Spuffy. PG.
Cut & Paste
They had agreed, at the very beginning, that they wouldn’t play the
relationship game. They weren’t normal people. Their lives weren’t
normal. So why do anything like everybody else? They had decided to
play by their own rules, and Buffy was fine with that.
But she had noticed. She would have needed to be blind not to. The
hushed conversations with Dawn, the silences when she approached, the
secretive looks and enigmatic smiles. He was planning something; it was
obvious. And the fact that his planning was taking place as their
one-year anniversary drew closer… Well, she lived on the Hellmouth and
had seen a number of strange things in her life, but she didn’t believe
in coincidences that big.
She hadn’t even tried asking Dawn about it, certain that her sister
would only giggle and refuse to talk; and although torturing an answer
out of Spike might have made for a fun-filled night, it would have
ruined whatever he was planning. So, she had done the next best thing.
Snooped.
She had found it. A rectangular box about the size of her two hands put
together, less than an inch tall, carefully wrapped in dark blue paper
adorned with golden stars. The urge to open it had been overwhelming,
and she had needed to leave his place to resist it.
Now, here she was. Less than twenty-four hours to go, no gift, and a
quasi-empty wallet. There were only two things she could think of. One,
and she was sure he’d love that one, was to wrap a bow around herself.
Not exactly romantic, but hadn’t they said romantic stuff wasn’t for
them?
The other was, to say the least, a little more complicated and much
less certain to please him. She had done it before, she told herself,
so she could do it again. Nevertheless, the last time she had written a
love poem, she had been in third grade and the object of her affections
could barely read.
The naked page taunted her, promising beauty if she would only open up
herself, but mocking when she jotted a few words down. Page after page,
line after line, word after word, she tried, before finally admitting
to herself that she didn’t have the first clue where to start.
How could she tell him how deep her feelings were? What words could she
use when she revealed herself most truly to him with a look, a smile, a
touch? Certainly not her own words. So, whose?
Willow’s computer and a search on the internet brought forth hundreds
of poems. None of them was completely what she was looking for. None of
them spoke of her and Spike. But there were bits and pieces that
resonated in her, that meant something to their story. If she only
could cut and paste and…
And why not, after all?
She looked through her old school stuff and found a blank notebook. She
opened it to the first page, and at the very top, in her best
handwriting, wrote the first line that had struck her.
The lights that spatter heaven above
She left a few blank lines, and let her mind wander.
“I used to not notice the stars anymore. Night after night, they were
there, and they didn’t matter so much because they were nothing to me.
They meant nothing. And you were the same. Always by my side, but I
couldn’t see you. Couldn’t see how you made the night and my life so
much more beautiful. Nights would be so dark without the stars. And so
would be my life if I didn’t have you.”
She reread what she had written, biting her lips nervously. It wasn’t
poetry, far from it, but it was what she had in her. She turned the
page and wrote the second line she had chosen.
In secret we met
She pondered for a long time what to write about this one. Eventually,
she only wrote three words in the center of the page. She knew she had
hurt him with that, she had apologized for it already, but she could do
it again.
“I am sorry.”
Another page, another quote.
I shall not see the shadows
“The shadows are my life, I have accepted it. So no, really, I don’t
see them anymore. They just are, and that’s the end of it. They were so
cold, however, when I haunted them by myself. One more thing you
changed. I look forward to being in the shadows, now, because that’s
where you are too, where we can be together, and do what we do best.
Fight, love, laugh. So much heat, between the two of us, that the
shadows shall never be cold again.”
She paused, thought for a second. She had more to write, but time was
getting short. Maybe once she had all her quotes down, she would have
time to come back and add to some of them.
Even ashes of lovers find no rest.
“It may be presumptuous, but I think, no I’m sure, that you’ll still
love me long after I’m gone. And I know that you’ve thought of it,
still think of it, sometimes. Think of making sure we’ll never have to
part. Of course, it’s a beautiful dream. Of course, I wish we could be
forever in each other’s life. But that’s not how it works, and you know
it. It wouldn’t be me, it wouldn’t be the woman you fell in love with.
So, I beg you. Don’t. Don’t turn me without my consent, and don’t ask
me to let you do it. Because if you asked me, I’m not sure I’d be
strong enough to say no. Just know that I’ll love you, forever and
beyond the grave.”
One page after the other, all night long and way past sunrise, she
filled the notebook with poetry quotes and the thoughts they inspired
in her, realizing as she went that this, this assemblage of randomness
and beauty, was what they were together. She could only hope he would
see it too.
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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.
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