I hardly ever write het. Aside from the obvious, generally heteronormative pairings in fandom bore me. They're too obvious to be interesting, and too sweet to ever be truly passionate, and none of them ever just get down to it and shag already. There's this song and dance, these silly courting rituals, and everything's so perfect and rosy and lovy-dovy that it's really enough to make you sick. Any conflict comes from silly misunderstandings and miscommunications, and it's all so boring and annoying and sad.
I also never write canonical pairings, for much the same reason, and also because all the stories worth telling have already been told.
So far, there is only one exception, and that exception is Buffy and Spike. The way they fight, the angry sex, the self-loathing, the passion… The gut-wrenching honesty about how hard it is. The way he gets so sad and pathetic that you don't know whether you feel sorry for him or wish someone would just stake him already, and the way you want to shout at her and tell her to get over herself and just love him, damnit, look at how hard he works for it! And of course it's not really that simple, and even though she does love him in the end, there are no happy endings for the two of them. It's fast, and it's brutal, and it's hard, and it's sexy.
Of course, their story is too complete to have much room for fanfic. They fight, and they hate each other, and he loves her and she confides in him, but she never trusts him, and they shag, and they break it off, and, oh, that painful, painful scene in the bathroom that's so raw and horrible and amazingly acted out that it breaks your heart completely. He runs away, he comes back, he's damaged and crazy and unable to cope, and though she doesn't trust him one bit, she helps him, she fixes him, and he fixes her, until they trust each other completely, and love each other far more deeply than the physical, sexual relationship they had ever could have allowed. In many ways, I think Buffy loves Spike in a much deeper and more intimate manner than she ever loved Angel – even if her love for the latter was wilder and more passionate and untamed – and Spike knows her far better than her first love ever could.
It's a story that breaks my heart over and over again. It makes me ache for them, cry for them, and love them both madly and unconditionally.
And although their story is complete, there are holes. Most from his point of view, but some from hers. Moments that we never see. Incomplete scenes, bits where we can imagine more taking place, unsaid, between the lines. And their thoughts! There are so many thoughts they never express, so much feeling. And that's where I started writing.
I was going to revise this one a little bit more, but then the word count in my word processor told me it was exactly 666 words long, and I couldn't resist. Set directly after season 2. After helping Buffy to defeat Angelus, Spike is fleeing Sunnydale with Dru, who already knows that she's lost him. Contains Spike/Drusilla.
Drusilla stirs next to him and opens her eyes slowly. He glances sideways at her with blue eyes and smiles.
'Welcome back, my sweet,' he says.
She blinks a few times and rubs her eyes, before turning them on him, pursing her lips disapprovingly.
'What have you done, my Spike?' she asks, her tone of voice a little harder than usual.
'What I had to,' Spike replies simply, keeping his eyes on the road through the slit in the black paint covering the wind screen. 'I happen to like this world, duck, and I'd a million times rather spend a few more years in it with you than an eternity in hell with Angelus.' He spits the name, as though it were a curse word.
'Our Angelus is gone,' Drusilla moans. 'Swallowed up and vanished.'
'So, the Slayer lives, then. Good for her,' Spike mutters. 'I might yet get to kill her one day.'
Drusilla sits up properly, brushing her dark hair out of her face.
'You've spoiled everything!' she whines. 'Nothing will ever be the same…'
'You're damn right it won't!' Spike growls. 'I won't ever have to live in his shadow again. Angelus always took everything I wanted, everything that was mine! And with Darla gone, there was nothing to dissuade him from taking you from me, too. I couldn't let that happen. You belong with me, Dru! You know that!'
She gives no reply to that. Instead she turns her eyes away, staring down at her hands. Spike wonders what she sees there.
After a few moments, she speaks again. 'Why did it have to be her?'
Spike heaves an exasperated sigh and runs a hand through his hair. The bleached locks are coming loose from their gel. 'Because there was no one else strong enough to take on Angelus!' he states, his voice perhaps a little louder than necessary. 'I did this for you, petal, can't you see that? For us! Now, we're free!'
'You'll never be free,' Drusilla counters, silently, still not looking at him. 'She's infected you. You're hers now, sweet William…'
'Oh, for fuck's sake!' Spike roars, turning to her. 'Will you shut up about the soddin' Slayer, you stupid cow?'
Drusilla turns her wide, grey eyes to him and whimpers, shrinking back in her seat, and he immediately melts.
'Oh, I'm sorry, kitten!' He pulls the car over to the side of the road, before putting his arms around her, holding her close. 'I didn't mean to shout at you, I just… Let's just forget about this, all right? Let's just… we're running away now, right? Away from Sunnyhell and the Slayer and all that. It'll just be you and me again. You know I love you, my dark princess… You're all I'll ever want…'
Her arms circle his neck and she hugs him back and nods into his shoulder.
Then he kisses her, putting all his frustration and anger and joy and love into it, leaving her breathless, if she had breath. He pushes her back into the seat, reaching up inside her skirts with his left hand, smiling when she moans.
And yet, at the back of his mind, there's a nagging little voice saying, Maybe she's right? Maybe you do belong to the Slayer now? And unbidden images seem to burst into his mind, of the Slayer, Buffy Summers – her steely, piercing green gaze, her jaw set in concentration as she resumes her fighting stance, her slim, lithe form as she fights with fluid dexterity and acute precision. She is a killing machine the likes of which he has yet to encounter. Killing her would be his greatest challenge yet, but making her his… Now, that would be a battle for the ages.
He shakes the idea from his mind. One day, he will return to Sunnydale and finish what he started; slaying the Slayer and drinking deep from her life's blood will be a genuine pleasure. For now, there are other tasks at hand.