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blue_icy_roseTitle: Loved Till I Stumbled
Pairings: Spike/Buffy
Rating: PG
Warnings: AU. Everyone's human in this one, folks.
Summary: I drank till I stumbled, I loved till I fell. When the drunk part was over, love hurt me like hell.
Disclaimer: I don't own Spike, Buffy, or anything else associated with Buffy the Vampire Slayer. They belong to Joss Whedon. The song that this was inspired by belongs to Kenny Chesney.
Note: I haven't written Spuffy in forever it seems. But I had this sitting on my computer from who knows when and decided to post it. Right now it's just a one shot but you never know, there could be a sequel down the road. Until then, enjoy and feedback is always welcome!
Inspired by the song Being Drunk's A Lot Like Loving You by Kenny Chesney. It's also where the title and summary came from.
Spike groaned as he felt the sun hitting his eyelids. He rolled over and buried his face into the pillow, pulling the other over his head so that he was sandwiched between the two. The move cost him, but it was worth it to block out the sun. He figured if he didn’t open his eyes, they wouldn’t roll out of his head and then he’d be able to keep his sight. Which seemed like a good plan.
Why had he gotten drunk in the first place anyway? He thought about it, searching his memory, and then wished he hadn’t as fresh pain sliced through his heart.
Buffy.
I’m leaving, Spike.
He tensed as the memory slammed into him like a punch to the stomach and a small moan escaped him. He hadn’t fully realized what she’d meant at first. Hell, he’d even told her that was fine and asked when she was coming back. The pain intensified as he remembered what her answer had been.
I’m not coming back. Not this time. This...you and me...I can’t do this anymore.
Oh, he knew that they fought. But he hadn’t thought anything of it. What couple didn’t fight? But most couples didn’t shout at each other so loud that they practically brought the house down. Most couples didn’t fight until the only thing left to do was have sex to forget the fight and move on. No, most couples talked out their problems instead of pounding them out of each other on the mattress. It just so happened that she had realized it before he had.
A shudder ran through his body as he finally decided to sit up. He hadn’t gotten drunk in so long that this morning he felt worse than he had in a long time. He shook his head slowly, trying to clear it, instantly regretting the move.
Slowly, he inched his way out of bed, making his way to the bathroom. He squinted, trying to block out the light, and cursing softly at the brightness. Spike was pretty sure that his head was going to explode. The fact that he kept remembering that last day really wasn’t helping.
What do you mean you’re leaving? You can’t just leave. I love you.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered, moving towards the shower. He glanced down, thinking that it was a good thing he’d somehow managed to get out of his clothes last night. He wasn’t sure that he’d be able to handle it this morning. Wincing a bit painfully, he turned the knobs and stepped under the spray of the shower. He let out a sigh as he felt the water begin to pound against his body, helping to rid him of his hangover. Helping him to forget why he had been drunk in the first place. He shut his eyes, pushing thoughts of Buffy and the way she had looked the last time he saw her out of his mind.
As he practically climbed out of the shower, Spike let out a sigh of relief. He already felt better. But he knew what would make him feel even better. Aspirin. Big aspirins. As in more than one. Plural. He went back into the bedroom, one hand over his eyes to filter the sunlight through, and grabbed a pair of boxers. Slowly, he lowered himself to the bed and pulled them on.
Spike ran his hands over his face and let out a breath. Not just aspirin, but coffee. Coffee would be really nice. He stood up as carefully as he could and started towards the hallway so that he could make his way downstairs. Step by step, he started going downstairs, heading towards the kitchen. Once there, he glanced at the coffeepot, grateful that he had it set to start making the coffee at a certain time every morning. Now all that was left was the aspirin. He frowned down at the bottle that he took out of the cabinet. What kind of lid was this?
Buffy would know how to open it.
You drink too much, Spike. And one day it’s going to kill you. I can’t stay and watch that happen. Because it’s killing me. Inside.
Spike scowled as he finally got the bottle open and shook a few aspirin into the palm of his hand, downing them with coffee.
He hadn’t gotten drunk in months. As a matter of fact, he’d been doing great when it came to that. He’d even gone so far as to hope that maybe this would convince Buffy to come back to him. Especially when he’d heard her voice on the phone. He’d wondered why she was calling and he hadn’t had to wait long to find out.
I was wondering when I could come by and pick up the rest of my stuff.
Spike snorted and winced at the pain the movement caused him. Of course she wanted the rest of her stuff. But by taking that, she was taking away the last of his hope. The hope that maybe someday, she’d come back.
He knew what he had to do. Move on, be strong, and all that rot.
Right now, he really wasn’t all that sure how he was going to do that. He glanced down and froze at the sight of the coffee mug he held in his hand.
It was hers. Her favorite coffee mug, one he’d given to her because he’d liked the saying on it and the saying had come to be something that she had loved to read. She had used this mug almost everyday. He’d avoided using it and he didn’t know why he had reached for it this morning. He studied the light blue mug with white writing that he held in his hand.
Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That’s all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.
Spike felt a flash of pain as he read the words again and he turned his head, looking away as he lifted the mug back to his mouth. He closed his eyes as he savored the bitter taste of the coffee on his tongue. He scrubbed a hand down his face and, setting the mug down, went back upstairs. He studied himself in the mirror and noticed that while he looked a bit tired, a person wouldn’t be able to tell he’d been drinking the night before. He turned his back on his own reflection went to the closet, pulling out a pair of jeans and a shirt.
Running a hand through his hair, Spike frowned. She’d be here today. Coming to get the last of her stuff. It was all he could think about as he got dressed. He was just about to walk out of the room when something caught his eye. He turned and stared at the boxes that remained on the floor of his closet. He had avoided looking at these as well. Because these were the very things that would put an end to his hope. Now, he lowered himself to the floor and slowly opened one of the boxes, reaching in and pulling out a silver necklace.
He ran a finger along the locket that hung from the chain, an oval engraved with roses. Spike swallowed as he opened it to find pictures of himself and Buffy staring back up at him. They were happy. It felt as if it had been so long since he’d been happy.
At the sound of knocking, Spike raised his head. Quickly, he replaced the locket and shut the box, pushing it back into the closet. He stood up, running a hand through his hair once more, giving his hair a slightly curled look. He walked downstairs and pulled opened the door.
And there she was, the sun shining behind her, making her look as if she glowed. She looked up at him as he stared at her, love and despair rushing through him at the sight of her.
“Buffy.”
Pairings: Spike/Buffy
Rating: PG
Warnings: AU. Everyone's human in this one, folks.
Summary: I drank till I stumbled, I loved till I fell. When the drunk part was over, love hurt me like hell.
Disclaimer: I don't own Spike, Buffy, or anything else associated with Buffy the Vampire Slayer. They belong to Joss Whedon. The song that this was inspired by belongs to Kenny Chesney.
Note: I haven't written Spuffy in forever it seems. But I had this sitting on my computer from who knows when and decided to post it. Right now it's just a one shot but you never know, there could be a sequel down the road. Until then, enjoy and feedback is always welcome!
Inspired by the song Being Drunk's A Lot Like Loving You by Kenny Chesney. It's also where the title and summary came from.
Spike groaned as he felt the sun hitting his eyelids. He rolled over and buried his face into the pillow, pulling the other over his head so that he was sandwiched between the two. The move cost him, but it was worth it to block out the sun. He figured if he didn’t open his eyes, they wouldn’t roll out of his head and then he’d be able to keep his sight. Which seemed like a good plan.
Why had he gotten drunk in the first place anyway? He thought about it, searching his memory, and then wished he hadn’t as fresh pain sliced through his heart.
Buffy.
I’m leaving, Spike.
He tensed as the memory slammed into him like a punch to the stomach and a small moan escaped him. He hadn’t fully realized what she’d meant at first. Hell, he’d even told her that was fine and asked when she was coming back. The pain intensified as he remembered what her answer had been.
I’m not coming back. Not this time. This...you and me...I can’t do this anymore.
Oh, he knew that they fought. But he hadn’t thought anything of it. What couple didn’t fight? But most couples didn’t shout at each other so loud that they practically brought the house down. Most couples didn’t fight until the only thing left to do was have sex to forget the fight and move on. No, most couples talked out their problems instead of pounding them out of each other on the mattress. It just so happened that she had realized it before he had.
A shudder ran through his body as he finally decided to sit up. He hadn’t gotten drunk in so long that this morning he felt worse than he had in a long time. He shook his head slowly, trying to clear it, instantly regretting the move.
Slowly, he inched his way out of bed, making his way to the bathroom. He squinted, trying to block out the light, and cursing softly at the brightness. Spike was pretty sure that his head was going to explode. The fact that he kept remembering that last day really wasn’t helping.
What do you mean you’re leaving? You can’t just leave. I love you.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered, moving towards the shower. He glanced down, thinking that it was a good thing he’d somehow managed to get out of his clothes last night. He wasn’t sure that he’d be able to handle it this morning. Wincing a bit painfully, he turned the knobs and stepped under the spray of the shower. He let out a sigh as he felt the water begin to pound against his body, helping to rid him of his hangover. Helping him to forget why he had been drunk in the first place. He shut his eyes, pushing thoughts of Buffy and the way she had looked the last time he saw her out of his mind.
As he practically climbed out of the shower, Spike let out a sigh of relief. He already felt better. But he knew what would make him feel even better. Aspirin. Big aspirins. As in more than one. Plural. He went back into the bedroom, one hand over his eyes to filter the sunlight through, and grabbed a pair of boxers. Slowly, he lowered himself to the bed and pulled them on.
Spike ran his hands over his face and let out a breath. Not just aspirin, but coffee. Coffee would be really nice. He stood up as carefully as he could and started towards the hallway so that he could make his way downstairs. Step by step, he started going downstairs, heading towards the kitchen. Once there, he glanced at the coffeepot, grateful that he had it set to start making the coffee at a certain time every morning. Now all that was left was the aspirin. He frowned down at the bottle that he took out of the cabinet. What kind of lid was this?
Buffy would know how to open it.
You drink too much, Spike. And one day it’s going to kill you. I can’t stay and watch that happen. Because it’s killing me. Inside.
Spike scowled as he finally got the bottle open and shook a few aspirin into the palm of his hand, downing them with coffee.
He hadn’t gotten drunk in months. As a matter of fact, he’d been doing great when it came to that. He’d even gone so far as to hope that maybe this would convince Buffy to come back to him. Especially when he’d heard her voice on the phone. He’d wondered why she was calling and he hadn’t had to wait long to find out.
I was wondering when I could come by and pick up the rest of my stuff.
Spike snorted and winced at the pain the movement caused him. Of course she wanted the rest of her stuff. But by taking that, she was taking away the last of his hope. The hope that maybe someday, she’d come back.
He knew what he had to do. Move on, be strong, and all that rot.
Right now, he really wasn’t all that sure how he was going to do that. He glanced down and froze at the sight of the coffee mug he held in his hand.
It was hers. Her favorite coffee mug, one he’d given to her because he’d liked the saying on it and the saying had come to be something that she had loved to read. She had used this mug almost everyday. He’d avoided using it and he didn’t know why he had reached for it this morning. He studied the light blue mug with white writing that he held in his hand.
And love comes in at the eye;
That’s all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.
Spike felt a flash of pain as he read the words again and he turned his head, looking away as he lifted the mug back to his mouth. He closed his eyes as he savored the bitter taste of the coffee on his tongue. He scrubbed a hand down his face and, setting the mug down, went back upstairs. He studied himself in the mirror and noticed that while he looked a bit tired, a person wouldn’t be able to tell he’d been drinking the night before. He turned his back on his own reflection went to the closet, pulling out a pair of jeans and a shirt.
Running a hand through his hair, Spike frowned. She’d be here today. Coming to get the last of her stuff. It was all he could think about as he got dressed. He was just about to walk out of the room when something caught his eye. He turned and stared at the boxes that remained on the floor of his closet. He had avoided looking at these as well. Because these were the very things that would put an end to his hope. Now, he lowered himself to the floor and slowly opened one of the boxes, reaching in and pulling out a silver necklace.
He ran a finger along the locket that hung from the chain, an oval engraved with roses. Spike swallowed as he opened it to find pictures of himself and Buffy staring back up at him. They were happy. It felt as if it had been so long since he’d been happy.
At the sound of knocking, Spike raised his head. Quickly, he replaced the locket and shut the box, pushing it back into the closet. He stood up, running a hand through his hair once more, giving his hair a slightly curled look. He walked downstairs and pulled opened the door.
And there she was, the sun shining behind her, making her look as if she glowed. She looked up at him as he stared at her, love and despair rushing through him at the sight of her.
“Buffy.”
