Sunshine, Ice Cream, and Wedgies
Disclaimer: Everyone associated with the Buffyverse is owned by Joss Whedon, et al. In other words, not me. Whedon et al are also the ones profiting from the Buffyverse. In other words, not me again.
Rating: PG
Warnings,etc Spuffy, Spike/Fred, Cordelia/Angel, mention of B/A in the past tense. Angst.
Summary: Five years after Not Fade Away, Buffy meets up with two vamps from her past, and realizes what might have been. Buffy regrets, Angel acts his age, and Spike is happy.
A/N: Thanks to Joanna for the beta. All remaining errors are solely my fault, and for them, I should be flogged by Angelus himself. Before being eaten.
A/N, II: Words in italics are Buffy's thoughts. Quoted italics are flashbacks.
As Buffy Summers stood on the sidewalk across the street from Charley's Café absorbing the sight in front of her, conflicting emotions of shock, joy, and sorrow disabled any ability she had to think or speak. But eventually, when her brain was able to function once again, two words began to echo in her mind. They started out as a low whisper and soon moved to a full fledged roar. Ice cream. Sunshine.
There, not twenty feet away, was Spike. . . the man she believed she had lost five years ago was now sitting across from a small girl. Both were eating sundaes. In broad daylight.
Of course, the latter shouldn't have been a surprise to Buffy. Spike was human now. A small part of her had known that since the day that Giles had first contacted her with the news of the Shanshu. . . and word that it had come true. Not just once, mind you, but twice. Went meant that somewhere, probably nearby, a very human Angel was walking around in the sunshine too.
But at that moment, Buffy wasn't concerned about Angel. Sure, she was glad that he hadn't died five years ago, as they had been led to believe. The part of her heart that would always cherish the dark haired vampire had broken all by itself when word of his death had come. And that portion had grieved his loss in its own way. But the portion that had loved and known the man currently eating ice cream in the sun – that portion had grieved even more strongly. At the time, Buffy had tried to convince herself that her grief had, in part, been due to the fact that she hadn't been told he was alive after she had lost him the first time.
Why wouldn't he have told me?
But as Andrew had told her Spike's reasoning, her grief only deepened. Had she really treated Spike so badly that he hadn't known how happy she would have been to have seen him again?
"Daddy! Gross!" Buffy was jerked back into the present by the sound of the little girl's voice.
Daddy?
But . . . but that wasn't possible. . .
Sure it is. Spike's human now. Which means he's fully capable of making babies.
In answer to the little girl's protest, Spike continued to stick his ice cream covered tongue out. Buffy smiled in spite of herself. Spike would be the fun Dad, wouldn't he?
But if he's Daddy, then who's Mommy?
The question, when it came, instantly re-summoned up every ounce of grief that Buffy had believed to have disappeared when Giles had told her about the Shanshu prophecy.
"Mommy" must like the color green, Buffy decided, as the child was dressed from head to toe in the color. It wasn't even a very nice shade of green, like grass or leaves. No, it was a sickly, puke-color green. Puke-green. How appropriate. It matched the sour, aching feeling churning in Buffy's stomach.
Spike would never have picked out such an outfit, Buffy decided confidently as she frowned at the bright yellow ribbon which sat aloft in the child's light brown hair. The offensive ribbon was yet another sign that this "Mommy" person was the one who had dressed the child.
If Spike would have played any role in dressing the child, she would have worn some article of black, Buffy was sure of it. That was Spike, after all. I know Spike.
"Are you just about finished with that, Nibblet?"
"Yes, Daddy. Gonna get Mommy ?"
"Have to make a quick stop at the bathroom, luv. Don't want to get the car all sticky, do we, sweets?"
Spike leaned forward and squeezed her nose before bending over and picking the girl up. Unabashedly, the child wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face into Spike's chest.
She'll get his coat dirty that way, Buffy thought automatically, before chastising herself. The child was just that – a child. Spike wouldn't place his stupid coat over the wants of a child. Hadn't he proven that before, with Dawn?
NibbletIt was too strong of a reminder of what used to be, when Spike had loved her. And apparently, that time was far in the past for Spike. Refusing to shed the tears that wanted so badly to fall, Buffy willed her feet to remain firmly in place even as they ached to run. Admittedly, her refusal to run was due in part to her own determination not to look foolish, but it was also due to the simple fact that her feet couldn't decide if they would rather walk. . .run . . . forward, towards Spike, or backwards, away from Spike.
Ultimately, it didn't matter anyway. Any pain or discomfort that she might have felt was left unheeded by Spike and the little girl . . his daughter. . . as they tuned and began to walk away. A small part of her thought of calling out in an effort to make him stay, even as another part wondered what exactly to call out. Spike. Please stay. I love you.
"I love you."
"No you don't, but thanks for sayin' it."
Of course I meant it! God, Spike, I held your hand!
When the memory of that day – that horrible day that had plagued her nightmares for years – hit her, Buffy's knees joined her feet in their betrayal of her body. But she refused to give into the temptation. After all, she was still a Slayer. Not TheSlayer, anymore, and certainly not The Chosen One, but she was still a Slayer. She was stronger than that. Wasn't she?
"I love you."
"No you don't. . ."
Oh, yes, she was a Slayer, and damnit, Slayers didn't just cave in to buckling knees, stubborn feet, or watery eyes.
But could they cave to burning hands? Could they cave to dealing with the love of their life being sucked into a crater while no one but she gave a damn?
Nah, that's all pretty much part of the standard apocalypse, right?
Her inner bitterness was interrupted by the sound of the same voice that had filled her with giddy teenage joy many years ago. "Buffy?"
As she turned and met Angel's warm brown eyes, she briefly wondered why she hadn't sensed him. All those years ago, she'd been able to, with few exceptions. Then she remembered the Shanshu prophecy. She hadn't "sensed" Angel because he was human.
Just like Spike.
"Angel." She didn't bother forcing on a grin that she didn't feel. They'd been through too much to lie to each other.
"You look like you could use this," Angel commented gently. Belatedly, Buffy realized the proffered dish of mint chocolate-chip cookie dough ice cream in his left hand. She didn't want it, and wasn't sure she could eat it, but Angel had his own – something involving chocolate and peanut butter – so she took the second dish from him merely as a courtesy.
Cookie dough.
"Because… okay. I'm cookie dough. I'm not done baking. I'm not finished becoming whoever the hell it is I'm going to turn out to be. I make it through this and the next thing and the next thing and maybe one day I turn around and realize I'm ready. I'm cookies. And then, you know, if I want someone to eat m— or enjoy warm, delicious cookie-me, then that's fine. That'll be then. When I'm done."
"Any thoughts on who might enjoy… do I have to go with the cookie analogy?"
"I'm not really thinking that far ahead. That's kinda the point."
"I'll go start working on the second front. Make sure I don't have to use it."
"I. . . do… sometimes think that far ahead."
That memory brought her pain too, and oh, was it any wonder Spike hadn't believed her when she told him that she loved him?
"No you don't. . . "
But I did! I do! I'm sorry I kissed Angel. . . But I told him you were in my heart. Why didn't you hear that? Why didn't you listen to THAT? Why didn't THAT matter?
Damnit, why were these memories so clear, when they had all happened such a long time ago?
"Buffy?"
"I'm sorry, Angel. Were you saying something?"
"I asked you if you wanted to sit down."
"No." She could stand, after all. Still a Slayer. Still standing. Still pretty much all she had left.
"Um, Buffy? I admit I'm pretty new at the human thing, but I don't think it's normal to stand around to eat the ice cream."
NormalAh, there was that spiteful word, taunting her again. But, then, Angel had always had a particularly unhealthy fetish with linking her with that word.
"You deserve more. You deserve something outside of demons and darkness. You should be with someone who can take you into the light. Someone who can make love to you . "
"I don't' care about that."
"You will. And children."
"Children? Can you say jumping the gun? I kill my goldfish."
"Today. But you have no idea how fast it goes, Buffy. Before you know it, you'll want it all, a normal life."
"I'm a Slayer. Normal's not part of the package!"
Angel looked at her oddly, but choose not to say anything until they and their ice cream have both made it to a tiny, secluded and rickety old table that still gave Angel a good view of the sunlight he was so obviously relishing. In contrast, it simply made Buffy wonder when Charley had last cleaned his Cafe.
"What do you mean?" When Angel asked the question, Buffy could at first only shake her head. It was too complicated, too. . . personal to talk about.
Wow. Too personal to talk to Angel about. That's a first.
"Never mind. It's not important. What.. . what just happened to bring you by today at this time and place?"
"Well, I finished up a little early this afternoon, and thought I'd meet up with Annie and Spike here. Every Friday afternoon, they drop by for ice cream before picking up Fred at the University."
"Who's Fred?"
Angel takes longer to swallow his spoonful of chocolate/peanut buttery combination than is even remotely necessary. But eventually, he answers her, albeit ever so softly. "Winifred Burkle."
"Mommy."Buffy doesn't realize she's said it aloud, until she catches sight of Angel's confused expression. She shrugs, not wanting to talk about it, and forces a luke-warm spoon of vaguely mint flavored ice cream into her mouth.
Mommy.
Nibblet
Across from her, Angel is looking at her curiously, but rambling happily. "It's incredible, really. We all thought we'd lost Fred for good, but after the battle, we got her back –"
"Are they married?" They was a nice pronoun, and a much safer choice of words than any attempt to combine Mommy and Spike outloud.
"Four years. Annie'll be two in March."
A full year. He was human for a full year before he married her, and never so much as called . . . But, then, why should he? After all, he'd been back in existence for a full year prior to that, and she hadn't heard from him then either.
She wondered about the wedding. Did Mommy wear flowers or a veil? What color was her bouquet? Was the ceremony in a church or outside where the groom could have basked in the sunshine? A never ending litany of obnoxious, unimportant details streamed through her consciousness until she felt the warmth of Angel's hand on hers.
Warmth. Angel. Yet another thing that's off with the universe today.
Wanting desperately to forestall the question he was about to ask, Buffy intercepted it with one of her own. "What did you do?"
"Huh?"
"In the wedding? Did you just watch? An usher?"
"I was the best man, actually."
Would you have been ours? "That's the last thing I would have guessed."
"You love him, don't you?" Angel didn't seem quite as well, adolescent, as he had the last time they'd had this conversation.
"Is he your boyfriend?"
I damn well should have said yes!
"Yes."
"He thought you didn't."
"I love you."
"No you don't. . . "
"I guess, I never really let him know. Not the way I should."
Angel nodded his head in what could only be taken for support. Buffy didn't entirely understand where it was coming from, but allowed herself to enjoy it regardless.
"When I lost Cordy, I had the same realization. The woman . . she was my best friend, Buffy. She stood by me no matter what, and I could always count on her to tell me the truth. But I never got around to actually telling her how much she meant to me. At least, not when it still mattered."
"Never got around to it. Yeah, that sounds about right."
"I guess we deserve to be miserable, then, huh?"
Buffy nodded morosely. "You sit on the fence too long, you get a wedgie."
She didn't hear Angel's response, as she was too busy taking in the more miraculous revelation playing out in her head.
I'm cookies. She was done baking now. Angel had just confessed to loving Cordelia, and she hadn't felt so much as an ounce of jealousy.
But Spike already had a cake.
A wedding cake. "Was it chocolate or vanilla?"
"Was what chocolate or vanilla?"
"Their cake."
"Actually, they didn't have a cake. They did, however, have lots of tacos." Angel laughed softly. "Is there anything else you'd like to know about the wedding?"
Just one thing. One thing that she had to know. Then she'd go – back to Europe, back to Cleveland, anywhere but L.A., where her normal life that she had fought so hard for had been given to someone who didn't even know that you were supposed to have a cake at your wedding reception. "Their last name?"
"Burkle."
"Was it his, I mean, William's, or was it –"
"Hers."
William Burkle. William and Winifred Burkle. Annie Burkle.
Spike Burkle. That, of course, sounded ridiculous. But Buffy wondered if Mommy called him Spike, or if she knew of William.
"You're beneath me, William."
In the warm breeze of the L.A. air, Buffy shivered. She was rather certain that Mommy never called Annie's daddy anything other than Spike.
The End.