Title: Seaside Rendezvous
Author: Diva Stardust
Rating: PG
Summary: Post-"Chosen". A little death could never stop Dawn and Spike from being friends.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Marti Noxon, UPN, FOX, Mutant Enemy, etc. I'm not making any money off of this.
Distribution: Just ask first if you want to archive this somewhere, please. I will most likely say yes!
Acknowledgements: Thanks to Spikeyvamp for the beta!
~*~*~*~*~
He's still her Peter Pan even if he is dead.
"Hello, Nibblet. Fancy a swim?"
His voice is light and casual, as if him being there
isn't the most unnatural thing in the world.
But Dawn's never cared much for what's supposed to be real or feel natural.
Inside she's a swirling ball of emerald rays, she knows that. Doesn't matter
what science or doctors tell her. She's not supposed to be here and neither is
he.
And yet … here they are.
She'll always be his Wendy too. Always trying to coax her out
for a bit of mischief when she should be tending to her children or talking
about politics with her husband around the fireplace. She never feels
middle aged when she's with him; always forgets that she even has a husband and
kids when he visits her.
He carries her into the ocean with him, laughing at the way her feet kick
out and her mouth squeals in protest. The moon shining down
on them, their light for the evening.
She remembers the first time he came to her. Exactly one year after he died,
there he was … perched on her bedroom windowsill at their new home in Cleveland.
Looking like a cat that was ready to be invited in and petted his mouth crooked
in such a way that you knew he ate every canary he came across. His greeting
every year was always similar, although never exactly the same.
"Hello, Nibblet. Glad to see me?"
She'd rushed to him and hugged him tightly even though she thought for sure he
was a ghost and her hands would go right through him. He wasn't though. Had been solid and as Spike-like as ever. She had cried and
let out a string of barely coherent phrases. But Spike had understood every
one. Holding her, stroking her hair, and whispering, "There there,
Sweet Bit. 'S all right, didn't mean to give you a scare."
His hair is a mess of unruly curls when his head emerges from the water. He
spits out of stream of water that hits her in the face, getting her back for
dunking him in the first place.
She had forgiven him a long time ago. Realized she had the minute she found out
he was dead. Felt horrible that whole year thinking she'd lost her chance at
ever making amends with him. But then her second chance came to her that night
on her windowsill and she grabbed it tightly, not letting go.
He'd filled her in on everything, trying to make everything sound perfectly
natural just like he always did. He was given a gift, or curse, whichever way
you wanted to look at it of getting to come back one night a year. Then it was
back to the 'buggering white light and holy choir of bleeding angels' as he
described it.
He had done most of the talking while she just stared at him in amazement. One
thing he said she kept with her always, liked to repeat it to herself whenever she was feeling depressed or upset.
"Your Mum and Tara are proud of you, Bit. They're always watching over you. We
all are."
He'd wiped away her tears and also told her the goings on with Anya and Amanda. He always laughed when he mentioned Anya's name. Seems like they were partners-in-crime,
causing enough trouble and mixing things up enough there so it wouldn't get
boring. Amanda had sent her some sort of message about never having to do
Geometry again, and not to be afraid of death because it was a lot less scary
than Mr. Tuskary had been for History.
They lie in the sand, looking up at the sky while they fill each other in on
everything that's happened in the last year. The sand rubbing
against their toes while a crab scuttles by.
He had gone to Buffy's room after he was done talking to her and she'd turned
her music on loudly just in case. You never knew with those two. It's not like
being dead ever stopped them before. A few hours later he had come back to say
his goodbyes, looking at her with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Have to stop
by Harris's place, give the wanker a fright he won't
forget."
He visited her every year after that and even though she always looked a little
bit different each time, he never seemed to notice she was growing older. She
was still his Nibblet and he always had a pained look
in his eyes when he had to go. He knew why the gents upstairs had told him this
arrangement was a bit of a curse too. Because he wanted more
than a night a year. Wanted to be with his girls every day, be a part of
their lives instead of only being able to watch from above. But he made do with
what he had and kissed her goodbye every year, counting the days until the next
visit.
They say their goodbyes and he kisses her forehead gently. Promises to be back next year.
She'll be waiting.