Disclaimer: "If you hurt her, I will beat you to death with a shovel." Oops, sorry, wrong
one. Obviously, the show and its characters aren't mine. They belong to Joss, but then
you already knew that. Just borrowing.
Might add more 'moments', either between Spike and Buffy or between other characters.
Review and let me know if you want them, kay?
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Shared Moments
He lets his hand rest on her shoulder, and is vaguely surprised when she doesn't
shrug him off. He wishes he could see her face, but he is standing behind her chair, and
doesn't dare move. She has allowed him to touch her, and the moment could end at any
point. Besides, he knows her face. Knows every part of her. Her expression is the same,
he is sure, as it always is these days. Calm and constant. Not glaring, not smiling.
Deadpan, and the expression amuses him for a minute. Then his mind is focused
completely back on her. It always comes back to her.
She feels a hand descend on her shoulder, and she knows instantly who it is. She
would know him anywhere. He stands close behind her, and his presence fills her senses
for a moment. Another moment has passed before she realizes the hand is still there. And
yet another before she realizes that she's okay with that. It's a simple gesture, just a small
token of support, but it seems so important to her now. So often, she feels like her life is
just a bad dream. Or maybe a psychotic episode, but she knows better than to allow
herself thoughts like that. But for now, she knows she's really real. His hand is holding
her to the world, and she feels overwhelmingly grateful. But her face never changes. Her
expression remains steady, and she says nothing to him. Sometimes she thinks he's the
only one holding her back from insanity, and she wishes she could tell him that.
He can feel her strength, and he frowns a little at the tension in her muscles. Had
it been last year, he might have convinced her to lie still for a while and let him give her a
massage – and he was damn good at it – but it wasn't last year. Just the hand on her
shoulder was a victory; a massage was pretty far out of the question. He wonders why no
one else ever offers. He's seen her with the others, and knows from rare but memorable
experience that she was pretty skilled with working out back tension herself. Her sister
had once told him that she used to give the witch massages, back when she was
attempting to give up majick. He's a little annoyed that the favor is never returned. This
girl could definitely use it.
She hears her name being called, and sighs softly. She knows he heard her, and
can imagine the concern on his face without turning. His hand hasn't left her shoulder,
and she suddenly feels so drained, she can't imagine rising from her chair. But the call
comes again, and she attempts to draw on her last remains of energy. She can't remember
if she slept today. Or ate, for that matter. A fleeting moment goes by where she almost
asks him. It doesn't surprise her that she is nearly certain he would know. She realizes
she still hasn't risen from her chair. He gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze, and she feels
better. Comforted. Without conscious thought, she reaches up and covers his hand with
her own, holding his fingers for a moment. Neither speaks, and she stands, leaving to
tend to whatever problem has arisen. He doesn't move, still lost in their brief but sweet
moment. Then he turns and follows her, ready to offer advice and help. The moment was
gone, but not forgotten. It seems so small, but he knows it's not. A touch of affection, of
trust, given and returned, was far from small. It was everything.
one. Obviously, the show and its characters aren't mine. They belong to Joss, but then
you already knew that. Just borrowing.
Might add more 'moments', either between Spike and Buffy or between other characters.
Review and let me know if you want them, kay?
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Shared Moments
He lets his hand rest on her shoulder, and is vaguely surprised when she doesn't
shrug him off. He wishes he could see her face, but he is standing behind her chair, and
doesn't dare move. She has allowed him to touch her, and the moment could end at any
point. Besides, he knows her face. Knows every part of her. Her expression is the same,
he is sure, as it always is these days. Calm and constant. Not glaring, not smiling.
Deadpan, and the expression amuses him for a minute. Then his mind is focused
completely back on her. It always comes back to her.
She feels a hand descend on her shoulder, and she knows instantly who it is. She
would know him anywhere. He stands close behind her, and his presence fills her senses
for a moment. Another moment has passed before she realizes the hand is still there. And
yet another before she realizes that she's okay with that. It's a simple gesture, just a small
token of support, but it seems so important to her now. So often, she feels like her life is
just a bad dream. Or maybe a psychotic episode, but she knows better than to allow
herself thoughts like that. But for now, she knows she's really real. His hand is holding
her to the world, and she feels overwhelmingly grateful. But her face never changes. Her
expression remains steady, and she says nothing to him. Sometimes she thinks he's the
only one holding her back from insanity, and she wishes she could tell him that.
He can feel her strength, and he frowns a little at the tension in her muscles. Had
it been last year, he might have convinced her to lie still for a while and let him give her a
massage – and he was damn good at it – but it wasn't last year. Just the hand on her
shoulder was a victory; a massage was pretty far out of the question. He wonders why no
one else ever offers. He's seen her with the others, and knows from rare but memorable
experience that she was pretty skilled with working out back tension herself. Her sister
had once told him that she used to give the witch massages, back when she was
attempting to give up majick. He's a little annoyed that the favor is never returned. This
girl could definitely use it.
She hears her name being called, and sighs softly. She knows he heard her, and
can imagine the concern on his face without turning. His hand hasn't left her shoulder,
and she suddenly feels so drained, she can't imagine rising from her chair. But the call
comes again, and she attempts to draw on her last remains of energy. She can't remember
if she slept today. Or ate, for that matter. A fleeting moment goes by where she almost
asks him. It doesn't surprise her that she is nearly certain he would know. She realizes
she still hasn't risen from her chair. He gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze, and she feels
better. Comforted. Without conscious thought, she reaches up and covers his hand with
her own, holding his fingers for a moment. Neither speaks, and she stands, leaving to
tend to whatever problem has arisen. He doesn't move, still lost in their brief but sweet
moment. Then he turns and follows her, ready to offer advice and help. The moment was
gone, but not forgotten. It seems so small, but he knows it's not. A touch of affection, of
trust, given and returned, was far from small. It was everything.