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Frozen



Part One: Never Enough


There was never enough time, or maybe there was too much of it. Buffy Summers could never decide which was true. In her world time was both absent and yet ever present, a reminder of what she had lost and what she had gained. She had lost the need to worry about the countless hours ticking by. In fact there was no evidence that time even existed here, in her world, in her apartment. There were no clocks, no digital blinking streaming from the DVD player or microwave, even the gold watch that the Scoobies had bought her for her 23rd birthday had long since stopped ticking. It was as if time could not reach her, and dared not tread into her sanctuary.

But for all time was held at bay in her small apartment amidst the busy streets of New York, there were still memories; time could not erase those, not yet. And Buffy wouldn't have let it if it could. She knew that in time memories could fade, break down, and she fought it with all of her might. Keeping them close to her heart and turning them over in her mind like a scrapbook. She armed herself against forgetting with pictures. Photos carefully framed and mounted covered her walls, sat on her dressers, and propped on nightstands. Every photo she could find was carefully placed in a spot of honor, bitter photos, happy photos, photos that brought a tear to her eye, were all mingled seamlessly. There were dozens from the weeks after the battle with The First. Nothing like an apocalypse to make you appreciate what really mattered. A few from high school, ones which she had begged Cordelia to have copied and ones that Angel bestowed upon her as a birthday present. It didn't seem to matter to him that she no longer counted birthdays, for the numbers would never turn. Those years were frozen just like the face smiling back at her, never changing.

There was a single blank frame on which Buffy placed a rose. She did it frequently, not everyday or every week for those words had lost all meaning to her now, but when one wilted she replaced it, starting with a fresh bud. She liked to watch it grow and change, some times she was envious of the flower, for it grew so splendidly, and sometimes she noticed how short its tiny life was and was grateful she was not a rose. But she kept it watered and happy during its brief life next to that empty frame, it helped lessen the bitter resentment she felt rising in her whenever she would glance at it. It should have held a picture of her mother, of Joyce, but there was none to be found. The Hellmouth stole that from her, it stole so very much from her. But she pushed that thought down and instead tucked the newest rose bud into the vase, concentrating on its beauty and the sound of jingling keys as Spike came home.

"Hey luv." He smiled at her, shoving his key back into his duster, as he entered their creamy white bedroom. He seemed to occupy most of the space, calling into sharp contrast his bleached hair and leather duster and the smell of brandy and tobacco that clung to him with the perfectly crisp sheets and drawn linen curtains. She smiled back at him, the familiar unchanging scent always offering up its comfort, reminding her she was not alone, not yet anyway.

And like the darkening of the sky when a cloud blots out the sun her face fell, her mind floating into the future that lay stretched out in front of them, her path straight and unchanging and his yet to be determined. Yes, she had him now but it was only a matter of time before he was gone from her world. She knew it might be decades even hundreds of years but it still stood there, an everlasting ink spill on her once hopeful future.

Noticing the small frown that crossed her face he approached her, locking both arms around her slender waist. She smiled weakly at him, as he searched her hazel eyes for the cause of her distress and misreading the sadness spoke. "We don't have to go, ya know. We can stay in and watch the telly." But she knew better and so did he. She had to go. And he would rather stake himself then let her dive into that can of worms unaided. He was going to stand by and be her knight, the more things change... She smiled to herself, wondering if he knew that he could never hide the truth from her, that it was all painted in those blue orbs, but she didn't ask. There would be time later, for time was the one thing she had.

She sighed deeply, as his thumbs swirled lazy circles across her back. "Nah." She shook off his suggestion for a night in as if it had been a viable option. "I have to go. It's a slayer thing. I need to make sure they're all peachy keen. Ya know, keep the baddies away." She tried to grin but it didn't reach her eyes. His face darkened at the sight of her fighting to keep up appearances, he was about to suggest he go alone when she cast her eyes down, fiddling with the buttons of his black silk shirt. "I just want to give her one good night." Her eyes caught his, silently pleading.

"If you say so, pet." He watched her pull out a leather jacket from her closet, still amazed after all this time how she belonged to him. She came prancing up before him, spinning in a quick turn. His eyes raked over her, a hint of predator leaking out.

"So how do I look?" She angled, even though it was clear by the glint in his eyes that he approved.

His mouth felt suddenly dry, his tongue thick at the sight of her in her black leather pants and low cut halter revealing a hint of her supple breasts. "Perfect."

She noticed his falling eye line and took it to mean something was obviously wrong with her outfit. "Do you think I should change tops?" She asked peering down at the burgundy halter beneath the soft folds of leather, her brow furrowed slightly as she pondered her choice. She knew it was a foolish question, in the end it didn't matter, they couldn't see her. But there were moments... moments when she wanted to be seen. But the choice had been made long ago and she could do nothing to remedy it now.

Spike ignored her first question, witnessing the shadow crossing her features as she worked out the conclusion on her own, that it didn't matter. "Come on." He said grabbing her warm hand in his cool one, pulling her towards the door. "If we don't hurry we are gonna be late."

She sighed, as she caught up to his long strides, holding tightly to his arm as they walked through the darkness. There was never enough time.





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