Title: Bittersweet Realizations
Rating: PG-13 for language and violence
Disclaimer: Buffy tvs is owned by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, I'm just borrowing them for the purposes of this story, some scenes / dialogue is from LMPTM with added scenes before, during and after the episode.
Spoilers: Set during season 7 episode "Lies My Parents Told Me"
Feedback: May be provided here or sent to aeryncrichton@hotmail.com
Subject: Buffy / Spike story
Part I
Buffy ruthlessly combed and fastened her straight blonde hair into a ponytail and then looped it under and fastened it again by looping it underneath and through the binder, satisfied that only a couple of stray locks around her face had escaped confinement. She looked into the mirror while she smoothed on a layer of cotton candy Covergirl lipstick. After smacking her lips together, she blotted the color and tossed the kleenex into the waste basket. A quick flick of the switch bathed the room in darkness upon her exit.
Looking down at her Citizen watch, she discovered that she had time to either have breakfast or see Spike. Without conscious thought, her feet led her to the basement staircase. There was only a slight squeak on the fifth stair from the bottom, but she knew that if she leaned to the left or skipped over the stair she could make her entrance soundlessly. It was after all her house, since her mom died.
Buffy didn't bother with the stealthy approach. She wanted Spike to know that she was coming. For good or ill, her feelings for him were something she could no longer ignore.
Denial was getting her nowhere. And everyone from Giles to Willow to Dawnie was only too willing to point out just how much she was endangering the entire group due to her actions regarding Spike.
Buffy shook her head and sighed. She was in love... with a vampire, a vampire who possessed a soul, her very own platinum haired, angel of death and destruction. A dark angel of pain, who brought her the only moments of happiness she could claim as her own, in a life that no longer belonged to her.
When she reached the cement floor, she saw the light in front of her flash on with the snap of a chain-pull. It bathed Spike in the light of the bare 75-Watt lightbulb, glistening off his fair hair like a halo.
"Isn't it time for you to head off to work, with the Woodman?" Spike inquired, biting sarcasm warring with a longing he couldn't conceal flaring in the depths of his hazel eyes. His lip half curled, then despite his best... or maybe it was his worst intensions, he smiled into the ageless, world weary eyes of The Slayer, his Slayer, as she stood before him.
"Not yet, but if you want me to go..." Buffy offered, her body half turned and poised to mount the stairs back up to the kitchen.
Spike reached out and caught her arm in a firm, yet gentle grasp as he shook his head and muttered, "you know that's not what I want luv."
"Just what do you want from me Spike?" Buffy asked, absurdly appalled, yet almost equally relieved to have let the question escape her lips unedited. It was something she desperately wanted to know. She knew how she felt, yet no matter how she thought Spike felt for her, she still wasn't really sure of his feelings for her. At least not anymore.
Spike let his hand fall away from Buffy's arm. As he sank back down to a seat on the single bed, he patted the mattress beside him, silently inviting her to sit down.
He looked up, surprised and unaccountably almost giddy as he felt the bed dip beside him.
"I finally know how I feel," Buffy admitted, trailing off suddenly as shy as a teen on her first date.
Spike's interest was piqued beyond his ability to dissemble, "and how is that luv?"
There was a loud crash and then a brief curse that could be heard upstairs. The sound of the Slayer's in training and her little sister getting up and getting ready for the day.
Both sets of eyes flew to the door at the top of the stairs, when it creaked open and Dawn's voice called out, "Buffy, you down there?"
Buffy stood up to go, but before she could call out or walk away, Spike reached out and she turned to look back at him with a brief tender smile.
"Are you gonna soddin' tell me or not?" Spike asked, fearful that the interruption would prevent him from getting an answer from her.
Distracted by the noise upstairs and her own need to shield her feelings, Buffy hedged, "Can we talk about this later? I really need to bring some order to the chaos upstairs before I leave for work."
Spike sighed, but nodded. He knew that whatever Buffy was afraid to confront, there was never a good time and waiting never made it any easier. Twenty-eight years of life and an additional ninety-two years of unlife had been enough to teach him that. The other thing it had taught him was that patience was a virtue, albeit one that he'd rarely practiced, but with Buffy he was willing to try.
He had all day while the sun was shining outside to sleep, but Spike spent most of it thinking about Buffy, waiting for her to return home so they could finally finish their conversation. That is, if she didn't decide to put it off again.
to be continued...
