Title: Happy Birthday
Author: PNS*
Summary: Buffy's turning 22 and life isn't that great.
'I'm 22 today. I don't think anyone remembers. I almost didn't remember. But Spike reminded me as I was cleaning him up.'
His voice had an undeniable sadness that made her uncomfortable. He had just been tortured and he felt sorry because no one remembered her birthday. They were up against the the First Evil. The thing that existed before anything. There was no way to actually kill it, and yet his thoughts were still on her.
"Happy birthday to me," she responded in a sing song voice. "Are you feeling better?"
"A little." Spike shifted from her touch. She wondered just what the First had done to him.
'I remember the look in Angel's eyes when the first had haunted him. I had seen the same look in Spike's eyes over the past few months. But it was gone now, replaced with something different. Something close to pure and utter defeat, but it couldn't be that because he was alive. And to be defeated is to die. He could have died, given up. But he hadn't. Why?'
She knew why. For her. But what was left of hrt to love? There was nothing soft and loveable left. Inside I was cold as ice, numb to everything except the fight. A robot.
'Should I, could I let him know? We needed him for the fight, but then, if we survived? What then? I felt like crying but I knew no tears would come. The world would be safe and maybe I would finally rest. There was nothing left for me here. All those SIT's are the new generation. Let them take over. I'm tired.'
"What are you thinking about?" Spike's voice was so low, so gentle. He never spoke harshly to her anymore. His voice was soft like she was an egg to break. If he only knew the rock she was made of. She didn't respond. She just dipped the cloth again and pressed it against his carved up chest. The wounds weren't healing like they should.
"I know that something has changed Buffy. You can tell me. You could always tell me." It was true that in the past she had told him everything, given him the burden of her secrets, her pain. But this was different. He was different. She was different.
"Shh. Everything's going to be alright now." If opnly she believed it. Spike reached down and pulled her hand away from his chest.
"You don't believe that." He smiled faintly, forlornly. "You've never been able to lie to me Slayer."
"Was I ever that young? Those girls, they're so- new. They won't make it."
"I remember a young Slayer who died her first year on the job."
"The problem was she survived." Buffy squinched up her face trying to shove the memories back down.
"Don't say that."
"Why not? Isn't that the truth?"
"No. I don't think you can believe that either or else you wouldn't have rescued me. You would have let me rot and you would have walked away and you would have let that demon beat you." He licked his cracked lips. "But I also don't think you believe that you'll win."
"We can't."
"Of all people you say you can't?"
"I'm going to go check on the girls." Buffy tried to stand, feeling her legs weak beneath her. How old they both looked. So old and broken. "I'm 22 today."
"On the outside." Buffy gazed down into Spike's eyes. A connection was made bwtween them without any physical touching. His eyes said it all. In that instant he knew exactly how she felt. He had felt it when he had been strung up in chains. It was the feeling that every moment was a struggle for the world.
"Hey Buffy, Happy birthday."
"Thanks." She walked silently out of the room her shoe impressions the only marker of where she had been and the potential for where she was going.
Author: PNS*
Summary: Buffy's turning 22 and life isn't that great.
'I'm 22 today. I don't think anyone remembers. I almost didn't remember. But Spike reminded me as I was cleaning him up.'
His voice had an undeniable sadness that made her uncomfortable. He had just been tortured and he felt sorry because no one remembered her birthday. They were up against the the First Evil. The thing that existed before anything. There was no way to actually kill it, and yet his thoughts were still on her.
"Happy birthday to me," she responded in a sing song voice. "Are you feeling better?"
"A little." Spike shifted from her touch. She wondered just what the First had done to him.
'I remember the look in Angel's eyes when the first had haunted him. I had seen the same look in Spike's eyes over the past few months. But it was gone now, replaced with something different. Something close to pure and utter defeat, but it couldn't be that because he was alive. And to be defeated is to die. He could have died, given up. But he hadn't. Why?'
She knew why. For her. But what was left of hrt to love? There was nothing soft and loveable left. Inside I was cold as ice, numb to everything except the fight. A robot.
'Should I, could I let him know? We needed him for the fight, but then, if we survived? What then? I felt like crying but I knew no tears would come. The world would be safe and maybe I would finally rest. There was nothing left for me here. All those SIT's are the new generation. Let them take over. I'm tired.'
"What are you thinking about?" Spike's voice was so low, so gentle. He never spoke harshly to her anymore. His voice was soft like she was an egg to break. If he only knew the rock she was made of. She didn't respond. She just dipped the cloth again and pressed it against his carved up chest. The wounds weren't healing like they should.
"I know that something has changed Buffy. You can tell me. You could always tell me." It was true that in the past she had told him everything, given him the burden of her secrets, her pain. But this was different. He was different. She was different.
"Shh. Everything's going to be alright now." If opnly she believed it. Spike reached down and pulled her hand away from his chest.
"You don't believe that." He smiled faintly, forlornly. "You've never been able to lie to me Slayer."
"Was I ever that young? Those girls, they're so- new. They won't make it."
"I remember a young Slayer who died her first year on the job."
"The problem was she survived." Buffy squinched up her face trying to shove the memories back down.
"Don't say that."
"Why not? Isn't that the truth?"
"No. I don't think you can believe that either or else you wouldn't have rescued me. You would have let me rot and you would have walked away and you would have let that demon beat you." He licked his cracked lips. "But I also don't think you believe that you'll win."
"We can't."
"Of all people you say you can't?"
"I'm going to go check on the girls." Buffy tried to stand, feeling her legs weak beneath her. How old they both looked. So old and broken. "I'm 22 today."
"On the outside." Buffy gazed down into Spike's eyes. A connection was made bwtween them without any physical touching. His eyes said it all. In that instant he knew exactly how she felt. He had felt it when he had been strung up in chains. It was the feeling that every moment was a struggle for the world.
"Hey Buffy, Happy birthday."
"Thanks." She walked silently out of the room her shoe impressions the only marker of where she had been and the potential for where she was going.