*********
I see the witch sitting sad and teary-eyed on the couch as I wait for the Slayer. I know she's missing her girl; they've only been broken up for a few days. She looks so lost, so fragile.
"You okay there, Red?" I'm not quite sure why I'm asking; not sure why I'm so concerned. It's really not my place. We're not friends or anything like that. We barely even know each other. Maybe I just don't relish the thought of her hurting as much as she did last year when the Wolf up and left.
She doesn't answer me at first, just absently runs a hand through her
hair, still lost in thought. Then she looks up at me with the barest hint
of a smile. "Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks, though, Spike."
Our eyes meet for just a second, and the warmth and heat there surprises me. How long has it been since anyone other than the niblet looked at me like that? Like I was more than some *thing*. Just for that second, I want to let the heat warm me, burn me, even. I want to find a way to claim it; make it my own. And maybe if I weren't such a damned coward, I would. But I am a coward, and I belong with the Slayer. We're perfect for each other. Both creatures of the darkness, predators, afraid to really live because we're already dead inside.
I finally glance away as Buffy comes up the stairs from her basement with the sword needed to kill the Vicaran demon that I just ran across. Nasty, nasty buggers, and it's going to take both of us to take this one out. "You'll be all right waiting for Dawnie to get back here from her friends?" she asks.
"Yep." Willow answers. "Go. Kill that thing. Be Slayery."
"Let's go, Spike."
I turn and follow the Slayer out the door, any stray thoughts of warmth and heat forgotten.
Because cold dead things only deserve other cold dead things, right?
END