All That Sparkles
All That Sparkles
Author: enigmaticblue
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. It would be nice if I did, wouldn’t it?
Summary: Spike tries to give Buffy a Christmas present in S6. Goes slightly AU after Wrecked.
A/N: Written for my 2008 holiday request ficathon for debris4spike.
Buffy could see the lit end of Spike’s cigarette from her bedroom window. She had missed him-that was her dirty little secret. She’d been avoiding him for the last couple of weeks, and he’d allowed her to do so for the most part. Oh, he’d still been around, but he’d been unobtrusive.
She still didn’t know what she was going to do about him. Spike had been the only person she’d been able to talk to since her resurrection, and now that wasn’t an option. Not unless she decided to go completely crazy and date him.
The idea was way more tempting than it should have been, maybe because it was Christmas Eve, and nothing was the same. She wasn’t the same, her mom was gone, Giles was gone, Tara had left Willow, and Xander and Anya were getting married. And her sister was going out of her way to be difficult.
Spike, at least, could be relied upon to be Spike.
Maybe what she needed was to find a way to salvage what they’d had, the easy friendship that had been keeping her grounded, while still giving him the crumb that he’d asked for.
After a moment’s thought, she pulled her robe on and went downstairs. She remembered her mom’s hot chocolate recipe, and she’d stocked up on little marshmallows the other day, although she had no idea why.
It took her about fifteen minutes to make the drinks, then she filled two mugs and made her way outside, hoping that Spike had followed his previous pattern and stuck around. She sensed him as soon as she walked outside, however, and she called softly, “Spike?”
“Slayer?” His tone was cautious, as though he was waiting for her to run him off, and rightly so, she supposed. “I was just passing by.”
She rolled her eyes. “Please, Spike. Give me some credit. You’ve been here every night for the last two weeks. Here.”
He took the mug she held out with a puzzled look. “What’s this?”
“Hot chocolate. With little marshmallows.”
“What for?” Spike sounded incredibly suspicious, as though she’d poisoned his drink or something-never mind that vampires couldn’t be poisoned under normal circumstances.
“I just thought you might like some.” Buffy didn’t want to stand outside in her front yard to do this. “You want to sit on the back porch?”
“Yeah, alright.”
Buffy led him through the house, hoping that inspiration would strike somehow. They’d been able to connect more than once on that back porch. She hated to admit it, but it was true.
He settled on the step next to her, cradling his mug in both hands. “You been alright?”
Spike was the first to break the silence, and a smile pulled at Buffy’s lips. “I guess. You?”
“S’pose so.” There was a long silence before Spike added, “I’ve missed you.” She sighed, and he hastened to go on, “Look, Buffy, I’m not-”
“No, it’s okay.” She glanced over at him. “I don’t know how to do this, Spike.”
“Do what?”
“A relationship with you. What we had before was okay, but now…” She trailed off.
He gave her a sour look. “I’m not askin’ for much, Buffy.”
“No, you’re just asking me to turn my back on everything I’ve stood for.”
“It’s not like I’m killin’ people every night.”
“Because of the chip.”
“No, because I love you.”
Buffy wanted to tell him that it was impossible, that a soulless vampire couldn’t really love, but the words wouldn’t come out. She wasn’t sure she believed that anymore, and he had taken care of Dawn all summer. Spike hadn’t even been behind the plot to resurrect her, so it wasn’t like she could claim he had entertained any hope of getting in her pants by following through on his promise.
As the silence stretched between them, Spike cleared his throat. “Got somethin’ for you.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Happy Christmas, Buffy.”
Buffy took the clumsily wrapped package, keeping her sigh internal this time. She had no idea what to expect. “I didn’t get you anything.”
“That’s not why I did it.”
“Yeah, I know.” Setting her mug aside, Buffy pulled the paper off slowly to reveal a small, white box. “What is it?”
“Open it an’ find out.”
She looked up to find his eyes on her, dark with some unspecified emotion. Buffy pulled the lid off, freezing as she saw the delicate gold chain threaded through a filigreed gold band.
“It was my mum’s,” Spike explained in response to her unanswered question. “The ring, not the chain. Didn’t think you’d want to wear the ring, but I wanted you to have it anyway.”
“Spike-” It was too much; it was too special.
His hands closed over hers, as though to prevent her from trying to give it back. “There’s no one else I’d want to have it, Buffy.”
She stared down at their joined hands and the glint of gold that peeked out from between their fingers. Buffy wondered if she was going crazy, if the hope that was supposed to be a symbol of the Christmas season was infecting her. She wondered if this was even possible.
Looking up, Buffy searched Spike’s face for something, anything that would tell her that she was making the right decision. All she could see was a kind of terrible patience, and something that looked a lot like love.
There wasn’t much space between them, and Buffy leaned forward just enough to brush her lips against Spike’s. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Instead of pulling back, Buffy left her hands between his, and allowed herself to believe, if only for a moment, that what lay between them was real and lasting.
Maybe it was impossible, but Buffy had heard that Christmas was the season for miracles, and she could use one right about now.
Author: enigmaticblue
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. It would be nice if I did, wouldn’t it?
Summary: Spike tries to give Buffy a Christmas present in S6. Goes slightly AU after Wrecked.
A/N: Written for my 2008 holiday request ficathon for debris4spike.
Buffy could see the lit end of Spike’s cigarette from her bedroom window. She had missed him-that was her dirty little secret. She’d been avoiding him for the last couple of weeks, and he’d allowed her to do so for the most part. Oh, he’d still been around, but he’d been unobtrusive.
She still didn’t know what she was going to do about him. Spike had been the only person she’d been able to talk to since her resurrection, and now that wasn’t an option. Not unless she decided to go completely crazy and date him.
The idea was way more tempting than it should have been, maybe because it was Christmas Eve, and nothing was the same. She wasn’t the same, her mom was gone, Giles was gone, Tara had left Willow, and Xander and Anya were getting married. And her sister was going out of her way to be difficult.
Spike, at least, could be relied upon to be Spike.
Maybe what she needed was to find a way to salvage what they’d had, the easy friendship that had been keeping her grounded, while still giving him the crumb that he’d asked for.
After a moment’s thought, she pulled her robe on and went downstairs. She remembered her mom’s hot chocolate recipe, and she’d stocked up on little marshmallows the other day, although she had no idea why.
It took her about fifteen minutes to make the drinks, then she filled two mugs and made her way outside, hoping that Spike had followed his previous pattern and stuck around. She sensed him as soon as she walked outside, however, and she called softly, “Spike?”
“Slayer?” His tone was cautious, as though he was waiting for her to run him off, and rightly so, she supposed. “I was just passing by.”
She rolled her eyes. “Please, Spike. Give me some credit. You’ve been here every night for the last two weeks. Here.”
He took the mug she held out with a puzzled look. “What’s this?”
“Hot chocolate. With little marshmallows.”
“What for?” Spike sounded incredibly suspicious, as though she’d poisoned his drink or something-never mind that vampires couldn’t be poisoned under normal circumstances.
“I just thought you might like some.” Buffy didn’t want to stand outside in her front yard to do this. “You want to sit on the back porch?”
“Yeah, alright.”
Buffy led him through the house, hoping that inspiration would strike somehow. They’d been able to connect more than once on that back porch. She hated to admit it, but it was true.
He settled on the step next to her, cradling his mug in both hands. “You been alright?”
Spike was the first to break the silence, and a smile pulled at Buffy’s lips. “I guess. You?”
“S’pose so.” There was a long silence before Spike added, “I’ve missed you.” She sighed, and he hastened to go on, “Look, Buffy, I’m not-”
“No, it’s okay.” She glanced over at him. “I don’t know how to do this, Spike.”
“Do what?”
“A relationship with you. What we had before was okay, but now…” She trailed off.
He gave her a sour look. “I’m not askin’ for much, Buffy.”
“No, you’re just asking me to turn my back on everything I’ve stood for.”
“It’s not like I’m killin’ people every night.”
“Because of the chip.”
“No, because I love you.”
Buffy wanted to tell him that it was impossible, that a soulless vampire couldn’t really love, but the words wouldn’t come out. She wasn’t sure she believed that anymore, and he had taken care of Dawn all summer. Spike hadn’t even been behind the plot to resurrect her, so it wasn’t like she could claim he had entertained any hope of getting in her pants by following through on his promise.
As the silence stretched between them, Spike cleared his throat. “Got somethin’ for you.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Happy Christmas, Buffy.”
Buffy took the clumsily wrapped package, keeping her sigh internal this time. She had no idea what to expect. “I didn’t get you anything.”
“That’s not why I did it.”
“Yeah, I know.” Setting her mug aside, Buffy pulled the paper off slowly to reveal a small, white box. “What is it?”
“Open it an’ find out.”
She looked up to find his eyes on her, dark with some unspecified emotion. Buffy pulled the lid off, freezing as she saw the delicate gold chain threaded through a filigreed gold band.
“It was my mum’s,” Spike explained in response to her unanswered question. “The ring, not the chain. Didn’t think you’d want to wear the ring, but I wanted you to have it anyway.”
“Spike-” It was too much; it was too special.
His hands closed over hers, as though to prevent her from trying to give it back. “There’s no one else I’d want to have it, Buffy.”
She stared down at their joined hands and the glint of gold that peeked out from between their fingers. Buffy wondered if she was going crazy, if the hope that was supposed to be a symbol of the Christmas season was infecting her. She wondered if this was even possible.
Looking up, Buffy searched Spike’s face for something, anything that would tell her that she was making the right decision. All she could see was a kind of terrible patience, and something that looked a lot like love.
There wasn’t much space between them, and Buffy leaned forward just enough to brush her lips against Spike’s. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Instead of pulling back, Buffy left her hands between his, and allowed herself to believe, if only for a moment, that what lay between them was real and lasting.
Maybe it was impossible, but Buffy had heard that Christmas was the season for miracles, and she could use one right about now.