Spike flicked his lighter open while placing the leg of the cigarette in between his lips and then lit it and sucked in, the smoke penetrating into his dead lungs. Buffy watched him as you would watch someone you remember, but no longer know. It was as if she were seeing him for the first time. Hours had passed and they still had only been polite, walking around her apartment as if they were both on eggshells. Neither one of them knew what to say or where to begin.
The time that had been displaced between them felt like big gaping holes and in her heart she knew the questions she wanted answers to didn’t matter as much as knowing that he was there in front of her, smoking a cigarette and letting the smoke filter out into the early morning air before the sun rose. She wanted to tell him so many things, all the things she had been telling him in her head but she didn’t know where to begin or even if he would care. She couldn’t ask him how he came back because in so many ways it was too surreal for her to even wonder. He looked the same to her except he had new scars and looked more tired then she remembered. But to her he was still Spike, still the man she loved. Her love for him filled her at that moment as they sat outside on her balcony, watching the stars and the sky.
“Spike,” she was the first to speak, to break the silence that had become comfortable at times and then uncomfortable at others as if to keep the balance between the situation.
Spike turned to her grunting a little to signal he heard her. He watched her. Her hair had grown longer, longer then he had remembered and he felt the urge to reach out and touch it but he kept his free hand to his side and looked back up at the sky. It was bad enough he could smell her and had hours before been holding her hand in a way only two people who cared about each other would. He knew that nothing would ever be as it was. He wasn’t even sure he wanted it to be. He loved her. It was the realest thing he felt but he didn’t want her to feel obligated to be with him now that he was there next to her, undead, walking with the living.
“It’s good to see you,” she whispered smiling up at him and he felt all his nervousness fade away because those were the words he needed to hear. He knew there would be questions to answer and even things he wanted to ask but for right then it was okay. It was okay just being next to her, smoking a cigarette after a hard night of saving the world once again. If there was anything he had learned was that redemption was hard to come by and if he could find any moment in time that he could rest his thoughts and even be silent in he was the better and more content for it.
“It’s good to see you too, pet,” he said, in-between sucking and blowing out smoke. She smiled softly and it was then he felt a shift, something happening between them he had never expected.
“Can I have a drag?” she asked somewhat innocently and he turned to her with disbelief.
“What?” he asked staring at her then back at the cigarette. Buffy didn’t need to repeat herself so she cocked her head to the side and gave him a sneaky smile. He handed her the cigarette and she took it in between her fingertips and held it the way a professional smoker would, with so much clarity and understanding that he found himself completely and utterly intrigued. “When?” was all he could say as she placed her lips to the cancer stick and sucked in deeply only moments later letting the smoke escape. She handed it back to him and looked like she had savored every moment of it.
“When we moved here, when you were gone.” She answered looking back up at him. He looked at her with certain lucidity, maybe even understanding but he knew things were different now and yet somehow better. She moved her hand next to his on the armrest of the flimsy plastic chair and he became even more aware of the fact that she was near him. He had been waiting and hoping for this moment since he had been brought back from the bottom of the hellmouth. She placed her hand on top of his and wrapped her fingers in between his own and he watched their hands melt together and become shaped as one.
“I have questions,” she said softly. “I got some of it from Faith, bits and pieces”. He nodded his head pushing the cigarette against the buildings brick wall that was next to him, putting the trickle of smoke out.
“I have answers,” he whispered, stroking her thumb with his own, feeling the goose bumps rise all over his body.
“But not now, Spike.” She paused turning to him. Her eyes washing over his features, every new scar that appeared on his face and hands and she knew there were answers. She knew it was him. That he was real and nothing else seemed to matter. “I just want to sit with you.”
And they sat together till the sun came up.
The end... for now.
Authors Note: I say the end for now because I actually really enjoyed writing this piece and decided that I wanted to write a prequel and another five or more parts for this. But as I’ve learned that I enjoy writing everything altogether it might be awhile. I am working on finishing it up or at least five more chapters along with the prequel but in the meantime I think this is a sufficient ending with the large possibility of the things to come.
Thank you for reading!