Buffy the Vampire Slayer Preferences + imagines/one shots

Spike - Where the Hell Have You Been?

"Do you promise?" I ask, grabbing his arm before he can leave the crypt. 

"I promise." he says, turning to face me. "I'll be back for valentines. I promise." 

I give him a smile, hoping to get at least a glimpse of his smirk, but his lips are pressed into a thin line. I refuse to let my disappoint show on my face, so I nod, "I'll miss you."

"I'll be back before you know it." He presses his forehead against mine, and I sigh. He places a gentle kiss there before disappearing into the night, his leather jacket swooshing behind him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

If we're both vampires, who sleep during the day, does that mean he'll be back in the daytime or night-time of February 14th? I don't know why he left, and he'd been shifty about the whole thing. Yes, it pissed me off, but I'm determined to force whatever's going on out of him when he gets back. In a few hours hopefully. Maybe its a romantic surprise, or maybe the timing is just inconvenient - I'm leaning towards the latter. 

Although I'm on tenterhooks for Spike's return, it doesn't stop me snoozing through the day and waking up in the late evening. I check our alarm clock - it's valentines day. I guess he meant the evening. 

I practically leap out of bed and turn on the radio. I flick through stations until I find some cheesy romantic songs - I turn up the volume to the max. Being a vampire with a soul, I've never lost the hopeless romantic side of me. That being said, Spike hasn't either - that's one of the things I love about him. I flit around the crypt, tidying and humming contently to myself. He should be back any moment. 

Shit. I should get dressed. Whatever he's up to, it's still valentines and we should celebrate - our 14th month anniversary, actually. Maybe I should wear that ruby-red dress he likes so much? Or the short black one that sparkles in the candlelight? 

I consider having a packet of blood but decide I should probably wait and indulge in a steamy shower instead. I slip into the red dress, smoothing down the velvety material over my hips and I run a brush through my hair. I dismiss the fruitless desire to look into a mirror, and plonk myself down into a chair, picking up one of Spike's battered books that's been discarded on the table.

It's a collection of poetry - sonnets - but the cover is so well loved I can't make out the title. I start to read.

Every so often I glance at the clock.

And every so often, I doubt he's going to be back in time.

-  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?" I shout as Spike walks sheepishly into our home. 

Two weeks. It's been two weeks.

If my heart could beat, it would break my ribcage with how furious I am. Humiliated. Upset. Relieved. I've spent everyday cooped up in the crypt, not daring to leave in case I missed his return. And every time I'd lay down to sleep, my mind would conjure all the reasons why he wasn't back. Had he left me for someone else? Did I do something wrong? Was he in danger? What if he was... dead ? 

"I sat waiting for hours! I didn't know what had happened to you! I - I thought -" my voice catches in my throat, "I thought you'd left. Like, left. Me." I keep my distance and I can barely look at him as he hangs up his coat. 

"Y/N..." Spike whispers.  He takes a step towards me and I can tell something is off. I don't know what, but something has changed. 

"No! Don't say my name like that," I shake my head, "Spike. You promised me." 

"I know, love. I'm so sorry. I - I can explain."

"You better." I spit, folding my arms over my chest protectively. What could he possibly say? I'm gazing at my feet, mouth dry, heart heavy. 

"Can I?" he asks softly as he takes another step. I clench my jaw and shake my head, not letting him take me in his arms as much as I may want to. 

I continue to stare downwards, fighting the tears.

"Y/N..." he says gently, impossibly gently, and I force myself to look up. Our eyes meet. My heart drops to my stomach and I rush forward to clutch Spike's arms. Both eyes are puffy and purple, and he has a horrendous burn branded on his neck, which crawls up to his cheek. 

"Spike." it rushes out of my mouth, breathy and scared. 

He stares at me, expression unreadable.

And then I see it. Our eyes lock and the world is turned upside down. 

His eyes have always been one of my favourite things about him. Blue and bright and great for staring contests. But now... they're different. I didn't think they could be more beautiful, but they are. They're an ocean. 

And I realise.

"How?" I whisper, bringing up my hand to delicately cup his non-burned cheek. I brush a thumb over his cheekbone and his eyes soften. I want to weep. 

Those damn eyes.

"I got it for you." he says slowly, carefully, anticipating my reaction, "I didn't know how long it would take." he adds, a smile creeping onto his lips. I've missed that smile.

My voice doesn't feel like my own as I croak: "A soul? You got... You got a soul... for me?"

He nods.

"How ?"

He takes a small step back and lifts his obviously borrowed (or stolen) t-shirt. His torso is a blur of angry burns and bruises. I inhale sharply - his face is so stoic I didn't know it was this bad.

"Who did this to you? What did they do?"

Spike shakes his head. "Love," he breezes past my questions, "I know I can never give you what you truly deserve without a soul. I want - I need to be a better man for you. I promise that -"

"Spike -"

"Let me speak, okay?" he says gently, and tears start to brim in my eyes, "I love you more than I thought I was capable of, and all I want to do is treat you right and... God, I don't know what I'm saying." He winces as if I just slapped him, although I'm trying to catch his eye to tell him everything's alright. That everything is going to be fine.

"I'm in love with you. Not your soul, not your vamp-face. You, William Pratt." I grab his face with both hands until he looks at me. "I have never felt like anything was missing from our relationship. Or you. I love you more than words could ever attempt to explain. You've always been good enough for me."

"You don't need to say that to make me feel better."

"It's the truth, you idiot."

Spike quirks up an eyebrow and I sigh. 

"I don't know if I'm mad at you or not." Spike opens his mouth but I carry on, "I'm mad that you put yourself through all this... torture... because I feel like it's my fault and I'm definitely mad I was left in the dark for two weeks but... I'm not mad at you." I conclude, "I love you. We - we can... I -"

Spike hugs me and I hug him back fiercely. "I can't believe you." I say into his hair and I pull back to kiss him. I try to be careful because of all his injuries, but he kisses me back with such power and passion, I almost stumble backwards.

"Spike..." I laugh.

"It is  valentines still..."

"I can't believe you!" I repeat quietly with a grin.