Title: Years Lately
Author: Daughter of Endymion
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I only created Mary, everything else belongs to Joss Weadon.
Feed Back: Yes'm.
Summary: It's approximately three years after the end of Angel. Spike/Illyria with a Buffy confrontation. (This is a one chapter story.)
"Spike?" He was at the bar laughing when he heard the shocked gasp from behind him saying his name. He didn't want to turn around, couldn't. Spike knew what he would see.
"Spike," said the woman brunnet sitting next to him at the bar. "who is this woman?"
"Buffy." He turned around on the bar stool. "Buffy, Illyria. Illyria, Buffy."
Neither woman heard the introduction. Illyria just stared and cocked her head with that strange I-used-to-be-a-supreme-being-and-now-I-don't-understand-human-nature look on her face. She didn't look like her usual self. She wasn't sporting her blue skin or hair at the moment. Instead she looked a little like Fred except that her hair was dark brown, almost back and her face didn't seem as kind as Fred's, but more mysterious and powerful. She had make up on; redish lipstick and eye linear and she wore black leather pants and a revealing baby blue top. She looked "normal", but Buffy sensed an oddness about her. Not a demon, something else.
"Spike?" Buffy said again as if not really being able to understand. "Angel . . .he- he told me what happened and that you were back."
"I've been back for years, Buffy." He looked at the floor, avoiding both womens gaze.
"You didn't call." She said simply.
"I thought it was best at the time." He shrugged.
"You haven't called in three years." Spike finally looked up at that comment. She looked the same. Still golden and radiant and strong. Buffy. Hadn't aged a bit. The mid-twenties were suiting her well.
"I moved on when I heard you were with the Immortal." Buffy eyed Illyria. It wasn't in a mean way, but merely acknowledging her and moving on.
"We broke up."
"I see."
Buffy now took in her ex-lovers full appearance. His hair was still white, but touseled. Not slicked back like she was used to. His girlfriend probably liked it that way. He had a black t-shirt, his duster, and jeans on. She guessed some things don't change no matter how many years go by.
"You look good, Spike." Probably, not the most appropriate comment.
Illyria held tighter to her boyfriends arm and she said in a warning tone, "Thank you."
"I should go, Dawns waiting at the hotel for me and you know these New York City hotels aren't the safest."
"Not like Sunnydale." Spike said lowly.
That elicted a smile from her. "I'll see you around, Spike. Nice meeting you. . ."
"Illyria."
"Right, Illyria,"
"It was nice meeting you, too Buffy." She responded but obviously didn't mean it. Human emotions had been hard for Illyria to deal with at first, but not jealousy.
Buffy smiled one last time at Spike and he only nodded.
They sat watching her leave the crowded bar.
"Spike," She began hesitantly.
He looked at her and placed a finger on her lips silencing her. Blue eyes baring into her brown ones. "Shhh, baby. Don't worry."
And he got up and followed after the blonde Slayer.
He was running out of the bar, but Buffy was leaning against the wall. Almost like she was waiting for him.
"Buffy."
"Spike."
"How are you?" he asked as if they hadn't talked in a bar moments before.
"I'm good." She leaned back against the wall. They could've been in an alley way in Suny Dale again, fighting and just about to. . . no, it wasn't good for her to think about things like that anymore especially since he seemed happy now.
"And yourself?" His eyes wandered back to the entrance of the bar.
"Good, bloody good actually."
"She pretty."
He smirked. "I know."
"And protective."
"I know."
"And jealous."
"Wouldn't you be?"
"Of course."
"I missed you, Buffy."
"I missed you, too Spike."
"I never missed anyone like I missed you. Hell, I never loved anyone like I loved you."
"I know the feeling." She sighed. "Do you love her, Spike? Tell me right now if you do and I won't press anything. I won't try to take you away. I won't try to keep you close and than push you away like I did before. If you love her Spike. . . I'll let go."
His eyes scanned her face. There was a great big saddess looming in her eyes. He wanted to say that he didn't love Illyria and that he'd run away with her. They could run around Europe together, living the life he'd always wanted to give to her. But he never lied to Buffy and never would. So he told her what he had to.
"Let go, Buffy."
Author: Daughter of Endymion
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I only created Mary, everything else belongs to Joss Weadon.
Feed Back: Yes'm.
Summary: It's approximately three years after the end of Angel. Spike/Illyria with a Buffy confrontation. (This is a one chapter story.)
"Spike?" He was at the bar laughing when he heard the shocked gasp from behind him saying his name. He didn't want to turn around, couldn't. Spike knew what he would see.
"Spike," said the woman brunnet sitting next to him at the bar. "who is this woman?"
"Buffy." He turned around on the bar stool. "Buffy, Illyria. Illyria, Buffy."
Neither woman heard the introduction. Illyria just stared and cocked her head with that strange I-used-to-be-a-supreme-being-and-now-I-don't-understand-human-nature look on her face. She didn't look like her usual self. She wasn't sporting her blue skin or hair at the moment. Instead she looked a little like Fred except that her hair was dark brown, almost back and her face didn't seem as kind as Fred's, but more mysterious and powerful. She had make up on; redish lipstick and eye linear and she wore black leather pants and a revealing baby blue top. She looked "normal", but Buffy sensed an oddness about her. Not a demon, something else.
"Spike?" Buffy said again as if not really being able to understand. "Angel . . .he- he told me what happened and that you were back."
"I've been back for years, Buffy." He looked at the floor, avoiding both womens gaze.
"You didn't call." She said simply.
"I thought it was best at the time." He shrugged.
"You haven't called in three years." Spike finally looked up at that comment. She looked the same. Still golden and radiant and strong. Buffy. Hadn't aged a bit. The mid-twenties were suiting her well.
"I moved on when I heard you were with the Immortal." Buffy eyed Illyria. It wasn't in a mean way, but merely acknowledging her and moving on.
"We broke up."
"I see."
Buffy now took in her ex-lovers full appearance. His hair was still white, but touseled. Not slicked back like she was used to. His girlfriend probably liked it that way. He had a black t-shirt, his duster, and jeans on. She guessed some things don't change no matter how many years go by.
"You look good, Spike." Probably, not the most appropriate comment.
Illyria held tighter to her boyfriends arm and she said in a warning tone, "Thank you."
"I should go, Dawns waiting at the hotel for me and you know these New York City hotels aren't the safest."
"Not like Sunnydale." Spike said lowly.
That elicted a smile from her. "I'll see you around, Spike. Nice meeting you. . ."
"Illyria."
"Right, Illyria,"
"It was nice meeting you, too Buffy." She responded but obviously didn't mean it. Human emotions had been hard for Illyria to deal with at first, but not jealousy.
Buffy smiled one last time at Spike and he only nodded.
They sat watching her leave the crowded bar.
"Spike," She began hesitantly.
He looked at her and placed a finger on her lips silencing her. Blue eyes baring into her brown ones. "Shhh, baby. Don't worry."
And he got up and followed after the blonde Slayer.
He was running out of the bar, but Buffy was leaning against the wall. Almost like she was waiting for him.
"Buffy."
"Spike."
"How are you?" he asked as if they hadn't talked in a bar moments before.
"I'm good." She leaned back against the wall. They could've been in an alley way in Suny Dale again, fighting and just about to. . . no, it wasn't good for her to think about things like that anymore especially since he seemed happy now.
"And yourself?" His eyes wandered back to the entrance of the bar.
"Good, bloody good actually."
"She pretty."
He smirked. "I know."
"And protective."
"I know."
"And jealous."
"Wouldn't you be?"
"Of course."
"I missed you, Buffy."
"I missed you, too Spike."
"I never missed anyone like I missed you. Hell, I never loved anyone like I loved you."
"I know the feeling." She sighed. "Do you love her, Spike? Tell me right now if you do and I won't press anything. I won't try to take you away. I won't try to keep you close and than push you away like I did before. If you love her Spike. . . I'll let go."
His eyes scanned her face. There was a great big saddess looming in her eyes. He wanted to say that he didn't love Illyria and that he'd run away with her. They could run around Europe together, living the life he'd always wanted to give to her. But he never lied to Buffy and never would. So he told her what he had to.
"Let go, Buffy."
