Sorry it’s so late in the day – hopefully it’s worth the wait. I love posting so early, I’m looking forward to enjoying everyone else’s offerings without any stress!
He dreamed of blonde hair and sunrises.
He hadn’t dreamed of the sun since Angelus-that-enormous-git abandoned them to Darla’s tender mercies. He’d never gone in for blondes; give him a dark-haired and sloe-eyed beauty over a pale peaches and cream girl any night of the week.
But today he woke half-expecting to be tangled in long golden hair with sunlight streaming in the window.
Worst yet, he’d woken with a smile, looking forward to facing the day with this blonde dream girl at his side.
He pulled on black jeans with abrupt movements and face contorted in a snarl. His bloody mind was being particularly bloody-minded today, filling itself with fantasies from some other wanker’s life.
He already had a near perfect life. Top of the heap, king of the hill and all that bull. No one to answer to, nothing to do but fuck, feast and fight. A world full of oblivious imbeciles who practically walked up to him and offered themselves as a meal. Like that cold dead thing crumpled in the corner. Dru must have finally taken a wee nip. She’d be warm and playful, his darling Drusilla. No, he had no need of any pasty faced blondes when his dark mistress ruled his heart.
One more night and they’d be on the Hellmouth. Take out the Slayer and rule that town. Paint it red until it chokes on blood. Forget all about this bloody dream and the golden hair and the sunshine and smell of summer.
.
.
.
He dreamed of blonde hair and sunrises.
He hadn’t dreamed of her since he’d gotten solid again. Hadn’t needed to, what with her dancing and spinning through his mind every second he was awake. But today was probably his last day on earth, what with Angel-the-enormous-git’s bloody stupid plan.
Worse yet, fear bled into the dream, and he’d woken with a strangled scream, half-expecting her beside him bleeding and dying in his bed.
Life wasn’t perfect, not even when he was beside her. There was always death stalking behind, sniffing at every footprint, loping to catch them in the night. There was always something or someone ready to pull her away, to push him back to the dark, no matter how they reached out for each other. But they’d reached, and they’d struggled and they’d stood shoulder to shoulder and faced life head on. There was nothing more that you needed, when you had Buffy by your side.
One more night, and they’d take on the Black Thorn. Take out the Circle, and leave the world safe for the Slayer. He just needed to hold onto the memory of golden hair and sunshine and the smell of summer.
Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/385076.html
