Written for Angstchic's birthday, and fondly dedicated to her.
Once upon a time...
The streets were filled with music, laughter and excitement, but all
Buffy could hear was Spike’s laugh, and she longed to see this
beautiful smile she had had the pleasure to see more and more often in
the past few months. Right now however, these delicious lips that she
hadn’t kissed in what seemed like forever – was it only a couple of
hours? – were hidden beneath the gleaming silver of a porcelain mask.
They had been in Venice for a few days already. He had wanted to show
her the town, show her everything, before the tsunami of tourists
flowed in. He had, and she had loved it. Not only because Venice was
such a surreal city, lost between centuries and worlds, but also
because he was obviously so delighted to see her discover it all. Small
back alleys that had so much more charm than the large, commercial
ones. Shops that catered to Venetians, not tourists. A few times, she
had caught a frown on his face, as if something wasn’t there that he
had expected. There had been some thrilled smiles too, particularly
when they had found this traditional masks shop. She had itched to ask
questions, more than once, but had decided not to. This time was
theirs, and so was the town. The past mattered very little now, all
that was important was them.
He slipped to the side of the street, out of the costumed flow, his
hand tightly holding hers, and pulling her close until she was in his
arms. His arms closed around the satin of her dress, and he rested his
porcelain forehead against hers. This close, and despite the dark cloak
of the night over them, she could see his eyes dancing, clearer and
lighter than they had ever seemed.
“Are you alright?” he asked, just loud enough for her to hear. “Not cold?”
For emphasis, he rubbed his hand against her back, and when she shivered it had nothing to do with the coolness of the air.
“I’m fine,” she assured him. “After all, the sun can’t be cold, now, can it?”
He laughed at that, and held her tighter. He had insisted to pick their
costumes and masks, and she hadn’t been all that surprised when she had
opened her box to discover a gorgeous dress in hues of gold, orange and
red, and the accompanying gilded mask representing the sun.
“What about you?” she asked softly, running her hands over his forearms. “Cold? Tired?”
His voice held a chuckle when he replied: “Of course not, creature of the night here, remember?”
She let the statement pass without comment, simply glad that he could
now joke about it. The first few months had not been easy after his
return, but now things were perfect, so perfect that it sometimes
scared her. So many things could destroy what they had…
With a slight headshake, she stopped her train of thoughts. No time for getting scared when they were so happy.
They had been dancing with the rest of the carnival participants for
hours, streams of colors and glitters flowing through the antique city
of water and stone, and still neither of them was ready to go back to
the hotel. Earlier, he had joked about being a creature of the night.
In truth though, they both were, and were just as much creatures of
daylight, each of them sharing with the other what had once been their
element. That might have been what he had tried to symbolize when he
had chosen their costumes. Fire and sun for her, darker shades and
silver moon for himself. Her smile when she had seen them was a
treasure he would always cherish.
As the exhausted tourists slowly retreated to their rooms, eyes full of
enough magic to last them a lifetime, fog rose on the city, clothing
everything of silver under the still present moon, softening the edges
of cold marble until everything felt like a dream. Muted sounds, muted
light, it almost felt as if they were alone in a deserted town. Now
walking hand in hand, they crossed a small wooden bridge, and Spike
couldn’t have said anymore where they were. In another life, he had
known the city as well as he knew the back of his own hand, and had
taken great pleasure in haunting and hunting through streets that
seemed as eternal as he was. But now…
Now it felt like they had stumbled upon a part of Venice he had never
walked through before, a part that was new for both him and Buffy, and
it seemed right. Despite the fog, he could guess the edges of the small
plaza, high buildings, the nearby canal…
Suddenly, music filled the air.
He couldn’t have said where it came from. One of the surrounding
apartments, certainly. It wasn’t the kind of music they had been
hearing all night, this was somehow ethereal, soft piano notes gliding
through the cool air.
Without needing to talk, they stopped walking and turned to each other.
His hand at her waist, hers on his shoulder, natural moves that seemed
dictated by the music. The first few steps were hesitant; the next ones
smoother; soon they were flying.
If he had been able to think, he would certainly have thanked whoever
had given them this second chance, made this instant of pure poetry
possible. He might even have tried to find the words to transcribe this
experience that was touching him so deeply, more deeply even than his
soul. But thinking was not possible. All he could do was feel. Feel
loved in her arms. Feel warm with her innocent touch on him. Feel at
peace, at last, out of time, out of the world. Feel like he had found
his place, after a century of desperate searching. And his place was in
her life, in her arms, in her heart.
So he felt, and silently wished not to ever forget this instant.
Home ~ Cleveland-verse
The characters and names used in these stories do not belong to me. All copyrights remain with Fox and Mutant Enemy. No profit is made from this fanfiction.
