Snow Bound

She wanted to dislike her. Wanted to see something scary, something slayable, some petty something, some flaw and use the universally accepted code of accepted dislike for the woman who claimed attention from your man.  But she couldn’t.  She was wonderful.  Amazing even.  Glowing from the inside out, her radiant quick good humor filled the theatre, her standard British speak usually cool and clipped to the ear was made pleasant by a warm voice that reached inside Buffy, reached and touched until she surrendered.  She liked her.  She liked Spike’s Mary.  And maybe it was the character she played but she didn’t think so.  A good person could play evil, but could an evil or even cold person be love itself?  Tap right into the heart and have it be behind every word?  Not.

This was a gift.  Mary had the gift of actor as storyteller. 

The production had dedicated the whole second act to the past of Ebenezer Scrooge.  Going into the great details often slipped by in a hurry to pay it off.  No, this play relished the story, and because they enjoyed it so much, the audience did as well.  The party at Scrooges old employers went on and on, driving a rhythm into the theatre that had Buffy tapping her feet and fairly jigging in her chair.

She kept a close eye on her lover.  Ooh.  Ooh she loved that word.  Oooh, her lover. 

He seemed all right.  It seemed he was past his crisis of recall and was now deeply immersed in the story.  He sure seemed stuck with his eyes on the stage.  On her.  O.K.  O.K.  Chilly chill of course he’s gonna have friends, major long term life companions, almost his family.  Still...still...well...he had always made her the centerpiece of his life.  He had always made her feel first.  And...god this feels childish...but if she understood why people stood up to get married, she also now understood why a nice long honeymoon was important.  Even for couples who had known each other for...decades.  Sometimes only time spent together, intimate time spent with intention, intensified, solidified and strengthened the ‘couple’ bond from worldly assault and small misunderstandings.  Had she pushed them both out of the nest too soon?

*

Of course he felt her disquiet...but he was still evil enough to enjoy a little jealousy on his behalf.  It was when he felt her shift to sadness that he turned in his seat and looked at her until she looked at him.  He had to touch her face...had to...

Lightly so lightly he skimmed the surface of her face with his fingers stroking and touching like a blind man finding his way back to beloved to never...never lose my way...never, never lose you...never lose you, never my sweet lamb...he thought and his fingers told her.

These things are fragile, this miracle between them had to be respected and put above all else, every, everything.  Things unattended, even a miracle can break if you dropped it the wrong way. 

He leaned in to whisper without a trace of irony oblivious to the sound of tables turning:

“Would you like to leave?  Let’s go--just take off eh luv?”

He would do that.  Burn everything.  His life, his friends, he was wrong to be willing to torch so much and she would never let him, but him having said this, asked that, even wanting to leave himself, for her--eased her fear. And she shook her head against his palm.  She kissed his palm and whispered back.

“I wanna see how it ends.”

He smiled.  Lord, he was lucky.  He was lucky...and holding a fortune in her and he best tread carefully in the world and consider the spending and sharing of it.

They spent the rest of act two, listening to the play but looking into each others eyes.  And when something spoken on stage was particularly funny, potent or relevant they communicated their response to the audio stimuli via ocular small talk.

Every once and while they would look at the stage in awe of the human hum of excellent actors plying their trade and some special effect was always an attention grabber but then it would be back to the comfort of each others eyes.

They were being almost impossibly fluffy.

Sigh.

End of act two on high note for Ebenezer--they called him by his first name now, so well they felt they knew him.  He felt powered up and ready for a new life but there...there do you hear the slightly ominous tong of the bells?  Oh course you do.

Lights to black.  House lights slowly up to half with the audience in enthusiastic applause.

Without a word to each other they stood to stretch and make their way to the lobby, on impulse Buffy turned to the elderly woman who was sitting to her right to nod and saw the old woman smiling warmly at her.  Buffy nodded and smiled back (aren’t people wonderful?) and then turned to follow Spike where he waited for her in the aisle.

“Punch?” He asked

“Knock yourself out.” 

“You don’t want a hit...or maybe you want a blow to the egg noggin?”  He asked sweetly.

“Surprise me.  I gotta run to the rest room first.” 

They were in the lobby and stood quietly next to each other.

“Huh.  All the way over there?  So far away.”  Spike observed.

She kissed him on the cheek, and he kissed her lips lightly before she pulled back.  He watched her walk away, her backside swaying just a bit this way and that, oh well--one small compensation of parting.

He made his way to the bar.  The theatre was well staffed for the occasion and so the wait wasn’t long.  He had opted for the hot cider--nice little touch of old England.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

He saw an opening in the crowd by the ring of windows opening out onto a vista of the small river that run adjacent to the theater and on through Denver. He stood for a moment looking out onto the newly fallen snow.   Must have started to snow sometime during the play; he looked up at the nighttime sky.  Seems to have stopped for the moment and then he smiled at the small quaint observations of the weather that occupied his mind.  In only in his head could the range be rung from full scale mayhem and shedding the blood of the innocent to ‘huh...wonder if will start snowing again?’    

He felt eyes upon him and so placed (an automatic instinct to free his hands) the two cups of cider on the window ledge and turned to follow the thread.

It led to Bethany.  Bethany.  Lovely, quiet, small, slight, dark haired Bethany.  She held his gaze from across the room and then of all the remarkable things to happen she smiled.  Usually so taciturn to stoic, the sight of her bright smile was a shock.

Spike smiled back and she made her way through the crowd toward him, her eyes leaving his face she looked down at the floor as she walked and didn’t look back up until she was almost in front of him.

“Bethany, you look lovely.  Like a beautiful bird.”

She smiled and nodded and signed with her hands.  “So do you.”

“What?  Look lovely or a like a bird?”

“A bird.”  She signed.

“What, like a bird of prey?  A Falcon like?  It’s the bloody tales of these long coats.”

“No,” she signed back interrupting him, “A bird of P. R. A. Y.”

Spike harrumphed.

Bethany continued signing:  “You look like prayer standing here in the snowlight.”

“You use your fine words to make an ugly thing beautiful pet and that’s no good.”

“I speak the truth.”  She signed simply.

Spike sighed.  “Then speak it to me, tell me all, but use your voice pet, it’s just the two of us here, let me hear your little bird call.  Hmm?”

Bethany rolled her eyes and head around to indicate the other three hundred or so people in the lobby--

“Oh them...” Spike considered the strangers and summed it all up.  “Close personal friends.  After what we all just experienced together in there tonight...this lot and me are mates for life.”

Bethany sighed and her smile faded somewhat.  She signed with her hands.  “It’s wonderful isn’t it?  Mama is brilliant tonight, yes?”

“Yes.”  Spike agreed.  He knew Bethany had very mixed feelings about her Mothers talent and success and what it had cost them all, her in particular.  And when Mary was especially amazing, Bethany was proud and loved her Mother dearly but it brought Mother and Daughter into even sharper contrast.  Mary’s blazing glory next to Bethany’s struggle from the ashes.

Bethany changed the subject and startled Spike by speaking.

“Bbb...bbbuuu...bbbbufffyy?”

*

Buffy was hiding behind the Christmas tree. 

She had come back from the restroom, feeling...well, rested.  After approximately two and a half hours of sitting in the theatre she had to confess to enough vanity to check her make up before meeting Spikes friends.

She saw them by the window as soon as she reentered the lobby.  The girl, small dark and lovely gesturing with her hands and Spike glowing and handsome leaning in and cocking his head slightly to the side.

Ping.

They looked good together.  They looked comfortable and at peace in each others company.  The girl was lovely in an ordinary way but as Buffy continued to observe their conversation she saw how she opened up and glowed under Spikes attention.  The girl was gesturing again and suddenly Buffy recognized it as sign language and found herself suddenly eavesdropping accidentally.  But once begun she was too fascinated to pull way or to interrupt their conversation.

There was something about the simple word ‘snowlight’ that rang at something buried deep within her but she shrugged it off as she tried to think what the young woman reminded her of.  There was something about her that called to her Slayer instinct to protect, strangely, to protect her even from Spike. She could see why he hovered over her.  Buffy could see his desire to protect the girl from here. 

Oh.

Of course.  It was the way he had behaved around Dawn, when she had been a teenager.  The protector of young girls.  Well.  That’s all right then, inside Slayer said.  But you better go over there to help stop any crush she may have. Sometimes one had to protect girls from their own hearts.                  

She started moving slowly forward and it was the sound of her own name, being stuttered, so painfully stuttered that it sounded like a cry for help that galvanized her forward.

The girl was signing something now, asking Spike:  “Is she me?”

Spike nodded ever so slightly with his head at her cryptic question and then opened himself up from Bethany and held a hand out to Buffy as she approached to welcome her back.

There was that now familiar small electric shock when they touched hands.  And they smiled stupidly at each other as they reconnected.  They had discovered that when ever they separated for more than two hundred yards or so, their electric fields, their etheric bodies needed just needed to say hello again with a crackle and hum.  And like an ignorant child sticking his finger into an electric socket Spike loved the thrill of will this spark ignite me?  Will she dust me good someday with her electric love?

He loved it.

It wasn’t until they were pulling away from each other, that Buffy realized they had been kissing.  Spike was stroking her face in silent wonder, it was Buffy who turned to the young woman now standing staring open mouthed and maybe...maybe a little teary eyed.

Oh god, Buffy hadn’t meant to hurt her--but then Bethany smiled and looked at them both like they were a new day.  Brand new and let’s start over and with something like...hope.

Spike remembered his manners.

Buffy, this is the amazing Bethany.

Bethany signed “Hello and you are so beautiful and where did you get that dress?”

Spike laughed and started to translate but stopped when Buffy put her hand on his arm and responded herself by signing to Bethany.

“Hello yourself, Spike makes me beautiful and there’s a little store at Colfax and Main.  Odd, cause it’s so small--“

They were interrupted by Andre bouncing up with two cups of cider almost spilling one on his sister.  Bethany shoved at him and looked at him crossly.

“Que?  Que le tortavec vous?” Andre asked all innocence.

Bethany looked at Buffy and rolled her eyes.  Buffy liked her. She liked her a lot.  She laughed and could almost feel Spike relax beside her with an audible snap as they all fell into a comfortable place around each other.   

The house lights blinked and Buffy cried:  “My punch!”

“We’ll sneak it back into the theatre--its Christmas after all, they can relax a few rules--“

--“Oh speaking of which--did you know the Company is hosting a post show party right here after the play.  The audience gets to play with the actors, meet everyone and...catered and of course you’re staying you must meet Mama--“

Bethany stopped him with her hand on his arm and signed:  “They may have other plans Andre...” (Don’t push...)

Buffy started to sign:  “Will they have those little cheese quiches; I love--“when Andre rudely interrupted her by saying.

“Oh you don’t need to sign, Bethany’s not deaf, she just doesn’t like to talk...”

It wasn’t quite a growl, maybe a low rumble but definitely disquiet.

Silence and then Buffy spoke and signed together.  “Well that just sounds like good sense to me--why would she want to waste breathe talking to you?”

Silence for a moment and then Spike and Bethany burst into laughter with a slightly miffed chastised Andre following suit.

Spike picked up the two cups of cider and led the way back to the theatre.

“You are working me tonight Andre...” Spike offered his voice calm.

Andre muttered following him, “I’m not the only one working you...vous recevez travaille bien...”

Spike gave him a sharp glance but shook his head smiling.  Boys and lust.  Well he could understand that.

Buffy felt a touch at her elbow and Bethany signed to her:  “Green eyed monster.”

And Buffy asked on automatic slayer alert.  “Where?”

They all laughed.  Bethany signed.  “You are so funny.  Like Spike.  How nice to have someone to laugh with.”

“Or at.”  Buffy amended.

“Oi...oohh wait for it--here it is:  He who laughs last an’ al’”  Spike fairly sung out to her thinking ahead of the night to come.

Buffy felt a little shiver as she read his mind.  “Uh oh.” But her thoughts were interrupted by watching Bethany step up next to Spike and sign:

“She is me?”

Spike spoke low, something that sounded like:  ‘She’s been where you are’ or ‘she understands where you are...’ “and look at her now.”

Bethany sighed and signed.  “So much time.”

“Well lucky for you, you have a lot of it to burn.  You’ll be alright Bethany, but Andre is right in a berk sort of way.  You should talk more.”

Bethany nodded just a bit and signed. “I want to be funny.  I think I can be funny too.  And signing takes so long to...quip.”

“There you are then.”  Spike said as if that settled it.  He looked up at the doorway to the aisle of the main floor. “This is our get off, little birds...”

Andre strangely quiet left the talking to his sister who signed:

“If we don’t see you after the play, Mama is having a New Years Eve Party at The Overlook, please come...but if you can’t we’ll...see you in Paris?”

Spike and Buffy looked at each other and then at the brother and sister. 

“In a couple of weeks.” Buffy said.

Good.  Good.

“Mmmeeaarry Ccchristmas Bbbuffyyee...”

Impulsively Buffy kissed Bethany’s cheek in response and whispered into her ear.

“Thank you...thank you for making this easier for Spike...”

Bethany hugged her quickly and then walked away, her brother giving a nod to the both of them before following his sister whose thoughts were running something like this.

Mother is not going to like this.  No not at all.  But why should Mama have it always?  As far as I know, Spike has always been clear with her and maybe this is the best thing for Mama--maybe this would set her free from false hope.  This could be very good.  And Buffy understood me.  She knows me from another road and see how her life is turning out? There is hope. I can change.  I can.  I’ll stop having those terrible nightmare and wake up crying.  Someday. And I’ll get my voice back too.  I used to be able to sing. My god, how Buffy glows!  Spike looks happy too...            

*

Back in their seats and awaiting the curtain Spike considered how much of Bethany’s story he ought to relay to Buffy.  He had rescued her from her kidnappers but it was, after all, her story, not his to tell, and he was saved from making this decision when Buffy suddenly asking quietly.

“She was hurt wasn’t she?  Something terrible happened to her?”

Spike answered simply.  “Yes.”

Buffy turned to look at him.  It was buried so deep within her and she swore she would never speak about it again, about that terrible night in the bar in Kalispell, Montana but now she remembered, suddenly she remembered everything, even all she

had suppressed and she looked down into her lap.

“We are having a strange night eh luv?”  He asked softly.

“It’s what happens when you walk around in the world.”

Should he take her hand?  Would she mind being touched?

She leaned her shoulder into his, sighed and said very, very softly.  “Did I ever say ‘thank you’?”

“Pet.  You saved me that night, you set me on a road to save my soul, please don’t ever thank me, when I owe you so much.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder and said nothing.

Her next door seat neighbor came back then, struggling from the other end of the aisle and Buffy nodded to the elderly well groomed woman who nodded back and said.

“I couldn’t fight my way through that crowd to get a cup of cider--can you imagine?”

“Oh...” Buffy said suddenly, “We brought you back a cup.”

The elderly woman’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Is that right?”

Spike stood holding out a cup, hot cider in a ceramic mug.  “Still warm an al’”

“You’re English.”  The elderly woman asked accused.  “Is this accurate?”  And she pointed at the stage.

“Oh aye...it is...as Buffy says...people are wonderful...”

The woman’s brows shot up even further--that’s not what she had meant when she had asked--but here she had received an even better answer.  People are wonderful.  Yes they are.

She settled herself into her seat and accepted the cup from Spike gratefully.

“Thank you.”

“Thank her.”  Spike offered, nodding toward Buffy.  “It was her idea.”

“So you’re the idea man?” 

“Buffy shrugged.  “We take turns.”

The elderly woman liked this answer she liked this very much and began to wonder something as the house lights dimmed.

ACT THREE