Fonder Distance, Oneshot

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Hey all.  I had planned on a longer, creepier story for this but I felt I needed more time.  LOL.  So instead I have this one little shot.  Hope you all enjoy

Title: Fonder Distance
Author: maryperk
Rating: PG13
Time Frame: Post NFA
Beta: Tasha
Artwork: amyxaphinia
Summary: Distance makes us fonder.



When you feel alone, just look at the spaces between your fingers, remember that in those spaces you can see my fingers locked with yours forever.”  – Anonymous



She sat at the kitchen table where she gazed out the window into the sun-filled yard.  Buffy’s hand was wrapped around a cup of hot chocolate much like what her mother had made for her back in Sunnydale.  She was lonely, but she didn’t miss Dawn or her friends as much as she thought she would.  She’d needed the break away from them after the destruction of the Hellmouth.

 No, what Buffy missed was a particular bleached blond pain the ass vampire.  Of course he was also the vampire who sacrificed himself for her and the world.  Buffy wished that she had told Spike that she loved him before his last moments down in the Hellmouth where he burned up.

 Buffy moved to Ferris Springs, Minnesota, where she got a job as a martial arts instructor.  She wished she’d opened her own business back in Sunnydale rather than working at the Doublemeat Palace.  Then again, she knew that back then she had been too depressed to consider doing something as radical as working for herself.

 Buffy had chosen her rental house not for the wondrous bathroom, or the magnificent basement work-out room but for the tall tree in the front yard.  It bore a striking resemblance to the one that used to stand at 1630 Revello Drive.   Several times she caught herself staring around the base of the tree expecting to see several cigarette butts or the little tin ashtray Dawn had provided for Spike while Buffy was dead and buried.

 Buffy held her hand up in the sunlight with her fingers spread.  If she turned just right she could imagine she was seeing Spike’s fingers laced between her own, their hands aglow with fire.  The spaces between her fingers were where his belonged forever.  It was funny how empty her hand felt to her now.

 “Enough of this, Summers,” Buffy grumbled to herself.  “You have things you need to be doing besides feeling sorry for yourself.”  She picked up the remote, and she switched on the small kitchen television set.

 A young blond reporter smiled grimly out of the screen.  Her hair was drenched from the pouring rain, and her professional looking suit clung to her body.   “This just in from Los Angeles.  Late last night it appears there was a riot downtown near the Wolfram and Hart building.”

 The scene changed to a darkened alley where several beings appeared to be battling against what Buffy could tell were several different types of demons.  She dropped her coffee cup on the table, and she leaned in closer to the television screen.

 “That’s Angel… and Spike?”  Buffy rubbed her hands with her eyes before she studied the picture again.  Dancing and slashing his way through the rain soaked landscape was her vampire. She couldn’t believe it.  Was the man that she adored above all else actually alive?  Just the sight of him made Buffy’s scarred hand itch with anticipation.  She put her hand on the television directly over Spike’s picture.  “You better have a good explanation, baby.”

 Buffy cancelled her classes while she packed her bags.  She had to pay a little extra for her plane ticket, but that was okay with her.  It was worth it if she got her vampire back.



He sat on the cot in one of the rooms of the Hyperion.  Spike was seething mad.  He wasn’t mad because Angel had Shanshued.  He didn’t want to be weak and pathetic again.

No, Spike was mad about all the sacrifices that Angel had made in the name of battling evil.  Where Buffy had agonized over each of the lost Potentials, whether she knew them or not, the now human Angel didn’t seem to care about the lost members of his team.

Spike traced the burn scar that ran across the palm of his right hand.  He felt like Buffy was further away from him now than she had ever been before.  He spread his fingers wide, rubbing the sensitive skin between while remembering the last time he had linked hands with Buffy.

 “I love you.”

 No, you don’t but thanks for saying it.

 Spike closed his eyes to visualize the flame that still engulfed both their hands in the Hellmouth.  He hated that she had moved on from him, but hadn’t he sacrificed himself to allow her to live in the first place?  He couldn’t fault her for trying to find happiness.  He figured now that Angel was human again that he’d never stand a chance with Buffy.  She had always touted the whole normal thing, and Lord knew Spike wasn’t anywhere near normal.

 Spike rose to his feet to find the half empty bottle of whiskey he stashed in his bathroom.  Getting drunk was about the only pleasure he had left.  Women certainly held no fascination for him.  They never could while Buffy still existed someplace in the world anyway.  Spike took a long swig off his bottle.

 There were times he wished they were all back in Sunnydale.  At least there he knew his place in the world.  Sure it was as far beneath the Slayer as a vampire could be, but at least he was physically close to her.

 A commotion downstairs interrupted Spike’s internal musings.  Out of boredom he sauntered out of his room to take a look.  Maybe the wolf girl was back to read Angel the riot act about his high handed dismissal of her before the big fight.  Spike stopped at the top of the stairs when he realized that the blond bitching at Angel wasn’t Nina at all.

 It was Buffy.

 A brassed off Buffy.  Spike’s favorite kind of Buffy.

 Spike grinned when Buffy’s pointy finger jabbed Angel in the chest.  He gazed at her bright beauty for a few more moments.  Her bouncy shampoo hair swung back and forth whenever she punctuated her words with another poke at Angel.   Spike realized that Buffy was impeccably dressed from the bottom of her fashionable boots to her brown suede duster.  A red shirt similar to the one she had tried to burn up in during Sweet’s little spell peeked out from beneath the jacket.

 Spike focused on what Buffy was saying to Angel.

 Spike and Buffy

 “Where is he?”  Buffy jabbed Angel’s chest with her finger.  She knew she had to be careful now that he was human.

 “I thought you were cookies.”  Angel caught himself whining at Buffy.  He felt a shaft of jealousy shoot through him when he realized Buffy wasn’t in Los Angeles for him.  “Why else would you be dating that ass the Immortal?”

 Buffy had no idea what Angel was talking about, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him that.  “None of your beeswax.”  She prodded his chest again.  “Now tell me where Spike is before I have to hurt you.”

 “Buffy, it’s me, Angel.”  The ex-vampire touched his chest with one hand.  “You know the man you love.”

 Buffy stiffened when she felt a familiar tingle hit the back of her neck.  Then, she smirked at Angel.  There would be no kisses for Spike to witness this time.  Instead she poked Angel’s chest again harder letting one of her fingernails dig into his flesh.   “I read that absence is to love as wind is to fire.  It extinguishes the small and kindles the great.”

 Angel looked confused while he rubbed his chest where Buffy had jabbed him with her fingernail.  “What?”

 “I told you that Spike was in my heart.”  Buffy tilted her head.  “He fills up all those spots you left behind, Angel.”

 “Buffy, I’m sorry,” Angel said.

 “I’m not.  He filled my heart in places I didn’t even know existed, places you never found.”  Buffy turned her head towards the upper floor.  “You can come out now, Spike.”

 Spike stepped to the top of the stairs.  “Hello, pet.”

 The smile that crossed Buffy’s face reminded Angel of the sun breaking through the storm clouds.  He could remember a time when that smile was his and his alone.  Angel watched with a heavy heart while Buffy ran up the stairs two and three at a time until she was at the top next to Spike.  He wondered what was happening when Buffy held up her left hand with the fingers spread.

 Spike glanced at the hand Buffy held up.  On the palm he could see the scar that corresponded with his own.  He slowly raised his hand, slipped his fingers between hers, and together they clutched each other.

 Palm to palm.

 Below, Angel was sure he saw a white hot flame consume Spike and Buffy’s grasped hands.  His heart fell when Buffy used her other hand to seize the bleached blond curls at the base of Spike’s head.  All hope of Buffy’s love was quenched when she covered Spike’s lips with her own.  The Slayer and her vampire stood there for long moments drinking each other in.

 When Buffy pulled away, Angel heard her ask in a soft, husky voice, “Which room is yours?  Will we break the bed?”

 Spike threw his head back, and he laughed for the first time in a long time.  “I’m willin’ to try if you are, Slayer.”

 “Let’s go!”  Over her shoulder, Buffy called back.  “Hey, Angel.  You might want to make sure your insurance is paid up.  We’ve been known to wreck a place or two.”


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