Snow Down

What need be said here?

We all know what happens in Act III.  It is the final warning to seal the deal for Ebenezer, our road, our goal all our best intentions can be waylaid so easily, so easily. Mis step here, and then it’s here, there--mis-stepping everywhere until one is completely out of time.  Out of time with the tune, and out of time for a second chance...

There is a place of no return; a final defining event that turns the key and locks the door to the bad place forever.

For Ebenezer it was the fear of being forgotten.  Cast aside. 

For Spike it was the fear of forgetting.

Love realized had been the potential carrot dangled to inspire him to want to change but the pain had been the catalyst.  Pain.  the deep wrenching pain he had felt when he had drove away that night, that Christmas in Sunnydale...it...it was like being cast out of heaven and thrown into hell all over again.  The fallen angel once glimpsing love again and god I can’t go back to hell, can’t...what to do?  And the answer was obvious.  All great change begins with...duh...changing your diet.

The blood of animals had been too low...to lacking in vibrant spirit for the needs he had been accustomed to.  As the word vampire suggests, the creature lived not only off the blood, but the animas, the life force, the life of the host.

He had tried just drinking, just drawing enough from his favorite diet of young girls. 

But.

But he had found...he had discovered he would pollute them somehow.  If, for example, the girl was not developed in her personality, still immature with a lack of a strong center, her meeting with him was not the end of the story only the beginning of the end.  He would recognize, some girl--like that little redhead that tall thin girl he would see cruising the nighttime bad bars looking for a hit. Oh there’s that long haired brunette tramping for vamps.  Needing the feed that discovered rush of feeling your personality obliterated under the onslaught of black night.  Better than heroin and smack, was being smacked.

Some people at the wrong time of their lives could become addicted to being broken.

And soon, very soon...they would end up dead...or turned and he, he would think of Buffy, feel her gaze breaking past being broken in those days after she had been attacked and he would be disgusted with the fact that he might be like one of those men that had tried to do that to her.

There was more than one way to pollute someone’s spirit.  He had always offered the choice between two deaths for victims of times past.  Death and un life.  But he had never, never forced unlife upon the unwilling.  The reality of Dru was the only reinforcement he would ever need to help him with that decision making.  And this partial feeding was like raping a girl, just no other comparison was possible, he left them altered completely and never to know themselves untouched, who they might have been.  Something of his demon got into them and if they weren’t strong enough to sweat it out, they broke.  One way or another they felt compelled to finish the thing he had started.

On road or another.

To his credit he discovered this quickly and declared partial feeding to be out...unless...what if it was somebody who was already broken?  Just one more slice off a cut loaf eh?

He remembered his last kill.

He must never forget his last kill; it kept him on the straight and narrow now absolutely.

He had taken to killing low life types, criminals probably, and told himself he was doing the world a service.  He was actually helping the Slayer.  Easing the world of a burden.

It was an old man.  A street person.  And when Spike bit into his neck that thing happened that did sometimes for him and always had for Dru.  He got impressions of the man’s life, flashes in incoherent order, a young man going to medical school, cracking under pressure, while heavily medicated he botched an operation and then the guilt, terrible, terrible guilt if he knew he was a bad doctor, if he knew that he was in trouble, and a doctors bad call may mean death and if he knew he was a bad doctor then did that make it premeditated murder?   And then there was the cover up, and he had, he had, no one had found out--but year by year he found himself still running, still running inside, running for cover until rejected in love he turned to war.  And now images of a young boy riding his bike arms flying in the air, laughing, free from care, now on a battlefield, automatic machine gun in hand and the terrible truth, the rush of adrenalin the surge of power and yes, yes, the doctor enjoyed killing, a baby now, he was a baby again with a young woman blowing raspberries on his tummy--

Oh god, oh god, even the smallest person in the world even the one cast aside began their lives as a child with a dream of life.

Oh god.  Spike had tried to pull away, retract his fangs but the old fellow had his arms wrapped around him in a death grip and wanted this now and knew, felt in this the last moment of his life, in this space of death, he was being given the gift of being known by someone.  Of having his life witnessed.      

Rejected in love, and rejected again and he had given up, and being the man that he was had been, going to a whore, even in Korea, especially in Korea was unthinkable, and so here in Spikes arms he died a seventy five year old virgin, horribly mangled by the world and untouched.  No one had ever wanted him enough to touch him.  His glory dreams of saving lives became murder, mass murder, his dreams of love to dust...and yet...yet he was dying grateful...for if Spike could see his life, then this stranger could see Spikes.  Understood untouched William.

The old man died knowing the comfort of a mutual mind.  

When Spike had finally wrenched free.  He had vomited the blood, spent it all back up on the street beside the inert figure of no one special.  Just some old man.

He never killed again.

Act III was like that.

*

Oh my love, my love...I count myself lucky I am the lucky one and you my love.

Buffy wanted to write it down--it came to her so perfect, just there in complete she had to write it down before she lost a single word.  A comma even.

She struggled in her purse, hand searching in the dark; she ran the words over and over in her mind, didn’t search for the source of the simple magic just remembered them and trusted them--oh!  A pen!  And oh!  More light.  They were at the full blown bru ha ha of Fred’s dinner party and it was waltzing or was it a polka? But who cares it was enough light to write by and down they went, all the words, all of them caught, caught them all and ho, ho, ho it felt good.  Like lightening in a bottle.  Like a good slay.

Simple task completed, mountain climbed she snuck her hand back into Spikes, their fingers entwining on automatic, happy fingers celebrating the wrap around.

Spike seemed a little far away...but calm enough.  She would simply have to wait and see and let this story work it’s whatever, power, magic miracle and there was no such thing as ‘just a story.’

Anything that affected you like this was alive.  It was as much alive in the world as they.

It ended well.  Scrooge, uh excuse me, our Ebenezer buoyant and bubbling and sober too...sober but like the alcoholic facing ‘never again.’  It was day by day, hour to hour and...well, you know...you get it.  Change was in the minutia of a thing. Each micro second of decision and then the small window of recall--to call it back, call back a bad decision.  This is what it is. 

There was redemption; there was grace, and love and yes one could change completely and forever if one wanted it badly enough.

People, creatures (can’t forget the Christmas ghosts or the willing undead) were wonderful.

Wonderful.

There was a standing ovation and three curtain calls and a general announcement about the party and meet the actors in the Lobby and refreshments and wasn’t that a piano playing?

Buffy and Spike sat back down in their seats as the audience members filed out around them.  They were in no hurry, both wanted to be quiet for a few moments and just...not think...just feel.

When the old voice broke into their peace...well it was only fair and a little tit for tat for all that and seeing they had disturbed her viewing pleasure only a scant three hours ago--well perhaps it was only fair that Buffy’s neighbor, the matron on her right choose this moment to open a conversation with them.

She seemed to just start speaking, like these were thoughts that had been playing in her mind and she just opened her mouth and they came out from wherever--

“--But don’t you let it.  You fool them, you fool the game, you give back before the fates come to collect? Right?  You keep the bank account on the good deeds side.”

Buffy turned in her chair and nodded politely as Spike leaned forward to puzzle out what was happening.

The white haired matron went on.

“I won’t guarantee it.  No one can.  And so we would donate money here, help build a hospital wing there...and even if it did start with a conscious effort to give something back, even if it was a deliberate attempt to balance the books, it always ended up...good.  It worked for Edward and me.”

Here she paused as she looked directly at the two young people.  Well, young to her.

“We were together for thirty three years.  Not a lot I suppose if you consider that I’m eighty seven years old.  He passed two years ago in September. Gone. Gone now.  Gone from my side, but we were together for thirty three years and we were happy...there were two bad years, but that’s the balance sheet I guess.  Lost a child together and it marked us, it nearly killed us both, but we stayed together and against all odds, we got back on target and dammit if our love, if our loving each other didn’t stop at least two world wars.”

Spike moved up close behind Buffy and she leaned back against him as they looked at the woman and listened.

“You think that sounds a little crazy?  I feel it’s true.  When things got bad in the world, well...extraordinarily bad, Edward would get these dreams, terrible things, and we would do some extra loving.  Sometime we would stay in bed for days just loving each other, just love until things moved a little more to the love side and help balance the ship.”

She looked at the two of them, with a twinkle and a tear in her eye and said softly.

“I feel better seeing you two tonight. I was cranky at first, you two can sure jump around in your chairs, but now I feel better knowing there’s some couple to take over for me and Edward, to do what we did. It’s been on my mind, that kind of love doesn’t come around every day, does it?”

Silence and then Spike said softly.

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Do you think you could do that?  You young man, you think you can love her like that for the rest of your life?”

“I do.”

“What about you young miss?  Young fillies like to run around, sample, and shop you done with that?”

“I am.”

“Well that’s good, now you may think me crazy, but this is an important responsibility,  I wouldn’t pass this to just anyone, I’ve been waiting, you see...you can save the world, you can save the world from the comfort of your easy chairs and just by loving in each other, and I don’t just mean in bed...I mean do the dishes every once in a while young man, take care of the children too...you won’t let them go hungry for attention will you?”

Buffy looked down and Spike stroked her arm and spoke for them.

“Never.  Never happen.”

“Well all right then.” The old woman looked at Buffy’s downcast eyes and asked: “You’re not afraid of a little responsibility are you?”

Spike and Buffy snorted in perfect unison. And Spike said proudly of his Buffy.

“This ‘un eats responsibility like buttered popcorn.”

“Ha!  I knew it.  I’m an old woman, and all I can say is don’t let what happens loom so large it hurts you in the day--life can be long and things can change.  And what’s impossible one day is a revelation the next.”

Well that was true. Buffy and Spike looked at each other, and Spike pressed his cheek up against hers.

“Oh dagnabit...I almost forgot...you have anything you want to say to each other or declare to the world? ”

They looked at each other, minds locked down, throats too tight to speak.

“Oh!”  Buffy looked down at her lap.  Where was it?  She searched around on the floor until her hands found the program with ‘the words’ written on it. She read them again to see if they were still true.  Yes. But she couldn’t speak them...wouldn’t be able to choke it out.  She showed them to Spike and watched his eyes grow soft and moist and felt...pressed up against his body she could swear she almost felt his heart beat.

“Well?”  The old woman demanded a little imperiously.  “Speak now or forever...”

Spike cleared his throat, but in the end handed the paper to the woman to scan.

She took the papers and made a big show of pulling out her reading glasses and humphing impatiently until she read the words. 

Oh my love, my love...I count myself lucky I am the lucky one and you my love.

She stopped, became still, took off her glasses and gazed at them with gratitude

“Thank you.”  And then.  “I know pronounce you....oh silly me...I forgot the best part--kiss, kiss, go ahead and kiss you’ve been dying to all night--“

Spike held Buffy’s face with both hands and she placed her hand on the back of his neck as the leaned in to touch lips, the electric shock fusing them together as it does in nature. Nature, natural, most natural thing in the world, to love to fuse to join and make something single doubled, something small larger and some new life a brand new idea that would never have existed outside being born from love.

When they came to a rest, the old woman was smiling.

“That was nice.  I now pronounce you...what’s your names?

Voice cleared Spike said:  “Buffy...”

Buffy said:  “Spike...”

“I now pronounce you Buffy and Spike to be lover world protectors.  And you won’t even have to leave your house to do it.  Economical.”

They laughed.

“That’s good, that’s good, God bless you, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and could you help me up?  Ooh you’re a strong one for a small girl--“

“Well, what with the weight of the world on my shoulders, I better be.”

Mrs. Edward Jamae Gordon laughed. 

*

Snow Light

O.K.

Where did he go?

Mrs. Gordon had asked Buffy to walk her to her limousine.  It seemed she had wanted some additional ‘girl talk’ time with Buffy.  And it was so kind really and Buffy hadn’t the heart to tell her that all her advice on how to reduce the acid in her system so she could conceive a child was wasted.  Not everybody took well to news of vampires and slayers and weird physical stuff.

But, she had listened and Mrs. Gordon had forced a promise from Buffy to go see this nutritionalist/energy worker and it sounded suspiciously neo new age, but Buffy had taken the info and had promised. Why not? 

But where was he?

He hadn’t looked like he was in a mood to chat with his friends and he said he would wait for her here on the veranda.  Sometime during the third act it had begun to snow and now Buffy took a moment to be still and watch it come down.

She paused, and then opened up her senses to see if she could spot him on the radar.  Did he want to be alone?  No...there he is...down there....

She walked the length of the veranda and down the stone steps following footprints now that she didn’t need.  He was waiting for her down there by the river.  She made her way down the path with ease. 

Quiet, so quiet the world was.  After words and words and lights and speeches just now...just quiet.

Sweet snow falling.

Her man waiting.

Standing.

Standing so still it broke her heart for a moment for she saw how he might look in death.

She stood watching, just watching just taking him in.

Light bright swirls of snow carving the black, lighting the night, landing gently about his head and shoulders dusting him to white.

So beautiful.

Did the snow make him glow or did Spike glow the snow?

Spike by Snowlight.

And then she remembered.  That almost morning so many years ago, almost mourning if not for mercy. Pulling him out of the path of the morning sun because...because...she could.

Because it was in her, loving was something she could do...there were so many things, so many miseries on this earth she could never heal and maybe never should...but she could love...she had it in her to recognize love in the darkest creature and to trust it.  It was her gift.

He was waiting for her and she padded the rest of the way down the path to stand quietly at his side and followed his gaze up the river, she gasped.

Where there was a short cliff, just a ten foot high waterfall now was ice.  Water stilled to a complete stop. Thoughts, deeds, dreams and all travel, travel to see what’s down river frozen into quiet.

Quiet, still, and moving no more.

As if it never would again.

Beautiful in it’s halted progress, in this frozen moment.  Holding its breath, holding...

Buffy slipped an arm around Spike’s waist and she felt him lean into her as he always did when she touched him, but still felt a glimmer of remote, of attention fixed on some inner struggle.

“It’s beautiful. “  She breathed softly.

He considered and when he spoke it seemed to come from far away.

“But when does it become sad?”

She looked at the ice sculpture, the frozen waterfall. Unmoving.  Unchanging.

Buffy sat down on a stone bench set by the rivers edge; she sat on the snow not bothering to wipe it away.  She studied the frozen water, stared at it for at east four minutes straight.  And then finally answered.

“You’re only saying these things out loud so you can hear the list of things you’ll never be.  That...”  She gestured casually toward the frozen unchanging structure.

“That is not what you are.”

He was listening.

“It’s like saying, hey there’s....there’s...an...old...washing machine in the road...look out!”

Spike turned to stare at her.  The incongruity of her observation broke the spell the frozen water had cast over him.

She patted the space beside her and he came over to sit next to her.

“Just cuz you know enough to look for it, to yell out a warning, doesn’t mean you are the washing machine.”

“No?”

“No.”

“I’m not a washing machine?”

“You’re a wishing well.”

It was suddenly true.

“Imagine me a young miss, stopping for a sip, and suddenly I know, if I drink this, if I bring you into my body, something wonderful will happen.  Spike.  You make things happen.  I can never see you blocking traffic, you help people, those people I met tonight, your friends and so many others...and it may be more subtle than saving the world, true, you don’t save the world...you save the people in it...”

He looked at her face, the snow falling about her, and then she, herself and her features all seemed to merge into a white spot of light.  A bit of snow blindness.

Impulsively he grabbed her hands and placed them on his chest and whispered.

“Make a wish Buffy...wish on me whatever, wish something you really want for yourself and if I can I’ll do it for you...”

She touched his face marveling at his halo of snow glow.

His wide blue eyes caught her green ones and wouldn’t let go until she saw past the gleam of the joke to true.

It’s true.  It’s true.  He was a wishing well.

Well then, she dipped inside herself and found it--it was easy to find waiting there in her womb and then she asked softly:

“You sure?”

His eyes warmed and suddenly his mouth looked so soft...so...

Thinking her wish her hearts desire she dip kissed it gently into his mouth the sweet frisson of love daisy chain happy lap danced through him until it reached his center and he agreed.  The penny dropped deep into his well and so enthusiastically he agreed he reached back out and into her, greedy for more. 

More Buffy, take more...

He pulled her tongue into his mouth and pulled her up close against his body and damn...damn...if she didn’t feel a heart beat back or maybe it was just the echo of her own.

He pulled back to let her breathe and found her neck, her lovely swan dive tease and nuzzle kissed her until she giggled.

They were happy.

And the snow fell down, and the water remained frozen and they could hear singing now coming from the open doors of the veranda leading into the theatre and maybe they would go in for a nod, and a nip of noggin and maybe they would go back to the hotel, and maybe Dawn would come out for New Years and maybe they would all go to Mary’s party and maybe they would not.

So hard to tell, sitting......still......here in this moment, what would happen next.