Author: Kat Lee
Character/Pairing: Spike/Buffy, past Angel/Buffy, past Angel/Cordelia
Challenge/Prompt: nekid_spike: Pretty as a Picture
Warning(s): Cannon Character Death
Word Count: 1,509
Date Written: 28 August 2018
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Whedon, not the author, and are used without permission.
Spike glowered at the picture Angel was drawing. Yet again he was wasting his time focusing on the amazing, beautiful woman they both loved but who was going to choose him in the end. Angel had only been her beginning; he was, as the kids would call it, her “endgame”. It didn’t matter how many hours Angel spent oogling her from afar or trying to replicate her beauty in his drawn lines; she was not going to choose him.
But then, if he was honest with himself, he feared, in the end, she would choose neither of them. She would probably end up with some “normal” bloke like that blasted Riley who she had allowed to break her heart. She was the Slayer, after all, the best Slayer there’d ever been or ever would be, and they were both Vampires. There was so much they could never give her that a normal guy could.
He had also argued in the past that a normal guy could never understand her like they could, but the simple fact of the matter was that a normal, human guy was not likely to turn or revert back to being evil, like either of them were. They were still bloodsuckers even if they now choose to sip their blood out of plastic bags. Angel still had his curse, and Spike knew that Buffy doubted he could ever become, let alone stay, completely good.
She didn’t understand how much she had changed him, and although he’d tried time and again to prove it to her, he doubted she’d ever understand that he was a completely different person now. It didn’t even seem to matter to her that, unlike Angel who had been cursed with the thing, he had deliberately gone out and earned the return of his soul to make himself more close to actually being worthy of her -- not that he could be worthy of her. No man, even when she finally finished “baking” and ended up married to one, could ever be worthy of her.
“You’re wasting your time,” he growled at Angel.
“What?” Angel asked, looking up in surprise. He glanced back down at the portrait he was crafting and frowned. “I thought I was doing pretty good.”
“You drew her nose too big, and you can’t capture the light of her eyes.” He flounced out of the room, passing through the wall and remembering, with no small amount of pain to his heart and soul, that that was yet another thing that stood in between him ever being able to claim Buffy as his forever mate. She was his forever, though, he knew even if she never learned to love him back as she should. There would never be another for him. He loved her more than he’d ever loved anyone, even Dru, and there was no turning back from the man he’d become for her.
Just like there was no capturing her beauty with a wooden stick merely tracing lines, he thought sourly as he stalked into his room and picked up his own notepad and pencil. He threw himself down onto his bed and started writing. He stopped, reread his words, crumpled the page, and tossed it across the room. He tried again and again, always with the same result. He found himself chewing his pencil a half hour later as he glared down at the words he’d most recently written, Your beauty is like --
But that was just the thing, wasn’t it? He realized, yanking the pencil out of his mouth. Buffy’s beauty was unlike anything he’d ever witnessed in all his centuries. A genuine smile from her eclipsed the sun, the moon, even the very stars. There was no wonder Angel couldn’t capture her beauty with his sketching, or that Spike himself could not capture it with poetry. He couldn’t even write how he felt about her and have it come close to the real thing.
He smirked. That was why actions always spoke louder than words. He couldn’t tell her, but he could show her, once he was able to make his form solid again and reunited with her. He couldn’t go back to her now, not yet, not when Fred hadn’t found him a cure yet, but once he was solid, he would track her down, prove his undying love to her once and for all, and make damn certain she not only finished “baking” but chose him when she was done. He grinned, tossed his notepad across his bed, and leaned back, his arms folding behind his head.
The problem, of course, was that he kept leaning back. He passed through the headboard and through the mattress and started to fall through the floor itself. “Bloody Hell! Sod it all!” he snapped, yanking himself back up. Maybe Angel was right; maybe he didn’t need a bed yet.
Jumping to his feet, Spike prowled for several, long minutes through his room before walking through another wall. This time, he headed for Fred’s laboratory. The girl’s intellect was even greater than Giles’ and Willow’s in some aspects. There had to be a cure for his condition, and she had to find it for him. He passed through her door unannounced.
“Spike!” Fred exclaimed, jumping back from her table with a hand over her heart. “You scared the bejeezus out of me!”
“I have that effect on people.” He smirked down at her, but his heart wasn’t in it.
She saw right through him, as she seemed to have the uncanny ability to do. “Brooding over Buffy again, huh?”
He stopped and looked at her in surprise. She leaned back over her microscope and peered through its lense. Without looking back up at him, she told him, “Don’t act so surprised. You have the same look on your face that Angel always has when he’s thinking about her or Cordy.”
“So he did get a thing going with the cheerleader!”
“Actually, no. He should have. They should have. But they never did.” She sighed like it was the saddest story she’d ever known.
“Tell me about it,” he said eagerly. He grinned as she began to fill him in on Angel’s second love and Spike realized that Angel had already moved on from Buffy although he kept going back to her. He grinned from ear to ear as Fred related the story of everything that she knew that had happened between Angel and Cordelia.
Angel had moved on, Spike thought triumphantly, and that just proved his point. Of the two of them, he was the one who truly loved Buffy. He’d never move on from her. There was no moving on from her. He loved her, and he always would.
But would she ever learn to love him in return? Spike pondered, his face once again falling. Fred was too absorbed in her work and her best friends’ love story to notice the expression on Spike’s face. She kept babbling, and he kept letting her talk though he was no longer really listening. His attention was still on Buffy and the fear that she would never choose him even though he loved her with all his being.
Weren’t soul mates supposed to be two parts of the same whole? he thought. There was no doubt in his mind that Buffy was his soul mate, so surely that must mean that he was hers. But even if she could learn to love him, he could never be worthy of her. Soul or no soul, he could never be worthy of her love. She was far prettier than any picture after all, her courage far beyond that of any other heroine in any other legend, and her love . . .
Her love was the ultimate thing for which he and Angel would always keep reaching, he realized, for, after all, had it not been Buffy’s face that Angel had been trying to draw and not Cordelia’s? It didn’t matter though. Neither of them would ever be worthy of her. She would never choose either of them in the end. He didn’t know who she’d choose eventually, but it wouldn’t be them. They were monsters, and she was the very best of the best, the most golden, glorious, wonderful thing God had ever created.
Spike sighed. He turned from Fred, who was still babbling and didn’t even look up. He walked out of her lab and just kept walking. It didn’t matter where he was going. Nowhere he went and nothing he did could ever change the simple fact that Buffy would never love him as he loved her. He sighed, his shoulders slumping, and only looked up when he heard Angel throwing things. Yeah, she’d never love either of them, and what he’d declared so long ago still rang true: He wasn’t Dru’s bitch, but he would always be Buffy’s. Of all the things he and Angel had in common, the greatest was their love for Buffy and the simple fact that they would always, always be love’s bitches.