Because I’m slightly worried that my fluffy sugar coated Spike in Learning to breathe might have pushed one or two of you into a diabetic coma and becuase I really had hoped to do better for seasonal spuffy, I’ve got an unconnected collection of less sacherine drabbles that you might like (and hey if you don’t there only short ;)
Their reunion was all she’d imagined and everything she’d dreaded when she’d boarded that transcontinental flight.
She’d formulated her plan over the Atlantic: Maturity, communication and no violence. Not a plan per se perhaps, but a strategy at least.
And it wasn’t her fault she hadn’t stuck to it. There’d just been something about finding him lounging casually in Angel’s chair cigarette in hand that had enraged her.
“Plan schmam,” she thinks wickedly as she trails kisses down his bruised jaw. Maybe it wasn’t a fantasy reunion, but it was Buffy and Spike and she couldn’t have hoped for better.
“I guess that’s how we’re different”
“How’s that now?”
“All those nights I was gone you said you saved me. Played it out differently somehow. Made it right”
“I didn’t, it always went the same. I’d lie awake and I’d play it over in my head but I couldn’t ever think of anything else I could have done. Nothing quicker or more clever, nothing that could’ve saved you ”
“‘Cos there was nothing. Just how it was supposed to be, yeah”
“I guess. Will you let me do it now?”
“Buffy I don’t…”
“Ssshhh just let me save you”
She left Sean today. Turned up again on his doorstep with a suitcase and cried a little, though not enough to hint at heartbreak, over fresh brewed tea.
She’s spent much of the last thirty years here; living with an old man because no-one can love her well enough to eclipse the regrets of a year when pride had outweighed love and who called first had seemed important
She loved a few of them. Could perhaps have been happy had she not compared each one to him and found some failing because none were flawed as beautifully as he was.
“I can forgive her this,” he tells her and the witches eyes fill with admiration for his clemency.
“What can’t you forgive her for then?” she asks knowing there must be something.
“For the hope” the answer flows like treacle sadness over her skin leaving her feeling coated in his suffering. He doesn’t need to say anymore not after she’s already seen Buffy that night, on her knees and begging to be judged.
She offers no words of comfort-she wont fuel the fire-just pushes his blood caked hair out of his face and lays a gentle kiss on his forehead.
Well unfortunately that’s all I managed to come up with-Did I mentiuon I got the first day?-Hope it at least gets everyone in the mood for the wonderful stuff I know’s coming up for spring time Spuffy. I’d also like to be the first to thank tuesday for putting this on again and compliment her on the gorgeous spring layout.
So long and thanks for all the fish
Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/66327.html