So Friday I saw Breaking Dawn part 2 ... and freaking cried. I am such a baby. So to forget about the franchise and not be sad I have thrown myself into Buffy (More so than I already had been) and True Blood. And this was born. Sad, fluffy it's got it all.
Poison and Wine
word count 902
During season 5 the end of Fool for Love
“Buffy, the nothing I’ve been dealing with the last few weeks… it might be something.”
Her mother was using all the technical terms, telling Buffy she didn’t have to worry. That she was just going to stay overnight at the hospital for more tests. She tried to reassure her daughter but all Buffy could comprehend was this is a ‘death sentence.’
Scattered fragments swirled in her mind. Her brain only picking up key words and not the whole conversation. Only getting the most terrible of the news.
It was incomprehensible.
It was overwhelming her, suffocating her with their finality.
The room started to close in on her and she couldn’t breathe. Her vision blurred and hot tears slipped down her face. She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle the sob that wanted to come tearing out.
I have to get out, she thought and flung open the back door. The dark of the night beckoned her and she sat down on her back porch, welcoming it.
How is this happening? Now? With Glory and the key and god damn it I am the slayer! This should not be happening to us! Not my mom. Please God not my mom! I need her, Dawn needs her. Please … oh please!
Buffy put her face in her hands and cried. Her silent sobs shaking her body. She pulled her knees in tight and tried to curl up, wanting to protect herself. Wanting to shut this all out. She heard a rustling in the bushes and didn’t think anything of it. Her tears consuming her. It wasn’t until she heard the cocking of the shotgun that she finally looked up.
“What do you want now?” she spat at the blond vampire in front of her.
Spike stood twenty feet in front of her, his shot gun poised and aimed right at her. He had been hell bent on killing her, his intent crystal clear on his face. One look at the tears overflowing in her eyes made him pause. Her cheeks were stained with her tears, her shoulders slightly shaking from the force of her crying. He locked eyes with her and all murderous thoughts went right out of him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked her, his voice soft.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she answered.
“Is there something I can do?”
Spike saw the surprise on Buffy’s face and he cocked his head at her. She turned away from him, not answering his question and wishing her tears away.
Taking a deep breath he approached her and sat down next to her on the step. She could feel his eyes on her, compassion flowing out of him in waves.
She couldn’t look at him.
This was Spike after all. He wasn’t supposed to have feelings and …sympathy. And yet he did.
A shock went through her body as his cool hand patted her back. She wanted to cringe away from him but she didn’t… she couldn’t.
He’s trying to make me feel better? she asked herself.
He removed his hand and she expected him to make some smart ass retort or to leave, but he did neither. He just sat next to her, not talking, not expecting anything.
This meant more to her than she would ever admit. He was the last person she expected comfort from. Especially after what she had said to him earlier, but here he was.
Next to her.
You’re beneath me.
Inwardly she cringed. It was she who was beneath him. She had no right to accept his compassion but she was sucking it up like a leech. She needed it and thankfully he knew that. He didn’t taunt her, or smirk.
His scent of cigarettes, leather and just Spike surrounded her. It comforted her like her favorite blanket, covering and protecting her. Like a good book and scented candles on a cold rainy autumn day.
She inched closer to him without even realizing it. Wanting more of the solace he was more than willing to share with her.
If Spike was surprised he didn’t show it. He sat as still as he could, waiting to see what she would do.
Her shoulder brushed against his and she sighed softly. The sound was music to his ears and he gently pressed his shoulder against hers.
“Thank you,” she told him sincerely, reaching out and touching her fingers to his. She played her hand against his, her warmth against his cool. A tingle flowed through their tips as their hands interlocked.
He nodded at her and squeezed her hand in his.
Wanting this … needing it just as much as she did.
Time seemed to stop for them as they sat there, in comforting silence, their hands clutched tightly.
Inside her house was hard, it was sad. It was entirely too overwhelming.
It was reality slamming her in the face.
But outside it was perfect, she felt protected and as though she could take on anything. Even the evil hell god Glory. Nothing mattered out here, everything was on the back burner. Her life, her family, her problems. It was like the world paused all around them. All that existed were the slayer and her vampire.
There was nowhere she would rather be.
Here on the porch, in the glimmering moonlight with Spike was exactly where she belonged.
And as Buffy realized that, Spike smiled.
Current Location: home
General Spikeyness: determined
Current Music: Poison and Wine by the Civil Wars