blue_icy_rose

Title: Darkness I Live In
Rating: R
Pairing: Buffy/Dean
Summary: After a demon attack, Buffy wakes up with no memories except her name and begins to travel with Dean and Sam. While on the road, Buffy and Dean grow closer. Post Chosen. (I so suck at summaries, lol.)
Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Buffy belongs to Joss Whedon and the Winchesters belong to Eric Kripke. (Lucky bastards.) All the dialogue in Buffy's memory flashes are from various episodes. The title of the story was inspired by Mary Lou Von Meter's poem, Heart of Darkness. Banner made by the awesome Mel. ^_^
Author's Note: This is my response to chosenfire's Memories Forgotten challenge at Route 66. If you'd like to see the requirements for the challenge, go here. You can also find this at Twisting the Hellmouth. This new chapter was written for

tamingthemuse (prompt: ravish - which I used as more of a theme this time). Enjoy and feedback's always welcome!

Banner by

avamclean

Previous Chapters

Warning for the Chapter: Buffy does remember the bathroom scene from Seeing Red in this one.

Dean glanced over at Buffy as she slept, her head on top of the book she’d been looking through while lying on the bed. They hadn’t been able to come up with a reason that Buffy could have pulled off such a move without any training at all so Dean figured that there was a good chance she had been a hunter or something along those lines before she lost her memory. To him, it explained why she’d been found near the demon they’d been hunting, why she hadn’t freaked out about demons in the first place, the fact that she knew her crystals, and how quickly she was picking up on shooting.

If she had been a hunter, she’d obviously been good with knives. Before he’d lost the coin toss on who would get dinner, Sam had told him that the move had looked completely instinctual.

Too damn bad he’d been pouring gas at the time. It had probably been a hell of a sight.

Shaking his head, he turned back to the newspaper in front of him, checking to see if any of the articles would lead to a job.

~*~*~

She hated it when they got in a lucky shot was all she could think as she leaned over to turn the water on. She put her hand under the water briefly to check the temperature before straightening, one hand going to her back with a wince.

“You hurt? You’re not moving so well.”

Buffy didn’t bother to hide the flash of annoyance. “Get out.”

“We have to talk.”

She turned to look at him. “I really don’t.”

“Well, this isn’t just about you.” He pushed the door closed behind him. “As much as you’d like it to be.” He stayed by the door, keeping his eyes on her as she made no move to walk towards him, choosing to stand near the sink instead.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You spoke. I listened. Now leave.”

He let out a small breath. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “Not that it matters anymore, but I needed you to know that.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I care about you.”

Right. He cared. “Then you might want to try the not sleeping with my friends.”

“I didn’t go to Anya for that,” he protested. “I was looking for a spell.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You were going to use a spell on me?” Okay, now she was well on her way to pissed.

He sighed again, the sound letting her know he was getting annoyed. “It wasn’t for you! I wanted something.” He put a hand on his chest, voice getting angrier with each sentence. “Anything to make these feelings stop. I just wanted it to stop!” Off the look on her face, he sighed again, calming. “You should have let him kill me.”

Her own voice softened. “I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not?” He looked at her and she could see the need for answers, one answer in particular, in his eyes.

Buffy turned and moved back towards the tub. “You know why.”

“Because you love me.”

She leaned over, once again putting a hand on her back. “No, I don’t,” she told him, annoyed.

“Why do you keep lying to yourself?” he demanded. She whirled around.

“How many times—“ She stopped and took a moment to calm herself. “I have feelings for you. I do. But it’s not love. I could never trust you enough for it to be love.”

He laughed. “Trust is for old marrieds, Buffy.” She rolled her eyes at that. “Great love is wild...and passionate and dangerous. It burns and consumes.”

“Until there’s nothing left. Love like that doesn’t last.” She watched as he began to pace.

“I know you feel like I do. You don’t have to hide it anymore.”

She rolled her eyes. “Spike, please stop this.”

Spike turned to look at her. “Let yourself feel it,” he whispered. He moved towards her, putting his hands on her waist and pulling her forward. She pushed at him and he tightened his grip.

“No.”

“You love me,” he said.

She struggled, wincing. “Ow, no, stop it.” She began shoving at him as he gripped her arms tightly and she tried to break his grip. The sound of fabric ripping penetrated the panic she felt rapidly taking over her and she began to struggle more as she felt his hand slip inside her robe.

“Spike, no,” she said, her voice rising. “Ow – what are you do—“ She tried to step back and Spike followed her, trying to kiss her, causing her to stumble. She reached up and grabbed the shower curtain, hoping to find some sort of purchase, anything that might allow her to get away from this.

The shower curtain ripped off the rings and she fell, her back slamming against the tub. “Ow!” Spike was there, crouched in front of her, one hand going to cradle her face as he leaned in and tried to kiss her. Buffy shoved and kicked at him, doing what she could to push him back.

“Let it go. Let yourself love me,” he said, a desperate note to his voice that had never really been there before. He continued trying to kiss her, managing to kiss the top of her head a few times as she shoved at him, her breath coming faster as she denied what was happening. Her cries for him to stop mingled with his demands that she love him as they fell so that they were on the floor completely.

Buffy turned so that she was on her stomach, frantically trying to get to the door as Spike pressed down on her and pulled her arms away from the door, ignoring her shouts.

“No! Stop it!” She twisted as he straddled her.

“I know you felt it...when I was inside you.” His hands ripped at her robe and this time the sound of fabric ripping was a vague background noise as she sobbed and broke free, crawling towards the door. He grabbed her ankle and pulled her back, flipping her over and pinning her hands to the floor.

“No, ow, ow!” Buffy shook her head trying to keep him from kissing her as she felt the tears streaking over her skin, towards her hair. “Please, please, Spike, please...”

“You’ll feel it again, Buffy...”

“Please don’t do this,” she begged.

His voice became more determined. “I’m gonna make you feel it.” He ripped the front of her robe open and she screamed, struggling harder.

“Stop!” Buffy shoved at him as hard as she could, scrambling to her feet as he flew backward, slamming into the sink and wall. She refused to let her hands shake as she pulled her robe closed, holding it with one hand.

He straightened, panting, as he stared at her.

“Ask me again why I could never love you,” she snapped, her voice shaking slightly even as she glared at him.

The look on his face was one of dawning horror but she didn’t care. Couldn’t care, not now.

“Buffy, my God, I didn’t...”

“Because I stopped you,” she said, cutting him off. “Something I should’ve done a long time ago.” She didn’t bother to wipe away the tear that fell slowly down her face. “Now get out.”

“Buffy—“

“I said get out, Spike!”

He didn’t try to apologize again, didn’t try to say anything as he stared at her for one moment longer before practically ripping the door off its hinges in his rush to get out of the room.

She didn’t let herself fall to the floor until she heard the front door slam.

Buffy shot up, a scream caught in her throat. She let out a strangled sound and flinched back when she felt a hand on her arm.

“It’s me,” Dean said, making an effort not to let the panic he’d felt at her first scream show. “Buffy, it’s me, Dean.”

Slowly, her breathing calmed and she turned to look at him as if checking that he were real. “Dean?” she asked.

He nodded, waiting to see how she would react and he couldn’t stop the relief he felt when she relaxed. “Mind if I sit?”

She shook her head, relaxing a bit more when he sat down by her. She swallowed, shifting so that she was sitting next to Dean on the side of the bed, rather than behind him.

Dean stared at her and wondered if he should force her to talk about it or if he should just leave it if she asked.

“I’d been hurt in some kind of fight,” she said suddenly, taking the decision from him. Automatically, her hand went to her back before she snatched it away, deliberately gripping her hands together in front of her. She let out a breath when Dean put a hand over both of hers. “I...I was in a bathroom, mine I’m guessing, and I was in a robe and letting the water heat up. And he came in the bathroom, saying we had to talk.” Dean’s hand tightened on hers and she closed her eyes. “It seemed like part of it was an argument we’d had before. About whether I loved him or not. I kept saying I didn’t, he kept saying I did and then...” Her voice hitched and Dean let go of her hands, wrapping an arm around her instead. “He was trying to make me feel it, he said.”

Dean’s jaw tightened as he listened to her tell him what she had remembered. He could feel the way she shuddered every now and then when she’d mention something and he pulled her against him more securely.

“He didn’t get to...” She shrugged as much as she could. “Well, you know. I managed to shove him off me and then it was like he was waking up or coming out of a trance or something. He looked terrified by what he’d done and he tried to apologize and I made him leave.”

“Good,” Dean ground out. A part of him wondered if there had been some sort of spell or something involved because of his reaction before he dismissed the idea as nothing more than a justification.

It didn’t escape his notice that Buffy hadn’t said the guy’s name once during the explanation and he wondered if it was because she didn’t know it or because she didn’t want to.

Her arms wrapped around his waist as she turned slightly to press her face against his shoulder, taking a deep breath. He rubbed a hand up and down her arm before scooting back on the bed, pulling her so she was sitting sideways on his lap as she began to cry, softly at first and then harder. He didn’t say anything at first, just wrapped his arms around her and began rocking her back and forth slightly the way he used to when he and Sam were kids and Sam had had a nightmare.

“It’s okay,” he told her. “Everything’s going to be okay now.” He licked his lips. “Buffy.”

The only answer she gave him was a slight shifting.

“Tomorrow, we’ll start teaching you hand-to-hand, okay? I promise.”

She didn’t say anything out loud but the way she tightened her arms around him was answer enough.