Buffy tapped her pen against the edge of her desk, trying to concentrate on
the designs spread out before her. The final costume sketches needed to be
approved and put in the mail before the office closed for Christmas. Buffy
had five hours to meet her deadline but her mind was nowhere near focused
on the costumes. All of her thoughts kept drifting back to a certain
bleached blonde vampire. Groaning in frustration, Buffy pinched the bridge
of her nose, resting her elbows on the desk. "This is never going to work,"
she complained, "I can never be just friends with Spike." Every time they
were together Buffy could feel the pain she had been holding onto for three
years slowly fading away. It had only been three weeks since Spike arrived
in New York, but Buffy felt better then she had in years. "This is crazy,"
she said, "I'm falling in love with him all over again, even though there's
no chance for us." If Buffy had been honest with herself, she would have
admitted that she had never fallen out of love with Spike; her passion had
been overridden by her wounded pride, now her heart was slowly being
released from the prison of her rational mind. But she was too tired to be
honest or to think clearly about anything, except how many more hours she
had to suffer through until she saw him again.
Staring blankly at the blinking cursor on his computer screen, Spike let out a frustrated sigh. No matter how many different approaches he took to his writing, every click of the keyboard seemed to be focused on a certain blonde Slayer. Every word described her, each new scene was somehow related to her life, everything he wrote reminded Spike of her. "This is bloody ridiculous," Spike mumbled, pushing aside his laptop and beginning to pace around the hotel room for what felt like the hundredth time that afternoon. He couldn't stop thinking about Buffy; she haunted his dreams and consumed his conscious mind. "I can never be friends with her, I need more," Spike complained to the empty room. Sinking down onto the bed, Spike's thoughts took him back to the conversation that had haunted him for the last two days.
*********************** The small calendar was covered in a series of blue scribbles, black boxes and red slashes. Buffy sighed deeply at the wall calendar, clutching the edge of the paper in her fist as she counted the days out loud. "He's been here for seventeen days," she exclaimed, "seventeen days and not so much as one suggestive comment or one measly innuendo.it's all strictly platonic..God, he's really changed!" The thought was both appealing and sobering, on one hand Buffy was glad that Spike was being respectful of their new relationship, but at the same time she hated having to admit that his feelings towards her had changed, that he had erased all traces of their fiery relationship from his mind.
A quick glance at the clock told Buffy that she needed to do less complaining and more primping if she wanted to be ready to go when Spike came to pick her up. David had given opera tickets out to the senior employees, in addition to their annual Christmas bonuses. Despite having been in New York for years, Buffy had yet to see an opera and she wanted to make sure her first experience was memorable. When David had pressed the envelope into her hands at the Christmas dinner party, she had been speechless, but her thoughts immediately focused on Spike. He was cultured, or had at least been exposed to culture at some point in his life, making Spike the perfect date. Besides, Buffy thought, I really want to see him in some formal wear. It had taken the better part of an hour for her to get up the nerve to ask him and when she did, the words seemed to tumble out of her mouth like rushing water. To Buffy's relief he had agreed, saying that the opera was one of the few things in life that was worth suffering through in a suit and tie. She had just nodded, too excited at his acceptance of the invitation to think of anything else.
Twisting her diamond ring nervously around her right ring finger, Buffy self-consciously smoothed her hair, staring in the mirror, searching for any flaws in her appearance. The pealing of the doorbell made her jump two feet in the air; Buffy took one last hurried look at her makeup before dashing to let Spike in. Swinging open the door, she smiled widely, "hi." Spike just stared blankly at her, his mouth half-open, trying to remember how to form vowel sounds and simple words. Buffy was a vision in emerald green silk, the bright color making her skin glow and her eyes sparkle. The vibrant colored material clung to her body, accentuating her subtle curves as it fell to just above her ankle. Her left shoulder was completely bare; the only thing holding the gown up was a thin beaded strap over her right shoulder. The dress flowed over her body, stopping centimeters above her delicate shoes; the bottom hem was a series of ruffled layers that added to its understated beauty. Her blonde hair hung in loose waves around her face and the only jewelry she had on was her diamond ring and earrings.
"Are you alright," Buffy asked, waving her hand in front of Spike's face, "earth to Spike." He grabbed her hand, tipping it towards his lips until they gently brushed her knuckles. "You look gorgeous," he said, his voice low and sensual, "absolutely gorgeous." Buffy blushed red to the roots of her hair; she had forgotten how charming Spike could be when he wanted to be. "And you look handsome," she said, blatantly admiring his black suit. It was obviously expensive, tailored to fit every contour of Spike's lean frame. A white shirt and black tie completed the outfit; it was simple but commanded attention, just like him. "We match," Buffy teased, drawing a connection between her black shoes and Spike's ebony ensemble, as he draped her wrap around her shoulders. He raised his scarred eyebrow, "would've matched better if someone told me what color her dress was. I just took a guess." Buffy's eyes danced, "and miss seeing the look on your face? No way! That was absolutely priceless!" Shaking his head, Spike held the elevator door open for Buffy, "glad I'm so amusing, pet," he said.
The opera was longer then Buffy had expected, but she enjoyed every second of it. As they walked out of the theatre, Buffy wrapped her arm around Spike's waist. "Thanks for coming with me," she said. He nodded, curling his free arm around her shoulders, "my pleasure." The December air was bitterly cold, making Buffy wonder if the City would be blanketed in snow for Christmas. She had never seen snow on Christmas morning and she wanted to see if it was as magically as the movies made it seem. "What're you thinking about," Spike asked as they waited for a cab. Buffy looked up at him, her eyes wide and child-like, "snow," she replied simply. "Snow," Spike repeated, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Nodding vigorously, Buffy explained, "I was just thinking about how cool it would be if there was snow for Christmas."
A look of understanding passed over Spike's face, "got it. A white Christmas. Keep forgetting you Californians don't see too many of those." Buffy raised her eyebrows in disbelief, "and you've seen so many," she countered. "Yeah,' Spike answered, shrugging out of his jacket, draping it over Buffy's shoulders that were barely covered by the scrap of emerald material. She smiled appreciatively, her grin widening as he gently squeezed her shoulders, drawing her closer to his body to block the chilly breeze. "Seen a few snowstorms in my day.it's nice to see them on Christmas. I can see why people like them so much." A cab pulled up alongside them, cutting off anything else Spike might have said.
They rode back to Buffy's apartment in silence, a comfortable silence that was filled with nostalgic memories of childhood and Christmases long ago. "Spike," Buffy asked as they stood in front of her apartment door. "Yeah pet?" She drew a deep breath, "do you believe in Fate? You know the whole everything happens for a reason and there's no such thing as coincidence." Her voice dropped to a whisper, so low that Spike had to strain to make out the words. "And that there's one right person for everyone, and no matter what happens, they'll still end up together because it's all destiny?"
Spike looked at her for a long minute, trying to gauge what she was really asking him. "I believe in Fate," he replied simply, "that everything happens for a reason." Buffy nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer, before turning her attention to her keys. Leaning up on her tiptoes, Buffy brushed Spike's cheek with her lips, gently grazing his razor-sharp cheekbones. "I had a great time tonight," she whispered in his ear, lingering next to him for a second longer then she should have. Opening the apartment door, she looked at Spike, her head resting against the door's edge, "I'll talk to you tomorrow." It was more of a statement then a question, without fail they talked every day, even when they had spent most of the previous evening together. He nodded slowly, "alright. And Buffy? I had fun tonight. Thanks." Buffy smiled, "you're welcome." She waited until he was in the elevator before whispering, "no, thank you Spike."
***********************
Spike shook his head, trying to get the conversation to stop repeating itself in his mind. He was hoping that Buffy's strange questions were her way of asking him if their relationship stood a chance. Sighing, he stared blankly out the window that was covered in drapes.
"I don't know what to do." Buffy's voice echoed through her empty office, as she squeezed the arm-rests of her chair tightly.
"It's all so confusing," Spike complained as he resumed pacing.
"I love him," Buffy whispered, "but I know he doesn't love me anymore, how could he?"
"I love her," Spike said, "but it's useless, she could never love me again."
"I just wish I could tell him."
"I wish she knew," Spike whispered, "I wish I could tell her."
Biting her lower lip, Buffy sat back at her desk, "I just want things to be better," she complained, "I want me and Spike to be better."
"Why can't we just forget everything else," Spike asked himself, "what's it take?"
"What's it going to take to make Spike see how much I love him?"
Staring blankly at the blinking cursor on his computer screen, Spike let out a frustrated sigh. No matter how many different approaches he took to his writing, every click of the keyboard seemed to be focused on a certain blonde Slayer. Every word described her, each new scene was somehow related to her life, everything he wrote reminded Spike of her. "This is bloody ridiculous," Spike mumbled, pushing aside his laptop and beginning to pace around the hotel room for what felt like the hundredth time that afternoon. He couldn't stop thinking about Buffy; she haunted his dreams and consumed his conscious mind. "I can never be friends with her, I need more," Spike complained to the empty room. Sinking down onto the bed, Spike's thoughts took him back to the conversation that had haunted him for the last two days.
*********************** The small calendar was covered in a series of blue scribbles, black boxes and red slashes. Buffy sighed deeply at the wall calendar, clutching the edge of the paper in her fist as she counted the days out loud. "He's been here for seventeen days," she exclaimed, "seventeen days and not so much as one suggestive comment or one measly innuendo.it's all strictly platonic..God, he's really changed!" The thought was both appealing and sobering, on one hand Buffy was glad that Spike was being respectful of their new relationship, but at the same time she hated having to admit that his feelings towards her had changed, that he had erased all traces of their fiery relationship from his mind.
A quick glance at the clock told Buffy that she needed to do less complaining and more primping if she wanted to be ready to go when Spike came to pick her up. David had given opera tickets out to the senior employees, in addition to their annual Christmas bonuses. Despite having been in New York for years, Buffy had yet to see an opera and she wanted to make sure her first experience was memorable. When David had pressed the envelope into her hands at the Christmas dinner party, she had been speechless, but her thoughts immediately focused on Spike. He was cultured, or had at least been exposed to culture at some point in his life, making Spike the perfect date. Besides, Buffy thought, I really want to see him in some formal wear. It had taken the better part of an hour for her to get up the nerve to ask him and when she did, the words seemed to tumble out of her mouth like rushing water. To Buffy's relief he had agreed, saying that the opera was one of the few things in life that was worth suffering through in a suit and tie. She had just nodded, too excited at his acceptance of the invitation to think of anything else.
Twisting her diamond ring nervously around her right ring finger, Buffy self-consciously smoothed her hair, staring in the mirror, searching for any flaws in her appearance. The pealing of the doorbell made her jump two feet in the air; Buffy took one last hurried look at her makeup before dashing to let Spike in. Swinging open the door, she smiled widely, "hi." Spike just stared blankly at her, his mouth half-open, trying to remember how to form vowel sounds and simple words. Buffy was a vision in emerald green silk, the bright color making her skin glow and her eyes sparkle. The vibrant colored material clung to her body, accentuating her subtle curves as it fell to just above her ankle. Her left shoulder was completely bare; the only thing holding the gown up was a thin beaded strap over her right shoulder. The dress flowed over her body, stopping centimeters above her delicate shoes; the bottom hem was a series of ruffled layers that added to its understated beauty. Her blonde hair hung in loose waves around her face and the only jewelry she had on was her diamond ring and earrings.
"Are you alright," Buffy asked, waving her hand in front of Spike's face, "earth to Spike." He grabbed her hand, tipping it towards his lips until they gently brushed her knuckles. "You look gorgeous," he said, his voice low and sensual, "absolutely gorgeous." Buffy blushed red to the roots of her hair; she had forgotten how charming Spike could be when he wanted to be. "And you look handsome," she said, blatantly admiring his black suit. It was obviously expensive, tailored to fit every contour of Spike's lean frame. A white shirt and black tie completed the outfit; it was simple but commanded attention, just like him. "We match," Buffy teased, drawing a connection between her black shoes and Spike's ebony ensemble, as he draped her wrap around her shoulders. He raised his scarred eyebrow, "would've matched better if someone told me what color her dress was. I just took a guess." Buffy's eyes danced, "and miss seeing the look on your face? No way! That was absolutely priceless!" Shaking his head, Spike held the elevator door open for Buffy, "glad I'm so amusing, pet," he said.
The opera was longer then Buffy had expected, but she enjoyed every second of it. As they walked out of the theatre, Buffy wrapped her arm around Spike's waist. "Thanks for coming with me," she said. He nodded, curling his free arm around her shoulders, "my pleasure." The December air was bitterly cold, making Buffy wonder if the City would be blanketed in snow for Christmas. She had never seen snow on Christmas morning and she wanted to see if it was as magically as the movies made it seem. "What're you thinking about," Spike asked as they waited for a cab. Buffy looked up at him, her eyes wide and child-like, "snow," she replied simply. "Snow," Spike repeated, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Nodding vigorously, Buffy explained, "I was just thinking about how cool it would be if there was snow for Christmas."
A look of understanding passed over Spike's face, "got it. A white Christmas. Keep forgetting you Californians don't see too many of those." Buffy raised her eyebrows in disbelief, "and you've seen so many," she countered. "Yeah,' Spike answered, shrugging out of his jacket, draping it over Buffy's shoulders that were barely covered by the scrap of emerald material. She smiled appreciatively, her grin widening as he gently squeezed her shoulders, drawing her closer to his body to block the chilly breeze. "Seen a few snowstorms in my day.it's nice to see them on Christmas. I can see why people like them so much." A cab pulled up alongside them, cutting off anything else Spike might have said.
They rode back to Buffy's apartment in silence, a comfortable silence that was filled with nostalgic memories of childhood and Christmases long ago. "Spike," Buffy asked as they stood in front of her apartment door. "Yeah pet?" She drew a deep breath, "do you believe in Fate? You know the whole everything happens for a reason and there's no such thing as coincidence." Her voice dropped to a whisper, so low that Spike had to strain to make out the words. "And that there's one right person for everyone, and no matter what happens, they'll still end up together because it's all destiny?"
Spike looked at her for a long minute, trying to gauge what she was really asking him. "I believe in Fate," he replied simply, "that everything happens for a reason." Buffy nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer, before turning her attention to her keys. Leaning up on her tiptoes, Buffy brushed Spike's cheek with her lips, gently grazing his razor-sharp cheekbones. "I had a great time tonight," she whispered in his ear, lingering next to him for a second longer then she should have. Opening the apartment door, she looked at Spike, her head resting against the door's edge, "I'll talk to you tomorrow." It was more of a statement then a question, without fail they talked every day, even when they had spent most of the previous evening together. He nodded slowly, "alright. And Buffy? I had fun tonight. Thanks." Buffy smiled, "you're welcome." She waited until he was in the elevator before whispering, "no, thank you Spike."
***********************
Spike shook his head, trying to get the conversation to stop repeating itself in his mind. He was hoping that Buffy's strange questions were her way of asking him if their relationship stood a chance. Sighing, he stared blankly out the window that was covered in drapes.
"I don't know what to do." Buffy's voice echoed through her empty office, as she squeezed the arm-rests of her chair tightly.
"It's all so confusing," Spike complained as he resumed pacing.
"I love him," Buffy whispered, "but I know he doesn't love me anymore, how could he?"
"I love her," Spike said, "but it's useless, she could never love me again."
"I just wish I could tell him."
"I wish she knew," Spike whispered, "I wish I could tell her."
Biting her lower lip, Buffy sat back at her desk, "I just want things to be better," she complained, "I want me and Spike to be better."
"Why can't we just forget everything else," Spike asked himself, "what's it take?"
"What's it going to take to make Spike see how much I love him?"
