elisi: Edwin holding a tiny snowman (Maybe Someday by buttersideup. All Mine!)
elisi ([personal profile] elisi) wrote2005-01-22 10:33 am
Entry tags:

Maybe Someday. Chapter 1.

Well, new fic. A post-NFA Spuffy fic. It's also a sort of sequel to 'The Summer After', in that the events of that story took place, but it really has no impact on what happens in this fic.

This is going to be a long WIP I'm afraid - I have about 6 (long) chapters written down, and at least as many again sat in my head. Many, many thanks to my clever beta [livejournal.com profile] kathyh, who manages to catch all my stupid mistakes! :) And there's a fair bit of The Immortal in this chapter - just to warn you! (However this will pay off later!)

Anyway, if you're interested, please have a look:




Disclaimer: Joss and ME own the Buffyverse, I just like to play with their characters.
Setting: Autumn 2004 - September-ish I guess.
Feedback: I am a feedback whore! Now I just need an official mug! :)
Banner and icon made by the talented [livejournal.com profile] buttersideup.
ETA: Total word count: 48000 words.

title or description


Maybe Someday


“Tell me ... maybe, someday, there's a chance."
‘Crush’


Chapter 1

She met him the first time she went ice-skating. Dawn had hinted that it would probably do her good to have some sort of hobby - she seemed to spend an awful lot of time looking after the new Slayers - and had then suggested ice-skating: “You used to love it - remember?”. Buffy did remember - she also recalled the only occasion when she had gone ice-skating after being called... Angel and the Order of Taraka did not happy memories make.

But since she was making a fresh start, maybe it would be a good idea. So one early spring day she set off for the large Marino Centre - the trains practically went to the door, so at least it was easy to find.

That first day, joining in with all the other members of the public that came here, she had been a little shaky... it had been a long time since she had done this last. Once when taking a short break she had heard a deep voice offering to help her and had turned to see a tall, tanned man, immaculately dressed, holding out his hand and smiling. He was so impossibly good-looking, that for a moment she thought he must be talking to someone else, but he repeated his offer and gently took her arm. Skating around she wondered who he was - he skated exquisitely and she asked him if he was a professional. At this he laughed and showed blindingly white teeth that made her think of movie stars.

They had made small talk - she told him about her skating obsession as a child and he had nodded and smiled and been the perfect gentleman. So much so, that it was only when she was sitting in the train on the way home, that she realised that he had never told her his name. His English had been excellent, with only the slightest trace of an accent that she couldn’t place - not Italian, anyway. Trying to describe him to Dawn she felt rather foolish, but Dawn said that at least she was moving on. Buffy nodded silently at the unvoiced implication.

She hadn’t expected to see the stranger again, but next week he was there once more. When she asked him his name he had laughed and answered: ‘’You mean you do not know who I am?” which brought sudden disturbing images of Dracula to mind, although this man did not look creepy at all. She had shaken her head and he had apologised for his rudeness, he had simply assumed she knew: “I am The Immortal. Your Watcher never told you about me?”

This had caused her to freak out and she had left him there and then. That evening she had called Giles and asked him to find out everything he could about someone named ‘The Immortal’. The information was scattered, but Giles had not found anything to suggest he was evil - his main worry had been that the man seemed to be a bit of a playboy, and warned Buffy against ‘that type’, whether demon or human!

But since this Immortal guy didn’t appear to stalk her at all and she enjoyed skating, a few weeks later she was back at the rink. When he saw her, he came over and apologised for frightening her previously. Then he sweetly explained that he had heard of her - he had contacts in the demon world - and had been quite excited to finally meet her. In all he was so friendly that she found it hard to resist when he suggested a drink.

After a few weeks the ‘drinks’ turned into semi-dates. When Dawn had asked about it, Buffy shrugged. “He’s company, y’know? And he’s immortal - he’s hardly wanting to get married and have a bunch of rugrats.” Dawn had nodded and seemed to understand, which Buffy was very happy about. She did not want to explain herself to anyone - especially not herself. The Immortal was the perfect date, charming, considerate, excellent at dancing and knew all the best restaurants in Rome.

When she finally let him meet her friends (Willow and Kennedy had come to visit, and Willow had been most insistent on a meeting) he had been friendly, but not overly so. Dawn said he was ok - Willow said something about his velvety eyes that had Kennedy nodding instead of being jealous... it all went really well.


She slept with him now and again. The first time had been a beautiful evening, when after a good deal of wine he had invited her back to ‘his place’. This had turned out to be more like ‘his palace’, which she had half-expected, but she’d nevertheless been rather impressed.

He was as good a lover as she had expected. Perfect in every way. Impeccable even. His skill honed through many lifetimes, he took her total satisfaction as a given. She had lain awake for a long time afterwards, knowing that if she fell asleep, another name might cross her lips. A name she had never mentioned to him, and never would. Some things were too private, too raw still.

She had left a few hours before sunrise, gently waking him to say that she hadn’t told Dawn she’d be out this late, and didn’t want to worry her. He had smiled understandingly and praised her for her concern.

On the way home she had walked through a graveyard, found a fledgling vampire and fought him hard and furiously for an unnecessarily long time - only staking him as the sun rose, so the rays wouldn’t rob her of her prey. She walked home in a daze, tired and battered, and when she caught sight of herself in a mirror went straight into the shower. As the cool water hit her too-hot body she finally broke down. She didn’t know how long she cried for. She remembered another night, another man - someone not perfect. Someone who could be gentle and loving, but also knew how to make her scream. Who hadn’t held back and somehow managed to get through to her - releasing her. Someone who used to wear eyeliner, black nail polish and who never cared for what people thought. Someone who had loved her through everything... who would have called her beautiful if he had seen her when she came through the door. Then asked if she wanted to go another round. Someone she would never see again. And she cried for the world she had lost.

Sitting in her room afterwards, she carefully took out her secret. Her treasure. She had found it quite unexpectedly. It had been shortly after The First had been defeated...

They had all gone to London, to see if there was any of the old Council that could be salvaged. Older Watchers had turned up, eager to help. Many had private book collections that they were more than happy to donate to the New Council. Giles had been overjoyed at their generosity, but found himself with a very large number of books that needed indexing. So Buffy had spent a good few weeks sorting through musty old tomes, along with an assortment of elderly Watchers. Giles had been surprised when she volunteered, but her skills were rather limited and she was tired of fighting for the time being. And although the work was boring, it was useful, and she found the repetitive occupation soothing.

Then one day - flicking through yet another copy of ‘History of the Aurelian Vampires’ (trying to avoid the pictures of The Master and Angelus, they still had the power to creep her out) - she noticed a picture stuck between two pages. Thinking it was a bookmark, and wondering how old it could be, she pulled it out and suddenly felt faint. It was him!

The photo had obviously been taken a long, long time ago. His hair was darker - longish and wavy, the clothes looked Victorian. But the face was the same and the scar was there. He looked straight into the camera, eyes mischievous and with a hint of danger. A small smile was on his lips, as though someone had just told a joke. For a moment she was unable to breathe. She had never had a picture of him. She had never thought that she’d need one. Spike was just there. Always. Until suddenly he wasn’t.

She swallowed and quickly glanced around, but none of the others had noticed anything. She swiftly stored the picture in her bag and when she later came back to her hotel room, she put it in a poetry book she had bought earlier that week....

Looking at it now, she marvelled again at her good fortune. She knew that technically she had stolen the photo, but she didn’t care. If anyone deserved it, she did. As her fingers hovered over his image, she wondered again how come she was so affected by a picture of a soulless murderer. He was evil when the photo was taken, she knew. He would spend the next century or so killing people, and yet... it was the soulless killer who had fallen in love with her. It was quite simply part of who he was, and she had accepted that a long time ago. And there had been light in him, just as there was darkness in her. She sighed and carefully put the photo back. She was trying to move on, and for the time being The Immortal seemed like the best option.


It was only after a few months that she suddenly realised what The Immortal reminded her of. It had been at nagging her a the back of her mind, and one day it came to her - it was the Bot. She stood stock still, which wasn’t a good idea when skating, since several people nearly bumped into her. Ignoring their swearing, she noticed The Immortal coming up to her, a slightly worried look on his face: “Are you ok, Cara Mia?” She had smiled reassuringly: “Fine, I just - remembered something,” and skated on.

That night she had stayed in with a movie wondering why her brain had made such an odd connection. Then it dawned on her - he was too perfect. Never angry, never late, never worried - always pleasant and friendly. But rather than making him more attractive, she realised that this was why she would never fall in love with him, and that this was probably why she was going out with him in the first place - her heart was safe while she slowly patched it up.

So she kept seeing him - if nothing else it stopped her friends and the new Slayers from getting her ‘blind dates’. And how many girls could say that The Immortal had been their rebound guy? She owed it to Spike to be happy, so she did the best she could.


On to Chapter 2

[identity profile] jamalov29.livejournal.com 2005-01-23 01:35 pm (UTC)(link)
I am so very happy to read this , Elisabeth!
I love long ( spuffy) wip..! You've got such a beautiful writing , so full of emotions.


You captured Buffy's mind in a lovely , very satisfying way , and true to her character : I often imagined her , trying to reconnect with the world all around her , willing to live an easy relation ship , thinking that it was Spike's gift , in the end.
And it has always been clear in m y mind that The Immortal was ' the rebound guy '. And that she would think in herself :" I won't forsake Spike".

So much poignancy when she lets all her memories of him going to the surface , and she's crying .. " Someone who had loved her through everything... who would have called her beautiful if he had seen her when she came through the door. Then asked if she wanted to go another round. Someone she would never see again."

The picture of him , kept like a sweet treasure , was another marvelous idea..


*rubbing hands excitedly*
*hoping fervently for a Spike/Buffy reunion*