[Reviews - 52]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 3432 times

- Text Size +




Author's Chapter Notes:
thanks so much everyone, you're fantastic!
She didn’t wake him up when she left, and he pretended to be asleep, both too afraid of their own failings to say what they wanted to. And so Buffy pretended the sharp sting behind her eyes as she walked home was from the morning glare and Spike pretended the side of the bed she had occupied was still warm because he must have rolled over while sleeping.

He’d watched her through carefully hooded lids, the rise and fall of her chest as she’d dressed tortuously slow so as not to make a sound, the way she’d stared at him while pulling her hair back into a loose ponytail. It had been the hardest to pretend when she had turned back into the room, as if to wake him, or leave a note, but had forced herself silently away. And he had let her.

There was no doubt in his mind that she knew he had wakened with her, but there was a sort of familiarity and stability in the game they had played. No rejection, no awkward goodbyes and perhaps most importantly no getting themselves into something he was certain neither one was prepared for.

Buffy wanted that fence, the one that symbolized a happy home and a stability he wasn’t certain he could give. What he wanted was passion; dark and dangerous and all consuming, he wanted to love until his soul felt the sting of it and then he wanted to burn up in its wake and he didn’t know if she was ready for that, fuck, maybe he wasn’t even ready for it. He didn’t give out his heart cheaply; his body and his affections were a different story though. He’d been with countless girls, brought them all over the edge and back again, heard his name screamed so loudly that he had a ringing in his ears but he had never once allowed himself to love any of them. Some for shallow reasons; too fat, too tall, they laughed like a hyena. Others that he could have loved, given the proper time had major character flaws; some were racist, others tried to push religion onto him and so on. Through it all though, he never told one of them his real name, but SHE knew it. The first bird to have ever been smart enough to check a bill he’d left on the table, why did she have to be so fucken’ pure? He knew for a fact she wasn’t, had witnessed it while she came around him but she represented purity in the very least. Her tan skin represented the sun, her hazel eyes represented the land, and her golden hair shone like crops of sun kissed wheat. He had fucked Mother Nature, and the joke was on him. He was darkness, venturing out in the pale light of moon, donning black clothing on his sun starved skin, and if he had to compare his hair to crops, well, it had withered. His eyes though, were blue like the ocean his mother used to tell him, and that one day someone would drown in him. It had always left him a little uneasy, it was one thing to love someone so thoroughly that to be away from them would be to suffocate but it was something else entirely to be someone else’s air. It was a double edged sword really, he could feel his passion and his love bubbling beneath the surface waiting to be set free but he didn’t want it in return. He could handle the ‘responsibilities’ of being in love, but not of being loved back.

He sighed and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, one hand behind his head, the other splayed across the now empty side. “I’m fucked” he whispered to the walls that he trusted not to tell his secrets.


The morning light was torture to Buffy’s slightly puffy eyes, from her lack of sleep and the hit she’d taken the night before. She forced her feet to keep walking when all the while her mind was screaming “go back”. Her feet won the war and trudged onward, back to her empty house, waiting to taunt her with the echoes of the memories she would keep replaying in her head.

He was different, she knew enough about herself to know she wouldn’t be attracted to just an ordinary guy. He was special, but she wouldn’t be able to figure out in how many ways now. The thought angered her. She was still young, couldn’t she just let herself have the fun being with him with no strings offered until it wore her down and she had to move on? The question answered itself. No. She wouldn’t let herself be hurt like that, she went to twirl the Celtic ring she always wore and noticed with dismay it was missing, she would have headed back to Spike’s house but the chances that it was there and not at the Bronze, or in an alley somewhere lost were slim. She would cut her losses and live without it.

She wished he didn’t have such expressive eyes, they told her things she didn’t want to know. How insecure he was, how turned on he was if they darkened, how they sparkled with mirth when he was having fun. If all she could ever do was look into his eyes she was certain she would still come to know him. In creating Spike, it was as if a higher power had taken everything sinfully delicious, thrown it into a pot and poured it into a mold meant only to tantalize. It wasn’t fair to the man she knew must be hiding behind that exterior, then again maybe she was just over analyzing, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t been wrong before.

Angel.
Parker.

Those two were a testament to just how wrong she could be, oh yeah, and Andrew. They hadn’t done anything but date a few times platonically, a show to get people off their backs for awhile, before he came out and told her he was gay. On a side note he was also very creative and had based one of his characters on her, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. She smiled, she’d have to call him soon, find out how his comic was doing, if she remembered correctly he was just about to finish up ‘season one’ of it. Why he was so enamored with her she could only guess, most likely due to the fact that he didn’t have many friends. He was quiet and shy, worried about too many things and, well, a dork. But she had always seen the good in him, knew that one day his comic would pick up and go places. Not because it was essentially about her life, though he based several characters on the people she’d met and been close to throughout the years but because he was genuinely talented, the boy could spin a tale better than anyone else she knew. She idly wondered if one day Buffy, comic book Buffy, would find the one and then she laughed at herself, wanting to live vicariously through a character that only lived vicariously through her was an oddity in itself.

She pulled her keys out of her bag and sighed, “Home sweet empty home”.

Forty five minutes away Spike pulled a silver link chain out of his nightstand and slid the Celtic ring onto it before securing it around his neck and laying back down, falling asleep soon after, with his newfound treasure gripped tightly in his hand.





You must login (register) to review.