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15 October 2013 @ 10:43 am
I Wanna Tell You How it's Gonna Be  
I Wanna Tell You How it's Gonna Be
Spike/Buffy
Rated G
A short post-NFA ficlet written for my lovely beta Slaymesoftly.





He hesitated, his hand hovering in the air as his doubts assailed him once again. Giving himself a firm mental shake, he steeled himself and knocked. The sharp rap of knuckles against wood was followed by the interminable silence as he waited for a response.

He turned away, relief and disappointment warring within him as he resolved to come back another day. The soft creak of un-oiled hinges halted him in his tracks, and his breath caught in his chest as his senses reeled with her presence.

“Spike?”

The hope and uncertainty in her whispered query were more than he’d dared wish for and he turned slowly, his eyes desperately drinking in the sight of her.

“H’lo, love.” He smiled warily.

“You... you’re alive?” Buffy stepped forward, her hand rising of its own accord to touch him. “You’re real?” she asked quietly.

“Well, don’t know about ‘alive’,” he quipped nervously. “But, yeah.”

His arms were suddenly filled with a warm, sniffling slayer and he closed them around her, his eyes drifting shut as he breathed in her presence.

“How?” she asked eventually.

“’S a long story, pet.” He looked at her quizzically, a small frown creasing his brow as his eyes bored intently into hers. “The boy never told you, then?” he asked after a moment.

“Boy?”

Buffy stepped back out of his embrace and looked up at him, confusion creasing her features, and he had to fight hard to resist the urge to kiss that cute little nose.

“Watcher-junior. Andrew,” he clarified.

“Andrew knew you were alive? But you didn’t tell me?” Buffy’s lip quivered oh-so-slightly and Spike felt his undead heart clutch at her obvious distress.

“I’m sorry, love,” he spoke quietly. “I... it’s a long story, Buffy. Can I...” He nodded towards her door. “Do you mind if we take this somewhere a little more private?” he asked, his eyes flicking to the neighbouring window and the half-drawn curtain that indicated they had an audience.

“Private? In there?” Buffy asked with a laugh. “Come on.” She grabbed his hand, and after reaching behind her with her free hand to close the door, she tugged gently and led him down the street.

“So tell me,” she urged as they walked, her thumb unconsciously stroking the back of his hand as her mind raced to catch up with the reality of a very much alive, or at least un-dusty, Spike.

He started slowly; telling her about showing up in Angel’s office seemingly only moments after she’d left him in the Hellmouth. He felt her hand tighten reflexively at the reminder and he squeezed gently in return before continuing.

He was amazed by her silence. Although he could see by her face that she had a million questions bubbling around in that brain of hers, she held her tongue and let him finish his story. At some point they had arrived at a small park, little more than a patch of green with a tree and a bench. Buffy had pulled him down onto the bench as he talked and then sat patiently listening to his tale, her emotions flitting clearly across her face for anyone who knew her well enough to read them. The whole time she’d kept a firm hold of his hand, her thumb continuing its soothing rhythm against his skin. Sometime in the last year his slayer had learnt patience, and while he was sure it would take a little getting used to and he knew he would miss her former impulsiveness, he couldn’t help but think that this new maturity sat well on her.

He waited silently for her response, watching the rapid flick of her eyes as she absorbed his tale.

“You didn’t believe me,” she finally stated. “I thought maybe you’d just said that, you know, to get me to leave—but you really didn’t believe me.” There was no question in her voice, no hurt, or anger; just a simple statement of fact.

“That’s it?” Spike asked with an amazed snort. “I tell you that the love of your life is decorating some alley in LA and that’s all you have to say?” He shook his head, not really sure what he’d been expecting. Tears, maybe? Anger? Solve-everything action-Buffy?

The warmth of her hand gently cupping his cheek, her fingers stroking softly as her thumb traced across his lip drew him from his reverie. And he looked up to see her tear-filled eyes staring in wonder at his face.

“The love of my life is sitting right here in front of me, one hundred percent solid and completely dust-free. And just as stupid as ever,” she added with a pout.

His lips were on hers before he realised he’d moved, his fingers twining in her long golden tresses. Her body melted against him as she returned his kiss almost feverishly. Her strong hands clutched at his back, fists bunching in the leather as if she were scared he’d try to leave.

They eventually pulled apart, each gasping for breath, her forehead resting against his chest and his hands still tangled in her hair.

“I am sorry to hear about Angel,” she told him quietly. “But I’d rather it was him than you.” She looked up, swallowing hard and blinking back tears as she held his gaze. “I’m sorry you didn’t believe me—that I didn’t give you any reason to believe me,” she added sadly. “But I did mean it, Spike. I love you.” Her voice caught as she spoke and she offered a small self-deprecating smile. “I’m just not so good with the word thing. I’m more action-girl,” she added before taking his hand once more and pulling him off the bench. “Come home with me?” she asked. “That’s if you can handle living in a house filled with teenaged slayers, not to mention the occasional watcher-in-training. You know, the usual deal; no food in the house ‘cause no sooner do you buy it than the appetites on legs find it and devour it all, never any hot water, loud music, way too much giggling and screaming, not to mention all that teenage angst.” She rolled her eyes before sobering and smiling uncertainly. “But it’s home, and you’re welcome to share it, you know, with me, if you want to that is...” she finished.

Spike chuckled affectionately at her uncertainty. “I’d live in a tent in the middle of the bleedin’ Sahara ‘s long as you were there,” he told her, pressing a light kiss to her forehead before continuing, “Lead the way, pet.”

the end
 
 
( 5 comments — Leave a comment )
velvetwhip: Shannon Spuffyvelvetwhip on October 15th, 2013 01:25 am (UTC)
This is really terrific!

I am so delighted to see you here posting fic! *hugs* I have missed you!


Gabrielle
slaymesoftlyslaymesoftly on October 15th, 2013 02:01 pm (UTC)
*happy smile*
Elsa: leviayinhara on October 15th, 2013 03:59 pm (UTC)
A very Spuffy story, wonderful!
treadingthedarktreadingthedark on October 15th, 2013 06:53 pm (UTC)
Lovely. The way it should have been!
JaniceO.comlodge on October 18th, 2013 07:35 am (UTC)
Lovely little bit of Spuffy. Thank you. :D
( 5 comments — Leave a comment )