Mmm, reviews make the world go round. They also happen to inspire me quite
a bit.so here ya go, wonderful reviewing people. Eh, and you stinky non-
reviewing people too.
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"Will you tell me what heaven's like?" She didn't answer right away, but the silence didn't bother him. Not here. Not in their place. For a while she just laid there, her head a steady weight on his chest.
"Mm. S'nice." He chuckled at her, dropping a kiss to the top of her head.
"Nice?" It was her turn to laugh, and the sound made him smile, lying there with her and forgetting about the shaky reality of his existence, if only for a few hours.
"Yeah." The arm around his waist tightened a little as she snuggled closer. "Soft. Sweet. I. I've forgotten a lot, but I remember. feeling safe. Completely at peace." They were both silent for a while, lost in their own thoughts. He brushed his fingers idly through her hair, reveling in her scent, her presence. The heaven she'd been to was, he knew, unattainable to him. but he had found his own heaven in her, and that would have to do. Except for the pesky fact that she thought he was dead, and he had no way of getting to her, and he was probably going to be sucked into the depths of hell soon anyway. This was only a dream, and there was no way to change that.
"I miss you." she whispered, and he frowned, wondering.
"Who's dream is this, anyway?" She gave a soft, sad little laugh.
"Don't know. Does it matter?" He sighed, looking up at the sparkling stars and trying to push back the suffocating fear of disappearing into nothingness before he got a chance to touch her again. She reached up, feeling him stiffen, and stroked his cheek. He kissed her palm, calming again. He wouldn't do this. Wouldn't corrupt his only refuge, his only peace, with thoughts of what couldn't be. He had made his peace. Saved the bloody world. And he deserved. well, something better than the choice between hell and an eternity with the great boss poof. Wait a minute. No choice, same thing. Why was it that the weepy old king of righteousness and hair gel could be all praised for his redemption, when there was apparently no hope for him, the second and much more handsome souled vamp? The powers did indeed work in mysterious ways.
"You're gonna have to wake up soon, you know."
"Yeah." He replied, "You too." She nodded against his chest.
"You think we'll ever just. find each other again?" He caught himself right before he told the truth. No sense in depriving her of hope just because he had done so to himself. He would wake up soon, from the strange, foggy sleep of the far past dead.
"Of course we will, Buffy."
"Maybe in heaven." He couldn't bear the brightness of her voice. She would never give up, never stop hoping for something better. And god, he loved her for it.
"Maybe, love. Maybe." The dream faded suddenly, and he found himself curled up in Angel's favorite office chair, his duster wrapped around him. He could hear the poof on his way into the office, arguing with Harmony over paperwork. He took a deep breath out of simple habit, sitting up straighter and clearing his throat, pushing aside the memory of her, trying not to let the loneliness show. He'd be damned (for what, the fourth, fifth time?) if he gave that prancing ponce something more to use against him.
"Spike. Out of my chair."
"Awful touchy about the furniture, aren't we? I think you may be getting a bit too settled into this firm there, mate."
The scowl on Angel's face brightened Spike's mood a little. Hell, if his afterlife was gonna be disturbed, at least he'd get to torture his least favorite vamp while he was at it. And that could well be worth it.
"Will you tell me what heaven's like?" She didn't answer right away, but the silence didn't bother him. Not here. Not in their place. For a while she just laid there, her head a steady weight on his chest.
"Mm. S'nice." He chuckled at her, dropping a kiss to the top of her head.
"Nice?" It was her turn to laugh, and the sound made him smile, lying there with her and forgetting about the shaky reality of his existence, if only for a few hours.
"Yeah." The arm around his waist tightened a little as she snuggled closer. "Soft. Sweet. I. I've forgotten a lot, but I remember. feeling safe. Completely at peace." They were both silent for a while, lost in their own thoughts. He brushed his fingers idly through her hair, reveling in her scent, her presence. The heaven she'd been to was, he knew, unattainable to him. but he had found his own heaven in her, and that would have to do. Except for the pesky fact that she thought he was dead, and he had no way of getting to her, and he was probably going to be sucked into the depths of hell soon anyway. This was only a dream, and there was no way to change that.
"I miss you." she whispered, and he frowned, wondering.
"Who's dream is this, anyway?" She gave a soft, sad little laugh.
"Don't know. Does it matter?" He sighed, looking up at the sparkling stars and trying to push back the suffocating fear of disappearing into nothingness before he got a chance to touch her again. She reached up, feeling him stiffen, and stroked his cheek. He kissed her palm, calming again. He wouldn't do this. Wouldn't corrupt his only refuge, his only peace, with thoughts of what couldn't be. He had made his peace. Saved the bloody world. And he deserved. well, something better than the choice between hell and an eternity with the great boss poof. Wait a minute. No choice, same thing. Why was it that the weepy old king of righteousness and hair gel could be all praised for his redemption, when there was apparently no hope for him, the second and much more handsome souled vamp? The powers did indeed work in mysterious ways.
"You're gonna have to wake up soon, you know."
"Yeah." He replied, "You too." She nodded against his chest.
"You think we'll ever just. find each other again?" He caught himself right before he told the truth. No sense in depriving her of hope just because he had done so to himself. He would wake up soon, from the strange, foggy sleep of the far past dead.
"Of course we will, Buffy."
"Maybe in heaven." He couldn't bear the brightness of her voice. She would never give up, never stop hoping for something better. And god, he loved her for it.
"Maybe, love. Maybe." The dream faded suddenly, and he found himself curled up in Angel's favorite office chair, his duster wrapped around him. He could hear the poof on his way into the office, arguing with Harmony over paperwork. He took a deep breath out of simple habit, sitting up straighter and clearing his throat, pushing aside the memory of her, trying not to let the loneliness show. He'd be damned (for what, the fourth, fifth time?) if he gave that prancing ponce something more to use against him.
"Spike. Out of my chair."
"Awful touchy about the furniture, aren't we? I think you may be getting a bit too settled into this firm there, mate."
The scowl on Angel's face brightened Spike's mood a little. Hell, if his afterlife was gonna be disturbed, at least he'd get to torture his least favorite vamp while he was at it. And that could well be worth it.