It was late. They'd been shooting since seven that morning and it was well after dark. The lights were hot on his face, causing the white make-up to feel even thicker and more uncomfortable than usual. His pants were too tight. He was grumpy...
"Don't fight on his terms. Your gut's telling you to run, run. OK? Regain the higher ground. Make the fight your own. Spike, what did your instincts tell you to do just then?"
Focus! It's your line! He looked at his costar, and immediately the irritations all fell away- "hunt," he said, "kill."
He was Spike. And she was radiant, as always. As she spoke her next lines he readied himself for the next move- and she beckoned him, rushed, dove, rolled, and she was on top of him again. Would this take be a wrap? Would they call it a night? He focused on the feel of her thighs against his hips while it lasted, waited eagerly for her next move, speaking his lines on autopilot-
"I'm fine...couple of ribs ain't quite set right since...I'm fine."
And...there. Ah. She reached up, under his shirt, touched him gently. His character resisted, pushed her hands away, but it required neither effort nor acting to appear reluctant, to let the touch linger a moment beyond the necessary. The new girls said their lines, she helped him up, and "Cut! That's a take," and that was that. She turned and walked off set without a glance. He sighed, all the weariness and strain returning, and, after a few short good nights and waves, walked in the same direction.
"Oh, yeah, right. There's always girls who like the look—bad boy, you know. (nods) Does it for some of them."
He gave her everything he had with the look- I love you, why are you with him instead of me, can't you see what we have?- she said her line, walked past him, and off set. She could act, he knew that- she was a pro, good at her job. But sometimes, over the years, he thought he saw something, even when she was facing away from the cameras. He thought the scenes they did together were just a little better...
He went to the theater, watched her movies, and he looked. He didn't see that look in her eyes when she looked at her other leads. Back in 2000, her watched her and Marc (even then, all that time ago), and it didn't compare. And, of course, he watched her and Freddie. Whenever he could. Was it there? He couldn't tell. It all just went around and around in his head, over and over.
Over, he thought. Soon it would be over. Would he ever see her again? Maybe, but maybe not. She didn't want anything to do with them, with any of it, anymore. And did it matter, if they stood next to each other for a photo op, answered questions together at a convention? They'd never kiss again, he knew that. Knew it the minute he saw the script, last year, the rape. Joss was dark, but he had limits, politics- they'd never kiss again.
He told the fan press the truth when they asked how he felt when he saw the rape scene- "like killing myself," he said- but he didn't tell them why it was such a blow. He didn't tell them what it meant to him, to know their characters' relationship was really, truly, over. So he soaked up the scraps this year offered, and tried not to think about the end looming over them.
It was still almost the end, yet today he was happy. It wasn't over yet! The new script...well, this would be a good week. He was in a good mood today, and everyone could tell.
"Why are you so chipper?" grumped Eliza. "It's still dark! This coffee is terrible! Quit humming!," but he was undeterred. He grabbed a pastry to take along to make-up and turned to reply when he realized his co-star had turned away.
"Oh great," she was saying, "another one. Is it something in the water?"
And sure enough, someone else was unusually cheerful this morning. The blond was grinning- grinning!- as she answered. "Well it sure isn't this terrible coffee!" she joked.
Was that banter? Was she palling around with them? He took in her smile and began to smile back, only to freeze as she looked straight at him, into his eyes. She never looked at him like that! Never, except...his mind raced but he remained frozen, confused. She continued to look at him, then flushed ever so slightly and turned away, leaving him stunned and shaken. What was that? Could it be...he stopped. No. She's in a good mood. It happens. It has nothing to do with you- just forget about it, and do your job. Like a professional, not a lovesick teen.
Upon closer look, he realized they didn't actually have much to do this week; he got to touch her, yes, to hold her, and to tell her, in someone else's words, how he felt- out loud and in public, yet unheard, secret- but that was all one scene and aside from that, just one short bit. He'd just have to make the most of it.
"Coffee?" he offered. "It's a lot better than the stuff over at craft- someone made a run." And waited for the inevitable polite yet cool brush off, the thanks but no thanks.
"Oh yes," she was saying "thank you so much!" He felt like shaking his head back and forth, cartoon character style, pretending to knock water out of his ears. Really? And she was still there, looking at him, talking to him.
"How are you?" she asked. "We never really talk anymore." Anymore? Well, no, he wanted to say- not since you started spending all your time running off as fast as you can to hangout with Mr She's All That. Not that I care.
"Uh, yeah... I'm okay. Almost done with all this, huh? Well, you are, I mean... I guess you must be glad..." Stumble much? he berated himself. It's no wonder she doesn't try to talk to you anymore!
She looked down, away. "Glad. Yeah. I mean, I've been doing this for so long...since I was 19. I can't stay here forever, I have to have a real life sometime, don't I?" She looked plaintive, like she was really asking.
"You were their leader," he said- "and you still are. This isn't something you gave up, it's something they took."
"And the difference is?" she looked at him, bereft, lost, hopeless.
"We can take it back," he finished.
And they looked at each other. And looked. He waited for her to break, to breeze off. They stayed. The scene was called, he chatted up the crew and started to leave, watching with part of his attention, noticing that she was still there, aware when she fell into step with him. They walked off set like it was what they did every day, headed for the trailers.
"Can I come in?" she asked. What was happening? Was she sorry it was ending? Did she care? They stood awkwardly in the small space, she leaning against the thin door, he standing in the middle of the shoddy carpet. She started to speak, stopped. Looked at him.
"Do you- well, do you ever wish we were them?" she finally asked. "Want it to be real, things to be different?"
"Uh..." he paused. "I think... I mean... well," he let it out in a rush, what he'd never admitted out loud, to anyone- "sometimes I think I am, kind of...I mean, I really feel like him, feel what he feels..." he stopped. Had he said too much?
But she was looking at him, stepping forward... "Do you?" she breathed, "would you...will you be him? For me?"
His heart racing, he tried to breathe, couldn't. But then, suddenly, he felt calm. Right. This was easy, and right. He stood up straighter, his shoulders went back, as he slipped into the familiar persona. He felt good, strong: sexy. He walked towards her, kept going when he got close, walked her into the wall. Tipped his head down towards her- god, she was so tiny! So perfect, looking up at him, wide eyed and hesitant, yet with a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, growing.
"Spike" she whispered.
"You better sodding believe it" he replied, smirking, elated. "I'm here, baby. You need something?"
She looked at him happily but didn't speak.
"You want me to guess? You think I won't? You know I know what you want Sa- Buffy." Shit! He covered up his slip with a kiss. He started out gently but responded to her urgency, pushing her against the wall with his body without breaking the kiss. He slid his hands down her back, and lower, lifted her. Her legs went around him and squeezed, pressing them together.
"Can she feel my heart pounding? She'll know I'm not a vampire!" he thought hysterically, almost laughing out loud. "OK self, get a grip and make the most of this, you may never get another chance!"
He scraped his teeth along the skin of her throat, nipped at her, and at the volume of her moan, bit harder almost involuntarily, losing control momentarily. They thrust against one another, desperate and delirious, until it was too much and he threw her onto the narrow bed along the side of the trailer.
"You want this slayer?" he purred, " you want me to make you scream?"
She whimpered and looked at him through lust clouded eyes.
"Yes," she whispered, "I need you, want you. It's wrong...I know, I just...I want this. Please..."
She closed her eyes and arched her back to remove her top, rubbing her lower half back and forth against him until he lost his breath, his bearings, everything but the scent of her, the sound of her mewling. "Want you, now, I need you, please, come here, come closer, touch me..." Was she really saying those things? To him? He grabbed off her boots and tossed them, yanked down her pants and undies and ground his denim clad bulge against her naked wetness. "Ooooh yeah, oh Spike oh god..."
"I'm gonna do you right and proper" he whispered in her ear, tickling it with his tongue, "I'm gonna make you come so hard, make you lose control so everyone knows what you're doing, how bad you are..."
"No!" she squeaked, eyes wide and suddenly alarmed, "I won't...you better not even...you won't tell anyone!"
"What'll you do?" he asked evilly, " are you gonna get up and go? You gonna walk out on me then?" and slid down her sweaty body and onto the floor, where her legs were at just the right level to drape over his shoulders. "Stop me then, pet," he grinned and plunged his tongue into her, swirling and licking and sucking. God, he could do this forever if she'd let him.
And she really wasn't trying to stop him! If her legs hadn't been so tightly locked around his head the gyrating and thrashing of her hips might have dislodged his mouth from her dripping pussy, but as it was he was more worried that there might be an air raid and he would be unable to hear it because of the soft inner thigh flesh in his ears! He couldn't believe how hot this was. He was fully clothed and devoting himself completely to her, but was so aroused he was afraid he might not be able to contain himself if she kept this up.
He pulled away slightly. "Ooh," she mewed, "no...what are you doing?"
"Don't worry pet," he smiled, "not stopping. Just making a little room for this..." and plunged his middle three fingers inside her, simultaneously sucking her clit in with his tongue. She screamed, shoved her hand in her mouth, and convulsed around his fingers. He kept his mouth on her until she calmed, then pulled back and slid his fingers out, making her whimper again, and stood up. She had a dazed look on her face as she watched him pull off his shirt, but her eyes focused and sharpened as he slid his tight jeans over his hips and off. He couldn't remember ever being this hard before or wanting someone this much, and from the look on her face she wasn't about to run out on him. He got a condom from a nearby drawer and started to pull it on when he saw her expression change, her shoulders close up a little.
"What?" he asked, "too much? You said...you don't want this?" He felt like a fool standing there with his dick in his hand.
She looked down. "I just- I didn't even think-" she waved her hand towards the drawer- "you must do this all the time," she muttered, "all of this. God, how stupid you must think I am! Me, even, just another dumb fan wanna be! Fuck!" He was shocked by all of it, but she was swearing on top of it! She never swore!
"No no no are you kidding me? I never let anyone in here! I never do this, I couldn't! This...you...me...I can't!" he sputtered, kneeling in front of her and holding her shoulders. "Hey. Hey," and caught her chin, raising her face to look him in the eye. "I can't do this with anyone else. I mean, not the sex, you know, but this- this is for you. Only you. I'm only him with you, only ever could be, can't you see that?" He hoped she was listening, understanding. She looked hopeful, but not totally convinced...but at least she was still there. And still naked. "This is you and me- not just me. I can't be him without you there because it's not about me- it's what happens when we're together- it's special. There's something there! Hey!," letting the accent slip back in a little, "You know it, I know it- we have something! Come on. Stay. Let me show you?"
She took a deep breath, looked down at their naked bodies, back up, and laughed. "You're pretty patient for a monster," she said, and ran her hands down his muscled torso and narrow hips.
"Well," he said, gasping as her small hands circled his penis, "I've been around a long while- gives a right bit of perspective on the whole waiting bit, doesn't it? Lord knows I've been waiting for you to come around to this for long enough, love...oh god yeah, that..."
Her warm hands felt amazing, and when she pulled him closer and ran them around his hips to clutch his hard ass and pull him to her he was in heaven. Still kneeling in front of her he pulled her even further forward off the edge of the bed so her legs were spread wide around him and he was nudging against her entrance. He looked to make sure she was ready then began to ease his girth gently inside her, his eyes half closing in ecstasy. He was shocked when she sat up, spoke.
"No," she said, " not like that. Fuck me, hard, now! You know I can take it, do it!"
"Bloody right!" he exclaimed after a moment of shock, and threw her back onto the bed. She squirmed in delight, and when he caught her hands above their heads and pounded into her she only got louder and pushed back against him more vigorously. She bucked and mewled like a wild beast until he could hardly stand it. His balls were so tight, he was so close... He lowered his head to her bared neck, licked and bit lightly while he continued to pound into her, again and again.
"Oh..oh god! Yes yes yes, oooh..." she squealed "oh I'm gonna...you...oh god yes!"
As she came he finally let go and plunged into her a few last long times, holding his torso pressed against her clit as she jerked and spasmed. They collapsed together into a sweaty, panting heap, limbs entwined and limp.
"Yeah," she said, "like that." And laughed, happily.
"Were you there with me?" he asks her, pain mixing with hope in his voice.
She looks in his eyes. "I was," she replies, simply.
He slips off set as quickly as he can, brushing off the compliments on his performance, the small talk, to get back to the trailer as quickly as possible. Waits. Five minutes, ten- the door opens, closes behind her. They move towards one another silently, eyes locked, and then they meet and it's all heat and rush. His hands in her hair, pulling her closer, her mouth devouring his, body pressed to his and leg wrapped around his knees, pulling nearer still.
They lay bonelessly on the scratchy blanket, scrunched comfortably into the little bunk.
"Mmmmm," she murmurs, running a hand languidly over a muscular pec. "This is nice. This is a good way to end a workday. Shoulda done this a long time ago, huh?"
"Yeah, about that... not too many more workdays, y'know love?"
"Oh, let's not talk about it," she pouted, turning away some, looking at the floor at her clothes like she was considering calling them to her somehow.
He pulled her back against him to distract her from the clothes, but kept at it. "Look Sarah..."
Her brow furrowed and she frowned, squirmed in his grasp irritably. "Hey! Don't."
"I will though! Sarah! Sarah- what are you doing here- you, me, us, what is this to you? What am I? One more episode, pet, a few on camera cast parties, and then what? Cheap motels in hats and sunglasses? What are you thinking exactly? What about him?"
"Ha ha. Funny guy." She yanked away and stood, gathering her things off the floor. He admired the line of her flanks as she bent at the waist.
"Look.. you..." Faced him, clothes bundled up and clutched in her arms, "there is no us. This...thing...it can't happen. It doesn't exist. We don't even exist! Argh! I can't do this!" Her eyes looked a little wild as she veered off script, dropping her bundle and pacing.
Even through his anger and pain, he looked closely at her- saw her hands shaking a little, pain in her eyes. He stood, grabbed her hands, kissed one. "Hey. You. Sarah, Buffy, whoever you want to be, I don't care, it's still you. You. You need this too. You love this, want it, want me! Why can't you admit it? Why would you ever give it up?"
She pulled away, turned around.
"No. I want it but it can't go on. This isn't my life! I don't know what's me, where the line is anymore- and this! It ends. Now. I'm sorry."
He opened his mouth, got ready to argue, to try to stop her- but he looked at the slump of her shoulders, the sadness and care, and he couldn't. He sat down heavily, and just stayed there, naked. Watched her dress, look at him with pity and regret, watched her leave.
She laces her fingers through his, looks at him. He's been walking through the shoot in a daze, but is moved to attention by the look in her eye. This take is different. She looks at him meaningfully.
"I love you." she says.
"No you don't." he replies, "But thanks for saying it."
And he smiles. And then he lets go, and looks ahead of him.