Please read and review! I'm new so I'd really appreciate it
I don't own these characters but boy I'd be happy if I did!"
Her face was flushed from the biting winter wind. She softly set the door back into place. Mustn't wake him. For a while she stood on the welcome mat, dripping water from her long dark hair, watching the drops as they fell. Pieces of winter's glass, melting away into a handmade green rug that had sat in front of the door since before she was born.
Her gaze moved from the rug to the knots of the wood on the floor. How old were these trees when they met their end? Had they seen the best of mankind centuries ago or were they cut down in their prime? Imagine being dead young. Beauty wasted on a life that would not see its children. Her gaze wandered from the floor to the warm fire burning in the ancient fireplace. Even at the door, she could feel the fire's heat warming her chilled face and hands. The fire pulled her into its warm embrace.
She began to take her gloves off. First her left, then her right, pulling on each with her snow white teeth. She needed new ones. These were old, ragged gloves that once belonged to her mother. Her hands had spent many long nights wrapped in these gloves. She tucked them in her jacket pocket.
Next was the hat. The green hat had seen better days but was still comforting next to her head. An older gentleman had given it to her long ago. It seemed inappropriate to some; an older man giving a young woman such a gift. But it was understood between the two to be a gift from a father who had no children to a daughter who had no parents. She would never throw the hat away, even when it eventually became older and more gray than she, it stayed in its place of honor on the mantle. She set the hat on the mantle. She patted it absently, as if to say "Well done."
She started to take off her warm woolen jacket, given to her on the day of her wedding. It was stretched but beloved to her. Its bright red color could be seen for miles against the white snow. She laid it gently on the couch and stared once more into the fire.
Her eyes stared at the living flames. The orange and yellow flames danced and cast strange shadows on the wall. She let her eyes wander from the tips of the fire to the base, where the blue flames mocked the color of her eyes, bright and violent. She would not let the fire go out tonight. Tonight was a night when it was needed the most.
She reached to grab a faggot to put on the fire and hesitated. Surely it was fine now, burning bright and warm. She grabbed the log and set it in the fireplace. We all need more sometimes.
She rubbed her hands together to rid herself of the remnants of the log and started walking towards the bedroom. The house was dark and she could not see the pictures that hung on the walls. Only the fire in the den gave light.
Those pictures contained her friends. Some were gone, lost as heroes often are, in the field of battle. Each one a friend, a brother or sister or aunt. Some she had known well. Others had only been mentioned by her husband. Their pictures hung in places of honor all the same. Yet the shadow still crossed their faces.
Her footsteps echoed softly as she walked into her room. The soft, white carpet felt like warm snow. She pulled off her boots, one at a time, and set them by the dresser. She took off her necklace, a gift from her sister, a placed it next to her wedding picture.
That day had been sunny and bright. Destined to be beautiful from the moment that he knelt down and asked her hand. The older gentleman gave her away, with tears of joy brimming at the edge of his eyes. Her sisters, dressed in elegant green, all bridesmaids laughing at her brother, the best man. The one who taught her how to love leaned against a tree, covered by the welcoming shadows. He would always have some place in her heart. Finally, her husband. His bright eyes shone against the sky. They had been through much more than anyone should have to bear, but they made it. They had gotten their rewards.
She remembered the first time she laid her head on his chest as his wife. He was warm and his heart was full.
She smiled at the memory. The bed sheets rustled ever so slightly while she finished changing. He looked up at her and smiled. She grinned ever so slightly back and crawled into bed. She was with her true love. Where she belonged.
"I love you Buffy," he whispered.
"I love you too Spike."