"It's like a bag of chips."
"And how's that, exactly ?"
"Well..." she tossed a stake in her hand, catching it deftly and throwing it again, "... when you find out the chips have an expiration date, and that it's close... it just makes you want to rip open the bag that much more."
"I think I see..."
"So when the creepy-crawlies found out I could die... it was, like, taking the kids to the Washington monument, you know ? Everybody got all excited..."
"Losin' me with the analogies, love."
"Yeah." he sat down, and she suddenly found herself unable to look at him. "You didn't. Lumpy asked you if you wanted to... and you didn't."
"Nope."
"Can I ask you why ?"
"You just did, didn't you ?" he sighed. "As much as everybody tries to tell you I want to 'Darth Vader' you, Buffy... I don't... love you... 'cause you've got darkness in you." He looked down at his nails, pretending that there was anything in the world that could've distracted him from thinking about her. "I love you... and there's a light, coming from you... from inside. And even you being dead... couldn't put it out. It wouldn't have been you, anyway." he added. His voice began to trail off. "Wouldn't have been... the same..."
She processed this for a minute, feeling guilty, and at the same time, feeling the return of the (insane !) shivers. The Spike shivers. And then a recent memory triggered her 'righteous indignation' reflex.
"You, and I- have to talk."
"About what, pet ?"
"You know very well... don't look at me like that. We were in the middle of a fight, for heaven's sake ! And Giles and everyone were standing right there ! Were you not thinking ? What were you thinking ?!"
He sat back on the tombstone, not bothering to interrupt her tirade. She seemed to be losing steam, so he hazarded a small question.
"Did you like it ?" Buffy had been pacing; she stopped abruptly and gaped at him, and then managed to put some semblance of an angry/surprised face back on.
"What do you mean, did I like it ? I was fighting ! We were, we were in the middle of something important, and you can't just-"
"But did you like it ?"
"Yes."
He nearly fell off the stone.
"B-Buffy..."
"But I can't."
"What do you mean, 'you can't' ? I haven't asked you anything yet."
"I know what you're going to ask. You're going to ask if i can't... give 'us' a chance... and, I want to... I never thought I'd... but you're here. Do you know what that means ? That you... stay ? You stay. And you're here, and not gone, and that's half the battle in Buffy-land... Do you know what that means ?" she said again, helpless now. "And, sure, I wish things were different, but they aren't, and... I've been dead, Spike. Dead. And I'm dealing, sure, but how about tomorrow, and-"
"I'll be here."
"I know, you ass, and that's what makes it so hard." she slumped down onto the stone next to his. "It's easy to say that everybody who loves me runs away, and that nothing ever lasts in my world. But you do. You're not following the rules. They say 'love', and then they say 'goodbye'. You say 'love', and... and you stay. And you fight, and you babysit my little sister, and you make it really difficult."
"Make what difficult ?"
"Not loving you." she said, in the softest voice imaginable.
This left a gaping hole in his train of thought, and he sat gaping like a fish until a voice in his head yelled out, 'kiss her, you ponce !', so he did. She didn't pull away; in fact, she grabbed his elbows and pulled him in, fiercely, and scorched him with her heat. For a girl who thought she couldn't, she did very well. The nagging need to breathe parted their lips, and they sat with their arms around each other for a moment longer. She melted against him, feeling cool lips on her forehead, breathing into the soft hollow between his neck and shoulders. They kissed, slower this time, letting each other take the lead. I've wanted this for so long, she mused. Wanted these arms, wanted this touch... was that something moving in the bushes ? She broke away, ready for trouble, and he rubbed his forehead awkwardly. Silence. She gave him a sheepish grin.
"I can't. I'm just... preoccupied. I think this... should wait."
"This ?"
"You know..." she gestured between them. "Us. What's been happening... when things calm down-" she began, but he cut her short.
"Buffy." he said firmly, and cupped her elbows with his palms. "Love, it's not going to clear. This is what happens. This is life... or whatever. This is life, for us, anyway." She shook him off.
"Don't be- I can't put things in the way of what I have to do. I want this," she gestured again, "I want this so much. I... I love you." This startled him, and it took every ounce of composure he had in him not to break into a dance. Someday, somehow, he would tell her, in words, or with other means, what it meant to hear that from her. But right now, he just wanted to hear more. "I just want to be with you. I'd love to just let you kiss me, to forget... to forget everything. But I can't. I have things to take care of, and maybe then-"
"Maybe then what ?! Buffy, you're the slayer ! I didn't want to say this, but 'then' for people like us comes in limited supplies. Love doesn't get you out of things. The world doesn't stop for love." his eye pleaded with her. "Buffy, I... I love you. But love doesn't get you out. It gets you through things." He lifted her chin to meet his gaze. "If you keep waiting for the 'right time', it's never gonna come. Heaven knows we've both loved enough at the wrong time. The right time, in the real world, is whenever you can grab it." He pressed his lips to her forehead again, willing the tears not to come. "And I'm not letting you go."
It makes some kind of sense, she thought, her face resting on his shoulder. He was rubbing her back now, in that spot. I've always tried to separate my life. Love on one side- duty on the other. And somehow, whenever they touched, they were ruined. I forget just when, but at some point... Spike started walking dangerously close to the edges of them both. I can have both, she realized. Love and duty. They don't have to be enemies. She lifted her head and smiled up at him.
They don't have to be enemies.
"So... what do we do now ?"
"This is the part," she smiled slowly, "where we get to start all over again."
"All over again ?"
"All over." He watched her for a minute, then extended a hand.
"May I have the pleasure of this dance ?" he winked, and indicated the full moon. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Pleasure's all mine."
"Oh, I hope not." he countered, and she had the grace to look slightly startled. "Shall we dance ?" he added, trying to be patient. She was standing there against the moon with her hair framing her face, and he felt like he'd die if he couldn't touch her soon. True, a bit late, but the comparison stood. She seemed to sense it, and drew out the wait ever so slightly.
"Well... do you really think it's proper ?" she murmured. "Us just meeting, and all." He shot her a dangerous grin, and she felt that cool shiver again. There was love, and hope, and animal energy wrapped up in those icy eyes tonight. Buffy had the feeling her eyes were a mirror of his own. It was the best feeling she'd had in a while. "Well ?"
"Do I think... it's proper ?" he said archly.
"Just asking."
"Sod proper." he shrugged, and swung her into his arms.
Somewhere, on a quiet street, there was a house with no lights on.
Tangled in each other, her hand met his, and the fingers wound together in the first, most ancient knot.
Forever ? she asked him.
Forever. he said.
She watched him sleeping, watched the moon filter through the blinds and outline him in silver. Asleep, he wasn't the same. There wasn't that angry energy that followed him wherever he went. He was wrapped up in movement, as if he were made of water, forever in motion, rippling, crashing like the tide. The endless, endless tide. He's not so old as that, she told herself sheepishly, but a strange fear clutched at her heart for a moment. He is more like the tide than I am. When I'm dead, he will still be lapping the shore. He will still be here, when I'm old, and when I'm dead.
If he sensed her worry, it didn't wake him. Instead, he shifted in his sleep, and rolled to face her. One arm snaked around her waist, and she let herself be drawn into his arms. Spike sighed, and his chin found a place to rest on the top of her head, her cheek pressed to his shoulder. It was simple enough, that he should reach out and she should go to him. But it was the kind of gesture that satisfied that tiny voice in the back of her mind. It would always be like this. In trouble, or in pain, and in great joy, Buffy would find herself here again. Watching the moonlight trace him in white, with his arms around her, forever. Forever.
He will be here when I am dead, she thought; but then, I will be here too.
"Of age there is no question
Death's shadow is undone
We only need each other
And shelter from the sun."
-After Dark (Blue Oyster Cult)
