FIC: Love Can’t Cure a Blind Man 1/1

Print Friendly, PDF & Email

Since this will be my last post of the day since I have to catch a train I just wanted to say thanks to itmustbetuesday  for running this community and being kind enough to let me post a story that not many people have read. This has been my first time participating and I’ve had a blast.

Title: Love Can’t Cure a Blind Man
Rating: PG
Author: Anna
Timeline: During “The Gift” after Buffy and Spike go to her house to get weapons
Pairing: Buffy/Spike
Summary: Buffy makes a confession.

Author notes: Feedback is always appreciated.
Disclaimer: I don’t own them.

Love Can’t Cure a Blind Man
The wind made a whistling noise as it passed her by, making it hard for her not to be carried away by its ravenous grip as she walked along the edge of the sidewalk. The sky was painted midnight blue, with shadows of white emanating the clouds. The night air was strangely cold, seeing that spring had already arrived and summer was on its way. It wasn’t a surprise though, considering what the night would possess. Buffy had no choice but to finally confront Glory and get her sister back, in order to save the world from uncertainty.

Spike walked behind her. His pace was slower then hers and she was too nervous to stop and wait for his strides to work with hers. The sound of Salsa music played up the street, reminding her that not everyone in Sunnydale knew that the earth the immediate potential of opening up and letting all the demon realms in. Spike could tell that all the weight of the world was heavy on her shoulders and even after all the time he’d known her, that didn’t seem new. The heels of her shoes clicked along the sidewalk as she and Spike made strides back to the Magic Shop where all the scoobies were waiting for them. They were searching for a plan to save Dawn and the world and put it into action. Buffy could hear Spike humming along to the music, and wondered for a moment how he knew the beat or even the Spanish words.

Buffy decided moments later to stop in her tracks and wait for Spike to reach her before she started walking again. Now she was in step with him. He looked over at her as they walked. He was sharply aware of how the fabric of his jacket lightly hit her pale white cotton shirt. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes and reached for one, placing it between his lips before lighting it. Buffy glanced over at him as the smell of nicotine invaded her nostrils. She wondered why he could make a disgusting habit appear so sexy, although he ran no risk of getting cancer and dying so maybe it wasn’t such a disgusting habit for him.

“Do you know Spanish?” Buffy asked, tugging at the bag strap across her left shoulder.

Spike played with the smoke in his mouth before opening his lips to let it glide out in plump circles into the air. “Enough to get by,” he responded. “I’ve spent a lot of time in countries where Spanish is the first language so I picked up some of it.” He flicked ashes off the cigarette and let them fall to the ground. “Salsa is pretty popular in Mexico and New York City so I’ve heard that song before,” Spike looked over at her and smiled and she caught it, causing her to smile a little, not entirely shocked that he knew where the question was coming from.

“There’s no stars tonight,” Buffy whispered, feeling somber and frightened, maybe even a little unprepared for her face off with Glory. Spike sensed her fear, not just because he was a vampire but because he was fearful as well. He’d made a promise to her to protect Dawn but in his mind he’d made the same promise to himself to protect Buffy and he had a feeling that might end up being impossible as the night went on.

“It’s still early. They could appear a little later when the sky is darker,” Spike said at an attempt to make her feel a little calmer, as if the stars held the power to all of that. He threw his finished cigarette to the ground in front of him and stomped on it as they continued to walk. The salsa music had faded away as time went by, although he still had images in his head of taking Buffy to a club Dru and he had frequented in the early sixties in New York. There, dancing felt like having sex and everyone dripped of sweat and the women wore the color of blood red dresses, while men wore black and white and sometimes red ties. He smirked a little, remembering it, and thinking of how beautiful Buffy would look in one of those red dresses.

“Yea, I guess.” Buffy said, tilting her head backwards staring up at the sky. She quickly turned her attention back to the space in front of her. They’d reached the edge of town where life was going on in fragments, people heading to the movies or driving their cars and honking their horns at one another. She wanted to tell everyone what might happen if she didn’t save the world, except that wouldn’t make much sense. No one would understand, despite all the crazy things that had already happened in Sunnydale.

Suddenly she was stricken by what Spike had said back in the house about her never being able to love him after she’d invited him in for the first time. She wasn’t worried that he would attack Dawn or her friends now that he had an open invitation into her personal space; in fact she felt the complete opposite. She’d seen what he’d done for Dawn, and for her and she had faith in him more than she’d ever expected to. After Buffy had kissed his bruised face she hadn’t known what that meant, except that at the time it felt like the right thing to do. Did she believe he loved her? She wasn’t sure if she could believe any man did, let alone another vampire but she believed he wanted to and in some sense it made her feel desirable, as if Riley had not been the end to it all.

“Spike,” Buffy, whispered his name before they crossed the street towards the Magic Shop. He turned to her, looking down at her with his ocean colored eyes into her emerald colored eyes. “What you said… in the house… maybe I could someday,” and she trailed off turning her head away from his eyes.

Spike felt tightness in his chest as the words hit the air, and then echoed in his ears. He wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly or if she was responding to that little speech he’d given her about how he knew she couldn’t love him but that she treated him like a man. “You could what?” he asked, grabbing her elbow before she crossed the street, pulling her back onto the sidewalk.

She looked down at the ground, nervously playing with the strap on her bag. She took a deep breath in and tried to figure out how to respond.

“If something happens tonight, I just want you to know… that although the “Buffy-bot” was beyond disturbing and you always have a way of pissing me off… that maybe someday or maybe at another time I could… you know… love you.” Buffy said all in one breath. Spike let his hand drop from her elbow, and she quickly turned back around to face the street where she searched for cars coming. When all was clear she ran across the street, her bag hit her black pants and the skin underneath them. Once she reached the other side she took another deep breath in, and wondered if it were possible to take back what she had just said.

Spike watched her go, which seemed to be the theme to their non-existing relationship. He shook his head, feeling as if a large brick had just been thrown at his head. Somehow the possibility of the night had changed from dreadful to full of opportunity. He crossed the street, effortlessly, no cars to be seen and picked at his pack of cigarettes again, pulling out one and placing the tip in between his chapped lips. He flicked his lighter open as he approached Buffy who would tell herself later she wasn’t really waiting for him, but waiting to gain back her sanity. The wind began to pick up again, pushing towards her back making her legs feel unsteady, and then her chest flung into his. He looked down at her, surprised, and grinned a little, while blowing smoke away from her face. She pressed the palm of her hands against his chest where the fabric of his shirt laid and pushed herself away from him, still feeling a little dizzy from the wind and her own words.

“It was the wind,” Buffy stuttered, her cheeks a bright red.

“Sure, pet,” Spike responded, laughing in between the drags he took from the cigarette.

Buffy made a clicking noise with her tongue to signal her annoyance and turned her back away from him and began to walk towards the Magic Shop.

“Buffy,” he said catching up to her, tossing the unfinished cigarette to the ground letting it burn. “I’m sorry about the “Buffy-bot,” he whispered looking embarrassed.

“I know Spike,” Buffy said, giving him a small little smile before she opened the door severing the connection they’d made.

The End

Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/85156.html

smolderingheart

smolderingheart