In Strength We are Stronger.
Heh, another 500 words from me (limits are tricky!), set between Intervention and Tough Love, for the Magic Box. I'll warn you now, I'm not entirely sure what this fic's about or why I've given it this silly title.
In Strength We are Stronger.
It was time to pick up the pace.
There hadn’t been much downtime, not since, well… There hadn’t been much downtime. Still, she knew that if she wanted to beat Glory she needed to be in better shape. Her trip to the desert had been a total washout and it was pretty clear from what had happened to Spike that emotions weren’t her biggest problem right now. She didn’t like it, but, if it would save Dawn? She would be anything, even stone.
And so here she was, in the back of the Magic Box, trying to remember what she’d been doing with Giles six months ago. It was time to sew up her raggedy edges.
Taking a deep breath, Buffy placed her hands on the wooden block in front of her. Listening first to the silence and then to nothing, focusing only on herself, she steadily kicked her legs from the floor and settled into a handstand. Her eyes closed.
It was when her concentration drifted, minutes later, that she realised there was another presence in the room. Even with her eyes shut it was more than familiar.
“What are you doing here, Spike?” she asked, still upside down, feeling strong despite the blood rushing through her head.
“Didn’t fancy my crypt,” he replied shortly, sounding as if he was pacing around her, in a circle like Giles had always done. “Nothing on telly this time of day.”
She knew that wasn’t true: daytime TV had no greater devotee than Spike. Not that she paid attention to his habits, but if she had to hear Giles complain about last year one more time -
“What’s with the Zen master routine, anyway?”
Did he sound - nervous? OK, it wasn’t everyday Spike got kidnapped and, you know, tortured, but she’d never have thought he’d try to process by talking to her, unless…
Oh yeah, the love thing. You couldn’t forget about that.
She opened her eyes then, watching him watch her, the mechanism of his body seeming bizarre from this angle. She wondered if she’d get used to it, if she watched for long enough - or if her brain would do that thing she’d read about, where it always turned the world the right way up eventually.
“I was meditating,” she said, without much bite. It almost surprised her, that she was too calm to snark properly, but she had a feeling she was too calm for surprise as well.
Nevertheless, it made him pause. “Oh, right,” he said, sounding a little disappointed. “Do you want me to go?”
Did she?
They all needed to be strong, she knew, for the coming fight. More than that, hearing Spike so unsure of himself was weirding her out.
“There’s another block behind the vaulting horse,” she said, eyes drifting closed again. “I’ll walk you through it.”
There was silence like hesitation, and then, more firmly, the clunk of wood on stone floor.
They took a breath together. “There is nothing but you,” she began.
In Strength We are Stronger.
It was time to pick up the pace.
There hadn’t been much downtime, not since, well… There hadn’t been much downtime. Still, she knew that if she wanted to beat Glory she needed to be in better shape. Her trip to the desert had been a total washout and it was pretty clear from what had happened to Spike that emotions weren’t her biggest problem right now. She didn’t like it, but, if it would save Dawn? She would be anything, even stone.
And so here she was, in the back of the Magic Box, trying to remember what she’d been doing with Giles six months ago. It was time to sew up her raggedy edges.
Taking a deep breath, Buffy placed her hands on the wooden block in front of her. Listening first to the silence and then to nothing, focusing only on herself, she steadily kicked her legs from the floor and settled into a handstand. Her eyes closed.
It was when her concentration drifted, minutes later, that she realised there was another presence in the room. Even with her eyes shut it was more than familiar.
“What are you doing here, Spike?” she asked, still upside down, feeling strong despite the blood rushing through her head.
“Didn’t fancy my crypt,” he replied shortly, sounding as if he was pacing around her, in a circle like Giles had always done. “Nothing on telly this time of day.”
She knew that wasn’t true: daytime TV had no greater devotee than Spike. Not that she paid attention to his habits, but if she had to hear Giles complain about last year one more time -
“What’s with the Zen master routine, anyway?”
Did he sound - nervous? OK, it wasn’t everyday Spike got kidnapped and, you know, tortured, but she’d never have thought he’d try to process by talking to her, unless…
Oh yeah, the love thing. You couldn’t forget about that.
She opened her eyes then, watching him watch her, the mechanism of his body seeming bizarre from this angle. She wondered if she’d get used to it, if she watched for long enough - or if her brain would do that thing she’d read about, where it always turned the world the right way up eventually.
“I was meditating,” she said, without much bite. It almost surprised her, that she was too calm to snark properly, but she had a feeling she was too calm for surprise as well.
Nevertheless, it made him pause. “Oh, right,” he said, sounding a little disappointed. “Do you want me to go?”
Did she?
They all needed to be strong, she knew, for the coming fight. More than that, hearing Spike so unsure of himself was weirding her out.
“There’s another block behind the vaulting horse,” she said, eyes drifting closed again. “I’ll walk you through it.”
There was silence like hesitation, and then, more firmly, the clunk of wood on stone floor.
They took a breath together. “There is nothing but you,” she began.