her freedom.
She smiled at him.
“How does
“Sounds
lovely, pet.”
He never rose to be her
equal. She had lowered herself to be his. It didn’t matter because she was now
free to love him with nothing or no one standing between them.
~~~The End~~~
