Title: A Passing Shadow: Book I: Deep Down Dark: Chapter 11
Author: VicNoir
Rating: R
Disclaimers, etc.: please see previous chapters.
And what a month it was.
At the time, I was glad for any distractions that came along, even ones shaped like a large pack of werewolves that needed to be rounded up and terminated with prejudice. Poor Will was freaking, 'though. Every time we took one down, she'd stand there and watch as it changed back to its human form and she'd cry and cry. And Tara would watch her cry and get angry and hurt. There was big trouble there, and I felt guilty, 'cause I knew the spell I'd asked for was partly to blame.
And Giles. He was pretty mad at us for a few days. He kept grilling me about what had happened between me and Spike, but I just stonewalled 'til he gave up. I knew he'd figured it out. Spike was right, the man's no fool. But I also knew that until he heard the words 'Spike attacked me' from my own lips, he wouldn't do a thing about it. And that was fine with me.
And then, about three weeks into one of the longest months of my life, he announced that he was taking an extended trip to England. Just like that. We hadn't even finished killing off the werewolf pack, and Willow was acting all weird and moody, and Spike was still blind as a bat and staying in the back of the magic shop-and Giles was leaving. He wouldn't even tell us when we could expect him back. And he wouldn't give me a straight answer when I asked him why he was going.
I thought I had a good reason to be angry. I stomped around and made growly noises and even refused to attend the little going-away party that the gang put together for him on the night before he left.
I told them, and myself, that it was because I was mightily pissed off at my Watcher and wasn't in the mood to wish him a bon voyage. But the truth was that since the party was being held in the back room of the shop-aka: Spike's new/temporary home-I wasn't going 'cause I couldn't deal with being in the same room as a certain blonde vamp.
But I did drive with Giles to the airport the next day. And I apologized for being so snarky and acting like he didn't have a right to a life of his own. He was very understanding and we did the whole 'I love you, I'll miss you, please call and email often' thing. And then he said something that really weirded me out. 'Cause, I mean, this was Giles. Hater of vampires, and William the Bloody in particular.
He said this: "Buffy, you need to take stock. Look around. Decide what's important and what isn't. And don't let anyone-and by that I mean ANYONE, even those that love you-cheat you out of living life to its fullest. Remember what you told Dawn before you jumped. Live by it. Don't let the little difficulties get in the way of your ultimate happiness-you'll regret it forever." Wow. Deep. And why did it sound like HE was about to jump off a tower?
And why did I immediately think he was talking about me and Spike? I don't know, but I did. And later, much later-just recently, in fact-he confirmed it.
By the time I got home from the airport, I was itching to talk to him, to be in the same room with him. But I just couldn't. Call it pride, call it stubbornness, call it fear-I just wasn't going there.
Except, that's exactly where I wound up. And I guess it was sort of a fib to say I didn't see him for a whole month, 'cause I did. He didn't see me, 'though.
I let myself in through the back door. I'd pretty much memorized his sleep patterns during the time he was staying with us-I was fairly certain he'd be out cold at four in the afternoon. He was.
So I stood there by the door and watched him sleep. Ever watch Spike snooze? It's not like you'd think. I mean, yeah, there's the whole not-breathing thing, but I can't really say that he seems like he's dead.
There's this electric aura that sort of hovers around him. It's there when he's awake too, but then he's always moving and it's harder to detect. Of course, it could be just a Slayer thing, in which case, you probably wouldn't be able to feel it. Lucky Chosen One that I am, I sense it big-time, and it affects me in ways I can't even describe. Makes me vibrate from the inside out all the time, which probably accounts for the squirrely way I act around him. If I could stake him, it'd be like a release, but I can't, so no release and lots o' tension.
OK, I know and you know that what I'm really talking about is sex.
And when I was standing there, watching him sleep, that's what I thought it was all about. The whole conversation I'd had with Dawn about loving him 'cause of what he was-I'd conveniently forgotten it. Or didn't want to remember it, 'cause it messed with my big 'all I need is a big bang' theory.
I watched him for a good ten minutes. Watched his dead eyes move underneath his lids, and wondered what he was dreaming. Watched his hand twitch once and a while where it was lying on the blanket that covered his legs. Imagined what it would feel like on my skin.
Not that I didn't remember what it felt like to be touched by him. But that had been enchanted-demon-Spike, and I knew that what could be between us when he was himself would be better.
Then the way the light from lamp in the corner hit his face made me think about something I'd seen in my mom's gallery a long time ago. It was a painting of an angel, but not a cute and chubby angel like you see on a Valentine. This was a really dark picture, full of angry red and black swirly clouds and it made me think of all the dangerous things that hide in the night. And then in upper left-hand corner of the painting, there was this figure-you couldn't really see it very well, 'cause the artist kind of blurred it, but it was bathed in this very soft light. The figure was facing away, so all you saw was the outline of its back and you could barely make out the wings. But the hair glowed gold, and you could see that the shoulders were broad and the hands were definitely male. It looked strong and comforting and at the same time, kind of scary, 'cause you could see the power just sort of radiating off of it.
I know. I'm reading a lot into a painting that I probably don't even remember the right way. But I DO remember that the first time I saw it, it struck me as being familiar. It was only then, in the back room of the shop, that I realized who it reminded me of.
'Cause, you know, angels aren't always so righteous. And I'm not even talking about the obvious here-you know, Angel/Angelus, the scourge of Europe, blah blah blah. I mean like Lucifer and all the angels that fell with him. I mean, think about that for a minute. All those angels, meant to be messengers of light and deliverers of comfort, sent to a place where there's only darkness and torment. That's gotta be a bitch, huh? It made me think about salvation and redemption-and I am by no means Religion Girl, which you probably already knew. But I mean, like, redemption on a personal level.
You'd think I would have had my fill of this kind of thing when I was with Angel. He was-and still is, as far as I know-a big one for seeking salvation. But sometimes I wonder if salvation isn't something that's meant to be worked for. Maybe it's something that comes when you're just trying to survive and not get hurt too bad. Maybe it creeps up on you when you least expect it and changes you into somebody who'd give their life to save another, whether that's how you started out or not. Sound like anybody we know?
So there I was. Part of me was doing the total lust thing, thinking that if I could just get up close and personal with him on my own terms one time, everything would be a just one big old happy in the land of Buffy. And part of me was having all these profound thoughts about what it meant that he loved me and would have died for me-what it meant for just the two of us and what it meant on a cosmic scale.
And guess what? I couldn't deal. I got a big old jelly-belly and I bolted.
Surprised? Didn't think so.
Wish I could say the hardest part was over. But it wasn't-not by a long ways.
tbc
Author: VicNoir
Rating: R
Disclaimers, etc.: please see previous chapters.
And what a month it was.
At the time, I was glad for any distractions that came along, even ones shaped like a large pack of werewolves that needed to be rounded up and terminated with prejudice. Poor Will was freaking, 'though. Every time we took one down, she'd stand there and watch as it changed back to its human form and she'd cry and cry. And Tara would watch her cry and get angry and hurt. There was big trouble there, and I felt guilty, 'cause I knew the spell I'd asked for was partly to blame.
And Giles. He was pretty mad at us for a few days. He kept grilling me about what had happened between me and Spike, but I just stonewalled 'til he gave up. I knew he'd figured it out. Spike was right, the man's no fool. But I also knew that until he heard the words 'Spike attacked me' from my own lips, he wouldn't do a thing about it. And that was fine with me.
And then, about three weeks into one of the longest months of my life, he announced that he was taking an extended trip to England. Just like that. We hadn't even finished killing off the werewolf pack, and Willow was acting all weird and moody, and Spike was still blind as a bat and staying in the back of the magic shop-and Giles was leaving. He wouldn't even tell us when we could expect him back. And he wouldn't give me a straight answer when I asked him why he was going.
I thought I had a good reason to be angry. I stomped around and made growly noises and even refused to attend the little going-away party that the gang put together for him on the night before he left.
I told them, and myself, that it was because I was mightily pissed off at my Watcher and wasn't in the mood to wish him a bon voyage. But the truth was that since the party was being held in the back room of the shop-aka: Spike's new/temporary home-I wasn't going 'cause I couldn't deal with being in the same room as a certain blonde vamp.
But I did drive with Giles to the airport the next day. And I apologized for being so snarky and acting like he didn't have a right to a life of his own. He was very understanding and we did the whole 'I love you, I'll miss you, please call and email often' thing. And then he said something that really weirded me out. 'Cause, I mean, this was Giles. Hater of vampires, and William the Bloody in particular.
He said this: "Buffy, you need to take stock. Look around. Decide what's important and what isn't. And don't let anyone-and by that I mean ANYONE, even those that love you-cheat you out of living life to its fullest. Remember what you told Dawn before you jumped. Live by it. Don't let the little difficulties get in the way of your ultimate happiness-you'll regret it forever." Wow. Deep. And why did it sound like HE was about to jump off a tower?
And why did I immediately think he was talking about me and Spike? I don't know, but I did. And later, much later-just recently, in fact-he confirmed it.
By the time I got home from the airport, I was itching to talk to him, to be in the same room with him. But I just couldn't. Call it pride, call it stubbornness, call it fear-I just wasn't going there.
Except, that's exactly where I wound up. And I guess it was sort of a fib to say I didn't see him for a whole month, 'cause I did. He didn't see me, 'though.
I let myself in through the back door. I'd pretty much memorized his sleep patterns during the time he was staying with us-I was fairly certain he'd be out cold at four in the afternoon. He was.
So I stood there by the door and watched him sleep. Ever watch Spike snooze? It's not like you'd think. I mean, yeah, there's the whole not-breathing thing, but I can't really say that he seems like he's dead.
There's this electric aura that sort of hovers around him. It's there when he's awake too, but then he's always moving and it's harder to detect. Of course, it could be just a Slayer thing, in which case, you probably wouldn't be able to feel it. Lucky Chosen One that I am, I sense it big-time, and it affects me in ways I can't even describe. Makes me vibrate from the inside out all the time, which probably accounts for the squirrely way I act around him. If I could stake him, it'd be like a release, but I can't, so no release and lots o' tension.
OK, I know and you know that what I'm really talking about is sex.
And when I was standing there, watching him sleep, that's what I thought it was all about. The whole conversation I'd had with Dawn about loving him 'cause of what he was-I'd conveniently forgotten it. Or didn't want to remember it, 'cause it messed with my big 'all I need is a big bang' theory.
I watched him for a good ten minutes. Watched his dead eyes move underneath his lids, and wondered what he was dreaming. Watched his hand twitch once and a while where it was lying on the blanket that covered his legs. Imagined what it would feel like on my skin.
Not that I didn't remember what it felt like to be touched by him. But that had been enchanted-demon-Spike, and I knew that what could be between us when he was himself would be better.
Then the way the light from lamp in the corner hit his face made me think about something I'd seen in my mom's gallery a long time ago. It was a painting of an angel, but not a cute and chubby angel like you see on a Valentine. This was a really dark picture, full of angry red and black swirly clouds and it made me think of all the dangerous things that hide in the night. And then in upper left-hand corner of the painting, there was this figure-you couldn't really see it very well, 'cause the artist kind of blurred it, but it was bathed in this very soft light. The figure was facing away, so all you saw was the outline of its back and you could barely make out the wings. But the hair glowed gold, and you could see that the shoulders were broad and the hands were definitely male. It looked strong and comforting and at the same time, kind of scary, 'cause you could see the power just sort of radiating off of it.
I know. I'm reading a lot into a painting that I probably don't even remember the right way. But I DO remember that the first time I saw it, it struck me as being familiar. It was only then, in the back room of the shop, that I realized who it reminded me of.
'Cause, you know, angels aren't always so righteous. And I'm not even talking about the obvious here-you know, Angel/Angelus, the scourge of Europe, blah blah blah. I mean like Lucifer and all the angels that fell with him. I mean, think about that for a minute. All those angels, meant to be messengers of light and deliverers of comfort, sent to a place where there's only darkness and torment. That's gotta be a bitch, huh? It made me think about salvation and redemption-and I am by no means Religion Girl, which you probably already knew. But I mean, like, redemption on a personal level.
You'd think I would have had my fill of this kind of thing when I was with Angel. He was-and still is, as far as I know-a big one for seeking salvation. But sometimes I wonder if salvation isn't something that's meant to be worked for. Maybe it's something that comes when you're just trying to survive and not get hurt too bad. Maybe it creeps up on you when you least expect it and changes you into somebody who'd give their life to save another, whether that's how you started out or not. Sound like anybody we know?
So there I was. Part of me was doing the total lust thing, thinking that if I could just get up close and personal with him on my own terms one time, everything would be a just one big old happy in the land of Buffy. And part of me was having all these profound thoughts about what it meant that he loved me and would have died for me-what it meant for just the two of us and what it meant on a cosmic scale.
And guess what? I couldn't deal. I got a big old jelly-belly and I bolted.
Surprised? Didn't think so.
Wish I could say the hardest part was over. But it wasn't-not by a long ways.
tbc