I've seen a lot of painful things in my time.
Death, torture, betrayal... I've caused more than my share, and I've seen
it returned in spades.
But I've never seen anything that hurt like this.
I can't move. I can't turn away. An eternity in hell doesn't compare to
the torment of watching this... but I can't stop.
I came here looking for Buffy. Willow tipped me off to a 'Slayer fun day'
most likely in progress.
When I found Faith's motel room empty, a group
of snickering chumps on the second floor landing led me to this window.
"Spike is like a god," one spectator whispered to another,
just before I vaporized him. The others were ashes in an instant.
If I'd known what they were watching... how could I know? My only
thought was that Spike must be in there hurting Buffy. I was blinded by
And then I was staggered by the truth.
A collective moan was the first clue; next, the scent hit me. And finally...
Spike, kneeling on the bed; Faith, on her back, legs lotusing his waist;
and Buffy... Buffy facing down, palms on the bed, body sloping toward Faith, knees
hooked under Spike's arms as he...
He's fucking Faith. Or rather, she's bouncing and rebounding off of his
dick. And Buffy... He's doing things to her I never did.
Things I never had the chance to do.
Spike's holding her to his mouth. She's trembling and cooing as he shakes
his head, feasting on her with his tongue.
I ball my fists; my knuckles turn white.
Did they think I wouldn't find them? Just because they took a different
room in the same motel? Was this his idea? Faith's?
I could bust in there right now and claim what's mine. Dust him, and fuck
her hard against that dirty wall. Not like I'd lose my soul -- happiness
not really on the menu tonight.
But that's the difference between me and him: I could, but I won't.
Faith reaches up to roll Buffy's nipples between her fingertips.
Spike slips a black-polished thumb into Buffy and she shouts out a crescendo
of pleasure as she comes. Against his mouth. In his hands.
He licks, sucks, takes in and relishes her essence. I want to break the
door down and kill him.
But then... it wouldn't be worth giving him the satisfaction that I've
seen all of this. I don't want him to die a happy man.
Still trembling, Buffy kisses Faith tenderly. They "Mmm" in
I narrow my eyes.
She's gotten to Buffy. Something's gotten to Buffy.
A spell. Or some kind of drug. Because she wouldn't do something
Or would she? Of her own volition?
Has she changed this much?
The things I put her through... Wait. No. I'm not gonna start making excuses
for her. There is no excuse for this:
Buffy drops to the bed, exhausted and spent. Faith, who must have come at
the same time, unfastens herself from Spike's lower half. "Uh-oh,"
the dark Slayer grins, "Somebody's still up."
"What was it you girls said?" Spike asks. "Up all night,
"Don't forget the great fuck," Buffy says, hand on forehead,
It's him... he's done some kind of spell.
"That'd be all you," Spike assures her with a smile.
Maybe I could lobotomize him, then kill him.
"Hey," Faith says. "What am I, fuckin' chopped granola?"
"Both of you," he says, in honest astonishment. "Best I
"What about Dru?" Buffy asks with an arch of her brow.
"Dru?" Spike asks, crawling over her 'til his body covers hers,
'til they're eye to eye: "Dru who?"
Buffy chuckles, and they kiss.
Of all the things I've seen tonight, this is the worst.
Because it tells me that nothing magical is motivating this; nothing out
of the ordinary is spurring these three on. Just lust, loss and the intoxicating
taste of power.
Buffy says, "I think we've exorcised all our exes tonight."
Spike rolls onto his back beside her. "No better way."
I shoot out a bitter exhale. Got that right.
Faith and Buffy adhere to either side of him. One brushes her hand over
his balls; the other traces circles around his nipple.
Alternately, they suck face. Buffy and Spike. Faith and Spike. Faith and
Buffy, over his chest.
And together, the girls slide down to tend to his... problem.
That's the first time I notice that he's marked her.
She's casually whipped her hair out of her face to suck his cock, and
I spot the holes in her neck. Shallow, so he wouldn't hurt her... Healing,
so I couldn't smell the blood... but bitemarks nonetheless.
I stare at those holes, mesmerized. They tell a story about what's happened
tonight. They move, twist and bend, but they don't disappear.
And they never, ever will.
Faith's head gets in the way and I'm snapped out of it.
Spike clenches his teeth, juts his chin into the air, arches his back
and holds the heads of two living slayers as he roars in orgasm.
I clench my teeth too, but for a different reason.
"Hold up, keep that mouth open, baby," Faith informs him. "I
need it for a sec."
She sits on his face. He laughs, hums in approval and holds her down.
With a giggle, Buffy lowers herself on his still-hard cock.
The Slayers' mouths meet for a good minute.
They break apart and smile at each other. Buffy cranes down to suck and
pinch Faith's nipples. Faith drags her tongue over Buffy's neck -- over
Spike's fresh markings.
The three of them make a sloppy triangle on the bed: Faith grinds against
Spike's mouth while kissing Buffy, who writhes over Spike's cock.
As I lose focus, they merge into one being. One entity. Hungry. Wild.
And finally I close my eyes. In disgust... in sorrow.
That isn't Buffy in there.
I turn, and with her moans leaving an indelible mark in my memory, I walk
That isn't the one I loved.