Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Challenge/Prompt: nekid_spike Song/Fic Prompt: Sixpence None The Richer's Kiss Me
Word Count: 1,386
Date Written: 24 July 2018
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Whedon, not the author, and are used without permission.
He was surprised to find her waiting for him under the silver moonlight in a dress. It was a simple, little, white number that looked like it had never before been worn. It could almost resemble a wedding dress, but he knew it wasn’t Joyce’s old dress that Buffy had once wished she would wear one day. What he didn’t know was that this very dress had been stashed at the back of her closet since she’d been sixteen, waiting for the perfect guy, the perfect dance, and the perfect night, all of which she’d finally come to accept she wasn’t going to get.
She didn’t say anything. She didn’t argue; she didn’t fuss. She didn’t talk about the current pending apocalypse or the villains they had to defeat. She just walked up to him, took his hands in hers, and tugged him out into the empty park. He must have had questions in his eyes, because she gave him the answers he sought without either of them having to speak. She placed one of his hands onto the small of her back and lifted his other hand, clasping hers to it and entwining their fingers together.
Spike started to sway with her though there was no music playing. She laid her head against his chest, and when she finally looked up, he swallowed hard because he could see all the pain and longing right there in her beautiful eyes. This was what she wanted more than anything else in the world -- not him necessarily, but a normal night with a normal man and a normal love. His heart ached, and he wondered if it would still have been able to beat if he had been human, a human man like she deserved.
He pressed her gently to him and hoped silently that none of their enemies chose this night and this moment to attack them. He had never known anyone like Buffy. He had never known anyone so good. She wasn’t normal. She was far better than normal, but she deserved everything for which she yearned. He felt like a piece of his very being had been ripped out with the way she’d looked at him a moment ago. All he could do now was close his eyes, dance with her, and hope nothing interrupted them.
He felt her dancing slow and opened his eyes again. He looked down and found her looking up at him. He swallowed hard again. There was no way in Heaven or Hell he deserved this woman, and yet, at least for tonight, she had chosen him. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. As he kissed her, his tongue sweeping in and out of her mouth, she began to move again, and he resumed dancing with her because that, for whatever reason he could not yet understand, was what she wanted.
They swayed together underneath the milky twilight. His hands did as she requested with her silent pleas, and his mouth and tongue were equally eager to please. She didn’t want to be loved tonight, but she wanted to be loved. To his surprise, there was more passion flitting between them now than there had been even during the times they’d taken an entire building down. It threatened to overpower him, but he wasn’t about to leave her. He wasn’t about to run like a coward.
He would always do anything and everything within his power to give her what she wanted, and what she was asking for tonight wasn’t something huge or terrible. It was something very easily given, for the most part. He couldn’t make a normal woman, or himself a normal guy, but he could pretend that they were normal, that their lives were normal, that their love was simply that of a normal couple. He didn’t understand why she wanted normalcy, but he knew she’d always craved it. When he’d been human, he’d wanted nothing more than to be special and to be loved in a special, powerful way, but she wanted just the opposite. She yearned for normalcy -- she always had since she’d been called to be the Slayer, she’d confessed to him one night prior --, and he would do anything within his power to grant her what he could of her fondest wish, even if he didn’t understand it.
A part of him wanted to remind her that she was so much more than just a normal girl. She was also so much more than just the Slayer. She truly was one of a kind, more powerful, stronger, and passionate than any Slayer before her. She had changed history already, and she was far from done. He knew the Slayers and their Watcher Council would never be the same again after her, but he hoped it was a long, long time before anyone saw the full impact she would have on them and on the world.
As for himself, he wasn’t normal, but he was far from being better than a normal guy. Hell, he wasn’t even fit to kiss her feet, let alone to hold her close like this. He was a monster, a killer, unworthy of her and her love, and no matter how hard he tried, he knew he could never change that fact. He could never make himself worthy of her. She was far too good for him, for Angel, for any man, normal or not.
He held her so tightly that he almost crushed her to him. He could hear music now, and he knew the rhythm in which he guided their swaying bodies was the pounding of her own heartbeat. Her head had moved to rest again his chest, and their hands clenched together as though silently daring the world to try to pull them apart. She lifted her head suddenly and looked up at him, her green eyes full of alert and complicated matters. He expected an attack, but he didn’t expect her to release his hands and shove him gently but forcibly away from her.
“Buffy -- “ Her name creaked out of his throat. He knew he couldn’t deserve her, but why was she pushing him away this time?
“The sun,” she told him instead of saying all the things she truly wanted to say. “It’s coming. If you don’t go now, it will be here before you can get home.”
He glanced up at the sky, saw how it was growing lighter, and nodded quickly. Licking his lips, he looked back at her and again saw all the longing in her face. He stepped closer, a part of him wanting to stay with her in this moment even if it did turn him to dust. But dust couldn’t stay with her even as well as he could, and it certainly couldn’t love her like a man. He wrapped his arms around her again quickly and kissed her forehead. “I will always do everything I can for you,” he vowed, and then he finally broke and ran.
Buffy watched him go, smiling wistfully through the tears that misted in her eyes. She had finally realized what she had do to save Dawn. Death was her gift; she had to give her life to save her sister’s. She would do so gladly, but she still had a few, cherished dreams left and a few nights yet in which to make them a reality. That was why she’d pulled this dress she’d kept for years out of the very back of her closet. It was why she had dressed in it and come to Spike the way she had tonight.
He’d never been her dream guy, but tonight, after the way he’d held her and touched her so reverently, she could almost believe that he could have made her dreams come true if they’d only had a little more time. It was also enough to break her heart again as she headed back home, back to the life she had been given but never wanted, back to her sister who Fate and the monks had given her and who she would never willingly give up, and back, ultimately, to her final plans to save her sister and the world for which she’d always been destined, rather she liked it or not, to die saving.