Work Text:
Click.
The sound of a thumb scraping against the metal gear resulted in a flame through the oils of the lighter, filling the air with toxic chemicals that many found relaxing.
He brought the lighter to the cigarette planted in between his teeth. Lips chapped, skin peeling and pale. Worn out and slumped, lazy to an onlooker’s eye, a gloomy painting filled with a story to an artist’s eye, a lonely vampire that just needed to relax to a Slayer’s eye. Spike was a man of a thousand faces and the man whom a stranger would hold a curious desire for.
Inhale.
He breathed in deeply. His body was washed with smoke, drenched from head to toe with regrets and tragedies, of madness and sanity, of laughter and happiness, of hope and dreams. The wind whispered in the air and blew autumn leaves to the ground, a reminder that time was ticking, people were moving onwards with their lives, and the world didn’t stop when he wanted it to.
Exhale.
The moon was bright and beautiful. It shone directly at him like a stranger pointing a flashlight into the darkness, unsure of the creature waiting for him. Spike knew that he was the focus of the world tonight. He inhaled and exhaled some more, breathed in the smoke, the toxic chemicals, lit one after the other, chain-smoked until his package was empty. He tossed it aside with a shrug, no matter how many packages he emptied with one lit cigarette after the other, nothing could take away the constant numbness he felt.
He couldn’t think of why he felt this way. Since the Slayer’s return, he couldn’t help but feel so overjoyed to know that she was alive and breathing. So why couldn’t he let go of this numbing pain? He closed his eyes; the wind blew louder this time, almost screaming at him to find an answer.
“You look deep in thought” a voice broke through the screaming wind, so quiet that he was surprised he even heard it.
He opened his eyes, and the ghost of a smile crept upon his lips at who had interrupted him.
“Slayer,” he greeted, his numbness fading slowly like the screaming wind. She was the reason it had quieted. She was the reason he kept on living.
He stared at her, and admired the pure beauty she possessed. But he knew his admiration was only covering up the numbness that she felt. Dark circles rimmed her eyes; shadows cast along her face making it appear more sunken and gaunt than it already was. She was tired and worn out like he was. They were both walking corpses, skeletons of the night, pale beauties to the skies above.
“Spike,” she greeted with the same courtesy.
A beautiful silence washed over the two in a serene vibe of love. They looked at each other, eyes wide, pupils dilated with an intense gratification of joy. In that moment, Spike felt it. He felt the immediate connection the two had buried deep within come out in that simple courtesy. He felt warm on the inside like a blanket was being wrapped around him. He wanted to curl up by a fire, a hot cup of cocoa in his hands, sprinkled with tiny little marshmallows, and stare into the eyes of his angel.
He extended out his hand and she took it without hesitation, a soft curl sprung upon her lips. She moved closer to him and he heard her faint breathing. The air was still and he felt the thump thump of her heart. Misty clouds painted the night sky as the world centered on its masterpiece: a broken pair of misfits: a vampire and a Slayer, unique to the eye.
She leaned her head against his chest and closed her eyes. She inhaled his tobacco scent mixed with booze and late-night walks. She wanted to remember this moment of the two of them, head in his chest, in the silent night with the moon shining upon them.
“This is something I could get used to,” his hand was stroking her Goldilocks hair.
Buffy nodded. Yes.
She looked up, her face pale under the moon’s glare, eyes glowing a beautiful hazel.
“Me too,” she said. She snuggled further into him, and felt his bones rub against hers through the thin fabric of their clothing.
At that moment, Buffy couldn’t help but feel happy. He was the closest thing to heaven she’d ever have. She closed her eyes.
Spike looked down, fingers still running through her strands. In that moment he felt so lucky. She was the closest thing to his heaven. He leaned down and placed a soft kiss across her forehead. The smallest smile twisted upon her lips and he couldn’t help but laugh.
“I think you’re bloody beautiful.”
The words snaked around her body like a warm blanket and she felt comforted. Despite her short body, she mustered the strength on her tiptoes and held him captive in her kiss. The sensation was overwhelming and the two couldn’t help but smile as their lips held on for all the years they spent avoiding it.
e n d.