CHAPTER 24 - EAU DE SPUFFY
They exited the cave and Spike moved the boulder back in place and covered it up with brush.
Then taking Buffy’s hand, they started back up the rise to the trail. The sun was setting over the trees to their right, but it was barely discernible in the dense woods.
Spike stopped suddenly and pulled Buffy off the trail, putting a hand over her mouth, "Shhhh!" he whispered as the sounds of crackling leaves neared them.
"Jimmy crack corn and I don’t care, Jimmy crack corn and I don’t care, Jimmy….OH MY GOD!" Clem yelled, putting his hand to his heart, as Spike and Buffy walked out of the brush smiling.
"Spike, Buffy, you almost gave a poor fellow a heart attack!" Clem said, breathing heavily.
"I heard your footsteps first, mate. Didn’t know what you were for a moment, so we stepped off the trail," Spike said.
"We’re sorry, Clem," Buffy said.
"That’s okay," Clem said, still scared from the surprise encounter, "I was just on my way to the cave; figured you guys would have been back to the house a long time ago."
"Well, yeah, kinda took more time than we supposed," Spike stammered for the right words.
"I fell asleep on one of the chairs for a while. And thank you so much for setting that all up, that was so sweet of you, both of you. Loved the lemonade! It was truly one of the most memorable experiences I’ve had in a long time, no, make that ever!" Buffy said, taking a furtive glance sideways at Spike.
"Glad to be of help. Well, I’d better get going. Bye guys!" Clem said, but not before Buffy grabbed him, giving him a kiss on the cheek and a quick hug.
She released him and he started down the trail, humming his little song, again. He waved without looking back at them, smiling to himself; they smelled so much of each other, pretty soon they’d only have one combined smell. "Eau de Spuffy," he giggled to himself.
As they got closer to the cabin, it began to snow lightly again, "Look!" Buffy said as they came out of the woods up to the back porch.
"Looks a little worse for the wear," Spike said, "Snowman Spike seems to have lost his teeth."
Buffy bent over, picking up the burnt wood chip teeth and placed them back in his head.
Spike just looked at her questioningly.
"What?" Buffy asked, "Did you really think I wanted my Snowman Spike to be totally toothless?" she asked, smiling sweetly. "Guess I just want a little monster in my snowmen, too!"
And with that, she turned on her heel and headed up the porch steps, leaving Spike standing in the yard, mouth agape, shaking his head at the wonder of her, of it all.
CHAPTER 25 - WILL
Spike followed Buffy into the house. She’d already disappeared into her bedroom, so he decided to start a fire.
"Gonna take a shower, that alright?" Buffy said from the bedroom.
"Anything you want, pet," Spike replied, "I’m going outside to get some more wood, make sure the water heater’s still on,"
"Well, if it’s not, I’m sure you’ll know from my screaming!" she yelled back, closing the bathroom door.
Spike rose and went over to the backpack, grabbed it, then went outside. He sat down on the porch steps and dialed up the connection to the Summer’s residence. Seeing that everything was alright on the home-front, he replaced the laptop in the backpack, opened the door to the porch and house and placed the backpack on the table.
Back outside, he went over to the woodpile, on the side of the house and took the phone out of his pocket and dialed the number he’d committed to memory over the years.
"Hello," said the older voice, "McKennitt residence."
"Lawrence? That you?"
"Who’s this?"
"William. Worthington," said Spike.
"William? William! How are you? Haven’t spoken to you in ages!"
"I know. I’m sorry about that. How’s the family? Wife? Kids?" Spike asked.
"They’re mostly fine. Wife was in the hospital for surgery a few weeks ago, but nothing too serious and she’s fine now. Jean is still practicing law in Boston, though she tries to visit us a couple of times a year. Lawrence III, he’s practicing in Hartford. Don’t hear from him much. Grandkids, all 5 are doing fine," Lawrence recited.
"You give them my best," Spike said.
"That I will, that I will," Lawrence replied.
"Now, to what do I owe this honor, Mr. Worthington?" Lawrence asked as he slipped into the more formal tone and dialogue, letting Spike know it was time to state his true reason for calling.
"I’m up in Julian," Spike said.
"I know."
"You know?"
"Yes, I spoke to Edna; my mother yesterday, she said you and a young lady were there."
They paused.
"Does this have something to do with why you’re calling?" Lawrence asked, perceptively.
"Manner of speaking. I’d…I’d like to know how I would go about leaving this house and property…willing it to someone, should something happen to me," Spike said.
"That’s not too difficult. Just a matter of drawing up the paperwork and naming someone," Lawrence said.
Spike hesitated, "Can I name more than one person? I mean, what if we both were to die? Don’t I need another person, persons?"
"Again, not a problem, William, just name who you would first want the house and property and anything else that you have to go to, then list the other names down the line."
"There’s only two people," Spike said.
"One of them the young lady that you’re with?"
"Yes," Spike said, "her and her sister," Spike said.
"No other heirs? Distant family you want to include?" Lawrence asked, already knowing what the answer would more than likely be.
"No, no one else. No family. Just them; they’re family…to me," he said quietly.
"I see."
Spike allowed his mind, for a couple of seconds, to think of a little impossible fantasy; the what ifs. What if he and Buffy had been a normal couple, what if they were really a family…with heirs?
He looked at the house wistfully, then shook his head.
"What happens if everyone dies?" he asked.
"Well, if nobody else is named, the property and house go into probate, which is a fancy way of saying that it would all just go to the state of California, should there be no other beneficiary."
"Bugger that!"
"Pardon?"
"What about after I name the girls, could I name an organization? Can I do that?" Spike asked.
"Perfectly acceptable; done all the time," Lawrence said.
"Good," Spike said, relieved.
"What about the Sierra Club or something like that? Or the Kumeyaay Indians? Probably their land in the first place."
"I can check on those and some others for you. Let you know if they would be willing to receive the house and property as a gift and what possible uses they might have in mind. Sure you don’t want someone building a sub-division on the land," Lawrence chuckled.
"Hell no!"
"Fine, I’ll draw up the paperwork and mail it to you in a couple of weeks," Lawrence said.
"No. It has to be sooner. Much sooner," Spike said.
Lawrence was silent. In all the years he’d know William and his father, he knew not to ask too many questions of them.
"Alright then, right away," Lawrence said.
"I’m giving you temporary power of attorney, like we did that one time. Draw it up, sign my name, then I want you to send it to the address I’m going to give you. I want it in her hands right away," Spike said.
"You know I don’t like to do things this way," Lawrence said, "just for the record."
"I know," Spike answered, "just for the record, but I need you to do this."
"Alright. If you’ll give me the address…"
"Be safe, William," Lawrence said, as he hung up, feeling somewhat unhinged by the conversation.
"You, too, Lawrence. Give my best to the family."
"I will. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything."
"Thank you. I know you will, you always have," Spike said. "Goodbye, Lawrence."
"Goodbye, William," Lawrence said.
"Lawrence was still sitting at his desk, staring off into space, phone in hand when his wife came into his home office.
"Who was that, dear?" she asked.
"Shirley, I just had the strangest call…"
CHAPTER 26 - NIGHTMARES OF DUST
Spike walked back into the house, carrying the heavy wood, but with a big weight lifted off his shoulders.
He heard the water turn off in the bathroom as he was putting the wood down. After starting the fire he went to the kitchen and looked in the refrigerator to see what Edna had sent.
"Buffy," he said, knocking on her door.
"Just getting dressed," she replied.
"I know, just wondered what you wanted for dinner. Edna sent over some more of the what you had for dinner last night, some spaghetti, steaks, clam chowder, champagne…"
"I don’t care, just warm up whatever is easiest for you," she replied, then called to him through the door, "wait, Spike, I can do that when I’m done," Buffy said.
"No, that’s alright. You’re still my guest; I can warm up something. I’m not that daft," he said.
"Okay," she said laughing at the term.
He smiled at her through the door. He’d never known any place to have such warmth as he felt about his 'home,’ right now. He silently thanked Lawrence Sr., for having talked him into building this in the first place.
Spike was standing at the stove, his back to her, stirring something as Buffy walked into the kitchen. She stopped at the doorway to take in the scene: domestic Spike. Nah, make that William. She smiled to herself.
She walked over to where he was and put her arms around him from behind.
"Hi," she said, as she nuzzled his back, "smells good."
"You do, too," he said, as he put down he spoon and rubbed his hands along her arms, as he closed his eyes for a second, inhaling a freshly scrubbed Buffy.
He wanted to turn around, look into her eyes, take her in his arms, but he knew if he did that, she’d never get a chance to eat until much later; they’d be lost in each other again.
"Can I do anything to help?" she asked, luckily killing off the temptation at the right moment.
"Well, if you want to eat in here, then you can set the table. Or, if you want to eat in the living room in front of the fireplace, there’s a sort of low coffee table like thing over against the same wall that has the desk. It’s not too heavy; you could move it in front of the couch and you could have sort of a buffet-style dinner," Spike said.
"I like that idea. I’ll go move it. Oh, and Spike?"
"Huh?" he said turning around as she started to walk out of the room.
"Heavy?"
He just looked at her.
"The table. Heavy? I’ve thrown…" she started to say ‘you,’
but self-corrected in time, "big demons across the room before, think I can
handle a little old table, " she said, laughing.
"I know," Spike said, looking a bit hurt, having caught the pause, "I guess I
just forgot about the Slayer part of you and just was thinking about the woman
part of you. My mistake," he said, turning back to the stove.
Ouch! Great, Buffy, open mouth, insert foot.
She walked back into the kitchen, and once again put her arms around Spike, "I’m so sorry, that came out so wrong, so snotty. I’m sorry Spike, you have no idea how much this weekend has meant to me. Being here, being able to be just a ‘woman,’ for a change. I’m sorry I sounded like such a bitch!"
Spike turned around, "Never," he said, gently kissing her forehead.
She raised her head, looking him in the eyes. Had anyone ever looked at her with such unfaltering love before?
"I’m sorry," she said, kissing him.
"Forgiven," he said, kissing her back, drawing her closer.
"We’d better stop this," she said.
"Umhmmm, we’d better is right, or you won’t be eating anytime soon," Spike said, grinding into her soft, receptive body.
"No, but you would," she said, giggling.
He looked at her with surprise. And lust.
"Naughty girl!" he said, grinning.
She stepped back from his embrace, "I’d better go see about that table," she said.
He nodded at her, licking his lips, "You’d better at that."
Buffy spotted the coffee table and went to move it to in front of the couch. Just before she did, her eye wandered to the desk. She walked over to it and saw a set of colored artist’s drawing pencils, some charcoal drawing pencils, a calligraphy pen, ink, and a drawing book. Looking guiltily back at the kitchen door, she slowly opened the book.
The first picture she saw was of Dru, sitting in what appeared to be a very high backed shell-back shaped chair of red velvet. Her gown was drawn with exquisite detail, red, with gold trim, lace cuffs and neck. She looked very beautiful, Buffy thought. Crazy, but beautiful. It was dated 1910 and signed Spike.
The next few were also of Dru and Darla. There was one of Angel, Darla, and Dru. She looked at Angel, smirking for the picture. Looking at him, she just felt…nothing anymore. Well, maybe friendship, but nothing else, no regrets, no remorse, no pangs of lost love. Nothing.
Satisfied by her own reaction, she continued to turn the pages. She stopped a few pages later when she came to a picture of herself. It was from about the time Spike and her first met. She looked to be about 16, her face still full; a bit of baby fat. Short skirts funky tops.
She continued turning the pages. Some of the pictures she recognized as those she’d torn down a couple of years ago, when she discovered Spike keeping a ‘Buffy’ shrine.
They had been replaced in the book, although not attached any longer. Images he’d drawn of her over the years, whether from looking at her from her bedroom window (big peeping Tom that he was, she thought, smiling) or more likely, from memory.
Buffy through the years.
Suddenly she stopped, her heartbeat quickened as she saw an image of herself in pain, on the bathroom floor, robe half off her shoulder and the words NO! SPIKE! STOP! in huge letters above her pained, fearful expression.
She turned the page. Page after page the same image, the same words; except there were what looked like grains or specks more on each page, until the last page showed the specks all over the page, all over her. The next pages explained why, as these ones showed her with a stake in her hand and a horror-sticken Spike. His face showed the horror of the act he had almost committed. Then the next page showed the same thing, except this time with the stake going into him, him fading just a bit. On and on it went as she turned the pages - more stake, less Spike, more horror…Page after page, until there was nothing left only specks. Only her horror and…dust.
The dates on these pages were right after Spike had left town last summer, before he’d gotten his soul.
Tears ran down Buffy’s face as she looked at the heartbreaking images; pictures of both their nightmares. She didn’t want to see anymore, but she made herself turn the page. There, the last two pictures were of Spike, done in charcoal and looking very much like a tortured Dali composition; face distorted, eyes uneven, mouth opened in a grotesque way, a hideous caricature of the monster he felt he’d become. She looked at the date; it was the end of the summer. Post soul.
She was frozen in place, tears streaming, until she heard him call from the kitchen.
Hurriedly, she wiped her eyes on her sleeve, closed the book, and quietly moved the coffee table.
She went into the kitchen, "Spike, sorry, didn’t hear you," she said, sniffling a bit.
"I just thought you were coming back for the silverware and all that. Hey, what’s wrong?" he asked her suddenly seeing her eyes red and her sniffling.
"Nothing," she answered quickly, putting on a false, cheery smile, "just got too close to the fire, got some smoke in my eyes, up my nose," Buffy said.
He just looked at her in a funny way, "Here’s the table settings and glasses," he said, pointing at the kitchen table.
"Okay," she said, gathering them up.
She was almost out the door when she stopped, "I love you, Spike," she said, not trusting herself to turn around and look at him.
He walked over to her and put his arms around her from behind, "I love you, too Buffy. You know I do, always will," Spike said.
She just nodded, trying to stifle a sniffle.
"What is it? What’s wrong?" he asked her, hugging her tightly, "Did I do something to make you upset? I know that you are, I can feel it, Buffy."
"I’ll be alright, really I will. Just had a momentary thing, okay? Let me go set this table, or I’m never going to get to eat," Buffy said.
"Okay, right," Spike replied, letting her go at the mention of her being hungry.
Buffy walked back into the living room, determined to put those images out of her mind for the rest of the evening. No use ruining the time they had left here with pain from the past. They’d moved past it, had been able to forge something new, especially this weekend, which had been beyond her wildest imaginings.
Most of all, she didn’t want to make Spike relive those days after what had happened between them.
CHAPTER 27 - DINNER
She had just finished setting the coffee table when Spike came out of the kitchen carrying a tray with various dishes of leftovers from Edna’s restaurant.
"Ummm, smells good," Buffy said, coming over to help him. They laid out the different bowls and plates full of food; spaghetti in red wine sauce, shrimp and scallop fettuccini, clam chowder, chicken almondine, red snapper with asparagus and artichoke hearts, and a big rare prime rib.
Spike put another log on the fire. He then pulled a couple of the leather couch cushions onto the floor, covering them with a throw that had been on one of the chairs, "There, comfy and not too cold on the bum," Spike said, pulling the coffee table in closer to the seats.
"God! There’s enough food here for an army!" Buffy said.
"Well, you’re an army of one, so dig in, my girl," Spike said, grinning at Buffy.
"Funny," Buffy said, but started dishing out herself a helping of spaghetti, then she placed the steak on Spike’s plate, "Here you take this," she said.
"Sure you don’t want to try it?" Spike asked.
"No, a little too rare for my tastes, but it really does look good," she said, nodding.
Spike uncorked the one of the bottles of champagne that Edna had sent and poured them each a glass, then raised his glass, "Let’s toast," Spike said.
"What should we toast to?" Buffy asked.
So many things he wanted to say, but then again, they’d all been said, mostly. Other things would have to wait.
Buffy looked at him, expectantly and looking back at her, he knew.
He raised his glass, motioning for her to do the same.
"Hope," Spike said, never taking his eyes off her.
She nodded, liking that very much, "Hope," Buffy replied, clinking glasses with him.
"I think I ate too much," Buffy said, pushing the plate and the remains of the red snapper away from herself.
"I didn’t know that was possible," Spike joked.
"Funny, soon I’ll be Bimbo the Vampire Slayer," she said.
"Never! Although it might be good, if you were me," Spike said, laughing.
"I think it’s fair to say that you get a permanent pass in that department," Buffy said, grinning at her most favored vampire.
"Yeah, guess you’re right about that, pet."
"Do you want some desert?" Spike asked her.
"A world of NO!" Buffy said. "Maybe you could talk me into it later, though," she suggested.
"I can think of lots of other sweet things that I’d like to talk you into later on," Spike said in a low voice, making her legs and thighs immediately get all jelly-like, as her sex twitched just at the thought of him touching her again.
She blushed. He noticed.
"You’re just wicked, you know?" Buffy said to him.
Spike shrugged, grinning, "Vampire, here," he said, motioning to himself.
He got up starting to clear the plates.
"No you don’t, you didn’t let me help you in the kitchen before, so I’ll get this and you get to relax," Buffy said, pushing him back onto the cushion.
He grabbed her, pulling her onto his lap, "You sure that’s what you want to do right now?" he asked, as his mouth nuzzled her neck.
"Don’t wanna relax; want you," Spike murmured, turning his face to kiss her; his tongue lightly exploring her mouth in the way he knew she responded to best.
Buffy groaned, as she kissed him back, wriggling on his lap as she felt his excitement growing underneath her.
"No. Oh, oh, Spike, God," she mumbled, trying to hang onto her quickly fading resolve, "taste so good…oooh…ahhh…no," Buffy said.
She kissed him once more, pushing him onto his back and getting astride him, "Spike, I want you, now, but I’m going to get up anyway and get this cleaned up," she said, as she rubbed her body to his, melting with him.
"Don’t, don’t go," Spike pleaded, looking at her with soulful blue eyes.
"Let me do this, then I’m all yours the rest of the night," she said between kisses and rising passions, "promise, all yours," Buffy said, forcing herself to get up.
"You drive a hard bargain," Spike said, in a voice dripping with sensuality.
Buffy put the dishes and other dinner things on the tray, willing her legs to stop feeling like jelly, her breath to slow.
She looked down at him lying back against the couch; sexy, languid, half-closed eyes watching her body move, a slight smirk to his mouth.
"Spike, you look like the cat that just ate the canary," Buffy said, laughing.
"Almost, bird, almost," he said, arching one eyebrow, grinning like the Cheshire cat.
She blushed, again as her body reacted to the suggestive words.
"You’re incorrigible, Mr. Worthington," she said, laughing, picking up the tray, "now be a good boy and clean up in here," she commanded, as she walked toward the kitchen, grinning.
She’d never known a man who could ooze sensuality and sexuality like Spike could. It could either be like he was right now - slow and languid, or hard and powerful, dangerous.
Wicked energy, indeed!
She had to admit it; she’d always been attracted to him, from the first time she saw him, throughout the years. Yeah, she’d wanted to ‘dance,’ alright, but they’d nearly destroyed themselves with the ‘dance,’ last year. She sighed, glad that was behind them, finally, hopefully.
Starting the water in the sink to do the dishes she thought of everything, every idea that had been upended in her neat and tidy way of thinking about things.
It was William who built this house, William who helped Edna, intervened and saved both Lawrence and Clem. William had always been inside of Spike, she now realized. More than just the remnants and memories of the man inside the demon. And now that he had his soul back, was it reversed? Instead of a bit of man inside the monster, it was a bit of the monster inside the man? She realized she really didn’t care anymore. She’d used his lack of a soul, as the reason she could never love him. But it wasn’t his lack of a soul. He’d loved her, fought for her, been there for her and Dawn…she just hadn’t wanted to see that he was still a man, it flew in the face of all she’d been taught.
William? Spike? It didn’t matter they both loved her and she loved them both, too. She couldn’t imagine one without the other.
Spike got up and moved the bottle and glasses off the table and onto the floor. He picked up the table and carried it back to it’s spot against the wall. As he put it down, something on the desk caught his eye and he was about to go over to it, when he remembered he’d better check in with the gang back at Hellmouth Central. He felt guilty, he’d told Buffy he would do so every hour on the hour, yet he knew he hadn’t exactly been keeping to the schedule and she’d seemed to forget, as well.
As the computer was warming up, he walked quietly to the kitchen door and opened it a couple of inches. Buffy’s back was to him, as she washed the dishes. He didn’t know why, but the sight of her, in his kitchen, doing dishes gave him such a warm feeling. He knew she’d hate being thought of as, ‘domestic,’ but it was more than that. It was, "Right stirring," is what it was!
He walked quietly up behind her, grabbing her suddenly in a tight hug.
She jumped a little, then relaxed, feeling Spike’s lips near her ear, "Do you know how sexy you look to me right now?"
"Doing dishes?" she asked.
"Yeah," he answered.
"Men! You’re all sick! Want a woman to cook and clean…" she said.
"Hey, you didn’t cook, if you remember, missy!" Spike said, "besides, maybe it’s just that your little hiney is facing me, and you know I can’t resist that…" he said, kissing her ear and pulling her backside towards him, as he pushed his groin forward.
He gave her one more, hard thrust against the counter, making her groan, "I just came to tell you that I’m going to dial-up Sunnydale, if you need to check your email or IM Willow or anyone," Spike said.
"Be right there," Buffy said, smiling, pushing him reluctantly away so she could finish.
She heard him laughing as he went out the door. He knew the effect he was having on her this weekend, "Well, it’s mutual!" she smiled smugly.
When she came out to the living room, Spike was sitting on the couch with the laptop, checking out the different scenes from the cameras at home.
She sat down next to him and he clicked for her, they laughed at seeing Andrew, doing the same thing she had just been doing - washing dishes, except he was wearing an apron.
"Your guestage, busy earning his keep," Spike said, laughing.
"He’s not really a bad cook at all, cleans the place pretty well, too," Buffy said.
Spike nodded.
"Little boy…" he said, shaking his head, "should be out playing with other little girls, or boys, in his case," Spike said, in a funny sort of manner.
"What else do we have?" Buffy asked.
Spike showed her Willow sitting in the living room with her computer. Xander was there also, and Anya.
"Spike, let me have the computer, I want to talk to Willow," Buffy said.
He handed her the computer.
Slayer1: Willow?
Wicca1: Buffy?
Wicca1: was just was going to see if you were online
Slayer1: here I am
Wicca1: how’s your day been?
Slayer1: really great: walk in the woods, brunch with Clem, dinner, etc…
Wicca1: Clem’s with you guys?
Slayer1: not exactly, but close by
Wicca 1: sounds nice
Slayer1: ummhmmm
Wicca1: what’s the ETC. ???
Slayer1: never-you-mind!
Slayer1: how’s everything at home?
Wicca1: been quiet, Dawn will be home tomorrow evening
Slayer1: good, so will we
Wicca1: when?
She looked at Spike a little sadly, who was looking over as she typed, "What time do you think we’ll leave here?" she asked him.
"Whenever you want luv," he said, looking at her, "but if we don’t have to hurry back in broad daylight, then we could leave around 6:00 or 7:00 and still be back fairly early."
Buffy nodded, "Sounds like a plan," then she added, sort of wistfully, "wish we could stay…"
"Know luv," Spike said, nodding, "me, too."
He put his arm around her, kissing her cheek.
Slayer1: Willow?
Wicca1: yeah?
Slayer1: be back around 8:00 or 9:00
Wicca1: good
Slayer1: ok, that’s all from here
Wicca1: wherever ‘here’ is
Slayer1: wherever…
Slayer1: tell everyone hi
Wicca1: ok bye Buffy, have fun
Slayer1: I will, thanks, luv ya
Wicca1: bye, luv you, too
Buffy handed the computer and phone to Spike and he shut them down.
Buffy snuggled, up to Spike, putting her head on his shoulder. He put his arm around her, and with their fingers entwined, they watched the fire in the fireplace in contented silence for a while.
Content.
"Want to do anything, luv?" he asked her after about 45 minutes just sitting together.
"I dunno. This is nice," Buffy replied, reaching up to give his cheek a kiss.
"Love you," he whispered, kissing the top of her head.
"Love you, too, Spike," she said.
CHAPTER 28 - INTO ASHES
Another half hour passed in silence.
"What you thinking about?" Spike asked Buffy.
"Trying not to, well, sort of," she said, leaning forward a bit, "always have to be thinking it seems, so this is nice, just to 'be,' she said, turning to look at him.
He nodded. He knew what she meant; what she always was having to deal with.
He drew her back close to him, her legs curled up under her as she sat with his arm still around her.
He had brought her here so she could have a break, a mini-vacation, a time of relaxation, yet he'd realized that he'd never had as much pure unadulterated joy his whole life, as he'd felt in this time they'd been together. He couldn't even put it into words, didn't even want to try for fear of the 'but,' that must inevitably come at the end of this experience. And so he didn't try, just held her close to him, while he still could, held her heart in his heart, held her hands in his, claimed a bit of her love as his own, as much as she was willing to give him, for now.
"I wish..."Buffy started to say.
"What luv? What do you wish?" Spike said to her softly.
"I wish I had brought a camera, wish I could have taken some pictures of all this, wish I could..."she mused, "but somehow, now that I'm saying it aloud, it doesn't quite seem right to have a camera here at all. It's too modern, or something."
Spike laughed, "Oh, so now I have you all spoiled from modern-day living, is it?"
"No, it's just that this is private, yours, you and me here together," she said.
She felt him tense up and knew he'd taken it the wrong way.
"Spike, I don't mean we're a secret," she said, turning to face him, "not anymore, never again! What I meant is that this, here, I wouldn't want to share this with anybody else. This place, this weekend is only for my heart, mine and yours," she turned to sit on her legs, so she was sitting sideways on the couch, now. She put her arms around him and kissed Spike slow and tenderly.
He kissed her back, then gave a small smile as he thought of something, "Buffy, got an idea, let me up, pet," he said, surprising her.
He walked over to the desk before she knew what he was doing. Her heart started to pound as he stopped suddenly, his back becoming rigid, trembling ever so slight.
She got up and walked over to him, grabbed his arm and turned him around, "I want you to burn them!" she said forcefully.
He just looked at her, pain, shame, fear in his face.
"Spike," she said, softly reaching up to touch his face, "I saw them. I'm sorry I looked; before when I was moving the table.
He nodded, remembering how she'd been upset before dinner, now he knew why.
"They're so awful, those pictures - of me, us, last summer. They're not only your nightmare, but they're my worst nightmares," Buffy said.
Tears welled up in his eyes as the shame hit him head on, like a two by four, he started shaking.
"NO! That's not what I mean," she raised her voice, shaking him by both arms, "God Spike, don't you know what I mean?" she asked, voice soft now.
He shook his head.
"Oh Spike," she said, walking away, crumpling to the ground in an Indian position in front of the couch, her head hung over as tears streamed down her face.
Shocked, Spike walked over, holding onto the drawing pad and sat down across from her and took her hands in his.
She looked up, still crying at his confused face, "My nightmare isn't so much what happened in the bathroom, as it's of losing you Spike, losing you forever, of you 'fading away,' turning to dust."
"Oh, Buffy," he said, not trusting himself to say anymore.
"Spike," she said, pleading; taking his hands, "you’ve got so many lovely pictures you’ve drawn in here…burn these, Spike! They’re not who we are, they’re only nightmares. I don’t want to see these nightmares anymore, don’t want you to see these nightmares anymore, please, Spike. Make me something new; beautiful, draw me something I can keep…Please, baby!"
He’d been rubbing the tops of her hands with his thumbs, at hearing her call him, ‘baby,’ he looked up at her and smiled a little, nodded.
He handed her the drawing pad, "Go ahead, Buffy, take them out."
Trying hard not to look at them again, she found the first one and the last one and tore them and all those in between out of the book.
She handed them to him. Spike got up and pulled her up with him. They walked over to the fireplace and he put the first one into the fire. He handed the next one to her and she did the same.
And so they took turns, each one of them letting go of both their nightmares, reducing them to ashes.
CHAPTER 29 - SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL
Buffy held the last one, she tore it, giving half to Spike, and they both put their halves into the fire, watched as they burned away; their nightmares and past sins, until all that was left was them.
Spike took her hand, as she turned to face him, "Now make me something beautiful!"
He smiled at her bossiness, "Ok, what do you want? I was going to draw a picture from something here; this place, since you didn’t have a camera," he said.
"That’d be wonderful!" she said, once again, feeling a sense of well-being.
Spike sat down on the floor in front of the couch, "What’s your pleasure?"
Buffy smiled back and sort of grinned in a lascivious way.
He cocked his eyebrow at her, "Not talking that, luv," he said grinning back, "what would you like me to draw?"
She shrugged, "Surprise me."
"Tell you what, I'll draw something while you think about what you'd really like."
A few minutes later he tore off the top sheet and handed it to her. She laughed, it was a picture of Snowman Spike.
"Very funny, but it's a start. Okay, how about a picture of the woods, the trail on the way to Clem's house?"
"Okay," he smiled, a playful glint in his eyes and got to work.
About 10 minutes later, he handed her the pad. It was a picture of the trail and in greater detail was 'The Tree,' next to it, was a boot, and very faintly against the bark was the outline of a woman's body; hers.
Buffy laughed, "I love it! I didn't even think about that when I mentioned the trail, but this is perfect. Can I have it to take home?" she asked.
Spike nodded and she tore the page from the book.
"Tell me, Buffy, if you’d had that camera, what would’ve taken a picture of at the Hot Springs?" Spike asked her.
She looked at him, heart warmed, by the memories of how wonderful a place it had been.
"Well, I would take a picture of you trying to float, but..." she said laughing.
Spike groaned, "May need some more incentive in that department, pet," he said rolling his eyes.
Buffy giggled remembering exactly what that incentive had been.
"I can’t decide," she said.
"Close your eyes and pretend you’re there at the Hot Springs," Spike instructed, "now, what do you see? What do you take a picture of?"
Buffy closed her eyes, "I take a picture of the room, the light, the water in the pool. I see the table and umbrella, even the chairs and the lemonade," she said, fondly remembering her ‘day at the beach.’
"Okay, good. What else?" Spike asked.
Buffy flushed. Spike smiled to himself, noticing; sniffing the air ever so slightly as synapses of Buffy' physical memories gave way to little detectible and delecitble molecular identifiers.
"I'll tell you afterwards," she said, looking at him in a way that made him want to take her right then and there. God he loved her!
She sat on the couch, behind him and watched him expertly draw in the details of her memories of that day. He was so good at drawing, she'd had no idea.
"Spike?"
"Um?"
"Are there other drawings that you have, besides in this pad?" she asked.
"No, luv, only these. Why?"
"It's just that you're so good, Spike. I figured you might have had a whole stash of them somewhere."
"Didn't really do it very often, luv. Mostly when I was up here."
"You didn't have any of your subjects pose for you, then?"
"No, all from memory," Spike said, taking a moment to look back at her, "why?"
"It's just they're so rich, so full of detail, I thought you must have..."
"Dru, Darla, Angel...they would have laughed. Well, maybe not Darla, she was sort of vain. Dru, who knows? Just thought it best I kept this to myself," he said, going back to the drawing.
It made her sad to think of him having kept this gift to himself.
"It was more William, than Spike, you know," he said, as if reading her mind, "William...well, you know...William only occassionally came out while I was here, mostly."
He handed her the pad, and there in color, better than any photograph was the Hot Springs, the walls, the points of lights on the floor as they fell from above, the table, chaises, umbrella, and even her lemonade. She could almost feel the steam as it rose from the water.
"Thank you," she said, putting her hand to his face.
He kissed her palm and snuggled into her hand, warm against his cheek.
"What else, my love?" he asked her.
"I...I want a picture of us, of me sitting on the edge of the Hot Spring, after you lifted me up. And you, when you were standing in the water, hugging me; your face in my chest, but I want to see you..." she said, her voice evoking the emotions the memories now held for her.
"Buffy," Spike said, setting down the pad and raising up on his knees, hugging her in a way, reminiscent of that; head to chest, "I love you so much," he said, as she pulled his head up, reaching down to kiss his full lips. Her hair fell across his face as he kissed her back, as he drank in the scent of all of her.
He moved his head back to between her breasts as they both relived the moments they'd shared today. He could smell her excitement as he rubbed against her breasts, feel her nipples harden under his cheek.
"God Buffy, I'm never going to get this done, if I don't stop. Wanna ravish you here, right now, luv. Wanna..."
She stopped him from talking further by kissing him passionately, as they both groaned into each other, "Want you, too. William. Spike. All of who you are, love you, love you..."she said, but then stopped the kiss before it could go any further.
"Draw it for me," she begged.
Moaning, Spike sighed, and sat back on the floor. It was like an aphrodisiac for them, the talking about today, the memories. He smiled to himself, knowing they'd have new ones by the morning, as well.
"Slave driver!" he said to her.
She laughed, then quietly asked, "How do you know what you look like?"
He turned around, looking at her funny.
"I mean, you can't see yourself in a mirror. I never much thought about it before but everyday I see myself, get a picture, an image of what I look like. Or I can look back at old photos, or those pictures you drew of me, when I was younger and see myself then and now. How do you imagine yourself on a day to day basis, without the visual?"
"I don't know, Buffy. How does a blind person envision themselves? Obviously, it's more than just a visual thing I use to have a sense of self. It's how I feel, it's tactile, odors, taste, reactions of others, all those things..."
"Back in the late 70's, in New York, I had a street artist down in Hell's Kitchen draw a picture of me, sketched it. I had just gotten into dying my hair and wanted to know what it looked like. I was really sort of shocked when I first saw it. I hadn't seen myself in about 90 years, and though I knew I didn't look like the nancy-boy I used to look like, I never imagined such a radical difference. I liked it, liked the look, so decided to keep it."
Buffy laughed and Spike gave her a dirty look over his shoulder.
"No, no! I like it, too. Just...it wouldn't be you without your white hair. But I like it right now, too. A lot. All softer," she said, running her hands through his naturally curly, ungelled hair. It's nice when it's like this, too," she said, sweetly.
"For you, I'll wear it like this. Here. Back home, I think it's better I look like the Big Bad, don't you, pet?"
She leaned over to kiss his ear, "Probably. I like this though, it's a change."
"Figured you'd think of as my 'crazy Spike,' hair," he said, referring to when she'd first seen him in the school basement after the summer.
"Not so crazy," she said, kissing the side of his head.
"You'd better stop that, Buffy, if you want this picture," he warned.
"Okay, okay," Buffy said, relenting, "I'll leave you to it and go get that other bottle from the refrigerator."
Spike just nodded, absorbed in his drawing.
A few minutes later he smiled when he heard her swear as the cork went flying, hitting something metallic.
Buffy came back from the kitchen in a few minutes carrying a fresh, cold bottle of champagne and two clean glasses.
"Almost done," he said to her, "no peeking!"
"I'll be good," she said, sitting down right in front of the fireplace, with Spike behind her about 6 feet.
She heard him mumble under his breath, heard the edge of an eraser being rubbed against the paper.
A couple of minutes later, he scooted up to her and handed her the drawing pad.
She stared at herself sitting on the edge of the pool, arms around Spike, who stood hugging her in an embrace that she could almost feel. His face was turned outward, toward the 'audience,' but still between her breasts; a look of deep love in his eyes that she would have recognized anywhere as his and his alone. Her arms were around his back, her eyes half open, half closed; love and ecstacy written on her features.
"It's beautiful," she said, a tear running down her cheek, "it's so real; just like I felt," she said, looking at him.
"Thank you. For this, for everything Spike."
Spike put his hand on her cheek and gazed into her eyes; the eyes of the woman who had made a man out of a monster.
"It's all about you, Buffy, always has been," he said, and pulled her to him.