TITLE:  Nowhere Fast

AUTHOR: Saz

DISCLAIMER:  Not mine.  Never was, never will be.

RATING:  PG-13 (Some sexual references, some swearing)

SPOILERS:  Season 6.  Set before "Seeing Red"

SUMMARY:  Sometimes giving in to temptation is the hardest thing to do.  Sequel to Temptation Waits.

FEEDBACK:  Yes, please

EMAIL:  flotternz@yahoo.co.nz

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He should never have touched her.

Not with those hands, identical to hands of man, but tainted and evil like the rest of him.

Should never have touched that pure, unsullied, human flesh.  Never have tried to prove that he was capable of feeling something so pure, so against everything he represented.  Should never have believed that she could ever, would ever, reciprocate.

Hope was something he should have given up a hundred and fifty years ago, when he gave up his mortal soul forever.

Maybe, somewhere deep down in the depths of his unbeating heart, he believed it was possible for her to change.  It seems change struck him when he least expected it, and in ways that he'd never wanted.  If it had been possible for him to succumb to that change, to stop fighting it, embrace it instead.  To stop trying to deny that which was impossible to deny.  If he was able to do that, then wouldn't it be possible for her, too, to change?

Or maybe it was just another measure of that foolish hope that he had somehow managed to nurture that first time she kissed him.

For fucks sake, was William ever this naïve?

But as she rolls onto her side, pushing herself back into him, spooning against him, he finds it difficult to remember all those reasons why he shouldn't be doing this and justifying them with explanations as to why it just felt so damned right.

Maybe it was because he loved her.  He did, no matter how hard he tried to comprehend it, despite denying it so fervently in the past before finally conceding and accepting it.  What was the point of denying what couldn't be denied?

And that was the hope that he held on to so tightly, that little flicker of hope that if he'd managed to accept it in the end, then she would to.

Why else would she seek him out night after night?

Although, her method of seduction left something to be desired.  He flinched as he wound his arms around her and buried his face in the crook of her neck; his ribs still ached from the beating she'd given him earlier tonight.

He'd have to break her of that habit somehow, just like he'd have to break her habit of rebuffing him, otherwise her attempts at breaking him down will one day work.

For the interim, he just wanted to enjoy her sleeping in his arms, entertaining thoughts, hopes, that one day she would stay here willingly, and until then he was content with this.  What little she offered.  What little he took from her.

At least, tonight, she had stayed rather than sneaking off, that had to mean something, right?

He wasn't sure anymore.  There was so much coming and going in this twisted relationship of theirs, and he was doing none of it.  A mortal man would have been driven mad by it, but he wasn't mortal.  According to her, he wasn't even a man.  It was still enough to push even him to the melting point and beyond, and it was testing him, gnawing at him.

The mixed signals - the constant insults, the scorn, the violence.  The violence that always led to sex, yet she claimed they were never more than that, could never be.  They were nothing more than … fuck buddies.

The word taunted him, tormented him, but it was true - that was all he was to her.

Convenient.

Unwrapping his arms from her tiny frame he rolled away and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.  The movement was enough to wake her.  He could feel her eyes on him as he stood and pulled on his jeans.  Tonight, things were going to change.  He loved her too much to be treated like a plaything, her own personal whipping boy.  He was sick of being used and thrown away.

He was foolish to think that one night sleeping in his arms would change her mind.

Pulling on a t-shirt, he moved briskly towards the entrance to the crypt, plucking up his cigarettes as he walked past them.

"Where are you going, Spike?"

Her voice was small, quiet, she sounded half-asleep.  He allowed a small smile, a bitter smile, as he half-turned to face her.

"Out, pet."

Propping herself on an elbow she offered an almost-shy smile as she plucked at the bedspread.  "I can see that.  It's nearly dawn, what do you have to do that's so important that it can't wait til tonight?"

He took his time, pulling a cigarette out of the pack, lighting it, taking a long, slow, drag and exhaling.  He remained calm as the resolve settled in the pit of his belly, solidified.  "No, it can't."

"Why not?" she pouted, sitting up in the bed and pulling the bedspread up to cover her nakedness.  Her eyebrows ruffle in confusion.  "You asked me to stay the night with you."

God, she looks beautiful.  He also knew that she'd stomp on his heart in an instant given the opportunity.  "I never told you to leave, pet, now did I?  It's me doing the leaving this time."

"What?  What do you mean, Spike?"

Her face is desperate, wavering.  He turns away before that innocent look of surprise and incomprehension begins to affect him more than it already is.  He takes a step towards the entrance.  "I can't do this any more.  I'm tired of being everyone's bloody plaything.  I love you Slayer, with all my heart I love you, but I won't have you twist it to suit you, not any more."

Scents wafted over him, supplanting what he refused to see with his own eyes, this was difficult enough without that - confusion, anger, disappointment, heartache.  It *had* to be this way, he *had* to do this, for his own sanity if nothing else.

He started walking, up the stairs, drawing closer to the exit, ignoring her plaintive appeals for him to stop.  He couldn't stop; he couldn't repeat those mistakes he'd made in the past - with Cecily, with Dru.

After more than a hundred and fifty years of life, of immortality, it was time he threw off his shackles, it was time he stopped being a slave to his heart, to the women he foolish chose to infatuate himself with.  It was time he became a new man.

His own man.

As he stepped out into the night, saw the dawn burgeoning on the horizon; he breathed a sigh of relief, confident that one day, soon hopefully, she would see the light.  That if she truly wanted to, she would seek him out.

Somewhere, deep down, that tiny glimmer of hope told him that she would.

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Fin

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