Further onwards! Future Imperfect (PG)
Title: Future Imperfect
Words: c200
Setting: the far future
Prompt: lost lake
Rating: PG
She finds him again at the lost lake. It's mythical, and proper, for an eternal love like theirs.
How many times is this? Fifteen, Spike thinks, though it could possibly be one or two either way. Mystical re-beginnings aren't precisely ten a penny in his unlife yet, but they're undeniably getting to be a matter of course.
It's her kiss that wakens him, today, after sixty years of him waiting for Buffy Summers to find and free her love.
He stretches, cracks and pops from his shoulder joints bringing relief from that nagging pain during the wait. "Hello, love. All okay?"
She looks good, at least. Nice hair, spring in her step. Kisses him lightly on the cheek. "Uh huh, not too shabby. Full skirts are back in, and there's a world shortage of goats. Otherwise, pretty ordinary. Apocalypse time again, but at least it means the prophecy told me where to find you, so…"
Swings, roundabouts. Spike's uncomplicatedly happy: out of that bloody frozen pose, with his love once more, and a fight in the offing. "Sweet."
Normality is for other people. So are linear relationships and dying of old age (and staying dead). Spike's not the man to angst over it.
Words: c200
Setting: the far future
Prompt: lost lake
Rating: PG
She finds him again at the lost lake. It's mythical, and proper, for an eternal love like theirs.
How many times is this? Fifteen, Spike thinks, though it could possibly be one or two either way. Mystical re-beginnings aren't precisely ten a penny in his unlife yet, but they're undeniably getting to be a matter of course.
It's her kiss that wakens him, today, after sixty years of him waiting for Buffy Summers to find and free her love.
He stretches, cracks and pops from his shoulder joints bringing relief from that nagging pain during the wait. "Hello, love. All okay?"
She looks good, at least. Nice hair, spring in her step. Kisses him lightly on the cheek. "Uh huh, not too shabby. Full skirts are back in, and there's a world shortage of goats. Otherwise, pretty ordinary. Apocalypse time again, but at least it means the prophecy told me where to find you, so…"
Swings, roundabouts. Spike's uncomplicatedly happy: out of that bloody frozen pose, with his love once more, and a fight in the offing. "Sweet."
Normality is for other people. So are linear relationships and dying of old age (and staying dead). Spike's not the man to angst over it.