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vocab_drabblesTitle: Shine and Follow
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Author: Apache Firecat
Rating: PG/K+
Word Count: 500
Characters/Pairings: Spike/Buffy
Warnings: None
Challenges: Vocab Drabbles 012: Anachronistic and Nekid Spike: When the Sun Goes Down (((He Will Follow Her.)))
Summary: Spike will follow wherever she leads.
Every now and again, when the moonlight wraps around Buffy like a silver shawl, Spike can easily see the woman she could have been, had she been born way back when he had been. She had always been accustomed to the finer, easier things of life before being called to be the Slayer, not just the one girl in all the world who would defeat the evil, he knew, but the one girl who would turn all of the Slayer lore and the Council on both sides upside down, the one girl who would break all the rules and come shining above all of the past Slayers, the one girl who would save him in his very long, and often miserable, life.
Buffy Anne Summers was much, much more than just a Slayer. As far as he was concerned, she would always be the Slayer, the one who rose above all the rest, past, present, and yet to come. But had she been born back then, perhaps she could have survived without having been called. Perhaps she could have always been the rich, little girl growing into a fine, beautiful lady she should have been. Perhaps she could have stayed accustomed to the finer things in life.
It was a horrifying thought, but perhaps they never would have met. He can still see her, though, standing there in the moonlight, a glittering shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Of course, back then, she would not have shown such skin. She would have been covered nearly head to foot, but whatever gown she would have chosen to wear would have done nothing to hide her beauty. Such beauty as hers could not be hidden, no matter how greatly whatever authoritative powers tried to do or how anachronistic the garb. She outshone them all just as she outshone everyone around her.
"You're beautiful," he breathed, and he wished he had the power to land on one knee before her. She already had him: undead, non-beating heart, a soul he fought to achieve to please her, and everything else that he possessed. He had tried to tell her before. She never wanted to hear it, but hopefully she knew. Hopefully she understood.
"Are you ready?" she asked.
He blinked, startled out of his reverie, and then glumly nodded. Tonight, she'd lead him wherever she had to go, to whatever baddie it was they were fighting now. Tomorrow night would be the same, and so, too, would probably every other night until they came to such a night when one of them did not survive. Spike wished he knew who to pray to to keep that night from ever happening.
But no matter what came, he would follow her, tonight and every night. He'd follow her to her death, to his. He'd already followed her to hers once. He'd follow her forever, if she'd allow him. "To follow you? Always."
He realized how much this battle meant when she kissed his cheek before moving forward.
The End
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Author: Apache Firecat
Rating: PG/K+
Word Count: 500
Characters/Pairings: Spike/Buffy
Warnings: None
Challenges: Vocab Drabbles 012: Anachronistic and Nekid Spike: When the Sun Goes Down (((He Will Follow Her.)))
Summary: Spike will follow wherever she leads.
Every now and again, when the moonlight wraps around Buffy like a silver shawl, Spike can easily see the woman she could have been, had she been born way back when he had been. She had always been accustomed to the finer, easier things of life before being called to be the Slayer, not just the one girl in all the world who would defeat the evil, he knew, but the one girl who would turn all of the Slayer lore and the Council on both sides upside down, the one girl who would break all the rules and come shining above all of the past Slayers, the one girl who would save him in his very long, and often miserable, life.
Buffy Anne Summers was much, much more than just a Slayer. As far as he was concerned, she would always be the Slayer, the one who rose above all the rest, past, present, and yet to come. But had she been born back then, perhaps she could have survived without having been called. Perhaps she could have always been the rich, little girl growing into a fine, beautiful lady she should have been. Perhaps she could have stayed accustomed to the finer things in life.
It was a horrifying thought, but perhaps they never would have met. He can still see her, though, standing there in the moonlight, a glittering shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Of course, back then, she would not have shown such skin. She would have been covered nearly head to foot, but whatever gown she would have chosen to wear would have done nothing to hide her beauty. Such beauty as hers could not be hidden, no matter how greatly whatever authoritative powers tried to do or how anachronistic the garb. She outshone them all just as she outshone everyone around her.
"You're beautiful," he breathed, and he wished he had the power to land on one knee before her. She already had him: undead, non-beating heart, a soul he fought to achieve to please her, and everything else that he possessed. He had tried to tell her before. She never wanted to hear it, but hopefully she knew. Hopefully she understood.
"Are you ready?" she asked.
He blinked, startled out of his reverie, and then glumly nodded. Tonight, she'd lead him wherever she had to go, to whatever baddie it was they were fighting now. Tomorrow night would be the same, and so, too, would probably every other night until they came to such a night when one of them did not survive. Spike wished he knew who to pray to to keep that night from ever happening.
But no matter what came, he would follow her, tonight and every night. He'd follow her to her death, to his. He'd already followed her to hers once. He'd follow her forever, if she'd allow him. "To follow you? Always."
He realized how much this battle meant when she kissed his cheek before moving forward.
The End
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Date: 2022-08-02 02:48 am (UTC)