Back Off

- Sunnydale, CA. 8:23 P.M. - The Summer's Home Basement -

"Stupid, bloody..." Spike mumbled against the mouth of the bottle and let his head fall back against the wall, taking another swig. He sat alone in the dark, on what barely passed for his bed in the basement, nursing a bottle of warm gin.

What right did Buffy have to treat him like that? Telling him who he could talk to, who he could fuck if it came to that? Treating him like dirt, always dirt beneath her feet. It was at times like this that his thoughts about the matter were clearest, that he saw Buffy for what she was. Utterly insane.

She didn't want to be with him, she'd told him that much, and he accepted it...on some level. In fact, for the majority of the last year, just living under the same roof as the girl, fighting along side her as an ally, as a friend, was enough for him. 'Was' being the operative word in that sentence. He'd even come to accept his lot as harmless pet Spike, the vampire with no teeth, living in an unlivable basement in his ex-whatever's home like so much Fonzi. But the fact that he wasn't even allowed to associate with other women -, which was a bit on the impossible side, what with all the potential slayers in the house,- made his blood boil. Metaphorically speaking.

Letting Buffy have at him about anything she pleased had become a ritual, almost a mantra in it's frequencey, and had always been welcomed by him as a sign of unspoken affection. He let her bitch and twist the truth, and occasionally, her violence would break her skin and leave a tangible scar on his flesh. These were the moments he'd craved for so many years, the moments when he felt her devotion to him rip into the real world; when she'd claim him again, and let him know,in no uncertain terms, that he was hers. He used to look forward to that, and he could see it coming, rising up in her like mercury until she shattered and took him with her.

So what changed? The moment this throught passed through his mind, kitchen light flooded the staircase for a moment as the door quietly opened and closed. Spike looked up. Bump-toed black boots squeaked on old stairs followed by shapely, though stubby, denim-clad legs and a few moments later a very confused looking slayer stood on the bottom step. An answer.

"Come to say g'bye?" Spike asked, biting back something in his tone that Faith entirely missed. He downed another swig from his bottle and sighed, resting it on his thigh and rolling his head a bit to get the kinks out of his neck.

She arched a shoulder back and walked over to sit on the edge of Spike's cot with a soft but contented grunt. She crossed her legs, "You think I'm goin' somewhere?"

"Come to think of it, probably not." He lifted a cigarette out of the sawed off bottom of a Pepsi can he'd been using for an ashtray. He took a drag, "Don't seem like the running away type."

"Got that right."

Spike glanced up at Faith, his eyes stark and serious, "Maybe it'd be better f'you if you were."

"Why's that?" She smirked broadly, even defiantly at him and leaned closer as if her next words might be whispered. They weren't, "You think Buffy's got any threats I haven't heard before?" Spike was silent and Faith pursed her lips with realization. She moved back and sat upright, her hands resting on her thighs, "Her Knight in shining armor."

"You sound disappointed?" He slurred past his cigarette, not knowing how to answer her statement with the truth.

Faith plucked Spike's cigarette out of his mouth and took a drag, "Just testing the waters." She flicked the end of the cigarette, and let it's ashes spray onto the floor next to Spike's bed, "I'm ballsy, not headless."

His gaze lifted, their eyes meeting casually, "Meaning?"

She half rolled her eyes and took another puff, "Meaning I read you loud and clear." Faith twisted her lips for a moment, "Contrary to Buff-pular belief, I know when to back off."

Spike took his cigarette back and started grinding it into the ashtray, "Who wants you to back off?" He asked cautiously, his eyes darting up to glance at her before returning to his task.

Faith's brows knit together with confusion. She glanced around the room without moving her head, "You do..?"

A small, wry grin stretched Spike's face, "I don't remember saying that."

"Uh huh. You don't want me to back off, but I should leave for my own good." Faith responded flatly, sarcastically as she leaned back enough to scoot one of her ankles under her butt, "Makes so much sense when I say it in order like that."

"No, "He shook his head, "I didn't mean that...it's just you, you mess with my 'ead, girl.

A chuckle came from the Slayer who'd long since lit her own cigarette, "Because you were The Science Guy before I came down here."

"You mess with my 'ead," He reiterated insistently, "I'm not used to feelin'.."

"Yeah, me either." Faith sighed and got to her feet with a heavy, old-lady grunt. She walked across the room, lifting her arms up to stretch them and let them rest across the top of her head, "So what now?"

To Be Continued.