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Birthday and fic!
Today is a special day, because it is the birthday of my wonderful beta (and very talented iconmaker) ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kathyh! *throws confetti* And since I am no good at baking (I’d send brownies if I was), instead I managed to locate a little plotbunny. Which of course works out in favour for all the rest of you! *g*
Dearest Kathy, I really hope you like this - ‘tis escapism of the highest rank. :)
Title: Shanshu Summer.
Summary: Sometimes - just sometimes - Happily Ever After comes true...
Rating: PG-13.
Pairing: Spike/Buffy/Angel.
Setting: Sometime post-NFA (like a few years at least. The time-line is *way* fuzzy.)
Wordcount: 1500 words
Beta:lillianmorgan. (Squee! Thank you bunches LM!)
Dedication: Forkathyh - have a *brilliant* day!
Feedback: Pretty please?
A/N: This story is like the fic-equivalent of one of those drop dead gorgeous manips. It serves no purpose and has no justification beyond being pretty. And honestly? I kinda think that’s enough. ;)
Also you have to download Four to the Floor by Starsailor, because it is the soundtrack for, and inspiration behind, this story. It should be playing as you read, or you’ll not get the proper experience! (Just to sound way pompous over a little threesome ficsnippet! But it’s true. *g* The tune is pretty much woven into the story. Lyrics here.)
Shanshu Summer
They come to her one summer evening as the sun is setting. Golden light outlining their silhouettes, wrapping itself around living skin and beating hearts, and she feels as though she is drowning again.
*
They take off that night. She packs a few essentials and leaves a note for Dawn telling her that she’s fine - she just needs some time away. Faith can lead - she’ll like that.
*
At first they just drift, but after three weeks they happen to come across an old acquaintance of Angel’s - who for a pint of shanshued vampire blood performs a cloaking spell on all three of them. The identical mystical tattoos around their wrists make her hold them that bit tighter at night, and Spike, with a grin, suggests a honeymoon.
Pulling some strings - although Buffy does not care to know which - they soon possess impeccable fake papers. A few days later she sends Willow an e-mail from the nearest airport, asking that no one come looking for her. And informs her that a locator spell won’t work anymore...
*
On the plane Spike and Angel decide to get drunk from miniature bottles - there’s an explanation, but she doesn’t quite catch it. The plan is a great success and results in a lot of silliness, but then in the space of a heartbeat they go from mock-arguing to kissing, and Buffy’s world suddenly goes all lopsided. The flight attendant gives them several warnings, but it doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference.
*
They rent a condo by the beach. Spend long days soaking up sun, sand and waves. Their bodies swiftly tan, and their skin always tastes of salt and sunshine.
Buffy soon stakes out her territory amongst the small demon community, who are for the most part rather awed at having such a celebrity in their midst. She wants no fuss, and thankfully this place is used to keeping itsef to itself. There are sharp dividing lines between locals and tourists.
For the first time in years she buys mini-skirts and wears them when out on patrol.
*
When they run out of money Spike gets himself a job in a bar in the small town. He flirts with every customer that sets foot in the place, and within a week he’s getting more tips than the rest of the staff combined.
Angel tries to think of something more long-term and productive, and by chance someone spies one of his drawings and he decides to set up as a portrait artist. For now anyway.
Neither of them will ‘let’ her work - Spike mutters something about The Doublemeat Palace, and Angel says that she already works. And although the slaying is slow and leisurely, it never quite dries up, so she thinks that they might have a point. Instead she looks up online study courses and after some headaches manages to find a way to continue her broken off studies.
She wonders what her friends would think, but the thought slips from her mind as quickly as it comes. Her old life seems as thoroughly vanished as Sunnydale.
*
She never gets tired of seeing them in sunlight; of listening to their hearts beating; of watching the slow rise and fall of their chests. Nor of feeling their warmth wrapped around her; of feeling that warmth inside... it’s a slow-burning fire that can warm her forever, she knows.
One day Angel buys cookie-dough-fudge-mint-chip ice cream and feeds it to her in bed. When it drips on his chest Spike licks it off, and Angel grins and says that it’s even better than last time... She doesn’t understand what he means, but the kiss that follows makes her so dizzy that she forgets to ask.
Spike begins writing poetry. Late at night after they make love, as the moonlight dips him in silver, he will shyly recite his new poems; and the last memories of heaven fade from her mind.
It’s only when she misses her period for the third month in a row that she twigs that she might be pregnant.
*
Soon they own a huge stack of pregnancy books since Angel researches as thoroughly as if she were a rare demon - which is very nice since she’s kinda overwhelmed. He buys her folic acid and vitamin supplements, cooks her well balanced meals and tries to estimate how big the baby is. As he drops a soft kiss on her head, he whispers that he’s going to get it right this time.
Spike, with a leer, comments that her tits are looking great. But then he softly lays his hand on her belly, and the look of awe on his face makes her blink back tears.
They both smile more than she can ever remember. Big wide grins, full of joy and excitement, and one evening Angel goes down to the tiny Catholic church by the harbour and lights a candle.
*
There’s a carnival when she’s eight months gone, and she refuses to dress up, feeling big and bloated and awkward. So the two of them conspire, and she nearly pees her pants when they appear, dressed as Romeo and Juliet. They all stay up thoughout the night, partying on the beach along with everyone else, and Spike and Angel’s impromptu performance of The Balcony Scene (which they appear to know by heart) gains them a large appreciative audience, with wild hooting and applause as the star-crossed lovers kiss before parting. Buffy can’t remember ever being this happy.
*
Rose Katharine Summers arrives two weeks early, and takes their breath away with her miniature perfection. Seeing that her eyes are blue Spike is smug as hell, until Angel points out that all new-borns have blue eyes. Still, when they need the father’s name on the birth-certificate Angel with an odd smile says to just put Spike’s name down. Buffy asks what’s the deal, because she can tell that he’s keeping secrets, but he just shrugs and says that he’ll probably explain one day. But not now.
And she studies her daughter’s sleeping face and nods. The past is a different country and they no longer live there.
Yet... when Rose is 5 weeks old she writes to Dawn. Sends her a single piece of paper bearing only their address.
*
Three days later a car pulls up outside. Buffy looks out of the window, and sees Dawn, Giles, Willow and Xander all step out and look around. Sees the shock on their faces when they take in Angel’s figure on the porch - the deep tan burned into face and perfectly sculpted chest, the black jeans caressed by sunlight. Slowly he puts down his pad and pencils, stands up and looks them over, a barefoot Adonis with soft brown eyes and a crucifix around his neck.
“Welcome,” he says, and smiles.
*
As the porch is enveloped in a flurry of hugs and questions, Buffy hears the familiar screech of an old engine, and she looks around Dawn’s shoulder to watch Spike park the car, before jumping out and retrieving the groceries. The silence from her guests is longer and more palpable this time. There is a long moment as they take in the shock white hair, now curly and playful; the white shirt, half unbuttoned, against which his skin gleams like bronze; the faded jeans and well-worn sneakers... and the wide, easy smile, like a surf dude on holiday.
“I’m beginning to see why you never called...” Xander says faintly.
*
The moment is shattered by a faint cry from inside the condo. The three of them exchange looks, and Angel goes off to fetch their baby girl as Buffy and Spike invite the others inside. Soon little Rose is settled in Buffy’s arms, her big eyes staring confusedly at all the odd, new faces studying her. Then she finds her fist and starts sucking it, once more content.
Buffy looks around at her friends, her sister, and wonders if they finally get it... If they can now understand that she always saw sunshine when she looked into the eyes of her vampires. But from the different emotions displayed across their faces, she knows that they don’t. Not really. And as her old life crashes into her new one, she yet again questions if she did the right thing. Should she have told them where she was sooner? Or later? Has she just been running away?
Then she looks at her two Shanshus, and she knows that she wasn’t running away. She was running towards. Towards life and love and the future. Their future. Their endless summer, after so many years in the cold.
Not the end.
kathyh! *throws confetti* And since I am no good at baking (I’d send brownies if I was), instead I managed to locate a little plotbunny. Which of course works out in favour for all the rest of you! *g*Dearest Kathy, I really hope you like this - ‘tis escapism of the highest rank. :)
Title: Shanshu Summer.
Summary: Sometimes - just sometimes - Happily Ever After comes true...
Rating: PG-13.
Pairing: Spike/Buffy/Angel.
Setting: Sometime post-NFA (like a few years at least. The time-line is *way* fuzzy.)
Wordcount: 1500 words
Beta:
lillianmorgan. (Squee! Thank you bunches LM!)Dedication: For
kathyh - have a *brilliant* day! Feedback: Pretty please?
A/N: This story is like the fic-equivalent of one of those drop dead gorgeous manips. It serves no purpose and has no justification beyond being pretty. And honestly? I kinda think that’s enough. ;)
Also you have to download Four to the Floor by Starsailor, because it is the soundtrack for, and inspiration behind, this story. It should be playing as you read, or you’ll not get the proper experience! (Just to sound way pompous over a little threesome ficsnippet! But it’s true. *g* The tune is pretty much woven into the story. Lyrics here.)
Shanshu Summer
They come to her one summer evening as the sun is setting. Golden light outlining their silhouettes, wrapping itself around living skin and beating hearts, and she feels as though she is drowning again.
They take off that night. She packs a few essentials and leaves a note for Dawn telling her that she’s fine - she just needs some time away. Faith can lead - she’ll like that.
At first they just drift, but after three weeks they happen to come across an old acquaintance of Angel’s - who for a pint of shanshued vampire blood performs a cloaking spell on all three of them. The identical mystical tattoos around their wrists make her hold them that bit tighter at night, and Spike, with a grin, suggests a honeymoon.
Pulling some strings - although Buffy does not care to know which - they soon possess impeccable fake papers. A few days later she sends Willow an e-mail from the nearest airport, asking that no one come looking for her. And informs her that a locator spell won’t work anymore...
On the plane Spike and Angel decide to get drunk from miniature bottles - there’s an explanation, but she doesn’t quite catch it. The plan is a great success and results in a lot of silliness, but then in the space of a heartbeat they go from mock-arguing to kissing, and Buffy’s world suddenly goes all lopsided. The flight attendant gives them several warnings, but it doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference.
They rent a condo by the beach. Spend long days soaking up sun, sand and waves. Their bodies swiftly tan, and their skin always tastes of salt and sunshine.
Buffy soon stakes out her territory amongst the small demon community, who are for the most part rather awed at having such a celebrity in their midst. She wants no fuss, and thankfully this place is used to keeping itsef to itself. There are sharp dividing lines between locals and tourists.
For the first time in years she buys mini-skirts and wears them when out on patrol.
When they run out of money Spike gets himself a job in a bar in the small town. He flirts with every customer that sets foot in the place, and within a week he’s getting more tips than the rest of the staff combined.
Angel tries to think of something more long-term and productive, and by chance someone spies one of his drawings and he decides to set up as a portrait artist. For now anyway.
Neither of them will ‘let’ her work - Spike mutters something about The Doublemeat Palace, and Angel says that she already works. And although the slaying is slow and leisurely, it never quite dries up, so she thinks that they might have a point. Instead she looks up online study courses and after some headaches manages to find a way to continue her broken off studies.
She wonders what her friends would think, but the thought slips from her mind as quickly as it comes. Her old life seems as thoroughly vanished as Sunnydale.
She never gets tired of seeing them in sunlight; of listening to their hearts beating; of watching the slow rise and fall of their chests. Nor of feeling their warmth wrapped around her; of feeling that warmth inside... it’s a slow-burning fire that can warm her forever, she knows.
One day Angel buys cookie-dough-fudge-mint-chip ice cream and feeds it to her in bed. When it drips on his chest Spike licks it off, and Angel grins and says that it’s even better than last time... She doesn’t understand what he means, but the kiss that follows makes her so dizzy that she forgets to ask.
Spike begins writing poetry. Late at night after they make love, as the moonlight dips him in silver, he will shyly recite his new poems; and the last memories of heaven fade from her mind.
It’s only when she misses her period for the third month in a row that she twigs that she might be pregnant.
Soon they own a huge stack of pregnancy books since Angel researches as thoroughly as if she were a rare demon - which is very nice since she’s kinda overwhelmed. He buys her folic acid and vitamin supplements, cooks her well balanced meals and tries to estimate how big the baby is. As he drops a soft kiss on her head, he whispers that he’s going to get it right this time.
Spike, with a leer, comments that her tits are looking great. But then he softly lays his hand on her belly, and the look of awe on his face makes her blink back tears.
They both smile more than she can ever remember. Big wide grins, full of joy and excitement, and one evening Angel goes down to the tiny Catholic church by the harbour and lights a candle.
There’s a carnival when she’s eight months gone, and she refuses to dress up, feeling big and bloated and awkward. So the two of them conspire, and she nearly pees her pants when they appear, dressed as Romeo and Juliet. They all stay up thoughout the night, partying on the beach along with everyone else, and Spike and Angel’s impromptu performance of The Balcony Scene (which they appear to know by heart) gains them a large appreciative audience, with wild hooting and applause as the star-crossed lovers kiss before parting. Buffy can’t remember ever being this happy.
Rose Katharine Summers arrives two weeks early, and takes their breath away with her miniature perfection. Seeing that her eyes are blue Spike is smug as hell, until Angel points out that all new-borns have blue eyes. Still, when they need the father’s name on the birth-certificate Angel with an odd smile says to just put Spike’s name down. Buffy asks what’s the deal, because she can tell that he’s keeping secrets, but he just shrugs and says that he’ll probably explain one day. But not now.
And she studies her daughter’s sleeping face and nods. The past is a different country and they no longer live there.
Yet... when Rose is 5 weeks old she writes to Dawn. Sends her a single piece of paper bearing only their address.
Three days later a car pulls up outside. Buffy looks out of the window, and sees Dawn, Giles, Willow and Xander all step out and look around. Sees the shock on their faces when they take in Angel’s figure on the porch - the deep tan burned into face and perfectly sculpted chest, the black jeans caressed by sunlight. Slowly he puts down his pad and pencils, stands up and looks them over, a barefoot Adonis with soft brown eyes and a crucifix around his neck.
“Welcome,” he says, and smiles.
As the porch is enveloped in a flurry of hugs and questions, Buffy hears the familiar screech of an old engine, and she looks around Dawn’s shoulder to watch Spike park the car, before jumping out and retrieving the groceries. The silence from her guests is longer and more palpable this time. There is a long moment as they take in the shock white hair, now curly and playful; the white shirt, half unbuttoned, against which his skin gleams like bronze; the faded jeans and well-worn sneakers... and the wide, easy smile, like a surf dude on holiday.
“I’m beginning to see why you never called...” Xander says faintly.
The moment is shattered by a faint cry from inside the condo. The three of them exchange looks, and Angel goes off to fetch their baby girl as Buffy and Spike invite the others inside. Soon little Rose is settled in Buffy’s arms, her big eyes staring confusedly at all the odd, new faces studying her. Then she finds her fist and starts sucking it, once more content.
Buffy looks around at her friends, her sister, and wonders if they finally get it... If they can now understand that she always saw sunshine when she looked into the eyes of her vampires. But from the different emotions displayed across their faces, she knows that they don’t. Not really. And as her old life crashes into her new one, she yet again questions if she did the right thing. Should she have told them where she was sooner? Or later? Has she just been running away?
Then she looks at her two Shanshus, and she knows that she wasn’t running away. She was running towards. Towards life and love and the future. Their future. Their endless summer, after so many years in the cold.
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