One Hundred and Forty-Seven
by Invisible Sun
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns 'em.
Keywords: S/B, Spike POV
Spoilers: up to 'Wrecked' though it focuses mostly on 'After life'
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Buffy asks why Spike has so many candles in his crypt.
******
I can't sleep. I gaze down at the woman in my arms. Ever since
that night in the abandoned house, she's been coming to me, despite
her declarations that she would never do anything with me ever again.
Never say never. Every time, after, she would spout verbal insults
about how bloody disgusting I am and how it doesn't mean anything
and how she'll kill me if I tell anyone before leaving. She never
spends the night. Tonight is the first night she's ever fallen asleep
here in my crypt, in my arms. And I feel a small crumb. An inkling
of hope. Hope that maybe someday, she'll admit this thing between
us exists and means something.
But that crumb, that inkling, is blown away when she jerks awake.
She groans and pushes off of me.
"Why didn't you wake me up?" she mutters angrily as she scrambles
around, looking for her clothes.
She does that a lot more these days. Get angry with me. She gets
angry over even the smallest, simplest thing.
"Figure you could use a little rest," I shrug.
She rolls her eyes (something else she does often in my presence)
and she heads for the upper floor. I jump out of the bed and quickly
grab my jeans, pulling them on before following her.
For some reason, she hasn't left. No, she's just standing in the
middle of the room, looking around.
"Why do you have so many damned candles in here?" she asks.
Okay, where did that come from? "What?"
She turns around to face me, "Why do you have so many candles in
here? You never light them. There has to be, like, five hundred
in here."
"One hundred and forty-seven," I correct her.
Now, it's her turn to be confused, "Huh?"
"There're one hundred and forty-seven candles in here."
"Why 147?"
I sigh. I've never told anyone about my little ritual, if you will.
"One candle for everyday you...weren't here. That night after...
Glory, I lit one candle. The next night I lit another along with
that one and I kept doing it."
"Why?"
"Because I loved...love you. That's why. Lighting the candles was
the only way I knew to honor you. It became a sort of ritual. It
comforted me. Helped me get through the days. I figured if I did
it, it might help me deal with my guilt for failing you and Dawn."
I raise my eyes, which had fallen to the floor to look at her. Her
eyes are shiny with tears she won't allow to fall. She approaches
me. She kisses me on my forehead and whispers in my ear 'Thank you'
before planting a small genuine kiss on my lips.
She still doesn't stay, but, as she leaves, I feel that little tiny
crumb grow into a slice.
Finis
by Invisible Sun
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns 'em.
Keywords: S/B, Spike POV
Spoilers: up to 'Wrecked' though it focuses mostly on 'After life'
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Buffy asks why Spike has so many candles in his crypt.
******
I can't sleep. I gaze down at the woman in my arms. Ever since
that night in the abandoned house, she's been coming to me, despite
her declarations that she would never do anything with me ever again.
Never say never. Every time, after, she would spout verbal insults
about how bloody disgusting I am and how it doesn't mean anything
and how she'll kill me if I tell anyone before leaving. She never
spends the night. Tonight is the first night she's ever fallen asleep
here in my crypt, in my arms. And I feel a small crumb. An inkling
of hope. Hope that maybe someday, she'll admit this thing between
us exists and means something.
But that crumb, that inkling, is blown away when she jerks awake.
She groans and pushes off of me.
"Why didn't you wake me up?" she mutters angrily as she scrambles
around, looking for her clothes.
She does that a lot more these days. Get angry with me. She gets
angry over even the smallest, simplest thing.
"Figure you could use a little rest," I shrug.
She rolls her eyes (something else she does often in my presence)
and she heads for the upper floor. I jump out of the bed and quickly
grab my jeans, pulling them on before following her.
For some reason, she hasn't left. No, she's just standing in the
middle of the room, looking around.
"Why do you have so many damned candles in here?" she asks.
Okay, where did that come from? "What?"
She turns around to face me, "Why do you have so many candles in
here? You never light them. There has to be, like, five hundred
in here."
"One hundred and forty-seven," I correct her.
Now, it's her turn to be confused, "Huh?"
"There're one hundred and forty-seven candles in here."
"Why 147?"
I sigh. I've never told anyone about my little ritual, if you will.
"One candle for everyday you...weren't here. That night after...
Glory, I lit one candle. The next night I lit another along with
that one and I kept doing it."
"Why?"
"Because I loved...love you. That's why. Lighting the candles was
the only way I knew to honor you. It became a sort of ritual. It
comforted me. Helped me get through the days. I figured if I did
it, it might help me deal with my guilt for failing you and Dawn."
I raise my eyes, which had fallen to the floor to look at her. Her
eyes are shiny with tears she won't allow to fall. She approaches
me. She kisses me on my forehead and whispers in my ear 'Thank you'
before planting a small genuine kiss on my lips.
She still doesn't stay, but, as she leaves, I feel that little tiny
crumb grow into a slice.
Finis
