SPIKE BY SNOWLIGHT

Contact:       Always.  Come, pull up a chair and jabber on.  Love the sound of your voice.

Authors note:  As I tell very little back story--you really should read ‘Snow Virgins’ first to get the full value of this story.  I dedicate this to Charles Dickens, the founder of the feast and if you love Buffy and Spike I’m sure you’ll love this Dickens guy--he wrote this great fanfic about what it means to be a human being--and sometimes a ghost or dead thing or two.  Happy Holidays forever Buffy & Spike.

*

Snow She

It would start as a bubble, a bubble; she would wake in the morning as the bubble would begin in the subtext of sated languor, in languish.  She would stretch in bed and if he was still entwined with her, he would move with her, supple, counter balance of muscles stretching taunt teased to extremity and then relaxing to grace.

Grace.

Peace.

And the bubble begins, maybe her belly button, yeah...that’s it...like her belly button blowing a secret hello bubble into her viscera.  It giggles and warms her womb and then divides her fears into nothing and multiplies her joy into new as she begins the day with a surge up and out to spout water almost every morning now like ‘ole faithful’.

Up through solar plexus through her heart where it really takes off running then fairly hop happ clog dancing now through to her throat, choky choky to bubble past mouth to finally spring into quiet tender Buffy happy tears.

Buffy was happy.

“Ah luv, ah lamb...”  His voice would croon her to quiet as he nuzzled kissed her neck, teasing her ears with a tug of teeth until she laughed.  And sometimes he would pin her beneath him and kiss lick her face clean of salty water with the undivided solicitude of a mother cat tending her sole surviving kitten.

He would press his cheek to hers and rest their foreheads together until they were both weeping--joy made easier to bear by sharing.

Ah.  The burden of joy.  How could one ever imagine the courage it takes to be happy?  To be loved.

Who would have ever thought?  Every morning it was about surrender to the gift, accept the gift, worthy of the gift, let’s take the gift and bless it and bless where it comes from and...and...and...

If misery loves company, joy requires it. Needs too big for a single being, it needs to be broke like a big party piñata to spread the burden of so much happy, happy, joy, joy.

In short they had been sequestered together here in this luxury hotel in Denver since they had arrived four days ago from Sunnydale, but Buffy wanted to go out...she wanted to take Spike and this feeling out into the world and show it off and share it...and...and...besides...

She had bought a dress. 

*

Snow He

And that part of him...and Spike had to confess to himself it was still there and after twenty years of separation and even a bliss filled interlude in heaven and two weeks now with his beloved, it, (the fear) was still there and only in this moment, this morning moment, this, her automatic and spontaneous unthinking reaction to her joy in life, her life with him that eased that remaining doubt.

She loved him.  She was happy.

His woman is happy.  He is making his woman happy.

And 2023 aside, political correctness in neo mode and all the attention to making sure, sure, sure yeah, we are all responsible for our own happiness; sure, sure, we live our own lives...but deep in every male is the primitive and remaining need to make sure his woman is happy.  That the nest is fluffed, all are fed and...and she’s happy and none of that desire could be corrected or tamed by social politics.  Buffy and Spike didn’t need to prove autonomy to the world or each other, they didn’t need autonomy, they had had an overabundance of autonomy for twenty years--they needed coupling.  Lots and lots of coupling. 

And happy Buffy meant happy Spike.

Couldn’t recall such a feeling.  Maybe...maybe childhood, with his Mother...maybe around Christmas.  Maybe.  But that was a far and away second place.  And of course those moments in heaven with Buffy were beyond the pale even of recollect and almost painful in purity and he would have regretted knowing it at all if...if he had not brought back the rest of his soul with him.

There.  There it is.

His soul, he, himself in total and now that he had it; he understood why Buffy had needed something more so many years ago.  Now she had never said anything like that, she had never even hinted at such a reason, but maybe it was the big unnamed knowing...anyway, anyway--now he understood that a being such as she would need full reciprocation when she loved. And he had loved her with his self, with his full self but where she could fill him up with just a look, his love, he saw now had been a matchstick size love then in comparison and couldn’t have equaled the force of the furnace of her heart and if she had opened herself completely to him, he would have been blown out and away. 

Truly, the power of her love could have sent his demon, the demon who loved her, screaming under the force of so much light.  She would have loved him to dust.  Had she known that?

Bless his ignorant huberous.  He would shake his head inside himself, thinking, god bless the depth of his desire for her that blinded him from words like impossible.  Looking back over the years, he could see how through his willing and constant undying love had offered himself up to heaven be carved and crafted to be made to be an equal for her.

And inch by inch the light from soul singing had expanded and transmuted the demon to the plus side of the scale.  He was still a demon, but no longer a creature of darkness.

Weren’t angel’s daemons? 

At any rate, ever since their sojourn to heaven, he was able to tolerate the light of day.  Maybe he couldn’t stand in the direct sunlight as he could for the day after....that...but he could walk in more light than he ever could, and if he accidentally went too far into direct light for too long--instead of bursting into flames, he experienced a warning shot across his bow.  A tight tingling and tap to say:  ‘too far.’   And he had time to retreat to cover.  And of course when Buffy was with him, the love bond between them gave him an additional interior night light to help ease the way.  It was as if the sun recognized the additional heat in his heart as some kin, saw Buffy and Spike as a Star, some long lost but best loved family and let him under the radar of UV oblivion.

Ah, desire, is such a teacher.  That light, desire the pilot light steering the whole ship, the whole relation shipping business out across the Atlantic, past the cape and on, and on to find the mythic northwest passage, it’s there, it’s there and forget that everyone says it doesn’t exist, can’t be done, and bloody hell it had taken forever but here they were around the world and up in flames, figuratively speaking, and bless the purity of his love that sparked the lighthouse to guide this very good ship.

*

Snow Thee

They were equals now in every way that mattered, they were comrades, best friends, enemies even as men and woman can be to each other and also long time betrothed              

Oh how I love thee, in the heart, in the soul kiss.

He did.  He kissed her and still marveled at being able to.  Would never, ever get used to it, and what?  Take it for granted and have it taken back?

He kissed her with his open heart, grateful, supplicant and gracious benefactor.  He felt her heart swell and welcome him in, bring him home, he felt her small warm hands gently caress his shoulders and run, down the length of his arms, he felt a shiver trival travel skin springing up alive under her touch.  He loved it because she loved it, about that he had no doubt.  He knew absolutely she loved to touch his body, she had always loved touching his body, she could spend hours fascinated by the play of muscles and the twitches he suffered for her while she got her fill of tactile. And her touch was her tongue and told him exactly what she wanted; everything from being held and caressed herself, to loving union, to mindless sexual oblivion.

He kissed her gently, sweetly dipping his tongue in for a hello. She took it with a smile of welcome.  He didn’t push for more; he always let her set the pace in the morning.  How cliché that the mornings and daylight belonged to her and that in the night she was his.  He tended to dominate the night, and she ruled the day, it was an overused modus operand as the slayer vampire thing--but hey, it worked. 

Most mornings, since the episode on the beach--she had just wanted to be held.  They just held each other and warmed each other and enjoyed the sweet honey that flowed between them in the morning.  They were discovering that the connecting current between them had a different flavor and texture and demand at different times of the day.  Each hour fed a different part of their need for each other.  Amazing, amazing, amazing.

They had actually been very careful with each other after that little trippy trip to the heavenly dimension.  Had been more than a little afraid of going there again...that is before their time.  But the intensity of that experience had been a one time gift offer, and had existed in fact because Buffy had been so close to crossing over herself.  But now that she was well on the way to being completely restored they were operating more in the ordinary spectrum of things.  Well, you know...normal for them.

Her hand smoothed the current traveling down his back, he waited and she dipped her hand down onto the small of his back.  One hand resting calming his coiling spring of energy while the other gently caressed a round hard buttock.

He sighed.

Her signal.

He gently nestled himself between her legs, getting comfortable.  He absolutely loved making

love to her in the morning.  Well, anytime, really, but after the activities of the night, which often involved some old fashioned mindless sex--he was always ready, always needed to feel a warm welcome into her morning honey.

He felt the nudge of her vagina lips seeking contact.  A little insistent, a little like a demand.

He smiled.  God, how he loved this woman.

Sharp Nudge.

He gasped and smiled into her hair intoxicated by her scent--moving too slow am I luv? 

Well, well, well...

Cross fade to hot high gold satin sheets undulating sheen and sharp squeal of feminine delight.

*

Snow off

They were going out.  They were definitely going out.  Buffy had already bought the tickets, not to mention the dress and...and it was the Denver Performing Arts Company doing a production of “A Christmas Carol”

“A story of redemption...a classic story of a man learning the error of his ways, of having his way in the world of doing whatever...and then he--”

“He what?”

Buffy was in the white bathrobe gifted by the hotel to patrons and was seriously, seriously really gonna take a shower and get ready to go out...really...

“And then what happened luv?”

He had that low soft growly thing in his voice going on that pulled her from the living room suite to the bedroom almost against her will...

There he was still stretched out beneath the golden silky sheets, he was propped up a little against the headboard his eyes glowing, gleaming, chest naked to the waist, masculine leg extended out from under the cover.  He looked so casual, so bed tossed...but no...

‘I know what you’re doing...” She cautioned him.

“Oh yeah?...”  His hand idly stroked his taunt belly while he stretched back just a bit.  “’Whas’ that? What am I doing?”

“You’re doing that reclining cat thing...you know, ‘look at me all resplendent, and come on over and touch this, too unbelievably soft to walk away from’...”

‘Soft?”  He asked in smokey voice.

“You  thralling me?  You trying to thrall me?”

He smiled a crooked smile.  ‘Never. Never dream of it.  Thas’ just me natural charm...”  His hand slipped under the sheets and stroked his thigh or...or...

“What are you doing under there?”  Buffy demanded

He chuckled.  She couldn’t help it, she had to look.

She raised the sheet and looked beneath.

“Hey! Hey put that away!”

He almost pouted.  “You. You put away.”

Silence.

She sat down quietly on the edge of the bed her mood shifting suddenly.  They had both been delighted to rediscover how much fun could be had with each other.  Their mutual good humor led to much laughter in the bedroom...amongst other activities.  And now here was a new mood, suddenly serious, Buffy sat next to his feet and brought them on to her lap.  She held the meaty part of both feet with finger and thumb until she felt his mood shift as well.  Still quiet she began to massage his feet while she found the words she needed to say.

“I...want to go out...lets go out...if you don’t wanna go to the play...we can go somewhere else do something else...we...I can’t explain it exactly...I love this--being here with you...but I think, something is telling me...that you think, if we leave here, something will change or the bubble will break or...the world will get in our way...and maybe things do change...but when they do, I want you to be with me when they do.  I want to have this feeling with you, what we have here and now but I want it walking around and talking and stuff too and I’m not superstitious, I think we should go out...”

And here she lowered her eyes couldn’t look at him while she said this.

“And...now I understand, why people get married, it’s not obligation, or habit...it’s...it’s that need to stand up in public and say...hey!  He’s with me.”

Silence.

When she braved a look up to him it was to see a naked shock of a look.  His eyes large and luminous, his mouth opened slightly, parted with no words to come out.

“O.k. then, I’m gonnna go take a shower and do my hair--and I’m wearing something kinda dressy and semi formal and when I come back I wanna see you up and dressed.  You got a problem with that?”

“Buffy...”

His voice was soft, the single word so intimate she shivered, butterflies a flutter.      

They looked into each others eyes but said nothing, no words.  Words were too sharp. Too small for this flow, this dialogue of love.

She tugged on his big toe in a gesture of ‘get going’ and as she stepped out of the room she heard him call after her.

‘A story of redemption, huh?”

“Classic.”  She called back.  “Very Christmasy”

“So is hanging tinsel from your titties...”

She stepped back into the doorway of the bedroom, stood still and then very slowly let the bathrobe ‘accidentally’ slip down exposing her bare shoulder and the promise of breast beneath.”

“Maybe later...”

She slipped the robe a little lower until her lower back was exposed and then ducked out the room quickly hearing his howl and something dropping on the floor.

“You ok. In there?”  She called out sweetly.

“Oi aye...just...a manly need to thrash...a throw pillow...”