Fic: Life, Sometimes
Title: Life, Sometimes
Author: PriclessSpike
Season: Post Comic Season 12
Rating: General
Warnings: Buffy/Other, character death, one chapter from a longer work as yet unwritten.
She wasn’t surprised to see him at the door. She’d expected him before now.
He said nothing, his face a picture of awkward sorrow, probably much like her own. While she felt middle aged and hollowed out, he looked exactly the same, time had moved on without him. It didn’t seem fair, which of course it wasn’t, especially to Spike.
He was looking past her, down the shadowed hallway, into the living room beyond. She followed his eyes and saw Xander and Connor, arguing over something on the tv.
“Only family here,” she said gently.
“Not my family.”
“I guess not. Not anymore.” She reached around the door and grabbed a coat from the stand. It wasn’t her coat, it was far too big, but she wrapped herself up and stepped outside, quietly closing the door behind her.
“Like old times. You and me on the porch.”
Spike took the top step and reached in his pocket for his cigarettes.
“How did you hear?” she asked, sitting next to him.
“Not many Shansued vampires around, so when one gets killed, it’s worthy of a little demon tittle-tattle.” He lit a cigarette and took a deep drag, then turned his head and blew the smoke away from her. “I was in South America, halfway up a mountain, believe it or not. Bit tricky getting back. How’d it happen?”
She pulled the coat tighter around her. “Vampire.”
“Fuck,” he said, shaking his head. “Sorry pet.”
She didn’t care for his sympathy. She’d received too much of it lately, it was becoming a burden.
She nodded at the cigarette in Spike’s hand, “Can I have one?” His eyes went wide with surprise, but he handed her his cigarette and watched her breathe in the smoke.
She wondered what Spike saw when he looked at her. A grieving widow-lady, smoking her first cigarette. This really was new territory. The smoke tasted acrid, like most things right now.
“I’m thinking of taking up smoking,” she said, “does it suit me?”
“Everything suits you.” He half grinned and she wanted to say no, don’t do that. Don’t try to cheer me up. Don’t try to make things better, it’s pathetic and impossible and I’ll only hate you for it. You should know better.
“Even widowhood?” she responded, regretting it immediately. It was a stupid and cruel thing to say and Spike didn’t deserve that.
“We took him to LA,” she said, quickly, embarrassed that she’d returned his kindness with contempt.
“Yeah?” He sounded disinterested, which she knew was only a cover for his hurt feelings.
“Connor’s idea.” She took another drag of the cigarette. It didn’t taste any better. “He didn’t want to be buried.”
“Understandable. Though not very fond of the flames, myself.”
“We scattered the ashes in the hills.”
“Seems fitting.”
They sat in silence for a moment. She wondered if he were thinking of Angel, remembering some happy time they had shared. Had they ever had good times together? She had tried never to discuss Spike with Angel, it had seemed insensitive, and it bought out the worst in him. Now it seemed there was so much about Angel she hadn’t known, and that deepened her sorrow.
“I’m sorry,” Buffy said, as she handed the cigarette back. “I’m a mess and I’m taking it out on everyone around me.”
He took one more drag, then flicked the last of the cigarette across the yard, where it sputtered and died.
“Am I making it worse for you, being here?”
“God no, not if you stop trying to cheer me up,” she said, smiling up at him. She moved closer and linked her arm through, resting her head on his shoulder. It seemed like the right thing to do and when he took her hand in his, it felt like the perfect thing.
“I’m not him, Buffy,” his voice soft and low, its sweetness belying the words. She looked up into his face, and thought she saw love there.
“Christ, is that Spike?” The voice cut across them like splintering wood. They turned and saw Xander standing in the open doorway, a look of bemusement on his face. He suddenly turned, called by some unseen force within the house and as quickly as he’d appeared, he was gone, the door closed behind him.
“That boy’s got the worst timing.” It comforted Buffy to know that while her world seemed to be spinning off its axis, Spike, at least, could be relied on to stay exactly the same. Only he could call that middle-aged father of three, ‘boy’.
But their moment had been broken. Spike let go of her hand, stood, and made his way down the porch steps.
“I know you’re not him, you know,” she called after him.
He turned and she thought he was going to say something, then thinking better of it, he continued striding silently through the garden, onto the road and out of sight.
Author: PriclessSpike
Season: Post Comic Season 12
Rating: General
Warnings: Buffy/Other, character death, one chapter from a longer work as yet unwritten.
She wasn’t surprised to see him at the door. She’d expected him before now.
He said nothing, his face a picture of awkward sorrow, probably much like her own. While she felt middle aged and hollowed out, he looked exactly the same, time had moved on without him. It didn’t seem fair, which of course it wasn’t, especially to Spike.
He was looking past her, down the shadowed hallway, into the living room beyond. She followed his eyes and saw Xander and Connor, arguing over something on the tv.
“Only family here,” she said gently.
“Not my family.”
“I guess not. Not anymore.” She reached around the door and grabbed a coat from the stand. It wasn’t her coat, it was far too big, but she wrapped herself up and stepped outside, quietly closing the door behind her.
“Like old times. You and me on the porch.”
Spike took the top step and reached in his pocket for his cigarettes.
“How did you hear?” she asked, sitting next to him.
“Not many Shansued vampires around, so when one gets killed, it’s worthy of a little demon tittle-tattle.” He lit a cigarette and took a deep drag, then turned his head and blew the smoke away from her. “I was in South America, halfway up a mountain, believe it or not. Bit tricky getting back. How’d it happen?”
She pulled the coat tighter around her. “Vampire.”
“Fuck,” he said, shaking his head. “Sorry pet.”
She didn’t care for his sympathy. She’d received too much of it lately, it was becoming a burden.
She nodded at the cigarette in Spike’s hand, “Can I have one?” His eyes went wide with surprise, but he handed her his cigarette and watched her breathe in the smoke.
She wondered what Spike saw when he looked at her. A grieving widow-lady, smoking her first cigarette. This really was new territory. The smoke tasted acrid, like most things right now.
“I’m thinking of taking up smoking,” she said, “does it suit me?”
“Everything suits you.” He half grinned and she wanted to say no, don’t do that. Don’t try to cheer me up. Don’t try to make things better, it’s pathetic and impossible and I’ll only hate you for it. You should know better.
“Even widowhood?” she responded, regretting it immediately. It was a stupid and cruel thing to say and Spike didn’t deserve that.
“We took him to LA,” she said, quickly, embarrassed that she’d returned his kindness with contempt.
“Yeah?” He sounded disinterested, which she knew was only a cover for his hurt feelings.
“Connor’s idea.” She took another drag of the cigarette. It didn’t taste any better. “He didn’t want to be buried.”
“Understandable. Though not very fond of the flames, myself.”
“We scattered the ashes in the hills.”
“Seems fitting.”
They sat in silence for a moment. She wondered if he were thinking of Angel, remembering some happy time they had shared. Had they ever had good times together? She had tried never to discuss Spike with Angel, it had seemed insensitive, and it bought out the worst in him. Now it seemed there was so much about Angel she hadn’t known, and that deepened her sorrow.
“I’m sorry,” Buffy said, as she handed the cigarette back. “I’m a mess and I’m taking it out on everyone around me.”
He took one more drag, then flicked the last of the cigarette across the yard, where it sputtered and died.
“Am I making it worse for you, being here?”
“God no, not if you stop trying to cheer me up,” she said, smiling up at him. She moved closer and linked her arm through, resting her head on his shoulder. It seemed like the right thing to do and when he took her hand in his, it felt like the perfect thing.
“I’m not him, Buffy,” his voice soft and low, its sweetness belying the words. She looked up into his face, and thought she saw love there.
“Christ, is that Spike?” The voice cut across them like splintering wood. They turned and saw Xander standing in the open doorway, a look of bemusement on his face. He suddenly turned, called by some unseen force within the house and as quickly as he’d appeared, he was gone, the door closed behind him.
“That boy’s got the worst timing.” It comforted Buffy to know that while her world seemed to be spinning off its axis, Spike, at least, could be relied on to stay exactly the same. Only he could call that middle-aged father of three, ‘boy’.
But their moment had been broken. Spike let go of her hand, stood, and made his way down the porch steps.
“I know you’re not him, you know,” she called after him.
He turned and she thought he was going to say something, then thinking better of it, he continued striding silently through the garden, onto the road and out of sight.