CHAPTER 28 - INTO ASHES
Another half hour passed in silence.
"What you thinking about?" Spike asked Buffy.
"Trying not to, well, sort of," she said, leaning forward a bit, "always have to be thinking it seems, so this is nice, just to 'be,' she said, turning to look at him.
He nodded. He knew what she meant; what she always was having to deal with.
He drew her back close to him, her legs curled up under her as she sat with his arm still around her.
He had brought her here so she could have a break, a mini-vacation, a time of relaxation, yet he'd realized that he'd never had as much pure unadulterated joy his whole life, as he'd felt in this time they'd been together. He couldn't even put it into words, didn't even want to try for fear of the 'but,' that must inevitably come at the end of this experience. And so he didn't try, just held her close to him, while he still could, held her heart in his heart, held her hands in his, claimed a bit of her love as his own, as much as she was willing to give him, for now.
"I wish..."Buffy started to say.
"What luv? What do you wish?" Spike said to her softly.
"I wish I had brought a camera, wish I could have taken some pictures of all this, wish I could..."she mused, "but somehow, now that I'm saying it aloud, it doesn't quite seem right to have a camera here at all. It's too modern, or something."
Spike laughed, "Oh, so now I have you all spoiled from modern-day living, is it?"
"No, it's just that this is private, yours, you and me here together," she said.
She felt him tense up and knew he'd taken it the wrong way.
"Spike, I don't mean we're a secret," she said, turning to face him, "not anymore, never again! What I meant is that this, here, I wouldn't want to share this with anybody else. This place, this weekend is only for my heart, mine and yours," she turned to sit on her legs, so she was sitting sideways on the couch, now. She put her arms around him and kissed Spike slow and tenderly.
He kissed her back, then gave a small smile as he thought of something, "Buffy, got an idea, let me up, pet," he said, surprising her.
He walked over to the desk before she knew what he was doing. Her heart started to pound as he stopped suddenly, his back becoming rigid, trembling ever so slight.
She got up and walked over to him, grabbed his arm and turned him around, "I want you to burn them!" she said forcefully.
He just looked at her, pain, shame, fear in his face.
"Spike," she said, softly reaching up to touch his face, "I saw them. I'm sorry I looked; before when I was moving the table.
He nodded, remembering how she'd been upset before dinner, now he knew why.
"They're so awful, those pictures - of me, us, last summer. They're not only your nightmare, but they're my worst nightmares," Buffy said.
Tears welled up in his eyes as the shame hit him head on, like a two by four, he started shaking.
"NO! That's not what I mean," she raised her voice, shaking him by both arms, "God Spike, don't you know what I mean?" she asked, voice soft now.
He shook his head.
"Oh Spike," she said, walking away, crumpling to the ground in an Indian position in front of the couch, her head hung over as tears streamed down her face.
Shocked, Spike walked over, holding onto the drawing pad and sat down across from her and took her hands in his.
She looked up, still crying at his confused face, "My nightmare isn't so much what happened in the bathroom, as it's of losing you Spike, losing you forever, of you 'fading away,' turning to dust."
"Oh, Buffy," he said, not trusting himself to say anymore.
"Spike," she said, pleading; taking his hands, "you've got so many lovely pictures you've drawn in here...burn these, Spike! They're not who we are, they're only nightmares. I don't want to see these nightmares anymore, don't want you to see these nightmares anymore, please, Spike. Make me something new; beautiful, draw me something I can keep...Please, baby!"
He'd been rubbing the tops of her hands with his thumbs, at hearing her call him, 'baby,' he looked up at her and smiled a little, nodded.
He handed her the drawing pad, "Go ahead, Buffy, take them out."
Trying hard not to look at them again, she found the first one and the last one and tore them and all those in between out of the book.
She handed them to him. Spike got up and pulled her up with him. They walked over to the fireplace and he put the first one into the fire. He handed the next one to her and she did the same.
And so they took turns, each one of them letting go of both their nightmares, reducing them to ashes.
END OF CHAPTER 28
Another half hour passed in silence.
"What you thinking about?" Spike asked Buffy.
"Trying not to, well, sort of," she said, leaning forward a bit, "always have to be thinking it seems, so this is nice, just to 'be,' she said, turning to look at him.
He nodded. He knew what she meant; what she always was having to deal with.
He drew her back close to him, her legs curled up under her as she sat with his arm still around her.
He had brought her here so she could have a break, a mini-vacation, a time of relaxation, yet he'd realized that he'd never had as much pure unadulterated joy his whole life, as he'd felt in this time they'd been together. He couldn't even put it into words, didn't even want to try for fear of the 'but,' that must inevitably come at the end of this experience. And so he didn't try, just held her close to him, while he still could, held her heart in his heart, held her hands in his, claimed a bit of her love as his own, as much as she was willing to give him, for now.
"I wish..."Buffy started to say.
"What luv? What do you wish?" Spike said to her softly.
"I wish I had brought a camera, wish I could have taken some pictures of all this, wish I could..."she mused, "but somehow, now that I'm saying it aloud, it doesn't quite seem right to have a camera here at all. It's too modern, or something."
Spike laughed, "Oh, so now I have you all spoiled from modern-day living, is it?"
"No, it's just that this is private, yours, you and me here together," she said.
She felt him tense up and knew he'd taken it the wrong way.
"Spike, I don't mean we're a secret," she said, turning to face him, "not anymore, never again! What I meant is that this, here, I wouldn't want to share this with anybody else. This place, this weekend is only for my heart, mine and yours," she turned to sit on her legs, so she was sitting sideways on the couch, now. She put her arms around him and kissed Spike slow and tenderly.
He kissed her back, then gave a small smile as he thought of something, "Buffy, got an idea, let me up, pet," he said, surprising her.
He walked over to the desk before she knew what he was doing. Her heart started to pound as he stopped suddenly, his back becoming rigid, trembling ever so slight.
She got up and walked over to him, grabbed his arm and turned him around, "I want you to burn them!" she said forcefully.
He just looked at her, pain, shame, fear in his face.
"Spike," she said, softly reaching up to touch his face, "I saw them. I'm sorry I looked; before when I was moving the table.
He nodded, remembering how she'd been upset before dinner, now he knew why.
"They're so awful, those pictures - of me, us, last summer. They're not only your nightmare, but they're my worst nightmares," Buffy said.
Tears welled up in his eyes as the shame hit him head on, like a two by four, he started shaking.
"NO! That's not what I mean," she raised her voice, shaking him by both arms, "God Spike, don't you know what I mean?" she asked, voice soft now.
He shook his head.
"Oh Spike," she said, walking away, crumpling to the ground in an Indian position in front of the couch, her head hung over as tears streamed down her face.
Shocked, Spike walked over, holding onto the drawing pad and sat down across from her and took her hands in his.
She looked up, still crying at his confused face, "My nightmare isn't so much what happened in the bathroom, as it's of losing you Spike, losing you forever, of you 'fading away,' turning to dust."
"Oh, Buffy," he said, not trusting himself to say anymore.
"Spike," she said, pleading; taking his hands, "you've got so many lovely pictures you've drawn in here...burn these, Spike! They're not who we are, they're only nightmares. I don't want to see these nightmares anymore, don't want you to see these nightmares anymore, please, Spike. Make me something new; beautiful, draw me something I can keep...Please, baby!"
He'd been rubbing the tops of her hands with his thumbs, at hearing her call him, 'baby,' he looked up at her and smiled a little, nodded.
He handed her the drawing pad, "Go ahead, Buffy, take them out."
Trying hard not to look at them again, she found the first one and the last one and tore them and all those in between out of the book.
She handed them to him. Spike got up and pulled her up with him. They walked over to the fireplace and he put the first one into the fire. He handed the next one to her and she did the same.
And so they took turns, each one of them letting go of both their nightmares, reducing them to ashes.
END OF CHAPTER 28