Right
--------
Post Wrecked, but pre Willow dragging Dawn to Rack's and the car accident. We pretend that never happened and move right along to Buffy sitting on her bed with cross in hand, surrounded by garlic.
--------
She heard familiar noises outside her window.
Strong and steady footsteps, first on pavement, then grass.
-silence-
Someone clearing their throat, and then hands pitter-pattering across worn leather...searching...searching...
-silence-
A sharp metallic click and, if she listened carefully enough, she could even hear the faint whoosh as the gas ignited, producing a tiny flame.
-silence-
Buffy crawled off the bed and stood just to the side of the window, where she knew she could see him, but not vice versa.
Head bowed, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his hands shoved deep into his pockets...
He didn't look like the Big Bad at all.
What was he doing there anyway? Had she not made it clear enough to him that he repulsed her? He was a monster and anything between them was wrong.
It was all wrong.
Wrong...wrong wrong wrong...
Buffy dropped the cross to the floor and ran her fingers through her hair. Equal parts caressing her scalp for comfort and tugging on the ends in frustration.
Besides, shouldn't he be back at his crypt, packing his bags? Now that he'd thoroughly loved her, he was obviously going to thoroughly leave her too...
-silence-
...wasn't he?
--------
Spike glared up towards the window, he knew she was there...felt her. How long did he have to stand around before he proved his point? Bloody boring it was.
But still, he'd stand forever.
Finally he saw movement...
Ah, there she was, his slayer, and with tears on her cheeks, glistening in the moonlight.
His un-beating heart ached. Why wouldn't she let him comfort her? He could make the pain go away.
Or maybe he was causing the pain?
He stood still for a moment, frozen in time. His eyes unknowingly softened, the curve of his lips not quite so harsh.
--------
She felt naked under that gaze. She felt embarrassed, and awkward, and..oh God, why had she been stupid enough to let him see her?
She wanted to wipe the tears from her eyes, but maybe he hadn't noticed them, and wiping them away would make it too obvious.
She didn't want him to know her weakness, and yet, that gaze...she felt like he knew everything.
Knew that she wanted to love him.
Knew that she didn't want him to leave.
Knew that she was wrong.
No! Damn him! He was the one who was wrong. He had to be.
--------
She backed away from the window, far enough so that her face was in shadows, but he knew she was still watching him. The watcher being watched? Another of life's little ironies.
He growled to himself and spun around, his long duster flaring out behind him. Only a few long, purposeful strides and he'd be out of her life...
--------
Oh God! He's leaving...
--------
...but no, of course that would never do. He reached his destination and turned back towards the window.
With the cigarette planted firmly in his mouth again, he nodded slightly to her and then gathered his coat and sat down, leaning back against the old, sturdy tree, prepared to sit there until the sun had all but risen, if that was what it would take to prove his point.
--------
2 Hours Later
--------
"Buffy?" Dawn called through the bedroom door.
"Mm hmm?"
"Spike's outside."
"I know."
"Aren't you gonna talk to him?"
"Nope."
"Why's he gone all stalker guy again?"
"Beats me."
"I think you should talk to him, he looks upset."
"Does he?"
"Mm hmm."
"Good."
"Good?"
"Good."
"Buffy?"
"Mm hmm?"
"Why's he out there?"
"He's a vampire Dawn, they do lurky stuff like that."
"It's not very lurky, he's just sitting under the tree."
"The stalker tree, dubbed as so because stalkers lurk near it."
"He's just sitting."
"And he looks upset?"
"Yeah."
"..."
"Did you guys have a fight?"
"When don't we fight?"
"No, I mean, a 'fight' fight."
"To me 'fight' fight means 'kicky punchy' fight."
"Well, did you have one of those?"
"Yes."
"Yes?"
"Yes."
"But he can't fight you."
"We had a 'wordy' fight too."
"He can't fight you can he?"
"He said I came back wrong."
"Oh."
"I'm wrong."
"Buffy! No, you're not. What does he know? He's just a lurky vampire."
"Sitting inoffensively and upsettly under the tree in a non-lurky way."
"It's the stalker tree for a reason."
"Why don't two wrongs make a right?"
"You're not wrong."
"Two ones make a two."
"You're my sister, I'd know if you were wrong."
"I'm wrong, and I did something wrong, and nothing's right."
"I'll tell Spike he should leave."
"No."
"No?"
"No."
"He's making you upset."
"He's upset."
"Two upsets don't make a happy."
"He should stay."
"He's stalking. That's unhealthy."
"No, he's not stalking, I...I want him to stay."
"Oh. Then what's his not stalking self doing?"
"..."
"Buffy?"
"He's making it right."
--------
The End.
--------
--------
Post Wrecked, but pre Willow dragging Dawn to Rack's and the car accident. We pretend that never happened and move right along to Buffy sitting on her bed with cross in hand, surrounded by garlic.
--------
She heard familiar noises outside her window.
Strong and steady footsteps, first on pavement, then grass.
-silence-
Someone clearing their throat, and then hands pitter-pattering across worn leather...searching...searching...
-silence-
A sharp metallic click and, if she listened carefully enough, she could even hear the faint whoosh as the gas ignited, producing a tiny flame.
-silence-
Buffy crawled off the bed and stood just to the side of the window, where she knew she could see him, but not vice versa.
Head bowed, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his hands shoved deep into his pockets...
He didn't look like the Big Bad at all.
What was he doing there anyway? Had she not made it clear enough to him that he repulsed her? He was a monster and anything between them was wrong.
It was all wrong.
Wrong...wrong wrong wrong...
Buffy dropped the cross to the floor and ran her fingers through her hair. Equal parts caressing her scalp for comfort and tugging on the ends in frustration.
Besides, shouldn't he be back at his crypt, packing his bags? Now that he'd thoroughly loved her, he was obviously going to thoroughly leave her too...
-silence-
...wasn't he?
--------
Spike glared up towards the window, he knew she was there...felt her. How long did he have to stand around before he proved his point? Bloody boring it was.
But still, he'd stand forever.
Finally he saw movement...
Ah, there she was, his slayer, and with tears on her cheeks, glistening in the moonlight.
His un-beating heart ached. Why wouldn't she let him comfort her? He could make the pain go away.
Or maybe he was causing the pain?
He stood still for a moment, frozen in time. His eyes unknowingly softened, the curve of his lips not quite so harsh.
--------
She felt naked under that gaze. She felt embarrassed, and awkward, and..oh God, why had she been stupid enough to let him see her?
She wanted to wipe the tears from her eyes, but maybe he hadn't noticed them, and wiping them away would make it too obvious.
She didn't want him to know her weakness, and yet, that gaze...she felt like he knew everything.
Knew that she wanted to love him.
Knew that she didn't want him to leave.
Knew that she was wrong.
No! Damn him! He was the one who was wrong. He had to be.
--------
She backed away from the window, far enough so that her face was in shadows, but he knew she was still watching him. The watcher being watched? Another of life's little ironies.
He growled to himself and spun around, his long duster flaring out behind him. Only a few long, purposeful strides and he'd be out of her life...
--------
Oh God! He's leaving...
--------
...but no, of course that would never do. He reached his destination and turned back towards the window.
With the cigarette planted firmly in his mouth again, he nodded slightly to her and then gathered his coat and sat down, leaning back against the old, sturdy tree, prepared to sit there until the sun had all but risen, if that was what it would take to prove his point.
--------
2 Hours Later
--------
"Buffy?" Dawn called through the bedroom door.
"Mm hmm?"
"Spike's outside."
"I know."
"Aren't you gonna talk to him?"
"Nope."
"Why's he gone all stalker guy again?"
"Beats me."
"I think you should talk to him, he looks upset."
"Does he?"
"Mm hmm."
"Good."
"Good?"
"Good."
"Buffy?"
"Mm hmm?"
"Why's he out there?"
"He's a vampire Dawn, they do lurky stuff like that."
"It's not very lurky, he's just sitting under the tree."
"The stalker tree, dubbed as so because stalkers lurk near it."
"He's just sitting."
"And he looks upset?"
"Yeah."
"..."
"Did you guys have a fight?"
"When don't we fight?"
"No, I mean, a 'fight' fight."
"To me 'fight' fight means 'kicky punchy' fight."
"Well, did you have one of those?"
"Yes."
"Yes?"
"Yes."
"But he can't fight you."
"We had a 'wordy' fight too."
"He can't fight you can he?"
"He said I came back wrong."
"Oh."
"I'm wrong."
"Buffy! No, you're not. What does he know? He's just a lurky vampire."
"Sitting inoffensively and upsettly under the tree in a non-lurky way."
"It's the stalker tree for a reason."
"Why don't two wrongs make a right?"
"You're not wrong."
"Two ones make a two."
"You're my sister, I'd know if you were wrong."
"I'm wrong, and I did something wrong, and nothing's right."
"I'll tell Spike he should leave."
"No."
"No?"
"No."
"He's making you upset."
"He's upset."
"Two upsets don't make a happy."
"He should stay."
"He's stalking. That's unhealthy."
"No, he's not stalking, I...I want him to stay."
"Oh. Then what's his not stalking self doing?"
"..."
"Buffy?"
"He's making it right."
--------
The End.
--------