A Slayer Lost (9/11: New Dawn)
Angelus angelus1317@hotmail.com
See first chapter for disclaimer, etc.
~*~
She looks so peaceful lying there, her skin pale, her lips waxy. Her Slayer strength has already started working on the twin puncture wounds on her neck; the blood has clotted and the scars are beginning to disappear. She looks so much different than the last time he saw here like this; like her eyes might pop open any minute. Perhaps its a mental thing, stemming from the knowledge that she *will* eventually wake again, but either way, she still looks gorgeous.
He perches on the edge of the sarcophagus, and sits there for quite awhile, until he begins to get uncomfortable. Finally, he drags a chair up from downstairs. He lights a cigarette and puffs away. When it's done, he drops it to the concrete floor, crushes it under his heel, and lights another. Before he knows it, he's worked his way through an entire pack.
looking at his watch, it's only 5:07. Still about an hour and a half 'till sunset. He blows out an unnecessary breath, at the same time running a hand through his platinum hair.
Hesitantly, he reaches into the pocket of his duster and pulls out a small brown leather-bound book, its pages yellow and worn. Flipping it open, he selects a page and glances over at the still-motionless Buffy.
"Only for you, luv," he mutters. He clears his throat, then begins to read:
"She walks in sunshine;
Treading where I not only fear to tread but cannot.
I watch in darkness;
Her smile a constant reminder of my inadequacy.
She dances in the sunlight;
Sparkling and shining like something effulgent, something out of reach.
I watch from the moonlight;
Wanting to steal the stars from the sky to match her eyes.
I venture into the light;
And it burns me almost as much as her touch.
But then she sneaks into the darkness to be with me;
And maybe the burns don't feel quite so bad."
When he finishes with the first, he reads another; then another, then another. By the time the sun sinks below the horizon, he's almost finished with the entire book. He smiles fondly down at Buffy, closes the book, slips it back into his coat, then folds his hands and waits.
~*~
Buffy drifts into consciousness as if she had been at the bottom of the ocean and had finally made her way to the surface. Feeling comes back into her limbs and her eyes slowly flutter open. The first things she sees are Spike's chiselled features smiling down upon her like some sort of gorgeous, pale, peroxided fallen angel.
"Spike?" she murmurs. A smile crosses his face; a smile of pure happiness. It's an expression she so rarely sees on him that it makes her heart swell.
"Hush, luv," he whispers, one hand idly stroking her forehead, tears she never thought she would see from him shining in his piercing blue eyes.
Angelus angelus1317@hotmail.com
See first chapter for disclaimer, etc.
~*~
She looks so peaceful lying there, her skin pale, her lips waxy. Her Slayer strength has already started working on the twin puncture wounds on her neck; the blood has clotted and the scars are beginning to disappear. She looks so much different than the last time he saw here like this; like her eyes might pop open any minute. Perhaps its a mental thing, stemming from the knowledge that she *will* eventually wake again, but either way, she still looks gorgeous.
He perches on the edge of the sarcophagus, and sits there for quite awhile, until he begins to get uncomfortable. Finally, he drags a chair up from downstairs. He lights a cigarette and puffs away. When it's done, he drops it to the concrete floor, crushes it under his heel, and lights another. Before he knows it, he's worked his way through an entire pack.
looking at his watch, it's only 5:07. Still about an hour and a half 'till sunset. He blows out an unnecessary breath, at the same time running a hand through his platinum hair.
Hesitantly, he reaches into the pocket of his duster and pulls out a small brown leather-bound book, its pages yellow and worn. Flipping it open, he selects a page and glances over at the still-motionless Buffy.
"Only for you, luv," he mutters. He clears his throat, then begins to read:
"She walks in sunshine;
Treading where I not only fear to tread but cannot.
I watch in darkness;
Her smile a constant reminder of my inadequacy.
She dances in the sunlight;
Sparkling and shining like something effulgent, something out of reach.
I watch from the moonlight;
Wanting to steal the stars from the sky to match her eyes.
I venture into the light;
And it burns me almost as much as her touch.
But then she sneaks into the darkness to be with me;
And maybe the burns don't feel quite so bad."
When he finishes with the first, he reads another; then another, then another. By the time the sun sinks below the horizon, he's almost finished with the entire book. He smiles fondly down at Buffy, closes the book, slips it back into his coat, then folds his hands and waits.
~*~
Buffy drifts into consciousness as if she had been at the bottom of the ocean and had finally made her way to the surface. Feeling comes back into her limbs and her eyes slowly flutter open. The first things she sees are Spike's chiselled features smiling down upon her like some sort of gorgeous, pale, peroxided fallen angel.
"Spike?" she murmurs. A smile crosses his face; a smile of pure happiness. It's an expression she so rarely sees on him that it makes her heart swell.
"Hush, luv," he whispers, one hand idly stroking her forehead, tears she never thought she would see from him shining in his piercing blue eyes.
