Love is a Truth Come Home Again

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Today is my posting today! I’ll have several things to post throughout the afternoon and evening, starting with this small first person POV drabble.

Title: Love is a Truth Come Home Again
Author: okdeanna
Rating: pg
Word Count: 380
Beta: dusty273
Written For: seasonal_spuffy Round 11
Theme: Love is a temporary madness
Timeline: Post Chosen, Buffy S7; Post Not Fade Away, Angel S5
Genre: Romance, Fluff
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: I do not own the Buffyverse. That gem belongs to Joss Whedon, Fox and others associated with the TV shows, comics and merchandising. I’m just a writer who loves the show and likes to write about its characters. :)
Summary: Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. What is left, after the earth stops shaking, is the truth a heart can no longer hide. This is what Buffy learns in one brief, solitary glance into the eyes of a man, a vampire, from her past.

A/N: I tried something new with this piece of fiction. My muse didn’t want to cooperate on what I planned to post today so, left with no choice, I turned my muse upside down and forced her to give me something, anything to post today. This short ficlet, told in first person and in Buffy’s POV, is what I received. I hope you enjoy it.


Love is a Truth Come Home Again

Complete Drabble

I heard him before I saw him, his thick British accent a whisper on the wind, floating to my ears before I realized I wasn’t alone.

I turned, swift and unbalanced, and met his gaze with wide, disbelieving eyes.


He smiled, a wide grin splitting across his face and highlighting his moonlit, angular features. “Hello, love,” he purred, his voice deep and sensual and so arousing I ached with the need to hear it fall against my skin. “Fancy seeing you out here.”

Where else would I be but a cemetery? a voice inside me asked numbly.

I blinked, certain I only imagined him standing before me, and started forward, one hand raised to touch him once I got close enough.

Solid. His chest was solid. Hard and rippled with the muscles she remembered exploring during their all too brief affair.

“How are you—?”

“Here?” he finished for her, his smile now reaching into his eyes, lighting them with a dancing sea-blue mischief. “Somebody decided to play God and grant me unlife again.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Same story, different verse.”

Right. Because that’s what the people around them did. They resurrected the dead, particularly, the heroes and champions. The warriors of the light.

I reached up, laying my palm flat against his cheekbone, and smiled, the first smile to grace my face since I watched him burn in the Hellmouth. “I’m glad you’re back. I… missed you, Spike.”

“Missed you, too, Slayer. Every sodding day I was gone.”

He meant it. I could see the truth of his devotion in his eyes, his gaze as irreverent now as it had been a year ago. “You’ve been gone 383 days today, but today doesn’t count, does it?”

“No, today counts. More ‘n any of the others do, point of fact.” He smirked, waggled his brows, and snaked out a hand, grabbing me around my waist. “Now, how about a kiss to welcome me home again?”

Was this home? It hadn’t been before tonight. But now, with fresh warmth spreading into her chest and the man she loves staring into her eyes, London had never felt so right, or so real.

Her grin widened. She lowered her head to brush his mouth with hers.

“Welcome home, Spike.”

I love you.


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