By Moadine
Disclaimer: BtVS is not mine.
Author’s Notes: This fic was inspired by a song I downloaded that was, apparently, never supposed to be released. If you can guess the song from some of the hints/quotes I’ve dropped along the way, then good for you. :-) If you can’t, then I hope you enjoy this fic anyway.
SPOILERS: (minor) for the last three episodes of the series.
Something was different. Something about the temperature in the room. No. No, it couldn’t be that. Vampires couldn’t sense changes in temperature very well because they were constantly the temperature of their environment. Maybe it was the smell. Yes, that was it. The smell. The scent of vanilla was no longer nearly as strong as it had been, meaning that she had left, probably not long before he had woken up. Carefully, one hand sulked toward where she had lain, already knowing what it would find and dreading the confirmation.
However, instead of the soft pillows that the bleached vampire had expected to hit, his palm encountered a small piece of paper. It was folded in half, his name scrawling elegantly across one side in pencil.
Lifting it toward his face, he caught her scent. Taking a deeper, more careful breath, he realized that her scent was entirely gone, except for what lingered on this note. His chest constricted at the knowledge that she still couldn’t bear to spend even one full night with him.
“Don’t be such a bloody ponce,” he muttered to himself. “She left a note. Let’s see what it says before assuming the worst.”
By now, his fingers had gone numb, so it was with little conscious control that he unfolded the paper.
“Spike,” Buffy had written as neatly as possible, “I can’t sleep, so I thought I’d do something productive. Apparently, this is my hand’s idea of being productive.
"There’s so many things I wish I had the courage to say to you right now, but I don’t think that you’d appreciate being woken up from a dead sleep (no pun intended), even by me.”
“Show’s how much you know,” the vampire muttered.
“Something happened last night, you know, while you held me. This might sound strange, but I felt safe and I felt completely, unconditionally loved. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve felt either? Let’s just say it’s been a while. It felt strange and I couldn’t understand why until just now. It felt strange because for the first time, I felt (and feel) complete. For years, you’ve been trying to give me your heart but last night, I think I finally let you in. I finally accept that you love me and now I think I can finally begin to love myself. Geez, that sounds corny, but it’s true. I never thought I’d say that. Of course, I never thought there’d be you either, but here you are, you stubborn fangface.
“Anyway, the space on this paper isn't getting any longer, so I guess I have to go now. I’m feeling a lot better about facing Caleb, for some reason. Wish me luck.”
Spike’s eyes widened and fear invaded every pore in his body. “Buffy,” he whispered, his voice suddenly hoarse. What if she still couldn’t defeat him? He couldn’t live without her again; he would disintegrate completely if she died a second time…
...and yet, he knew she was still alive.
Feeling a smile rise unbidden to his lips, he got up and reached for his duster. There was a certain Slayer whom he needed to talk to, as well as congratulate on the slaying of a certain annoying preacher. “That’s my Slayer.”
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