Title: Love’s a Funny Thing
Author: Pagan Pylea Princess
Characters: Spike
Summary: I liked it when Spike and Fred said, “there hasn’t been any side-effects since you recorporealised has there?” “bit of a hangover. But that’s to be expected from all the drinking.” So I thought, “what would Spike be doing when he’s drunk in the Wolfram & Hart bar?” Well, he’s talking the barman’s ears off about Buffy of course…. And I’d always thought about the handholding thing. Important part of Spuffiness!!
Disclaimer: The wondrous Joss owns the characters. I merely provide the story.
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I want to tell you a story. It’s not one I’ve practiced, or have ever really told anyone before. But it’s important. It’s… from the heart.
I can’t promise it’ll be coherent. These things usually never are. It’s spontaneous, unexpected, illogical. Exactly like the subject of my story.
Love.
I’m not talking about full-on, open, embracing love that warms the every inch of you, and makes you feel loved. Cared for.
I’m talking about real passion, unwanted… and yet wanted so badly you’d think it couldn’t hurt more.
You would think that love like that, passionate, desiring, lustful, well – you might say it wouldn’t last long. Well, that’s what I thought anyway. But I was just happy. To be near her. To be in her thoughts.
There was a girl once. Once. In a hundred-odd years, only one. It’s funny how love works. We barely even knew each other…. Yet we knew each other as if intimately. We hated each other… but loved and yearned for one another so readily.
Guess you really never can understand these things. If it’s meant to be it’ll work out an all that.
I used to think that love was a load of crap. Cause I was always a fool for it. In the end I believed it was just some wishy-washy feeling, made up for those card companies who try to peddle their nick-knacks on Valentine’s Day, squeeze a bit of money out of it.
That was before I fell in love.
That’s another thing. How do you fall in love exactly? I mean, I get that often it’s sudden, *wham* and it just…happens. I guess you do fall. I mean you fall for someone, right? When you feel like there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for them. You can’t live without them. You depend on them every day. You’d try and catch the stars for them - if you could. And it hurts so much that you just wanna fall to your knees in the middle of the street and cry out to waning moon and hope that the earth swallows you whole, cause its not worth it without them. Cause deep inside you just want to be loved, right? Huh, whatever that means.
See love it’s… intangible, yet always there. Calling to you like some dark mistress, begging you to take it and use it for your own will, and forcing you to feel things, you don’t wanna feel. Feelings stir inside your unbeating chest for someone you once hated so long ago. Feelings you thought were long since forgotten.
God I barely remember those times when I had wanted her head. I think of her now and all I remember was the hours I spent, just - *sigh*, drinking in her eyes, her hair, her skin, the scent of her, and memorising every inch of her. Hours when I’d get so lost I thought I’d never find my way back.
She was beautiful. My everything. My Buffy.
Even if she never loved me back, well maybe she did, in the end, maybe a little, but even if she didn’t, there was still something there. Some compassion. Some tiny bit of feeling left in her, and saved just for me. Cause even though I’m dead I know I was the only one who really made her feel alive. Let her live. Helped her breathe.
I once told her that real love, well, it’s wild. It’s passionate. It burns and consumes. We burned. I remember. The fire in our grasp as we held hands down in that hellmouth proved our love, our strength. That perfect, and most intimate of touch. We’d never held hands. Not till then. I was just some dirty little secret, hidden and marred by my past. We weren’t open and loving and caring in front of those whom she loved. Her friends, her Watcher, her sister. So there was no hand-holding, or public displays of affection whatsoever. Maybe that’s what stopped her from really loving me. Trusting me.
But I did love her. And I know deep down she must have loved me too. In the end. I just wish that we’d had a little longer. A little more time. Now things can never be the same. We can’t just go back to the way things were.
If love were a thing, if we could touch it, and it was physical. If we could see it, study it, find out more about it. If we could see it’s face, it’s form, it’s shape. If we could smell its scent. Maybe, just maybe, love wouldn’t be so hard to figure out. Maybe the damn thing would be a little less illusive.
And maybe some vampires could get a little peace around here without thoughts of the Slayer.
Maybe I’m just talking bollocks. But I don’t care.
Love’s a funny thing.
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