My Love A Blue, Blue Rose

Buffy had to hide from him for the rest of the day.  She was afraid that if he saw her, looked into her eyes, with that uncanny knack he had he would guess something of what she was planning...as it was she could feel him, feel his pull, feel him call her almost all that late afternoon.  And she sent him comforting thoughts which helped, but he was feeling lonely and a little confused at her absence and that pricked at her heart.  Had they gotten so close again, so fast that they shriveled a little when apart?

They had. 

So she let him feel, let him think she was nervous about performing and was busy getting ready, but didn’t dare step up to see him and trusted Dawn to look after him and clear him out of the apartment and get him down to the café when it was time.

If anyone was the queen of finesse and finagle it would be Miss Dawn.     

It would be all right...everyone had moved fast and all were on board.  It would be all right and the big deal of the deed was up to her and just what was she going to perform anyway?

She would wing it.  In the tradition of a ‘wing an’ a prayer’--she be flying high tonight.

*

She was up last.  She put her name on the list so she would be last. Giles would perform one person before her to make sure the audience was warm, was willing, Ellie would go next and she was a live wire so that would keep the audience hot and give Giles time to slip upstairs.

Giles sang the Tom Waits tune and the words went something like this:

“So if you find someone, someone to have someone to hold...

Don’t trade it for silver, don’t trade it for gold...

I have all of life’s treasures and they are fine and they are good

They remind that houses are just made of wood...”

What makes a house grand ain’t the roof or the doors

If there’s love in a house

It’s a palace for sure

Without love

It’s nothing but a house

A house where nobody lives...”

Trust Giles to put his finger right on the pulse.  

Uncanny.

Spike was at the back of the house, behind the audience, sitting in the dark pinned between Dawn and Scott.  She could feel him back there, could feel him smile at the song and want to hold her...his arms were asking her to come back and sit with him through this ode...she still didn’t dare to see him up close but she looked back...she couldn’t help it--she looked to the back of the house and smiled at where she knew he was.  She could just make out the outlines of the trio from the light cast from the cracks of the door leading to the storage room.  

Yeah there he was and there was Dawn and...and Scott...quite nonplussed...might describe his behavior for the evening thus far.  Oz had nothing on this brand of Scottish stoicism.

From what Dawn had relayed, Scott was up to speed, thanks to Spike and here Buffy smiled (thank god) no more coughing and hemming and hawing and finally a chance to find out what this guy was made of.  Oh yeah, she was glad Spike had done it--wished she could have seen it.  Video taped it maybe for the generations.  Oh well...focus on the birthday parties and whatnot for that party preserve.

Scott didn’t know all of it, not nearly but it seemed he knew enough and still he would go wherever Dawn went; to stand between her and the wall.  Buffy could possibly...just possibly like him...someday.

Oh wait, she was up.  She was up and he was in the back of the house...he was here and waiting to see the show of a lifetime--because as Dawn had described it to him...he couldn’t miss just couldn’t miss THIS.  Buffy performing at an open mike.  No he simply couldn’t miss this.

Showtime.

She began:

She felt the warm lights on her face that blinded her a bit just a little bit, just enough to make it easier.

She felt the warmth of their expectation and stepped up and spoke into the mike like a pro.

“Hello.”

She felt the surprise, their surprise at being greeted and then they responded almost enmasse.

“Hallo...”

She looked up at the ceiling and felt the curtain of sweet smiling love reach down to hold her hand...like a girl, like she was a little girl again...and everything was new....everything was possible...suddenly she knew what to say...how to begin. She closed her eyes to find the top:

“I was a little girl once.  I wasn’t always this size this shape, although there must have

been even back when I was small something inside me pushing me, pushing me into place,

into my place in the world...” 

She paused for a moment...and felt the sound of them listening...they were with her...

She opened her eyes to half mast and let the space inside her, her heartfelt request find its way into words.

“I was a little girl once...and I was small, so small,

and so I had only space enough to hold some things,

certain things

inside me

and only space enough inside for some,

but not all of the world’s ways and so I choose for true. 

I choose true.  Let lies come later...I choose the way children do for true.    

I was a little girl once and when I was I heard stories, saw movies...and it was easy so easy to know

good from bad, right from wrong and how the story should end because the space inside me only

picked out the parts that were...you...

And you were true...

And when I found a broken bird, I knew that you could mend it

And when I heard a broken word I knew that you could tend it, turn it,

Turn it, turn me, turn the world round and right it but not without trying...our trying...hard...

I know it, won’t deny it, we try so hard because the world is and hearts break against it sometimes...”

Buffy opened her right palm and showed what lay there.

It was the three broken pieces of the sparkling amulet she had given to Spike way back when in Sunnydale done gone.

She moved her palm so the light caught and cut ‘round the room, starting a ripple and gasp as they felt the promise of power.

“Do you want to help me mend this?”

She felt the heads nod but if wasn’t enough.  The audience...they were the fifth wheel of the conglomerate.  Willow and Giles and Midge upstairs and this the audience down below...the human family, her family, would be grounding it all...keeping it real.

“Really...I can fix this...not magic, not a trick I can fix this because it is the right thing to do but

only if you help--do you want to help?”

“Yeah...yes...right...YES...”  The affirmation was vocal now.  It was good.

“I was a little girl once and I saw a movie called The Blue Rose--do you know it?”

She felt them shake their heads...they were with her.

“That movie went inside and found a space to camp out but not campy no not at all--it shared my

toothbrush all these years only to come out of my mouth today. This is the part I kept alive...the hero is in

love with this really beautiful girl...a knock out and she is too she’s knocked out by an illness, so ill

and he is told only, only will she come back to him in the presence of the Blue Rose. 

He hits the road looking for the Rose...follows legend, fighting killing monsters to get close, closer,

closest--AH!  He plucks it, yanks it really (and no remarks about hasty Americans either)

and the rest of the rose bush withers and dies...but no matter he only needs one, this one.

He tucks it in his belt, to keep it close.  When he arrives back at the castle...BIG SURPRISE...the

struggle isn’t over and now he is surrounded by the armed guard--it seems--the prime minister or

something never expected the lover to return from his impossible quest...and he; the minister as

 political coup iconoclast incarnate placed the girl under the spell...but the hero fights his way

through...good on him and--he is just there at his loves side, and when he reaches for the rose--he

pulls out...a headless stem...”

“No...noooo...” murmurs from the audience assailed her and she nodded.  “Oh yeah...I agree and you can image how I felt..SIX YEARS OLD and counting.”

They waited to see if the story would right itself.

“You see the head of the rose had been cut off sometime during the fight...and it was gone...and the

bush was gone, no going back to try again...and then the lover remembers...he remembers every

story of effort, great, great effort on loves behalf is rewarded...somehow... in some way...it may not

be the thing you think, in the way you think but always, always something is changed  to better forever

because he remembers how he was before his love...callow and...um full of pride and stuff and now

he knows every story he ever heard about love changing stones into tools was true. 

Because he see it in himself.

There were white roses blooming by her bed...he reaches over and plucks one...yeah...thorns

and all...cuz ya know...‘she’s lovely but can get a little bossy and bitchy but that’s the package deal’

and so he says:”

And with this Buffy closed her fingers around the amulet and almost incanted whisper spoke:

“My love a blue, blue rose...my love a blue, blue rose...”

There was an emotional swell in the room, as Buffy felt the wave find it’s way around and everyone jumped on board and said ‘yes’ yes’ here’s our best wishes and round the room the wave went until her heart found it’s way to his.

She felt his shock...and reluctance to accept the gift but then she thought to him, she thought this right at him until she felt him connect to it:

(I love you...please, please don’t leave me, not again...not yet--long life...more love...better world...)

She felt him nod.

He was, after all, a fool for love.

Buffy looked at the audience.

“Can anyone doubt how the story ends?”

She was instantly assailed with different cries round the room, cries of:

“It turned blue--“

“--Of course you git--“

“Give over!”

“Oi aye...give over, show us!”

Shyly Buffy slowly opened her hand to reveal the perfect shape of a really hideous looking crystal trinket only Phyllis Diller would be proud to wear.

It was beautiful.

It was true blue.

The audience roared their approval...pounding on the tables and standing on their chairs for a better look.

She held it up by its chain in all it’s ungainly glory...blue white light refracting and shocking and somehow alive.

She left the stage and pushed her way though the laughing jubilant crowd.  Ellie took the stage to round out the evening but Buffy didn’t hear what was being said...wasn’t important.

She found him at the back of the room...watching her approach eyes wide and more than a little stunned.

Dawn and Scott standing sentry in front of him parted and nodded at Buffy with tears in their eyes. They were holding hands and made Buffy cross underneath them like a bridge.  Dawn couldn’t resist it--she smacked her sister’s rear as she crossed under.

Buffy smiled at her but said nothing.  She walked toward her love her heart in her hand...

“You mad?”  Buffy asked him timidly.

His mouth snapped shut.  “How can I be mad at a Rose’s thorns?  T’aint natural.”

She sat next to him and they said nothing for a moment and then voice full of wonder he asked/said:

“You...you love me...”

She nodded her head and leaned in placing her cheek up against his.  They breathed in each other for a moment; just content to be close enough to hold.

Buffy pulled back a bit to look him in the face as she said:

“I love you Spike...you wanna keep your scars...and don’t try to fool me cuz I know that deep down that’s part of it too.  You might not feel quite right unless you’re part monster/part man for a while and sure a hundred year habit must be tough to break but...here...”

She held out the amulet...

“It cost me nothing...no favor...nothing out of balance...it’s precedent...the court has to recognize that love changes...everything...makes stuff...whole.”

She slipped the amulet around his neck. “ Just don’t go bursting into flames again...k?”    

“I was told it was a one time deal...no refills...”

He let it fall into place the familiar weight back on his chest.  How strange when a burden becomes a blessing.

He adjusted it under his shirt and looked up, at Buffy, at her stunned expression.  Dawn was crying a little and then turned around to hide it.

“What? What is it?”

“It’s you...Spike...not Willem...it’s you...”

Her eyes roamed over his face, restored fine and fit. healthy and robust...his hair a dark blonde his eyes back to blue...

Not that she minded any which way he was...but there was something about familiar that was...well...felt like home.

“Why is it you now and not Willem?”

“Huh...maybe cuz I was trying to hide before...didn’t want anyone to find me--so amulet just projected the outline of what I looked like, what I used to look like...better start thinking up a cover story for Anthony and Ellie”

“Hey...we’ll tell them.” Dawn broke in and then grabbed Scotts hand and scampered off to give as good as she got.  “I’d LOVE to return the favor...”

Buffy and Spike watched them scurry off and then turned their attention back to each other.

“Hello...”  They both said simultaneously and then smiled.  Brilliant minds an’ all...

She raised her hand and stroked the smooth clear perfection of his cheek. 

He rested for a moment enjoying her quiet perusal...small little warm shivers racing each other toward his heart.  It felt so good he had to share it.

He moved to stroked her cheek in return and saw his hand again.  “Hello old friend...” he murmured to it; “Time to tune the piano, I see...”

He was trying to keep it light, light....but truth was....the truth was, he was relieved to be whole again, to feel vital, he was close to crying and he hadn’t done that for years.  Well, that is, until she had come back into his life.  

“You know Buffy...I’m...I’m still a monster under here...underneath it all...”

“Yeah...” she acknowledged “...same old, same old..."

He arched his brow at the challenge:  “You want me to prove it?”

“All night.”

That was unexpected.  He cocked his head and leaned in...what was she suggesting?  That he take off the amulet at night?  Meaning...at..night night?

“I’m serious Buffy; I know...I’m monstrous...”

She looked into his wide liquid eyes filled and then spilling his love like heavens best idea into hers.

“I heard...somewhere...that I like little monster in my man.  Huh.  Might be true...that is...right monster...right man...”

She undid him absolutely undid him.

He couldn’t talk, just took her hand and interlaced his fingers with hers.

“Um...” she leaned forward trying for demure, but she was just too straightforward really to be a French word.  She softly spoke in Englander idiom with a totally American accent...

“Give us a kiss...” 

He did.

*

Who can doubt the story’s end?

love,

© Lizerrrbeathan