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fandomweekly2021-12-09 08:24 pm
apachefirecat) wrote in fandomweekly2021-12-09 08:24 pm
Entry tags:
[#119] Always (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)
Theme Prompt: #119 - Heartbeat
Title: Always
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Rating/Warnings: PG-13/T
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 960
Summary: Buffy knows she loves him. She just can't voice it.
She lays with her head on his chest. The night is quiet. All the Potentials and Dawn, too, have finally stopped talking. They are safe and secure here in the house that has finally become a home, although Buffy's not quite sure when exactly that happened. She still remembers how much she hated moving here from LA, how she'd railed against her mother's decision not just against the move but against leaving her father, and how she'd sworn she was never going to get a life. Slaying had been an ample excuse to believe that lie, but oddly enough, it had led her to the very life she so values now.
Every one Buffy still holds dear in her heart is underneath this roof tonight. Well, almost everyone, but she won't think of the other man while she's laying beside the one who truly cares for her. She won't think of the one who can't be bothered to help her in battle or even give her a random phone call from time to time to check on her when she's being held by the one who genuinely cares for her. Cookie dough indeed, she thinks, her painted lips drawing back in a silent, unappreciative smirk at herself. She'd been a fool, all that time she'd wasted on Angel. Spike had worked hard to earn her love, to earn a place in her life, not just in her bed, in her arms, and in her heart. He still does every night, and he still thinks, she knows, that she doesn't appreciate him, that she doesn't love him.
Why, she wonders, not for the first time, has it been so hard to allow herself to fall in love with him? She'd been hurt before of course, and not just because of Angel and Angelus. Angel can use the excuse of Angelus all he wants, but Spike has taught her something that has made her realize that she could have had a life with Angel. Regardless of the curse, she could have loved him, and been loved by him. Sex is great, yes, but it isn't necessary.
True love comes often in little ways. It comes with the way a man stands beside a woman, and the way they want to protect her even when she doesn't need protecting. It comes in being there for her and sometimes, in just holding her quietly while the rest of the world is away. Right now, in this moment, that fact is clearer than it's been perhaps ever before, and Buffy is fully aware of who it is who is beside her, beneath her, his arms and legs wrapping all around her and hers. She knows he's laid his life, such as it is, on the line for every one in this house, and not just because of her. He will not leave them. He will not abandon them. And he was like that, she knows despite what everybody else thinks they now, before he fought to take back his soul.
Yet she also knows that he thinks she can never love him because, to her, he is still a monster. Yes, he's a monster, but he's a monster who fights every damn night of their lives to rein in the beast within him. Buffy turns her head ever so slightly and hears him murmur. "Sh," she whispers. "Listen, can you hear it?"
"What?" he asks, and she can see him easily, without lifting her head from his chest, piquing an eyebrow at her.
"The quiet," she answers knowingly. "Everybody's asleep. Everybody but us." Yet she felt him still when she spoke those first tow words. She felt him still and tense, expecting to hear her mention the lack of a heartbeat beneath her ear. It doesn't matter to her any longer, she realizes, that his heart doesn't beat. He is far more of a man than almost any other man she has ever known, certainly more than any man she has loved as she loves him. And yes, Buffy admits silently to herself, she has come to love Spike. The cookie dough has finished baking and did so long ago, even if she didn't have the balls to voice the words aloud -- and still doesn't, she realizes, flinching inwardly and closing the gap between her lips.
His hand strokes her back. "You should try to sleep."
"What about you?" she asks, and then she grins up at him, the sparkle he so often makes her feel when she thinks she no longer can suddenly filling her green eyes.
He grins mischievously down at her, though his hands touching her are oddly warm (for cold flesh) and comforting. There is nothing sexual in his embrace tonight, at least not yet. "I can think of a lot of other things I'd rather be doing, luv."
"So can I, ... love," she mimics the word carefully, straining to tell him something she does not yet have the courage to speak aloud, something she fears she may never be able to speak aloud. This house holds many secrets, not the least of which is the fact that it was a man who broke her heart long before she ever knew Spike, or Angel, or Angelus, or any of the other males who have passed beneath this old roof. "But only to one."
The way he beams down at her, the way his warm smile reaches all the way to the depths of his eyes that so often look lonely and hurting, tells her she has succeeded. "Make love to me, Spike," she murmurs, coming full on top of him.
"Always, Slayer. Always," he says, wrapping himself around her in an entirely different manner. "Always, as long as you allow it."
The End
Title: Always
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Rating/Warnings: PG-13/T
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 960
Summary: Buffy knows she loves him. She just can't voice it.
She lays with her head on his chest. The night is quiet. All the Potentials and Dawn, too, have finally stopped talking. They are safe and secure here in the house that has finally become a home, although Buffy's not quite sure when exactly that happened. She still remembers how much she hated moving here from LA, how she'd railed against her mother's decision not just against the move but against leaving her father, and how she'd sworn she was never going to get a life. Slaying had been an ample excuse to believe that lie, but oddly enough, it had led her to the very life she so values now.
Every one Buffy still holds dear in her heart is underneath this roof tonight. Well, almost everyone, but she won't think of the other man while she's laying beside the one who truly cares for her. She won't think of the one who can't be bothered to help her in battle or even give her a random phone call from time to time to check on her when she's being held by the one who genuinely cares for her. Cookie dough indeed, she thinks, her painted lips drawing back in a silent, unappreciative smirk at herself. She'd been a fool, all that time she'd wasted on Angel. Spike had worked hard to earn her love, to earn a place in her life, not just in her bed, in her arms, and in her heart. He still does every night, and he still thinks, she knows, that she doesn't appreciate him, that she doesn't love him.
Why, she wonders, not for the first time, has it been so hard to allow herself to fall in love with him? She'd been hurt before of course, and not just because of Angel and Angelus. Angel can use the excuse of Angelus all he wants, but Spike has taught her something that has made her realize that she could have had a life with Angel. Regardless of the curse, she could have loved him, and been loved by him. Sex is great, yes, but it isn't necessary.
True love comes often in little ways. It comes with the way a man stands beside a woman, and the way they want to protect her even when she doesn't need protecting. It comes in being there for her and sometimes, in just holding her quietly while the rest of the world is away. Right now, in this moment, that fact is clearer than it's been perhaps ever before, and Buffy is fully aware of who it is who is beside her, beneath her, his arms and legs wrapping all around her and hers. She knows he's laid his life, such as it is, on the line for every one in this house, and not just because of her. He will not leave them. He will not abandon them. And he was like that, she knows despite what everybody else thinks they now, before he fought to take back his soul.
Yet she also knows that he thinks she can never love him because, to her, he is still a monster. Yes, he's a monster, but he's a monster who fights every damn night of their lives to rein in the beast within him. Buffy turns her head ever so slightly and hears him murmur. "Sh," she whispers. "Listen, can you hear it?"
"What?" he asks, and she can see him easily, without lifting her head from his chest, piquing an eyebrow at her.
"The quiet," she answers knowingly. "Everybody's asleep. Everybody but us." Yet she felt him still when she spoke those first tow words. She felt him still and tense, expecting to hear her mention the lack of a heartbeat beneath her ear. It doesn't matter to her any longer, she realizes, that his heart doesn't beat. He is far more of a man than almost any other man she has ever known, certainly more than any man she has loved as she loves him. And yes, Buffy admits silently to herself, she has come to love Spike. The cookie dough has finished baking and did so long ago, even if she didn't have the balls to voice the words aloud -- and still doesn't, she realizes, flinching inwardly and closing the gap between her lips.
His hand strokes her back. "You should try to sleep."
"What about you?" she asks, and then she grins up at him, the sparkle he so often makes her feel when she thinks she no longer can suddenly filling her green eyes.
He grins mischievously down at her, though his hands touching her are oddly warm (for cold flesh) and comforting. There is nothing sexual in his embrace tonight, at least not yet. "I can think of a lot of other things I'd rather be doing, luv."
"So can I, ... love," she mimics the word carefully, straining to tell him something she does not yet have the courage to speak aloud, something she fears she may never be able to speak aloud. This house holds many secrets, not the least of which is the fact that it was a man who broke her heart long before she ever knew Spike, or Angel, or Angelus, or any of the other males who have passed beneath this old roof. "But only to one."
The way he beams down at her, the way his warm smile reaches all the way to the depths of his eyes that so often look lonely and hurting, tells her she has succeeded. "Make love to me, Spike," she murmurs, coming full on top of him.
"Always, Slayer. Always," he says, wrapping himself around her in an entirely different manner. "Always, as long as you allow it."
The End
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