1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16
Belladonnaroses
'Sleeping Beauty
Poisoned and hopeless
You're far beyond a visible sign of your awakening'
Weeks pass and she still dreams. The only difference is that this time she wakes up before she stops screaming. She shudders and her eyes move over the crowded night streets where she waits for Spike. She knows that he's out there somewhere, making someone his meal, but he promises her that he doesn't kill them and she doesn't have it in her to not believe him. She hopes that she'll never have to.
He's beside her in a moment, with his trademark smirk and swagger, such a different person from the one that pushed her against the alley wall and took her, who cried his tears into the hollow her neck. he wasn't the broken man that she ran into in May, drunk and sobbing for lost love. She gives him a brief smile and he kisses her lightly before grabbing her own small hand in his, and moving her down the crowded street.
They have an aparatment now, a small place on Chartes Street. It's near everything and she likes it, the noise and the dirt and the way the city isn't safe to be out alone in after a certain hour. In a way it reminds her of Sunnydale. He takes her towards Decatur St. and they enter Coop's Place. She has a cigarette and an omlette, and he downs his beer.
They don't talk much. She eats and he watches. When it's time to leave he pays the bill and they head back out into the busy night.
He sits beside her on the stairs to St. Louis Cathedral. She likes to come here at night and smoke, and he doesn't like for her to be alone, so he follows. They still don't say a word, hands clammy from the mist. It's August now and Summer's almost over. The night is hot in spite of the mist and she sweats, small glistening drops that make a trail across her soft skin and dip below the line of her tank top to where he can no longer see them.
She leans against him, grateful that he's no longer wearing the duster, just a cotton shirt open at the neck. She never would have pegged him for one to wear blue, but it brings out the color in his eyes so she doesn't mention it, besides, it's such a dark blue it could almost pass for black.
Fianlly she breaks the silence when she's had her third cigarette of the night, and the bustling main streets seem father away, We have a life here.
He nods, and his fingers trail down her neck, his voice is throaty in the stillness, Yea, pet. We do.
She doesn't say anything and for a few minutes he thinks she's going to pull out another cigarette, but she doesn't, It's not like the ones we had before.
He swallows and she turns in his arms to face him, her hair is stuck to her face and neck in places where it escaped from her ponytail and her hands are moist on his arms. For a minute she seems like she's going to kiss him and he leans forward in anticipation, but she just brushes her fingertips across his lips and asks, Do you miss it?
The question floors him and he struggles for a few minutes to find a way to express it, Sometimes.
Oh.
He's silent for a while, his hand trailing up and down her arms and it's like ice cubes to her, Do you?
Sometimes.
You should call them.
She pulls away when he says that and he watches her close up like shutters. She's facing the other way now but he can tell what he said to her made an impact, so he says it again.
She shakes her head and he lets it go, but he knows that she won't be able to forget it. He drops a cool kiss on the side of her neck and she shudders in remembered pleasure. His blunt human teeth are on her earlobe and he suggests, Let's go home.
Both of them know that he doesn't mean Sunnydale.
'Poisoned and hopeless
Sleeping Beauty'
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16