Effulgent Cecily
With the smoking blanket over his head, Spike dashed towards the Magic Box.
Without a drop of blood left in his fridge, he was starving; so hungry he was willing to drop by the Magic Box to see if the scoobies had any in stock.
Spike groaned inwardly as he entered the shop. Anya was on duty, standing protectively near the cash register while she talked to another woman; he wouldn't be able to nick anything with her here.
"Hi Spike!' Anya greeted brightly. "Have you come to spend money?"
He was about to answer when the other woman turned around.
It was her. Not just any her, but her.
"Spike, Halfrek; Halfrek, Spike." Anya resumed her conversation with the demon.
The conversation with her. Unnoticed, the still smoking blanket slipped off Spike's shoulders and fell to the floor.
Her. Cecily. The love of his life-he'd loved her until he died.
She looked so much like he remembered; a bit different, of course, but the important things were the same.
Her soft brown hair was still in tight ringlets, although now she let it loose instead of piling it atop her head. Her eyes, which spared him a quick glance now, were the same beautiful eyes that had scorned him a hundred years ago.
Her lips, the lips that had killed him when they said he was beneath her, they were the same lips he had tried to turn into words countless times, although his excuses for poetry never did them any justice.
Cecily.
Someone else entered, and Spike jumped to avoid the sunlight, moving for the first time since he had come into the store.
Anya rushed off to help the 'nice paying customers,' leaving Halfrek/Cecily leaning against the counter eyeing Spike with appreciation.
"So, vampire." She said, noticing the blanket on the floor. "Aren't you supposed to be sleeping right now?"
Spike shrugged, trying to remember why he was here. "Got bored."
She nodded in agreement. "I get like that when I don't have . . . company."
She was standing closer to Spike that she ever had before.
"People say I'm good company," Halfrek/Cecily said, fingering the side of his duster. "Because I talk so much."
"And what if I decide I want some sleep?" Spike couldn't believe this was happening.
"Then you'll have to make me be quiet."
"Like this?" He caught her lips in his own, running a skilled hand through the hair he'd always dreamed of touching.
"Just like that."
He was silent, just for a second, savoring the moment.
"Well, I don't know Cecily," He said, taking a step away from her. "You're just not as . . . effulgent . . . as I remember."
He smirked and grabbed the blanket, throwing it over his head and leaving the store.
Spike, formerly known as William, had to fight the urge to sing as he ran from the Magic Box. After all, his singing, like his poetry, was bloody awful.
With the smoking blanket over his head, Spike dashed towards the Magic Box.
Without a drop of blood left in his fridge, he was starving; so hungry he was willing to drop by the Magic Box to see if the scoobies had any in stock.
Spike groaned inwardly as he entered the shop. Anya was on duty, standing protectively near the cash register while she talked to another woman; he wouldn't be able to nick anything with her here.
"Hi Spike!' Anya greeted brightly. "Have you come to spend money?"
He was about to answer when the other woman turned around.
It was her. Not just any her, but her.
"Spike, Halfrek; Halfrek, Spike." Anya resumed her conversation with the demon.
The conversation with her. Unnoticed, the still smoking blanket slipped off Spike's shoulders and fell to the floor.
Her. Cecily. The love of his life-he'd loved her until he died.
She looked so much like he remembered; a bit different, of course, but the important things were the same.
Her soft brown hair was still in tight ringlets, although now she let it loose instead of piling it atop her head. Her eyes, which spared him a quick glance now, were the same beautiful eyes that had scorned him a hundred years ago.
Her lips, the lips that had killed him when they said he was beneath her, they were the same lips he had tried to turn into words countless times, although his excuses for poetry never did them any justice.
Cecily.
Someone else entered, and Spike jumped to avoid the sunlight, moving for the first time since he had come into the store.
Anya rushed off to help the 'nice paying customers,' leaving Halfrek/Cecily leaning against the counter eyeing Spike with appreciation.
"So, vampire." She said, noticing the blanket on the floor. "Aren't you supposed to be sleeping right now?"
Spike shrugged, trying to remember why he was here. "Got bored."
She nodded in agreement. "I get like that when I don't have . . . company."
She was standing closer to Spike that she ever had before.
"People say I'm good company," Halfrek/Cecily said, fingering the side of his duster. "Because I talk so much."
"And what if I decide I want some sleep?" Spike couldn't believe this was happening.
"Then you'll have to make me be quiet."
"Like this?" He caught her lips in his own, running a skilled hand through the hair he'd always dreamed of touching.
"Just like that."
He was silent, just for a second, savoring the moment.
"Well, I don't know Cecily," He said, taking a step away from her. "You're just not as . . . effulgent . . . as I remember."
He smirked and grabbed the blanket, throwing it over his head and leaving the store.
Spike, formerly known as William, had to fight the urge to sing as he ran from the Magic Box. After all, his singing, like his poetry, was bloody awful.
