Title: "Respiration"
Author: Mala
E-mail: malisita@yahoo.com
Spoilers: S4/early S5 Rating/Classification: 'R', B/S-ish, angst, Spike POV, sexual situations, language.
Disclaimer: Grr aargh.
Summary: Spike thinks about what Buffy means to him. Companion to "Reflection."

It's amazing. How easy it is to love her. To crave her like I crave blood. To want to taste her soft skin. And it's amazing how much I loathe myself for every dream...for every time my hand wraps around my cock...for every time Harm's lips replace my fingers and her lips aren't the lips I want.

This is a nightmare. It's a fucking nightmare. Loving the one person in the world who hates me the most...whose bloody calling it is to shove a stake through me. It's like poison inside me. Worse than the soddin' chip. I always thought that was the source of my weakness...that the circuitry was my worst enemy. But no...my biggest weakness stands 5'2 in bare feet, doesn't even know who Johnny Rotten is, and kills vampires for a living.

And this is the third night in a row I've dreamed of her. The third night in a row I've sucked the lust off her lips and whispered, "I love you." The last woman I loved nearly drove me mad. This one will drive me the rest of the way. Into the blazing sunlight. Where I can burst like the oozing pustulent blister that I am. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

At least I wouldn't dream if I were dead. If she would just go on and stake me. But she won't. Because I'm helpless. Defenseless. In too many ways.

I love her. I love her. I love her.

When did it start? At the club that first night so many years ago? When I helped her send Angelus to Hell? When I fought her in the sunlight last year? All those times I've held her body close to mine while we punch each other's lights out? When I kissed her under the influence of the witch's sodding spell?

It doesn't really matter, does it?

All that matters is when it ends.

It ends when one of us dies.

I think I'd rather it be me.

I suppose that's part of loving her.

Everything is part of loving her now.

Sleeping. Getting up. Feeling hungry. Watching the telly. Roaming the yards and dusting a few poncy fledglings. With every step...with every move. With every fag I light. I love her.

And I can't make it stop.

Because it's easy.

I suppose this is what I've forgotten in the years I've been a vampire.

This is what it's like to breathe.

--The End--

October 2000.


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