Buffy the Vampire Slayer Preferences + imagines/one shots

Spike Imagine - 6 months

Half a year. 6 months. 183 days. 4380 hours of missing him with my whole heart.

It's fucking stupid. It's so so so stupid. I'm stupid.

I've been waiting, expecting him to come back to me everyday, as if he didn't leave me behind with no warning. 

I thought we were in love. We were secretly dating behind the Scooby Gang's back because it's not like they'd approve. It's infuriating because they would've told me he was trouble and they would've been right...

I've been more depressed than I'd like to admit, falling into old, self-destructive habits. He understood me like nobody else; he listened and he never judged. He loved me like I deserved to be loved. Loved. Deserved. 

"Earth to Y/N!" 

"Sorry," I mutter, throwing my stake up into the air and catching it with ease. "I'm here, I'm ready. Let's kick some butt."

"That's what I like to hear," Buffy beams, cheery for someone who hasn't had a decent night's sleep in months. Cheery for someone who doesn't realise her best friend is hanging on by a thread.

It's not long before vampires are crawling out of their coffins left, right and centre, stalking towards us in the moonlit cemetery. Patrolling keeps my mind off things, so I completely throw myself into the task - I almost feel bad for the demons on the receiving end of my punches. 

The background noise of grunts and punches ceases suddenly and I shout, "Oi! Buff? A little help?" 

I glimpse Buffy from the corner of my eye - she's standing as still as a statue, staring at something out of my eyeline. 

"Spike?" I hear her question, tone disbelieving.

"Spike?" I yell at her, distracted. The breath gets knocked out of me when the vampire I'd been fighting with whacks me in the stomach and it sends a jolt of pain through my bones. Instead of falling to the floor, I stumble into something solid and tall. It steadies me, he steadies me, twisting me out of the way to stake the vampire. 

My eyes are saucers as I stare at Spike. I gulp, looking at where his hand rests on my hip. He springs his hand back, like he touched a hot stove, and blinks. 

"Y/N."

I swallow again. No words form. Tears do, but I push them away. 

We stare with locked eyes for what seems like a century. Buffy calls my name and I tear my eyes away, joining her side.

"So, Spike," she says with a raise of her eyebrows, "It's been a while. Where the hell have you been?"

Spike's blue eyes look at me, as if wanting me to say something, but I only stare. Even if I wanted to, I don't think my vocal cords are working at this present moment anyway. 

I watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. I wait. He rubs the back of his neck. "I don't think that's any of your business, slayer." His eyes are still on me. Why are they still on me? It's making me want to die.

Buffy looks at me with a disapproving and quizzical frown and I make a similarly disgusted face back. 

"Hum," she says, "Well, bye then."

We both turn to leave and Spike blurts out a strangled: "Wait!"

We turn in sync and he shakes his head, "Sorry, I -" and then he leaves. 

"Well that wasn't weird." Buffy comments.

"Tell me about it." I sniff, wiping away the lone tear that escaped down my cheek.

____--------______---------_______----------____

"Y/N!"

"Fuck off!"

"Please, just talk to me for a sec!"

I freeze and he jogs up to me. He touches my shoulder and I jerk my whole body out of his reach, taking a large step back for the sake of it. I cross my arms protectively over my body and I can feel a muscle in my jaw twitch.

He swallows again, collecting his thoughts and I want to slap his perfectly sculpted face so badly.

So I do.

He doesn't even flinch. "Ok. I deserved that."

I give him an icy glare.

"Ok, please hear me out, love -"

"Don't - don't call me that."

"Ok - sorry. I know you won't like whatever I say but... I had urm, a debt to repay. Got myself in a bit of trouble - a lot of trouble - and had to deal with it. I didn't tell you because I didn't want to put you in danger. These bastards are tricky demons, they'll hurt the ones you love before laying a finger on you, so," He pauses - for what I presume is dramatic effect because it's not like he has to catch his breath. "I had to go."

"You had to go?"

"Yeah."

"You're a monster, Spike."

This time, he flinches. "You don't have to forgive me, Y/N. But I still love you - I don't think that will ever change." My lip twitches. "I can't begin to think how these past months have treated you." I bite my tongue. "I want you to know I am here if you want to talk, when you are ready." My chin wobbles. "Oh, don't. No, don't cry, pet."

"Don't patronise me." I snarl and push his shoulder. He falters, not expecting the attack, but manages to dodge the punch I throw. I try to kick him and he moves, I punch and he blocks. I punch again, the power behind it fuelled with a simmering anger that's finally been brought to the boil. I punch and swing and jab and he blocks every advance. 

"Fight back!" I shout, "Fight back, dammit!" 

He blocks and blocks and I'm starting to get tired. It's frustrating and unsatisfying, I want to scream. I groan as I feel my arms become weaker but now Spike's letting me hit him. My feeble fists pound against his chest and I lose my footing. I fall into him but he catches me. 

At this point, the tears are streaming. All the anger I feel towards him has dissipated, replaced with the debilitating realisation of how much I missed him. 

We end up on the floor, my head hidden in his chest as he strokes my hair. His silence lets me tell him everything I need to with my tears, my sobs and my involuntary whimpers. 

And, just like he did 6 months ago, he understands.