Title: Linger
Author: Jane McCartney
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine. Period.
Classification: A real mix with old and new characters in it, crossover with Angel too.
Rating: PG13
Feedback: Yes, yes, yes! Honestly, could you show me one author who don't crave it? It's like our drug, our ambrosia!
Email: janemccartney@bol.com.br
Distribution: Just tell me first.
Acknowledgements: Theo, my readers, Theo, my reviewers, Theo, Theo and once again Theo.
Note: I don't know what hit me when I started to write this, but I finished it anyway. It's weird, it's confusing and I guess no one's gonna risk reading any further now... oh well.
Summary: The afterlife shows Tara a whole new perspective on how to see things. And she finds help to understand just how complicated things can really be, within an unlikely group of strange and familiar faces.
***
"Do you ever wonder?"
The wind, a delicate one, blew softly, messing up the blonde girl's hair. Making the golden locks fly towards the opposite direction of her face.
A half-smile, one of contemplation, graced her features. Tara Maclay repeated herself, "Do you ever wonder whether you'd choose to go back, if you were given the chance?"
Tara had her knees up against her chest, and wrapped tightly within her arms. William looked up to glance at the girl, putting an aged, leather- covered little notebook and pen aside.
"I dunno," the light-brown-haired man replied frugally, after some moments of thought. "It's alright 'ere, luv. Don't know if I'd ever adjust; never had that great a self-image in me ol' life, ya know?"
Tara glanced briefly at her companion and insisted, "Maybe then, you could change things. You know, things you left unsaid, things you didn't have the courage to do... things," she said softly, tentatively.
Out of all five souls the girl had encountered in her afterlife, William was definitely the one she'd found it most difficult to talk to, in spite of his old life on Earth.
Her mind constantly wondered why, even when some shadowy conversations with Buffy had given her some clue before. But learning about the links some vampires might share their banished soul had surely given answers about Spike's unique nature, to Tara.
William chuckled for a second. Bitterly, with hints of past regret and discomfort. "I've had a lot o' those things, luv. But it's in the past now, and I can't change anything. I say there's no bloody point in thinkin' back on anything."
Tara looked away, the cornflower blue of the sky seeming to encompass the entire view. Airy, pink-colored clouds tinted the firmament disorderedly, but forming a perfect, beautifully balanced harmony anyway.
She would learn why these five people were here. They'd help her understand, her mission, her unfinished business. As Jenny had explained, there was plenty of time to do so.
All of this was still very confusing to Tara. Being in Heaven, it wasn't something words could describe. It was wonderful and confusing and oddly familiar, all at the same time.
It was like constant floating energy, a mutual feeling of comfort and bliss, plus a certain lacking Tara couldn't quite measure or deal with. Like a hole in her soul, but not really an ache; just a lack of wholeness.
As said, it was indeed very confusing.
It was not an actual physical matter, but more of a state of mind - this much the witch knew. She'd even read theories about it, before her death. Or physical passing. Or whatever. Maybe what had happened to her was not a death at all, like Jenny liked to believe.
Huh... I didn't think I could get a headache in Heaven, the blonde girl thought.
Jenny's original idea of Heaven, for instance, was a totally different one - her roots were different, and the shock of cultures was evidently substantial and weighty. Because she was a gypsy.
Under the most acceptable explanation, being in Paradise was like being in an alternate universe, where your mind was capable of creating the concept of reality, and hence the commonness and security of familiar scenarios. Special scenarios. Or even sketches you hadn't ever seen before.
And so far, there wasn't a single person who could formulate any theory about this Heaven without some higher power being included. Physical laws didn't apply sometimes, and in others they seemingly did. There was pain and fear still, but its effect wasn't the usual one.
Heaven, as everyone seemed to feel the impulse to classify it in the very first moment they first got there, was almost like a perpetual sensation, and a literally indescribable one at that.
"You left Drusilla turn you," Tara didn't know why she said it, but she just did; softly, out of the blue. "Buffy told me..."
Spike's soul glanced down to his writing, motionless. The pencil kept flowing along the whiteness of the notebook, covering its surface with a grey color.
Feeling the blonde girl's eyes on him, William said, not lifting his blue- eyed gaze at her, "Did you know I was a poet?"
"I guess Buffy m-mentioned it," Tara answered a little later, eyeing the young man with caution.
"This Buffy bint has one big mouth, doesn't she?" William said, his reddened thin lips drawing out a thin grin.
Another great shock to Tara when she'd first come here was William's skin. Of course she'd always known about the reasons for every vampire's pallor, due to the massive loss of blood before death - but still, the 19th century man's looks was considerably more dark than Spike's unhealthy paleness.
William furiously kept poking his pencil against the white surface. His piercing blue-eyed gaze finally looked up, his thin lips forming a bitter small smirk. "I don't think I could handle it. To hear a woman say I'm beneath her again, ya know pet? It's not a nice feeling. You should know that."
Tara felt her lips tremble slightly, and a pang of invaded her being as she smiled kindly. Spike's soul had its blue-eyed gaze's attention once again completely, almost viciously, back to the notebook and its writings.
"I guess I know exactly how you feel," she confessed gingerly, handling some locks of hair between her fingers coyly.
"You had Red, didn't you?" William asked wisely, after a drawn-out second.
Tara smiled brightly at the thought of her girlfriend. In fact, Willow was her favorite subject.
"Willow changed me, but only because I let her into my life. I-I think sometimes you just have to give faith a chance, and open the door to her when she comes around with a, a confident grin and a welcome hug... and I'm still talking nonsense, aren't I?" the blonde girl frowned.
William chuckled. "I like you, luv. You're different."
Tara grinned, feeling a rush of blood flushing through her checks. "It takes years of hard work and a lot of practice to look like a freak. But I guess I was just a natural at it."
"Style is to copy yourself," William quoted smartly. "Hitchcock. Wise bloke. Pity I didn't live through the movie age in me human life," Spike's soul lamented. "The telly up 'ere really was a bloody shame back then."
Tara looked down and, when the Wiccan jerked up her head again, there was a perky grin on her face. "Sounds kinda like something you'd say to the kid that football players steal the lunch from..."
Receiving a glare from William, the Wiccan amended hurriedly, "O-or, of course, a genius. A really smart one."
After a moment to give order to his thoughts, Spike's soul's lips formed a small, original smile.
"What?" the blonde girl asked curiously, with a grin of her own.
William just shrugged dismissively, still smiling with a certain cloudy air. "Not really a thing, pet. Not really a thing."
Tara wondered what was going on his mind, but after some time she turned her attention once more to the ravishing cornflower blue of the sky. Thoughts of people, acts and even vague things like special smells she'd liked invading her mind.
"You're special, pet. Red was surely one lucky bint," William whispered.
After some time contemplating the girl, his world returned solely to his little notebook with the brown leather cover; where words of anguish, nostalgia, release, peace, passion and purpose appeared in the link with the unspoken thoughts of his mind.
But the last thing William saw was Tara's floating gold hair, before his soul dizzily and uncertainly became aware it was entrapped in the corpse it had abandoned over 120 years before.
And after the almost unbearable pain endured by the unexpected transference into Spike's undead body, William felt that, even if for only a split second, there were only two important things in his existence from this point on.
The first one came in the form of a petite blonde, that even via the connection with his alter ego Spike when he was in Heaven, William couldn't imagine he'd be so capable of feeling such love and hate at the same time for one person.
And the other thought was the sudden craving to follow the advice he'd been given just barely moments ago, before his whole wold was turned upside down upon his return to physical flesh, and the living hell of sharing it with a demon.
He'd finally get his chance now. He wouldn't let things go unsaid, and feelings go unspoken anymore.
If nothing else, the bleached-hair man smiled for what could be the last time of his brand-new undead life, or perhaps what could also be the first of many more to come.
William the bloody awful poet knew only this much for sure - he owed an awful lot, big time, to Tara Maclay.
***
Constructive flames, reviews saying I'm the best writer in the world (*snorts loudly* right Jane, that's just the true...) Everything's welcome!
Author: Jane McCartney
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine. Period.
Classification: A real mix with old and new characters in it, crossover with Angel too.
Rating: PG13
Feedback: Yes, yes, yes! Honestly, could you show me one author who don't crave it? It's like our drug, our ambrosia!
Email: janemccartney@bol.com.br
Distribution: Just tell me first.
Acknowledgements: Theo, my readers, Theo, my reviewers, Theo, Theo and once again Theo.
Note: I don't know what hit me when I started to write this, but I finished it anyway. It's weird, it's confusing and I guess no one's gonna risk reading any further now... oh well.
Summary: The afterlife shows Tara a whole new perspective on how to see things. And she finds help to understand just how complicated things can really be, within an unlikely group of strange and familiar faces.
***
"Do you ever wonder?"
The wind, a delicate one, blew softly, messing up the blonde girl's hair. Making the golden locks fly towards the opposite direction of her face.
A half-smile, one of contemplation, graced her features. Tara Maclay repeated herself, "Do you ever wonder whether you'd choose to go back, if you were given the chance?"
Tara had her knees up against her chest, and wrapped tightly within her arms. William looked up to glance at the girl, putting an aged, leather- covered little notebook and pen aside.
"I dunno," the light-brown-haired man replied frugally, after some moments of thought. "It's alright 'ere, luv. Don't know if I'd ever adjust; never had that great a self-image in me ol' life, ya know?"
Tara glanced briefly at her companion and insisted, "Maybe then, you could change things. You know, things you left unsaid, things you didn't have the courage to do... things," she said softly, tentatively.
Out of all five souls the girl had encountered in her afterlife, William was definitely the one she'd found it most difficult to talk to, in spite of his old life on Earth.
Her mind constantly wondered why, even when some shadowy conversations with Buffy had given her some clue before. But learning about the links some vampires might share their banished soul had surely given answers about Spike's unique nature, to Tara.
William chuckled for a second. Bitterly, with hints of past regret and discomfort. "I've had a lot o' those things, luv. But it's in the past now, and I can't change anything. I say there's no bloody point in thinkin' back on anything."
Tara looked away, the cornflower blue of the sky seeming to encompass the entire view. Airy, pink-colored clouds tinted the firmament disorderedly, but forming a perfect, beautifully balanced harmony anyway.
She would learn why these five people were here. They'd help her understand, her mission, her unfinished business. As Jenny had explained, there was plenty of time to do so.
All of this was still very confusing to Tara. Being in Heaven, it wasn't something words could describe. It was wonderful and confusing and oddly familiar, all at the same time.
It was like constant floating energy, a mutual feeling of comfort and bliss, plus a certain lacking Tara couldn't quite measure or deal with. Like a hole in her soul, but not really an ache; just a lack of wholeness.
As said, it was indeed very confusing.
It was not an actual physical matter, but more of a state of mind - this much the witch knew. She'd even read theories about it, before her death. Or physical passing. Or whatever. Maybe what had happened to her was not a death at all, like Jenny liked to believe.
Huh... I didn't think I could get a headache in Heaven, the blonde girl thought.
Jenny's original idea of Heaven, for instance, was a totally different one - her roots were different, and the shock of cultures was evidently substantial and weighty. Because she was a gypsy.
Under the most acceptable explanation, being in Paradise was like being in an alternate universe, where your mind was capable of creating the concept of reality, and hence the commonness and security of familiar scenarios. Special scenarios. Or even sketches you hadn't ever seen before.
And so far, there wasn't a single person who could formulate any theory about this Heaven without some higher power being included. Physical laws didn't apply sometimes, and in others they seemingly did. There was pain and fear still, but its effect wasn't the usual one.
Heaven, as everyone seemed to feel the impulse to classify it in the very first moment they first got there, was almost like a perpetual sensation, and a literally indescribable one at that.
"You left Drusilla turn you," Tara didn't know why she said it, but she just did; softly, out of the blue. "Buffy told me..."
Spike's soul glanced down to his writing, motionless. The pencil kept flowing along the whiteness of the notebook, covering its surface with a grey color.
Feeling the blonde girl's eyes on him, William said, not lifting his blue- eyed gaze at her, "Did you know I was a poet?"
"I guess Buffy m-mentioned it," Tara answered a little later, eyeing the young man with caution.
"This Buffy bint has one big mouth, doesn't she?" William said, his reddened thin lips drawing out a thin grin.
Another great shock to Tara when she'd first come here was William's skin. Of course she'd always known about the reasons for every vampire's pallor, due to the massive loss of blood before death - but still, the 19th century man's looks was considerably more dark than Spike's unhealthy paleness.
William furiously kept poking his pencil against the white surface. His piercing blue-eyed gaze finally looked up, his thin lips forming a bitter small smirk. "I don't think I could handle it. To hear a woman say I'm beneath her again, ya know pet? It's not a nice feeling. You should know that."
Tara felt her lips tremble slightly, and a pang of invaded her being as she smiled kindly. Spike's soul had its blue-eyed gaze's attention once again completely, almost viciously, back to the notebook and its writings.
"I guess I know exactly how you feel," she confessed gingerly, handling some locks of hair between her fingers coyly.
"You had Red, didn't you?" William asked wisely, after a drawn-out second.
Tara smiled brightly at the thought of her girlfriend. In fact, Willow was her favorite subject.
"Willow changed me, but only because I let her into my life. I-I think sometimes you just have to give faith a chance, and open the door to her when she comes around with a, a confident grin and a welcome hug... and I'm still talking nonsense, aren't I?" the blonde girl frowned.
William chuckled. "I like you, luv. You're different."
Tara grinned, feeling a rush of blood flushing through her checks. "It takes years of hard work and a lot of practice to look like a freak. But I guess I was just a natural at it."
"Style is to copy yourself," William quoted smartly. "Hitchcock. Wise bloke. Pity I didn't live through the movie age in me human life," Spike's soul lamented. "The telly up 'ere really was a bloody shame back then."
Tara looked down and, when the Wiccan jerked up her head again, there was a perky grin on her face. "Sounds kinda like something you'd say to the kid that football players steal the lunch from..."
Receiving a glare from William, the Wiccan amended hurriedly, "O-or, of course, a genius. A really smart one."
After a moment to give order to his thoughts, Spike's soul's lips formed a small, original smile.
"What?" the blonde girl asked curiously, with a grin of her own.
William just shrugged dismissively, still smiling with a certain cloudy air. "Not really a thing, pet. Not really a thing."
Tara wondered what was going on his mind, but after some time she turned her attention once more to the ravishing cornflower blue of the sky. Thoughts of people, acts and even vague things like special smells she'd liked invading her mind.
"You're special, pet. Red was surely one lucky bint," William whispered.
After some time contemplating the girl, his world returned solely to his little notebook with the brown leather cover; where words of anguish, nostalgia, release, peace, passion and purpose appeared in the link with the unspoken thoughts of his mind.
But the last thing William saw was Tara's floating gold hair, before his soul dizzily and uncertainly became aware it was entrapped in the corpse it had abandoned over 120 years before.
And after the almost unbearable pain endured by the unexpected transference into Spike's undead body, William felt that, even if for only a split second, there were only two important things in his existence from this point on.
The first one came in the form of a petite blonde, that even via the connection with his alter ego Spike when he was in Heaven, William couldn't imagine he'd be so capable of feeling such love and hate at the same time for one person.
And the other thought was the sudden craving to follow the advice he'd been given just barely moments ago, before his whole wold was turned upside down upon his return to physical flesh, and the living hell of sharing it with a demon.
He'd finally get his chance now. He wouldn't let things go unsaid, and feelings go unspoken anymore.
If nothing else, the bleached-hair man smiled for what could be the last time of his brand-new undead life, or perhaps what could also be the first of many more to come.
William the bloody awful poet knew only this much for sure - he owed an awful lot, big time, to Tara Maclay.
***
Constructive flames, reviews saying I'm the best writer in the world (*snorts loudly* right Jane, that's just the true...) Everything's welcome!