By Night - Prologue
by Angel Eternal aka Angeline
email: spikes_angel01@yahoo.com.au
Website: In Dreams and Shadows
http://www.geocities.com/spikes_angel01/index.html
Author's Notes: This is set S6, and is loosely based on spoilers concering the season. I just want to point out
though that I haven't seen S6 and won't for a while, so if things isn't quite right, you'd know why.
Rating: R
Distribution: So far? Only at my site "In Dreams and Shadows", and at FF.net but it you want to
archive it go ahead, but just let me know first - I kinda like to know where it's going, and plus I find
out about more S/B shipper sites! g
Disclaimers: Buffy the Vampire Slayer is owned by Joss Whedon, several companies and God knows who else.
One thing is certain - I don't own any of it! Nothing - zip - nada!
He let out the smoke in one lazy puff, for a moment, letting it shade his vision of her.
He'd been leaning on this tree too bloody long.
How many times had that thought crossed his mind? Too many times. But it was the truth. Spike, William the
Bloody, spent far too much of his time leaning against this tree.
And he spent far too much time contemplating. He was fast turning into the poof that he so despised.
His eyes wandered upwards, fixing on the one window that still shone bright with the light within.
Spike sighed. Yeah, he was turning into a poof, and there wasn't a bloody thing he could do about it.
* * *
Buffy ran the brush through hair, refusing to get up one more time to peek through her curtains. She had done
that often enough thank you very much.
She fiercely concentrated on the act of brushing her hair as if it was the most important task in the world.
Her sister's quiet voice broke through her reverie. "Spike's standing outside you know."
Still concentrating on brushing her hair, Buffy refused to meet Dawn's eyes in the mirror. "I know."
Dawn rolled her eyes, "Are you just gonna let him stand there all night?"
"He's done it before."
Eyes narrowing, Dawn strode to her sister's side and yanked the brush from her hand, and throwing it across the
room. "That was before."
Buffy sighed, and stayed silent, still refusing to look to meet Dawn's fierce gaze.
Dawn sighed as well, settling for merely ineffectively glaring at Buffy's back, before whirling around and slamming the
door behind her.
Buffy let out her breath in a ragged sigh. Dawn wouldn't understand. Dawn couldn't understand.
Slowly, she stood and retrieved the brush that Dawn had flung into the corner of the room in her annoyance. Buffy
firmly kept her gaze on the brush, refusing to even glance at the window. Damn that infernal vampire.
She settled back before the mirror, resuming the all-important task of brushing her hair.
* * *
Willow fiddled with the basket of cookies one last time, reassuring herself that they looked perfect.
She stilled her fluttering hands, setting them firmly in her lap. With a light shake of her head, she shook her hair
backwards, fixing a smile of welcome on her lips.
A moment later, the door opened slowly, as Tara peered in.
Willow's smile brightened, and upon seeing her, Tara firmly closed the door and left.
* * *
Anya firmly packed away the millions of bridal magazines she had collected over the past couple of weeks. She
worked silently and swiftly.
Xander watched her helplessly. "Anya hon..."
She wouldn't even look at him. He tried again, but was coldly ignored.
"Anya..."
Not once did she falter, it was almost mechanical the way she would pick up a magazine, glance at it and firmly placed
it in the box.
Xander watched her, despair and fear settling in his heart.
* * *
Spike walked back to his crypt, the appeal of standing beneath her window quickly wanning.
As soon as he reached it, he slumped backwards against the door. He had never felt more exhausted in his entire
existence.
Slowly, he sat in his lone chair, for the moment, content with merely sitting and staring at the dingy wall.
He reached out for the pack of his cigarettes that was always close at hand. His searching hand fell on a notebook.
He glanced at it, pensive. Spike took the pen and began to write.
The words flowed from mind to pen to paper and continued to flow until long after the candle had burnt out.
* * *
Each let the night envelop them, regretting words spoken, deeds done. Regret was hard to live with...
But the morning was yet to come.