Disclaimer: My first fic ever, and my first shot at any sort of creative writing since high school (and boy was that a LONG time ago). This may suck entirely, so please be kind. Joss and Elvis Costello own, I borrow, in a non copyright-infringement way.
Dedication: To the wonderful fic writers of the Bloody Awful Poets Society, who truly inspired me to give this a go.
Author's Notes: I needed to do something with all the songs running around in my head.
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Finally, a moment of silence fell between them. Not awkward, not uncomfortable. Just...a break. A moment to think, absorb, adjust. Their togetherness was always electric, so fraught with intensity. They needed these quiet moments from time to time. Down time - a space to breathe evenly. It was unconscious, instinctive. Another aspect of their mutual need. The silence was restful, restorative.
Buffy glanced around the room, taking in her surroundings. Her eyes rested on her night table, letting the sights slowly renew her feelings of connection. Cautiously, she was reclaiming pieces of herself that made her feel like other girls.
She scanned the clutter next to her bed. Perfume; nail polish; hair clips; earrings. She studied a photo collage Tara made for her of candids taken one particularly slow day at the Magic Box. All the Scoobies together, each caught off guard in moments of joy, surprise and thought. The spontaneity, the happiness, the warmth and togetherness. It was all captured right there when they least expected it. She smiled softly.
Spike couldn't take his eyes off her. He felt the comfort flow through her as she embraced the safety of her room. "Finally," he thought, "she's finally coming back." At her soft smile, he knew she was beginning to make peace with all that was and all that was to come. Though there would be a long road ahead, his Slayer was finally becoming whole again.
The CD player clicked as the disc changed. Slightly broken from his reverie, he wondered which disc was next.
Something clicked in Buffy, too. She rose and moved towards her bookshelf. Her fingers lightly brushed dusty spines and rested on a thin, leather-bound volume. She heard the plaintive guitar chords and tried to recognize the song. Spike had played it for her before, and although she was reluctant to admit it, she did like some of his music. She listened as the lyrics came to her.
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Oh it's so funny to be seeing you after so long, girl.
And with the way you look I understand
that you are not impressed.
But I heard you let that little friend of mine
take off your party dress.
I'm not gonna get too sentimental
like those other sticky valentines,
'cause I don't know if you've been loving somebody.
I only know it isn't mine.
Alison, I know this world is killing you.
Oh, Alison, my aim is true.
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With a bittersweet smile, she pulled the thin book from the shelf and reread the inscription. "Always." She looked over her shoulder at the inquisitive blue eyes that studied her every move. "Always." Finally, she knew what it meant.
~End~
