Kimberly
Spoilers: Major for the Season 6 finale, I suppose
Disclaimers: These characters don't belong to me, of course, since my name is
neither Joss nor Mutant Enemy.
Author's Notes: I'm working on a longer fic right now that's all angsty, so
I decided to write some quick mock-angst to amuse myself (and hopefully one
or two other people, as well). Much thanks to Mary Statz for the title, which
I took from an email she sent me. For the record, I am a huge Spike fan, and
a S/B 'shipper ... I'm just goofing around.
Feedback: Yes, please! Pretty please? kimberly@erzo.org
**************
Spike and Buffy stood on a high hill overlooking Sunnydale as the sky began
to lighten. Most houses below them were still dark, the residents sleeping the
sleep of the relatively innocent. A few lights distinguished the homes of ridiculously
early risers.
"Spike!" cried Buffy, her voice redolent with anguish. "You've got to find shelter! The sun is coming up!" And, indeed, the dark sky was growing slightly rosy with the imminent dawn, its pink glow reflecting off Spike's shellacked hair so that it attractively matched the color of Buffy's Wet Shine nail polish.
Pressing one hand to his forehead in despair, Spike moaned, "After all the horrible things I have done, I do not deserve to unlive any longer! I will dust myself in the Christmas sunrise!"
Buffy frowned in confusion. "Christmas? But it's only May."
Spike glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes, still holding his brooding pose. He cleared his throat.
"After all the horrible things I've done, I do not deserve to unlive any longer! I will dust myself in the Memorial Day sunrise!"
Buffy nodded approvingly, then caught herself. "No! Spike! Don't you realize ... now that you have a soul, you have a get-out-of-jail-free card! You can change your name slightly, and claim that it wasn't you who did all those terrible things! It was ... it was Spikelus!"
Spike wrinkled his forehead in an attempt to look Angelic, but managed only to look a bit constipated. But Buffy knew that couldn't be what was really going on, since vampires don't get constipated. And, come to think of it, it did look a bit like Angel, after all.
"No, Buffy!" Spike exclaimed at length, after sighing heavily. "You don't understand what it's like, to feel the weight of so many crimes, to smell the blood on my hands. ..." His eyes shone with a bit of pleasure at that last thought, but he quickly masked his expression again, looking tortured and guilty. "I cannot contaminate your life any longer with my presence! I am evil! An evil, disgusting thing!" Spike turned slightly to present a more attractive angle of his profile, looking tragically heroic.
"But, Spike ... I love you! You can't just leave me! The world revolves around me and what I want! And I want you!" She stomped her little stylish-yet-affordable boot petulantly.
Spike turned toward her slowly and looked earnestly into her professionally Maybellined eyes. "Are you saying that you could forgive me, Buffy? For everything?"
Buffy smiled radiantly at him, "Of course! You have a soul, now, and everything is different."
Nodding reluctantly, Spike sighed, "Well, if you're sure."
Buffy took his arm to lead him down to her house on Revello Drive, where she planned to take full advantage of his lack of happiness clause. She didn't see Spike turn his head and wink at someone hiding behind a nearby tree, nor hear Dawn's answering giggle.
The End