Buffy and Joyce were in the middle of an argument when the knock came. "Saved by the knock," Buffy muttered as her mother answered the door.
She came back carrying an envelope.
"It looks as though you win, Buffy. You don’t have to come to another business dinner with me after all."
Buffy was both confused and relieved.
"Really? How come?"
Joyce handed her daughter the envelope and headed towards the bathroom to finish getting ready. Buffy sat on the edge of the bed as she opened the mystery envelope. The front simply said "Buffy" and "room 102" was scrawled on the back.
Curiosity getting the best of her, she quickly flipped it over and gasped when she saw what was inside. It was a ticket for The Scarlet Pimpernel.
A quick glance at the clock told Buffy that she only had a half an hour before curtain. Luckily, the theater was right around the corner from her hotel. The contents of her suitcase were strewn about the room within moments.
"Mom," she whined. "I don’t have anything to wear."
Her mother rolled her eyes.
"What about that dress you bought today, the one we really can’t afford, but I gave you the money anyway...."
Buffy gave her mother a sheepish grin
--Buffy was grinning a lot lately, she must have picked it up from someone--
and dug under the bed until she found the Big Brown Bag.
Five minutes later Buffy was ready to go in her new dark green sleeveless dress that stopped just below the knee. Paired with her black cardigan and black strappy shoes, the outfit was perfect.
A little too coincidentally, Spike had ditched his usual red and black ensemble, and was this evening wearing a simple black suit with a dark green shirt and matching tie.
But hey, great minds think alike.
Buffy’s seat was in orchestra E and second from the aisle.
Buffy’s mental tangent was interrupted by the dimming of the lights. Buffy was so enthralled with the whole Broadway Experience she didn’t even notice that the empty seat next to her was no longer empty. In fact, she was so engrossed in the show that she didn’t notice him until somewhere in the middle of Act I. Marguerite was singing "When I Look At You" and it was affecting Buffy. She thought she was about to cry when a hand appeared on top of her own. He seemed to know what she was thinking because he gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
Buffy flicked her eyes to the person sitting next to her, and felt her stomach tighten.
She squeezed his hand in return, and didn’t let it go until the show ended.
"So, Spike," Buffy said as they exited the theater, "what are you doing in New York?"
Spike didn’t know exactly what to tell her, so he casually took her hand again and said,
"Would you believe me if I said I was fulfilling my unlife-long dream of becoming an actor?" And he grinned, of course.
"No," was all she said.
Then she grinned too.
They were quite a pair in the eyes of those who crossed paths with them: bleached blond hair, in green and black, and both grinning like fools in love.
But that’s what they were, after all. The whole situation was just too cute.
They walked hand in hand for a while, having a somewhat awkward conversation, but getting along better than most arch-enemies do. Buffy and Spike were really getting into that whole "keep your enemies closer" thing.
They eventually stopped in a little coffee shop because Buffy was thirsty. Buffy felt the conversation start to dwindle, so she turned it back to their last one.
"Spike," she said, "I feel really badly about that whole dropping an organ on you. I mean, you’re really not as bad as I thought you were, so what can I do to repay you?"
Spike leaned in closer to her, his elbows resting on the table.
"Well," he began, "I have an organ I’d like to drop on you..."
She cocked an eyebrow at him in puzzlement, then her eyes widened as she caught his meaning.
"Spike, that was really bad."
Spike managed to look apologetic as he pulled out a cigarette.
"I’m sorry, kitten, I couldn’t resist," he said as he patted his pockets looking for his lighter. "Got a match?"
Buffy just couldn’t help herself, if he was going to pun, then so could she.
"Yeah, you and me." Giggle.
"Well that’s four," he said.
"Four?" she repeated.
"Yeah. Four."
He continued as he realized that she had no clue what he was speaking of.
"Things we have in common. Hair, fashion sense, singing and bad puns."
She was contented in the fact that he was keeping track.
"Five," she said. "You forgot that we’re both short."
She was rewarded with Spike sticking his tongue out at her.
"Wow, you sure act childish for someone who had a bicentennial," she said.
"That’s where you’re wrong, pet. I haven’t had my bicentennial yet."
This time she stuck her tongue out at him. That made six, and they both made a mental note.
A few minutes later, Buffy was done with her latte, and she and Spike were again hand in hand, strolling happily down the street. They walked past a street musician who was just finishing a song, and they both stopped dead in their tracks when she started another one.
Oh Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen and down the mountain side
The summer’s gone and all the roses falling
It’s you, it’s you must go and I must bide
Spike thought.
Spike was taken aback as the memories flooded over him. Buffy turned to Spike, tears beginning to well up in her eyes.
"Angel," she whispered, barely audible. "Angel used to come in my room and sing this to me when he thought I was sleeping."
But come ye back when summer’s in the meadow
Or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow
And I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow
Oh Danny Boy, oh Danny Boy, I love you so
Spike took Buffy’s hand and led her away.
"Me too," he said while brushing a wisp of hair off of her face. "I mean, when I was newly risen, Angelus would come into my room when I was sleeping and sing it to me, too."
Buffy smiled up at him. "That’s seven," she said softly.
The feelings were overwhelming for both, so Buffy tried to make a joke.
"I always wondered why he was singing to another guy though..."
Spike smiled at her. "It’s an old Irish folk tune, luv. Angelus is Irish you know."
The mood turned somber again. They walked in silence for a few minutes until Spike finally broke it.
"It’s strange, luv."
Buffy looked at him, studying his face, trying to discern what was going through his mind.
"What? This?"
"Well, yes, this. But what I mean is that we have so much in common, we even loved the same man, but where you loved Angel, I loved Angelus. What does that say about us?"
She smiled a sad smile.
"That we’re doomed."
He cast his eyes downward, realizing that she was right. Neither one of them said anything else because Buffy had said it all. She was good; he was evil. To dream of a life together was foolish, because it could never be.
"There’s no way this can work, is there, Slayer? We don’t fit into each other’s lives."
"Don’t fit? Spike, our lives couldn’t be within three zip codes of each other. It’s my sacred duty to kill you." She started to cry.
She tried not to, but the tears came anyway. It was hard for her to talk through the hysterics, but she managed.
"Imagine what Giles would say, especially after Angel. I can’t just be like, Giles, this is my new boyfriend, you remember Spike? The vampire that tried to kill us all? You know, the one *without* the soul?"
Spike wrapped his arms around her tiny form, holding her close to his body.
"That’s where you’re wrong, luv. I have a soul."
She looked up at him.
"Slayer, you’re my soul."
Her whole face lit up with love at his statement, and she saw that love mirrored in his eyes.
"I love you, Spike."
He smiled a tear stained smile.
"I love you too, Buffy."
He took her chin in his hand and brought their faces together slowly. Their lips met, tentative at first, then with increasing passion. Buffy and Spike clung onto each other for dear life, because they knew it would be their only kiss. In that one kiss was the all love that they would never get to share.
And then they parted, each going their seperate ways, and never looking back.
The years that followed were hard on both of them. Spike stayed in New York, and never contacted Buffy. As much as it hurt him not to, he knew it was best for both of them. Buffy felt the same way. Sometimes the pain was too much, but she consoled herself with the knowledge that her true love was out there. And despite all the heartache they felt now, both Buffy and Spike knew that would be together one day. Buffy made sure of it.
Buffy was sitting in English class at the end of her senior year. Her teacher was droning on about some stupid assignment to finish out the year, and Buffy was starting to drift until something her teacher said caught her attention.
"Where will you be in ten years? For this last assignment, I want you all to write a letter to yourselves, explaining where you think you’ll be in ten years. Then, I will collect them all, and send them out in ten years. You will most likely be living elsewhere, but I assure you that they will reach their destinations. Are there any questions?"
Buffy raised her hand. For a week, she had been having the same dream about Spike, and she was sure she knew where he was. In the same dream, Buffy saw herself die.
"What if we want to send the letter to someone besides ourselves?"
The teacher thought about it.
"Well I suppose that would be alright Ms. Summers, if you’re absolutely sure of what you want to write." Buffy nodded.
She knew exactly what to write.
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