Mustard Seed Chapter 9 Commentary
Feb. 8th, 2004 04:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
agilebritWell. I don't know if anyone (except Aeneas) read the commentary for Ch8 or not, since no one said anything about it...but I did the commentary for Ch9 at about the same time, and I don't have anything else to rant about today, so here goes:
Behind the cut:
Chapter 9: Destiny
"No!" Dru's anguished entreaty echoed through the room as Angelus swallowed the hot, sweet blood. Spike could feel his heartbeat speeding up in a frantic effort to keep pace with the blood loss, then slowing...slowing...
Fooled her too.
Just as he felt that he couldn't hold on any longer, Angelus practically spat his throat out and reeled backwards. "What--what did you do?" he rasped.
Spike gave him the ghost of a smirk. "You really believed all that tommyrot?" he whispered.
"But you said..."
"What I said and what I meant--" Spike coughed again "--were two entirely different things."
And I think God knows the difference.
"You played me," Angelus said unbelievingly, and burst into dust.
"Yes. Yes, I did," Spike answered. He closed his eyes and allowed himself the luxury of passing out.
Dru nearly fainted herself, from relief. Of course, she was still tied up on the floor, and Spike was possibly bleeding to death over there on that table, but Angelus was gone, so was his pet Uber-vamp, and that horrid pixie had been taken care of by the Buffy-being.
And now that the crisis was over, the angel's sword flashed through the ropes binding Dru's wrists and ankles, and she was free. Terribly stiff and sore after lying on the cold cement floor in one position for so long, she still managed to climb to her feet and make her way over to Spike, the Buffy-being next to her.
He looked so vulnerable, lying there, shackled, naked, bruised, and bleeding from too many wounds to count. She wanted to cry, seeing him like that, but settled for unfastening the bonds and rolling him over onto his side, off his poor back. Limp as a rag doll, he was shivering with shock and cold, and she searched around the room for something to cover him with.
She found his clothes in the metal cabinet, placed neatly on one of the shelves. Shaking out his duster, she carried it to the table and placed it gently over him, then folded his jeans and pillowed his battered head on them. He moved his head a little, moaned, and opened his eyes. "Buffy?" he said unbelievingly.
Yup. He can see her real good right now.
The angelic being smiled sorrowfully at him and shook her head. "No, Spike. I took her form, but I'm not her." She placed her hand on his hair, which was drying and curling from Angelus' dousing with the bucket of water, and Dru could see him almost visibly relax, as if the pain had gone away.
"Oh. S'okay..." And he was out again.
"Is he going to die?" Dru asked.
"He needs medical help, but no. He won't die."
"Medical--Riley! He's a doctor. But I can't leave Spike alone here."
"Did you check his duster?" the angel said gently.
Berating herself, Dru ran her hands through the pockets and found Spike's cell phone. Punching up the menu, she found Lorne's mobile number and hit the speed dial.
You can't really blame her for forgetting that Spike keeps a phone in his duster. Who wouldn't forget details like that, under the circumstances?
He answered with a cautious "Hello?" Five minutes later he was filled in on the essentials and he and Riley were on their way, after Dru got the address from the Buffy-being.
The angel touched Dru's head in benediction. "Go in peace, child," she said. "Take care of your dark warrior. Let him take care of you. You need each other." She smiled, shimmered, and disappeared.
And that's about as deux ex machina as I wanted to get.
***
This scene was fun to write...
Lucifer's voice was deceptively calm. "I see. And what happened after that?"
Brachus, Angelus, and Pongurml stood in front of his desk, cringing in abject fear as they told of their failure. When they finished the sorry story, each blaming the other, Lucifer sat back in his chair and tented his talons in front of him. "You know, I'm not really interested in your excuses. You were thwarted. By Spike, of all people. The reasons aren't important."
"But, sir," Brachus protested, "you gave us an impossible mission. It would have been better just to kill..."
Way to go, Brachus...
"Are you questioning me?" Still with the calm. That was never good.
"No-no-no, sir," Brachus stuttered, then clamped his mouth shut. No sense in making their punishment worse than it was already going to be.
Later, shoveling dragon excrement in Lucifer's stables, they tried to shoo out a cat that had somehow gotten in. Too late, one of the wyverns sneezed and shot flames all over Angelus.
Hee! That was The Hubby's idea, as well as shoveling out the stables. I provided the dragons, though. Hubby just said "stables."
Disgruntled and smoking, he thought to himself that it was going to be a long thousand years.
***
General Ritter wasn't any happier with his subordinate. Major Carlisle stood, ramrod-straight, in front of a desk that wasn't very different from Lucifer's, in an office that was remarkably similar as well. Spike and Riley III sat off to one side, taking turns explaining just what had happened.
When they were done with their tale, the General tented his fingers and looked at Carlisle. "Anything to say for yourself, Major?"
Notice the parallels between this scene and the previous one?
"Sir, no, sir. Very poor judgment on my part, sir."
"I'll say. Well, considering that you lost your entire family in this debacle, we won't be too hard on you, Captain. You can think about your poor judgment while you're studying Abominable Snowmen in Siberia. Understood?"
De-moted. Ouch. And he gets to go to a cold place, while Angelus and friends went to a hot one.
"Yes, sir," Carlisle said meekly.
"Fine. Dismissed." As the demoted Major did an about-face and left the room, Ritter turned his gaze to Riley. "What about you, Dr. Finn? Have you decided what you want to do?"
"Sir, I've taken a position in City Hospital's emergency room. I've seen enough demons to last a lifetime, thanks very much, and I'll be perfectly happy if I never see another one."
"Very well. Standard non-disclosure applies, of course--and we may call you in to consult from time to time, if you're all right with that." Riley nodded. "I'm sorry you won't stay, but I understand why you wouldn't want to." He turned his attention to Spike. "I'm very sorry for your loss. If there's anything we can do for you, anything at all, you have my personal number, which is available twenty-four hours a day."
"Not to put too fine a point on it, General, but I've had about all I can stand of you lot, and I'd just as soon get back to what's left of my life. Just tell your soldier boys to bloody stay out of my way when I'm on patrol, and we won't have any more problems."
"All right." They all stood, and the General and shook hands with them. "I'm sorry things turned out this way, and you can be assured that steps will be taken so that nothing like this ever happens again."
Sure, they will.
"That's something, anyway," Spike decided.
***
They buried their dead and tried to put their shattered lives back together. Spike spent his nights patrolling the graveyards and parks, then went to Caritas afterwards and smoked and, occasionally, sang. Lorne just shook his head when he finished the depressing lyrics, not saying anything.
Who wouldn't fall into a depression after something like this?
Spike would go home to his empty apartment, rattle around it for awhile, then sack out on the couch. He couldn't bring himself to sleep on the bed yet. He didn't know if he ever would. Too many memories in that bed. He'd donated all of Mandy's clothes to charity--except for the duster that matched his, that he'd gotten her for Christmas. Her side of the closet was empty, save for that. And sometimes, when sleep wouldn't come, he would pull her duster out and bury his face in the folds of it, breathing her leftover scent and cuddling with it on the sofa.
Awww....
Dru found him like that one morning, after he wouldn't answer her knock and she used her key to open the door. He'd fallen into exhausted oblivion, hugging Mandy's duster; he hadn't heard her knock and didn't wake up when she came in. "Oh, Spike," she said softly. She sat on the floor next to the couch and stroked his hair. He had a big bruise on his cheek and a cut over his eyebrow, and his t-shirt looked as though something had clawed him across the chest. Apparently she was dealing with the events of six months ago better than he was. Which wasn't saying much. She still ached for her child and her husband, but she'd been able to talk it out with Lorne, while Spike had just internalized the whole thing.
Which is typical male vs female behavior. Men hold it all in, but women talk about it and are open to suggestions as to how to fix things.
Lorne had been a wonderful sounding board. He held her hand after she sang some melancholy ballad for him. "Look, sugar lips," he'd said. "Dusty wouldn't have wanted you to just stop living because he was gone. He had the big love for you. Love like that doesn't like it when you miss him so much that you quit."
Teary-eyed, she searched his face for reassurance. "But, if I just...go on...it feels like..."
"Like you're dishonoring him somehow? No, angel. You would only dishonor him if you gave up."
At least, that's how I'd feel if I'd died under the same circumstances and The Hubby didn't eventually find someone else to spend his life with. Or at least quit mooning around.
And that was solid advice, she realized. So, she tried. But no one had told Spike that. He went through the motions of patrolling, but he only ate when she prodded him to, and she knew he wasn't sleeping. His cheeks had hollowed even more than they had been, and the dark circles never disappeared from under his eyes. His hair, once something that he'd taken meticulous pride in, was a mass of wild, half-colored curls that he'd been neglecting completely.
I tried to picture the spiral that he would fall into if he let himself go. The hair was a particular detail I thought was important. He also strikes me as the kind of person who would stop eating while depressed, rather than one who would overeat.
He mumbled in his sleep and moved his head under her hand. "So sorry, Mandy, pet. Couldn't save you from the monster. Ate you all up..."
"It wasn't your fault," Dru whispered to him.
"Yes it was. Should have been there. Let her down. Always let them down."
"That's not true," she choked.
"It is, though. Couldn't save the Nibblet. Couldn't save Buffy. Couldn't save Mandy. Didn't save Dru. Killed Dusty outright. Never good enough. Beneath them all."
And that's the crux of Spike's problem. He's never thought he was good enough, and most of the people around him (at least on the show) reinforce that tendency. Not so much here in my fics, because I've tried to surround him with people that like him and support him--but when you feel like a failure and you've lost nearly everyone important to you, it's hard not to fall back into old patterns.
So much pain in that statement. Dru hated to see him like this, even in his sleep. She shook his shoulder gently. "Spike, dear. Wake up."
"Mmph. Wha..." He opened his eyes, looking confused, then embarrassed. "Hullo, pet." He sat up, running his fingers through his hair and rubbing his eyes. "I was dreaming, I think."
"Yes, you were. Spike, you have to stop beating yourself up. You can't hold yourself responsible for everything that happens. It's not your fault."
"It is, though. If I'd--"
"Every day, I save you." Think that doesn't still haunt him?
She put her hand over his mouth to stop him.
"It's not," she said fiercely. "If you'd what? Put them all in a box and wrapped them in cotton wool? They wouldn't have wanted that. Mandy, especially, knew exactly what she was getting into. She was the Slayer, for God's sake, not some fragile flower you had to keep in a hothouse so she wouldn't wilt." She tilted her head at him. "You knew you could lose her at any time. Just like I knew I could lose Dusty at any time...and just like she knew she could lose you at any time."
Well, she was right about that. They had been like cops, not knowing if they would come home alive after patrol, but fighting the good fight nevertheless, not just because it was the right thing to do, but because they loved what they did. And at least they knew that if they went down, they'd go down with their boots on.
Really. Does a Slayer ever die in her bed of old age, or of something as mundane as a car crash?
Except Mandy hadn't had a chance to fight Angelus. That bloody microbot had stolen that from her, like the Initiative had stolen her from him. His fingers tightened convulsively on her duster as he teetered between rage and despair. Dru put her hand over his and shook it a little. "Look at me." He met her eyes, unwillingly. "It's not your fault. Okay? It's not. So just stop."
"Easy for you to say, pet. But not so easy to do."
Oops. Stepped in it, Spike old boy...
She clenched her jaw. "I should slap you for that. You think this is easy for me? Watching you wallow in a pit of self-pity and guilt? You think that I don't blame myself for turning you in the first place? If I hadn't done that, none of this would have happened."
Bingo!
That stopped him cold. "You can't--"
"Can't I? Why not? It's just as logical as you beating yourself senseless over Mandy. And Buffy. And Hans, for that matter. Who died defending me, in case you've forgotten."
"But..."
"But me no buts. Lorne gave me some very good advice. I think it's time I passed it on to you."
"You've talked to Lorne? He won't say anything to me."
"That's because you haven't been ready to hear it. Spike," she said, cupping his bruised face in her hand, "you have to stop this. It's been six months. You aren't doing yourself any good, and you know Mandy would hate to see you this way. For that matter, Buffy would hate to see you this way. And you're going to get yourself killed if you keep on like this."
Well...he probably wants to get himself killed. But he can't commit suicide, because that's a sin...so he goes out and fights demons instead, taking stupid chances, because he doesn't care if he dies. And he's so wrapped up in his own misery that he doesn't realize what that would do to Dru.
"But I can't just stop feeling this way," he protested. "I can't help how I feel."
"And no one's asking you to. We don't have a choice about what we feel, darling; none of us has that. What we do have a choice in is how we react to those feelings. We can give up, we can go insane, or we can go on. Don't you think I wanted to let the pixie win after I lost Dusty? If we don't stand up for ourselves, then who will?"
"Not God, that's for bloody certain," he said bitterly.
Here we go again...
"No? Who do you think sustained me while I was being attacked by Angelus and that horrid imp? And you don't think Mandy's in Hell right now, do you?"
"Well, no, but..."
"God died for us, Spike. You can't ask anyone to care more than that. Just because your life doesn't turn out the way you want it to doesn't mean that God doesn't care. It just means He has something better planned."
"I wish I could believe that."
"Believe it. I do, with all my heart. It's what keeps me going when the walls close in and there's no one to hold me at night."
She's been lonely too.
More guilt came crashing down on him. "I haven't been here for you..."
She shook her head. "I haven't asked you to be. Now, come on," she said briskly. "Let's get you cleaned up. Where's your first aid kit?"
"Am I hurt?" His hand went up to the cut on his forehead. "Ow. I guess I am. But you don't have to take care of me, pet. I'm all right."
She gave a very unladylike snort. "I'm sure. Come on. Back to the bedroom and off with that shirt."
Subdued, he followed her into the bedroom and did has he was told. She clicked her tongue when she saw the claw marks across his chest, which he hadn't even realized he had. Filling a basin with water and disinfectant, she sat next to him and swabbed his ribs and his forehead, then applied the Liquid Bandage
Liquid Bandage isn't something I made up, by the way. I read an article not too long ago in "Popular Science" that they're working on something like that. I figure in forty years time, it'll be on the market. Future fic is fun!
to the wounds. She sat back and examined him critically, and gasped when she saw a fairly large gash in his thigh that had gone undetected by her at first because of his black jeans.
"Oh, Spike. Did you even know you were hurt there? Take them off."
"Um, luv...I'm not--" He stopped, abashed.
"For Heaven's sake, Spike, you haven't owned underwear since I've known you. It's not like I haven't seen it before."
Practical Dru, and modest Spike. Hee! I'm sure that the state of Spike's undress under his jeans is probably a fanon bunny, but when I ask myself "Boxers or briefs" in regards to him, the answer always comes back as "neither." Sorry.
"I know," he said, shamefaced. "But it just don't seem proper, somehow."
"Get a towel, then, if you're so modest."
The wound was deep and nasty, and Dru was upset that Spike hadn't even seemed to notice it, although she didn't let it show. He was farther gone than she thought. Time to put a stop to this, right now. She got up after tending it and searched through his dresser drawers for the sweats that she knew he usually relaxed in. She tossed a pair of sweat pants at his head, which he caught in the air, and grabbed a pair of them and a t-shirt for herself.
Spike looked at her warily. "What are you up to, then?"
"I'm putting you to bed. And I'm joining you there. In a completely platonic way, so don't worry."
Sorry. No comfort sex between unmarried people in my fics--at least, not in my AU fics. I won't ignore it if two people are going at it like bunnies on the show and I'm writing a fic in that time period, but I won't throw two people into bed and make them have sex, either...especially Christian characters who would know better.
She shut the bathroom door behind her, took her dress off, and put the clothes she'd stolen from his drawer on. When she came back out, he was wearing the pants, but was still perched uncomfortably on the edge of the bed. "What are you waiting for? In."
"I haven't...since that day..."
She stood next to him and put her hand on his shoulder. "You're not doing this by yourself. I know it's difficult."
He rested his cheek on her hand and closed his eyes in surrender. He had no idea where his princess had gotten her quiet strength, but he was grateful for it, because she was right. He was a wreck. She stripped the comforter back, and he crawled under the sheets and scooted over to make room for her.
She followed him and gathered him to her, pulling the cover back over them, resting her chin on his head, and stroking his hair. "My poor dark knight," she whispered. "We'll put the broken bits back together again. You'll see."
I thought this was a very Dru-like statement.
Spike buried his face in her throat and closed his eyes. His breathing deepened, and at first she thought he'd fallen asleep, but soon realized that huge, dry sobs were racking his body. She tightened her arms around him as her own tears soaked the pillow. "That's it, my sweet William," she said. "Let it all out. I'm right here; not going anywhere."
Eventually, he cried himself out and slipped into a deep sleep. Dru let herself relax and did the same.
***
Spike slept the clock 'round and a few more hours besides. He was awakened by the smell of cooking breakfast. Dru had left, but a warm spot next to him told him that she hadn't been gone for long. He followed his nose to the kitchen and found her frying bacon and mixing pancake batter. "Hullo, pet," he said, kissing her on the cheek.
"Hello, Spike," she responded. "Feeling better?"
"A bit. What time is it?"
"Six in the evening. After we eat, I'm taking you to Caritas to talk to Lorne. And you're bringing your guitar."
"Yes, your Highness," he said submissively. "Can I at least shower first?"
She swatted him. "Go. But hurry. Breakfast will be ready soon."
***
Lorne could tell immediately that something had changed for Spike, even before he took his guitar up on the stage and tuned it up a little. He grinned when he heard the intro to "I Made It Through the Rain" and wondered what it was about souled vampires and Barry Manilow.
snicker
"Well, Blondie-cakes," he said, after Spike finished his song. "Looks like you've been talking to our Dru." Spike and Dru smiled softly at each other and nodded. "I don't think what I'm going to tell you will come as any surprise. You would have found out yourselves sooner or later anyway--so let's make it sooner." He took a sip of his ever-present Seabreeze. "I believe you once said that Dru was 'your destiny'?"
"How did you know...never mind. Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
"I put people on their paths. Your path has been converging with hers for quite some time now. I mean, you've been together off and on for over a hundred and sixty years. Don't you two think there's something more there than just sheer coincidence?"
Dru smiled slightly. "Even when he was in love with Buffy he couldn't kill me."
"Yeah, luv? I seem to recall you having the same problem. Harm nearly did for me, though. Her and her bleedin' crossbow."
"Anyway, kids--that's your path. Whether you take it or not, is, of course, up to you. You do have time, though, so you can take it slow if you want. God will understand that, after all you've been through."
Again with the God. Even Lorne.
Spike snarled. "Bloody hell! Why does everyone insist on throwing God into my face every time I turn around?"
"Because He is in your face, Spike. In case you didn't notice, He got us out of a pretty tight spot when Angelus had you tied to a whipping post," Dru pointed out.
"Oh, was that Him? I didn't catch that, what with the torture and all." He lit a cigarette. "Not that I'm bitter."
Why, no. Why would he be bitter? He's lost his wife, his dog, and his best friend.
"But Angelus turned to dust when he drank from you. Doesn't that mean...?"
"It means that I wasn't going to let him steal my faith from me, like he's tried to bloody steal everything else from me. It doesn't mean that, in the deep dark recesses of my mind, I don't have questions." He stood up and ran his hand through his hair. "Bloody hell. I'm going for a walk."
After he strode out the door, cigarette in hand, Lorne and Dru exchanged worried glances. "What should I do for him, Lorne?" she asked. "He hurts, so much."
"Pray for him, sweetie. At this point, that's about all you can do."
***
Again with the thought process here. This is pretty much stream-of-consciousness and self-explanatory. It's kind of the same thoughts I'd be having in the same situation.
Spike stalked down the street, smoking furiously and muttering to himself. Why the bloody hell did everyone have to try to make it all better? It was never going to be all better, ever again. And this business about Dru being his destiny? That was all fine and good when he was a wide-eyed fledgling, but he was all grown up now and knew that destiny could leave a lot to be desired. In fact, destiny could royally suck if you got caught on the wrong end of it.
Like the Slayers. "One girl in all the world, yada yada yada." One girl destined to hold back the nasties in the night and the things that went bump in the dark. Yeah, sucked to be her all right. She was destined to have a short life full of pain and anguish, that would no doubt end at the fangs of a vampire or the hands of a Grox'lar Beast.
And what did he do? Was he smart? Did he run in the opposite direction as fast as he could and escape the heartache that was sure to come? Oh, no, not him. Not William the Bloody Awful Romantic Poet. No, he sought them out and fell in love with them. Brilliant, Spike. He snorted at himself.
Ducking into an alley, he leaned against the brick wall, slid down until he was sitting, and smacked the back of his head against it a few times. When the soddin' hell would he ever learn? Still love's bitch after all this time, trading one broken heart for another for another for another, and on down the line. And the Big Geppetto in the Sky wasn't helping, was He?
Was it His job to help, though? Spike didn't know anymore. He supposed that God wasn't some cosmic wish-granter, sitting up there on a throne and giving everyone what they wanted. But, dammit...Couldn't something in his bleedin' life go right, just for once? Was that too much to bloody ask?
Well, wait a minute. That wasn't quite fair, was it? A vague memory came percolating up, of some kind of shimmering being that had protected Dru while Angelus tortured him. And he chose to seek out the Slayers, right? That wasn't God's fault. And all in all...he and Dru had had it pretty good before the mob in Prague had injured her, after Angelus had left, anyway. And, apart from his sojourn in Sunnydale and the nightmare that was living on the Hellmouth, life hadn't been too bad. In fact, life with Mandy had been, if not perfect--because nothing on this Earth was perfect--at least interesting.
If he had to lose her, at least he'd had her to lose in the first place, right? He sighed. Right, Spike. Enough wallowing. Come to terms with what God is, and what God isn't, and go from there.
He thought he could do that.
***
Three months later:
Two presents nestled together under the tree. One big box, and one small one. Dru was practically bouncing with excitement, while Spike was subdued and nervous. He kissed her on the cheek. "Merry Christmas, pet."
"And a Merry Christmas to you too." She put her hot chocolate down. "Open your present."
He picked up the bigger box, but nearly dropped it when whatever was inside moved and made a noise. The lid came off, and a pair of pert brown eyes surrounded by silver and black fur stared up at him. Spike was dumbfounded. "You got me a Collie puppy?" He pulled the little dog out of the box and held him up in the air. The tail was whipping wildly back and forth, and the tongue was hanging out in a doggy grin.
Awww. I almost gave him a Collie at the end of "Salvation." It's not easy figuring out several different breeds that Spike would like. I think he'd like a Collie, though.
Dru looked a little anxious. "I hope it wasn't too presumptuous of me. I know you miss Hans."
"He's...perfect." Spike pulled the puppy closer to his face and got a wet lick on the nose. "I think he likes me."
"I think he does too," Dru laughed, as Spike nestled the gray atom in his lap. "What will you call him?"
He considered. "I think...Smoke. Never 'Smoky,' though."
"Smoke it is," she said, eyes dancing in delight.
"Okay, luv. Your turn." He bit his lip as she reached under the tree and picked up the little box there.
She gasped when she opened it and found a simple solitaire diamond ring. "Does this mean...?"
Spike got down on one knee in front of her. "Dru, pet. I've loved you for a long time, and, if I remember rightly, I once said that you and I were forever. I can't promise it'll be Christmas and puppies all the time--but, would you marry me?"
"Christmas and puppies"...More continuity. Yay, me.
"Oh, William," she answered, her heart shining out of her face. "Of course I will. Silly man, if you didn't ask me soon, I was going to ask you."
The puppy stared at them in wonderment when they kissed. Humans sure were funny.
***
Later that evening, sated with turkey and dressing, they sat on the couch and watched old movies together, the sleepy Collie puppy sharing their laps. As the credits rolled for "The Princess Bride," Spike wrapped his arm around Dru's shoulders and sang softly with the last song.
Come my love I'll tell you a tale
Of a boy and girl and their love story
And how he loved her oh so much
And all the charms she did possess
Now this did happen once upon a time
When things were not so complex
How he worshiped the ground she walked
And when he looked in her eyes he became obsessed
My love is like a storybook story
But it's as real as the feelings I feel
My love is like a storybook story
But it's as real as the feelings I feel
It's as real as the feelings I feel
This love was stronger than the powers so dark
A prince could have within his keeping
His spells to weave and steal a heart
Within her breast but only sleeping
My love is like a storybook story
But it's as real as the feelings I feel
My love is like a storybook story
But it's as real as the feelings I feel
It's as real as the feelings I feel
Now he said, "Don't you know I love you oh so much
And lay my heart at the foot of your dress?"
She said, "Don't you know that these storybook loves
Always have a happy ending?"
Then he swooped her up just like in the books
And on his stallion they rode away
My love is like a storybook story
But it's as real as the feelings I feel
My love is like a storybook story
But it's as real as the feelings I feel
It's as real as the feelings I feel
Is that perfect, or what? "The powers so dark..." And "The Princess Bride" is one of the greatest movies of all time, with plenty of parallels in Spike's life.
"You've always come for me," she said, snuggling against his chest.
"Yes, I have," he answered, his nose in her hair. "And I always will."
I think that Spike and Dru may be my One True Pairing. I can see Spike with other women, but really, I think that Dru is the One for him.
Finis
Author's Notes: The song is "Storybook Love," by Mark Knopfler, from the movie "The Princess Bride," which everyone should see. I don't own the song (although I do own the video); please don't sue me.
And that's the end. This fic has been a long, strange, and satisfying journey for me, and I hope you've enjoyed it as well. If you did, let me know by emailing me, or by pushing that little review button right down there. Even if you didn't like it, if you would let me know why, it might help me become a better writer, which is something I'm always trying to do. Thank you for sharing the ride with me.
Comments on the commentary are most welcome.
Behind the cut:
Chapter 9: Destiny
"No!" Dru's anguished entreaty echoed through the room as Angelus swallowed the hot, sweet blood. Spike could feel his heartbeat speeding up in a frantic effort to keep pace with the blood loss, then slowing...slowing...
Fooled her too.
Just as he felt that he couldn't hold on any longer, Angelus practically spat his throat out and reeled backwards. "What--what did you do?" he rasped.
Spike gave him the ghost of a smirk. "You really believed all that tommyrot?" he whispered.
"But you said..."
"What I said and what I meant--" Spike coughed again "--were two entirely different things."
And I think God knows the difference.
"You played me," Angelus said unbelievingly, and burst into dust.
"Yes. Yes, I did," Spike answered. He closed his eyes and allowed himself the luxury of passing out.
Dru nearly fainted herself, from relief. Of course, she was still tied up on the floor, and Spike was possibly bleeding to death over there on that table, but Angelus was gone, so was his pet Uber-vamp, and that horrid pixie had been taken care of by the Buffy-being.
And now that the crisis was over, the angel's sword flashed through the ropes binding Dru's wrists and ankles, and she was free. Terribly stiff and sore after lying on the cold cement floor in one position for so long, she still managed to climb to her feet and make her way over to Spike, the Buffy-being next to her.
He looked so vulnerable, lying there, shackled, naked, bruised, and bleeding from too many wounds to count. She wanted to cry, seeing him like that, but settled for unfastening the bonds and rolling him over onto his side, off his poor back. Limp as a rag doll, he was shivering with shock and cold, and she searched around the room for something to cover him with.
She found his clothes in the metal cabinet, placed neatly on one of the shelves. Shaking out his duster, she carried it to the table and placed it gently over him, then folded his jeans and pillowed his battered head on them. He moved his head a little, moaned, and opened his eyes. "Buffy?" he said unbelievingly.
Yup. He can see her real good right now.
The angelic being smiled sorrowfully at him and shook her head. "No, Spike. I took her form, but I'm not her." She placed her hand on his hair, which was drying and curling from Angelus' dousing with the bucket of water, and Dru could see him almost visibly relax, as if the pain had gone away.
"Oh. S'okay..." And he was out again.
"Is he going to die?" Dru asked.
"He needs medical help, but no. He won't die."
"Medical--Riley! He's a doctor. But I can't leave Spike alone here."
"Did you check his duster?" the angel said gently.
Berating herself, Dru ran her hands through the pockets and found Spike's cell phone. Punching up the menu, she found Lorne's mobile number and hit the speed dial.
You can't really blame her for forgetting that Spike keeps a phone in his duster. Who wouldn't forget details like that, under the circumstances?
He answered with a cautious "Hello?" Five minutes later he was filled in on the essentials and he and Riley were on their way, after Dru got the address from the Buffy-being.
The angel touched Dru's head in benediction. "Go in peace, child," she said. "Take care of your dark warrior. Let him take care of you. You need each other." She smiled, shimmered, and disappeared.
And that's about as deux ex machina as I wanted to get.
***
This scene was fun to write...
Lucifer's voice was deceptively calm. "I see. And what happened after that?"
Brachus, Angelus, and Pongurml stood in front of his desk, cringing in abject fear as they told of their failure. When they finished the sorry story, each blaming the other, Lucifer sat back in his chair and tented his talons in front of him. "You know, I'm not really interested in your excuses. You were thwarted. By Spike, of all people. The reasons aren't important."
"But, sir," Brachus protested, "you gave us an impossible mission. It would have been better just to kill..."
Way to go, Brachus...
"Are you questioning me?" Still with the calm. That was never good.
"No-no-no, sir," Brachus stuttered, then clamped his mouth shut. No sense in making their punishment worse than it was already going to be.
Later, shoveling dragon excrement in Lucifer's stables, they tried to shoo out a cat that had somehow gotten in. Too late, one of the wyverns sneezed and shot flames all over Angelus.
Hee! That was The Hubby's idea, as well as shoveling out the stables. I provided the dragons, though. Hubby just said "stables."
Disgruntled and smoking, he thought to himself that it was going to be a long thousand years.
***
General Ritter wasn't any happier with his subordinate. Major Carlisle stood, ramrod-straight, in front of a desk that wasn't very different from Lucifer's, in an office that was remarkably similar as well. Spike and Riley III sat off to one side, taking turns explaining just what had happened.
When they were done with their tale, the General tented his fingers and looked at Carlisle. "Anything to say for yourself, Major?"
Notice the parallels between this scene and the previous one?
"Sir, no, sir. Very poor judgment on my part, sir."
"I'll say. Well, considering that you lost your entire family in this debacle, we won't be too hard on you, Captain. You can think about your poor judgment while you're studying Abominable Snowmen in Siberia. Understood?"
De-moted. Ouch. And he gets to go to a cold place, while Angelus and friends went to a hot one.
"Yes, sir," Carlisle said meekly.
"Fine. Dismissed." As the demoted Major did an about-face and left the room, Ritter turned his gaze to Riley. "What about you, Dr. Finn? Have you decided what you want to do?"
"Sir, I've taken a position in City Hospital's emergency room. I've seen enough demons to last a lifetime, thanks very much, and I'll be perfectly happy if I never see another one."
"Very well. Standard non-disclosure applies, of course--and we may call you in to consult from time to time, if you're all right with that." Riley nodded. "I'm sorry you won't stay, but I understand why you wouldn't want to." He turned his attention to Spike. "I'm very sorry for your loss. If there's anything we can do for you, anything at all, you have my personal number, which is available twenty-four hours a day."
"Not to put too fine a point on it, General, but I've had about all I can stand of you lot, and I'd just as soon get back to what's left of my life. Just tell your soldier boys to bloody stay out of my way when I'm on patrol, and we won't have any more problems."
"All right." They all stood, and the General and shook hands with them. "I'm sorry things turned out this way, and you can be assured that steps will be taken so that nothing like this ever happens again."
Sure, they will.
"That's something, anyway," Spike decided.
***
They buried their dead and tried to put their shattered lives back together. Spike spent his nights patrolling the graveyards and parks, then went to Caritas afterwards and smoked and, occasionally, sang. Lorne just shook his head when he finished the depressing lyrics, not saying anything.
Who wouldn't fall into a depression after something like this?
Spike would go home to his empty apartment, rattle around it for awhile, then sack out on the couch. He couldn't bring himself to sleep on the bed yet. He didn't know if he ever would. Too many memories in that bed. He'd donated all of Mandy's clothes to charity--except for the duster that matched his, that he'd gotten her for Christmas. Her side of the closet was empty, save for that. And sometimes, when sleep wouldn't come, he would pull her duster out and bury his face in the folds of it, breathing her leftover scent and cuddling with it on the sofa.
Awww....
Dru found him like that one morning, after he wouldn't answer her knock and she used her key to open the door. He'd fallen into exhausted oblivion, hugging Mandy's duster; he hadn't heard her knock and didn't wake up when she came in. "Oh, Spike," she said softly. She sat on the floor next to the couch and stroked his hair. He had a big bruise on his cheek and a cut over his eyebrow, and his t-shirt looked as though something had clawed him across the chest. Apparently she was dealing with the events of six months ago better than he was. Which wasn't saying much. She still ached for her child and her husband, but she'd been able to talk it out with Lorne, while Spike had just internalized the whole thing.
Which is typical male vs female behavior. Men hold it all in, but women talk about it and are open to suggestions as to how to fix things.
Lorne had been a wonderful sounding board. He held her hand after she sang some melancholy ballad for him. "Look, sugar lips," he'd said. "Dusty wouldn't have wanted you to just stop living because he was gone. He had the big love for you. Love like that doesn't like it when you miss him so much that you quit."
Teary-eyed, she searched his face for reassurance. "But, if I just...go on...it feels like..."
"Like you're dishonoring him somehow? No, angel. You would only dishonor him if you gave up."
At least, that's how I'd feel if I'd died under the same circumstances and The Hubby didn't eventually find someone else to spend his life with. Or at least quit mooning around.
And that was solid advice, she realized. So, she tried. But no one had told Spike that. He went through the motions of patrolling, but he only ate when she prodded him to, and she knew he wasn't sleeping. His cheeks had hollowed even more than they had been, and the dark circles never disappeared from under his eyes. His hair, once something that he'd taken meticulous pride in, was a mass of wild, half-colored curls that he'd been neglecting completely.
I tried to picture the spiral that he would fall into if he let himself go. The hair was a particular detail I thought was important. He also strikes me as the kind of person who would stop eating while depressed, rather than one who would overeat.
He mumbled in his sleep and moved his head under her hand. "So sorry, Mandy, pet. Couldn't save you from the monster. Ate you all up..."
"It wasn't your fault," Dru whispered to him.
"Yes it was. Should have been there. Let her down. Always let them down."
"That's not true," she choked.
"It is, though. Couldn't save the Nibblet. Couldn't save Buffy. Couldn't save Mandy. Didn't save Dru. Killed Dusty outright. Never good enough. Beneath them all."
And that's the crux of Spike's problem. He's never thought he was good enough, and most of the people around him (at least on the show) reinforce that tendency. Not so much here in my fics, because I've tried to surround him with people that like him and support him--but when you feel like a failure and you've lost nearly everyone important to you, it's hard not to fall back into old patterns.
So much pain in that statement. Dru hated to see him like this, even in his sleep. She shook his shoulder gently. "Spike, dear. Wake up."
"Mmph. Wha..." He opened his eyes, looking confused, then embarrassed. "Hullo, pet." He sat up, running his fingers through his hair and rubbing his eyes. "I was dreaming, I think."
"Yes, you were. Spike, you have to stop beating yourself up. You can't hold yourself responsible for everything that happens. It's not your fault."
"It is, though. If I'd--"
"Every day, I save you." Think that doesn't still haunt him?
She put her hand over his mouth to stop him.
"It's not," she said fiercely. "If you'd what? Put them all in a box and wrapped them in cotton wool? They wouldn't have wanted that. Mandy, especially, knew exactly what she was getting into. She was the Slayer, for God's sake, not some fragile flower you had to keep in a hothouse so she wouldn't wilt." She tilted her head at him. "You knew you could lose her at any time. Just like I knew I could lose Dusty at any time...and just like she knew she could lose you at any time."
Well, she was right about that. They had been like cops, not knowing if they would come home alive after patrol, but fighting the good fight nevertheless, not just because it was the right thing to do, but because they loved what they did. And at least they knew that if they went down, they'd go down with their boots on.
Really. Does a Slayer ever die in her bed of old age, or of something as mundane as a car crash?
Except Mandy hadn't had a chance to fight Angelus. That bloody microbot had stolen that from her, like the Initiative had stolen her from him. His fingers tightened convulsively on her duster as he teetered between rage and despair. Dru put her hand over his and shook it a little. "Look at me." He met her eyes, unwillingly. "It's not your fault. Okay? It's not. So just stop."
"Easy for you to say, pet. But not so easy to do."
Oops. Stepped in it, Spike old boy...
She clenched her jaw. "I should slap you for that. You think this is easy for me? Watching you wallow in a pit of self-pity and guilt? You think that I don't blame myself for turning you in the first place? If I hadn't done that, none of this would have happened."
Bingo!
That stopped him cold. "You can't--"
"Can't I? Why not? It's just as logical as you beating yourself senseless over Mandy. And Buffy. And Hans, for that matter. Who died defending me, in case you've forgotten."
"But..."
"But me no buts. Lorne gave me some very good advice. I think it's time I passed it on to you."
"You've talked to Lorne? He won't say anything to me."
"That's because you haven't been ready to hear it. Spike," she said, cupping his bruised face in her hand, "you have to stop this. It's been six months. You aren't doing yourself any good, and you know Mandy would hate to see you this way. For that matter, Buffy would hate to see you this way. And you're going to get yourself killed if you keep on like this."
Well...he probably wants to get himself killed. But he can't commit suicide, because that's a sin...so he goes out and fights demons instead, taking stupid chances, because he doesn't care if he dies. And he's so wrapped up in his own misery that he doesn't realize what that would do to Dru.
"But I can't just stop feeling this way," he protested. "I can't help how I feel."
"And no one's asking you to. We don't have a choice about what we feel, darling; none of us has that. What we do have a choice in is how we react to those feelings. We can give up, we can go insane, or we can go on. Don't you think I wanted to let the pixie win after I lost Dusty? If we don't stand up for ourselves, then who will?"
"Not God, that's for bloody certain," he said bitterly.
Here we go again...
"No? Who do you think sustained me while I was being attacked by Angelus and that horrid imp? And you don't think Mandy's in Hell right now, do you?"
"Well, no, but..."
"God died for us, Spike. You can't ask anyone to care more than that. Just because your life doesn't turn out the way you want it to doesn't mean that God doesn't care. It just means He has something better planned."
"I wish I could believe that."
"Believe it. I do, with all my heart. It's what keeps me going when the walls close in and there's no one to hold me at night."
She's been lonely too.
More guilt came crashing down on him. "I haven't been here for you..."
She shook her head. "I haven't asked you to be. Now, come on," she said briskly. "Let's get you cleaned up. Where's your first aid kit?"
"Am I hurt?" His hand went up to the cut on his forehead. "Ow. I guess I am. But you don't have to take care of me, pet. I'm all right."
She gave a very unladylike snort. "I'm sure. Come on. Back to the bedroom and off with that shirt."
Subdued, he followed her into the bedroom and did has he was told. She clicked her tongue when she saw the claw marks across his chest, which he hadn't even realized he had. Filling a basin with water and disinfectant, she sat next to him and swabbed his ribs and his forehead, then applied the Liquid Bandage
Liquid Bandage isn't something I made up, by the way. I read an article not too long ago in "Popular Science" that they're working on something like that. I figure in forty years time, it'll be on the market. Future fic is fun!
to the wounds. She sat back and examined him critically, and gasped when she saw a fairly large gash in his thigh that had gone undetected by her at first because of his black jeans.
"Oh, Spike. Did you even know you were hurt there? Take them off."
"Um, luv...I'm not--" He stopped, abashed.
"For Heaven's sake, Spike, you haven't owned underwear since I've known you. It's not like I haven't seen it before."
Practical Dru, and modest Spike. Hee! I'm sure that the state of Spike's undress under his jeans is probably a fanon bunny, but when I ask myself "Boxers or briefs" in regards to him, the answer always comes back as "neither." Sorry.
"I know," he said, shamefaced. "But it just don't seem proper, somehow."
"Get a towel, then, if you're so modest."
The wound was deep and nasty, and Dru was upset that Spike hadn't even seemed to notice it, although she didn't let it show. He was farther gone than she thought. Time to put a stop to this, right now. She got up after tending it and searched through his dresser drawers for the sweats that she knew he usually relaxed in. She tossed a pair of sweat pants at his head, which he caught in the air, and grabbed a pair of them and a t-shirt for herself.
Spike looked at her warily. "What are you up to, then?"
"I'm putting you to bed. And I'm joining you there. In a completely platonic way, so don't worry."
Sorry. No comfort sex between unmarried people in my fics--at least, not in my AU fics. I won't ignore it if two people are going at it like bunnies on the show and I'm writing a fic in that time period, but I won't throw two people into bed and make them have sex, either...especially Christian characters who would know better.
She shut the bathroom door behind her, took her dress off, and put the clothes she'd stolen from his drawer on. When she came back out, he was wearing the pants, but was still perched uncomfortably on the edge of the bed. "What are you waiting for? In."
"I haven't...since that day..."
She stood next to him and put her hand on his shoulder. "You're not doing this by yourself. I know it's difficult."
He rested his cheek on her hand and closed his eyes in surrender. He had no idea where his princess had gotten her quiet strength, but he was grateful for it, because she was right. He was a wreck. She stripped the comforter back, and he crawled under the sheets and scooted over to make room for her.
She followed him and gathered him to her, pulling the cover back over them, resting her chin on his head, and stroking his hair. "My poor dark knight," she whispered. "We'll put the broken bits back together again. You'll see."
I thought this was a very Dru-like statement.
Spike buried his face in her throat and closed his eyes. His breathing deepened, and at first she thought he'd fallen asleep, but soon realized that huge, dry sobs were racking his body. She tightened her arms around him as her own tears soaked the pillow. "That's it, my sweet William," she said. "Let it all out. I'm right here; not going anywhere."
Eventually, he cried himself out and slipped into a deep sleep. Dru let herself relax and did the same.
***
Spike slept the clock 'round and a few more hours besides. He was awakened by the smell of cooking breakfast. Dru had left, but a warm spot next to him told him that she hadn't been gone for long. He followed his nose to the kitchen and found her frying bacon and mixing pancake batter. "Hullo, pet," he said, kissing her on the cheek.
"Hello, Spike," she responded. "Feeling better?"
"A bit. What time is it?"
"Six in the evening. After we eat, I'm taking you to Caritas to talk to Lorne. And you're bringing your guitar."
"Yes, your Highness," he said submissively. "Can I at least shower first?"
She swatted him. "Go. But hurry. Breakfast will be ready soon."
***
Lorne could tell immediately that something had changed for Spike, even before he took his guitar up on the stage and tuned it up a little. He grinned when he heard the intro to "I Made It Through the Rain" and wondered what it was about souled vampires and Barry Manilow.
snicker
"Well, Blondie-cakes," he said, after Spike finished his song. "Looks like you've been talking to our Dru." Spike and Dru smiled softly at each other and nodded. "I don't think what I'm going to tell you will come as any surprise. You would have found out yourselves sooner or later anyway--so let's make it sooner." He took a sip of his ever-present Seabreeze. "I believe you once said that Dru was 'your destiny'?"
"How did you know...never mind. Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
"I put people on their paths. Your path has been converging with hers for quite some time now. I mean, you've been together off and on for over a hundred and sixty years. Don't you two think there's something more there than just sheer coincidence?"
Dru smiled slightly. "Even when he was in love with Buffy he couldn't kill me."
"Yeah, luv? I seem to recall you having the same problem. Harm nearly did for me, though. Her and her bleedin' crossbow."
"Anyway, kids--that's your path. Whether you take it or not, is, of course, up to you. You do have time, though, so you can take it slow if you want. God will understand that, after all you've been through."
Again with the God. Even Lorne.
Spike snarled. "Bloody hell! Why does everyone insist on throwing God into my face every time I turn around?"
"Because He is in your face, Spike. In case you didn't notice, He got us out of a pretty tight spot when Angelus had you tied to a whipping post," Dru pointed out.
"Oh, was that Him? I didn't catch that, what with the torture and all." He lit a cigarette. "Not that I'm bitter."
Why, no. Why would he be bitter? He's lost his wife, his dog, and his best friend.
"But Angelus turned to dust when he drank from you. Doesn't that mean...?"
"It means that I wasn't going to let him steal my faith from me, like he's tried to bloody steal everything else from me. It doesn't mean that, in the deep dark recesses of my mind, I don't have questions." He stood up and ran his hand through his hair. "Bloody hell. I'm going for a walk."
After he strode out the door, cigarette in hand, Lorne and Dru exchanged worried glances. "What should I do for him, Lorne?" she asked. "He hurts, so much."
"Pray for him, sweetie. At this point, that's about all you can do."
***
Again with the thought process here. This is pretty much stream-of-consciousness and self-explanatory. It's kind of the same thoughts I'd be having in the same situation.
Spike stalked down the street, smoking furiously and muttering to himself. Why the bloody hell did everyone have to try to make it all better? It was never going to be all better, ever again. And this business about Dru being his destiny? That was all fine and good when he was a wide-eyed fledgling, but he was all grown up now and knew that destiny could leave a lot to be desired. In fact, destiny could royally suck if you got caught on the wrong end of it.
Like the Slayers. "One girl in all the world, yada yada yada." One girl destined to hold back the nasties in the night and the things that went bump in the dark. Yeah, sucked to be her all right. She was destined to have a short life full of pain and anguish, that would no doubt end at the fangs of a vampire or the hands of a Grox'lar Beast.
And what did he do? Was he smart? Did he run in the opposite direction as fast as he could and escape the heartache that was sure to come? Oh, no, not him. Not William the Bloody Awful Romantic Poet. No, he sought them out and fell in love with them. Brilliant, Spike. He snorted at himself.
Ducking into an alley, he leaned against the brick wall, slid down until he was sitting, and smacked the back of his head against it a few times. When the soddin' hell would he ever learn? Still love's bitch after all this time, trading one broken heart for another for another for another, and on down the line. And the Big Geppetto in the Sky wasn't helping, was He?
Was it His job to help, though? Spike didn't know anymore. He supposed that God wasn't some cosmic wish-granter, sitting up there on a throne and giving everyone what they wanted. But, dammit...Couldn't something in his bleedin' life go right, just for once? Was that too much to bloody ask?
Well, wait a minute. That wasn't quite fair, was it? A vague memory came percolating up, of some kind of shimmering being that had protected Dru while Angelus tortured him. And he chose to seek out the Slayers, right? That wasn't God's fault. And all in all...he and Dru had had it pretty good before the mob in Prague had injured her, after Angelus had left, anyway. And, apart from his sojourn in Sunnydale and the nightmare that was living on the Hellmouth, life hadn't been too bad. In fact, life with Mandy had been, if not perfect--because nothing on this Earth was perfect--at least interesting.
If he had to lose her, at least he'd had her to lose in the first place, right? He sighed. Right, Spike. Enough wallowing. Come to terms with what God is, and what God isn't, and go from there.
He thought he could do that.
***
Three months later:
Two presents nestled together under the tree. One big box, and one small one. Dru was practically bouncing with excitement, while Spike was subdued and nervous. He kissed her on the cheek. "Merry Christmas, pet."
"And a Merry Christmas to you too." She put her hot chocolate down. "Open your present."
He picked up the bigger box, but nearly dropped it when whatever was inside moved and made a noise. The lid came off, and a pair of pert brown eyes surrounded by silver and black fur stared up at him. Spike was dumbfounded. "You got me a Collie puppy?" He pulled the little dog out of the box and held him up in the air. The tail was whipping wildly back and forth, and the tongue was hanging out in a doggy grin.
Awww. I almost gave him a Collie at the end of "Salvation." It's not easy figuring out several different breeds that Spike would like. I think he'd like a Collie, though.
Dru looked a little anxious. "I hope it wasn't too presumptuous of me. I know you miss Hans."
"He's...perfect." Spike pulled the puppy closer to his face and got a wet lick on the nose. "I think he likes me."
"I think he does too," Dru laughed, as Spike nestled the gray atom in his lap. "What will you call him?"
He considered. "I think...Smoke. Never 'Smoky,' though."
"Smoke it is," she said, eyes dancing in delight.
"Okay, luv. Your turn." He bit his lip as she reached under the tree and picked up the little box there.
She gasped when she opened it and found a simple solitaire diamond ring. "Does this mean...?"
Spike got down on one knee in front of her. "Dru, pet. I've loved you for a long time, and, if I remember rightly, I once said that you and I were forever. I can't promise it'll be Christmas and puppies all the time--but, would you marry me?"
"Christmas and puppies"...More continuity. Yay, me.
"Oh, William," she answered, her heart shining out of her face. "Of course I will. Silly man, if you didn't ask me soon, I was going to ask you."
The puppy stared at them in wonderment when they kissed. Humans sure were funny.
***
Later that evening, sated with turkey and dressing, they sat on the couch and watched old movies together, the sleepy Collie puppy sharing their laps. As the credits rolled for "The Princess Bride," Spike wrapped his arm around Dru's shoulders and sang softly with the last song.
Come my love I'll tell you a tale
Of a boy and girl and their love story
And how he loved her oh so much
And all the charms she did possess
Now this did happen once upon a time
When things were not so complex
How he worshiped the ground she walked
And when he looked in her eyes he became obsessed
My love is like a storybook story
But it's as real as the feelings I feel
My love is like a storybook story
But it's as real as the feelings I feel
It's as real as the feelings I feel
This love was stronger than the powers so dark
A prince could have within his keeping
His spells to weave and steal a heart
Within her breast but only sleeping
My love is like a storybook story
But it's as real as the feelings I feel
My love is like a storybook story
But it's as real as the feelings I feel
It's as real as the feelings I feel
Now he said, "Don't you know I love you oh so much
And lay my heart at the foot of your dress?"
She said, "Don't you know that these storybook loves
Always have a happy ending?"
Then he swooped her up just like in the books
And on his stallion they rode away
My love is like a storybook story
But it's as real as the feelings I feel
My love is like a storybook story
But it's as real as the feelings I feel
It's as real as the feelings I feel
Is that perfect, or what? "The powers so dark..." And "The Princess Bride" is one of the greatest movies of all time, with plenty of parallels in Spike's life.
"You've always come for me," she said, snuggling against his chest.
"Yes, I have," he answered, his nose in her hair. "And I always will."
I think that Spike and Dru may be my One True Pairing. I can see Spike with other women, but really, I think that Dru is the One for him.
Finis
Author's Notes: The song is "Storybook Love," by Mark Knopfler, from the movie "The Princess Bride," which everyone should see. I don't own the song (although I do own the video); please don't sue me.
And that's the end. This fic has been a long, strange, and satisfying journey for me, and I hope you've enjoyed it as well. If you did, let me know by emailing me, or by pushing that little review button right down there. Even if you didn't like it, if you would let me know why, it might help me become a better writer, which is something I'm always trying to do. Thank you for sharing the ride with me.
Comments on the commentary are most welcome.
