Subject: [SpikesSalvation] BEAUTIFUL MIND Chapter 3- Paradise Date: Sat, 26 Jun 2004 22:51:38 -0000 From: "Julianne" I know it has been a REALLY long time since I have posted, so I am sending the whole fic. Please don't bite my head off if there are errors, I don't have a beta. Feedback please! Author: Shadow Eyes, AotB Story Title: A Beautiful Mind Rating: This chapter: PG, but will go as high as R Spoilers: Sometime in S6, none of the willow magic abuse happened, except for her bringing back Buffy. Spike and Buffy were still together, and still broke up, but everything is getting better in Buffy's life now and she has realized what she has lost. Disclaimer: Joss, James, ME, Fox.... Archiving: Just let me know. Chapter 3: Paradise Nameless, Speechless Full of endless energies and Soft replies Without words they shape out minds They know us And in their Eyes... A soft reply A beauty never spoken And glances never seen The world is blind And here stand those that see. He closed his eyes. Here, there was nothing else. Here there was simplicity and beauty. Each place that she led him to paling to the next and this by far the most perfect. Beyond the capacity of thought and reason, here was a place of soft and color. The brilliant oils lined the sky, so rich and vibrant, yet weightless. A place, in all his 153 years he had not yet seen. He walked down the carefully laid path of cobblestones leading down to the sea. To where she was, her beautiful white sundress and brilliant gold hair flowing behind her, not able to keep up with her, yet her body stood still. The entire scene was soft, like living artwork. But when he reached for her hand, no golden oils touched his hand. She was real here. Tangible, in more ways than one. As they watched the waves ripple along the beach, she turned her head to look at him, and smiled. She smiled as if she knew what he was missing, what everyone on the other side of the sea, across waves and torrents in the land of demons and men, was missing. She was his guide, his eyes to this place. Here, they were not demon, nor human but thought. The true essence of being was reflected in these waters so that those who saw it brightest were those who had the mind to comprehend the colors. Looking at her, he felt naïve. This, the person who could lead him to these places, knew secrets of life and love that he had thought he unlocked years before. His eyes were opened, and in them the workings of a beautiful mind shone. He hadn't noticed it, possibly blinded by his love for her, for this place, but the colors began to fade. Became less vivid. Someone was pouring turpentine on his painting, and everything was drifting slowly away. He panicked. He wasn't ready to leave her. He held onto her hand as tight as he could, nearly crying out with the pain it was causing him to watch her go. Her hand began to slip through his, not by any voluntary motion, but more like an illusion. She noticed nothing. She was still smiling at him and she began to walk toward the sea, hair flowing slowly behind her as she turned away from him. But he held her hand tighter still. But as the world turned black, he was Spike again. And just before she was finally gone, his eyes turned yellow and he let out a deafening roar. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Well, Ill never try waking you up like that again." Spike opened his eyes to see his hand tightly wrapped around Buffy's wrist. But there was no beach and no sunlight. It was cold and dark and lonely where he was. After a long moment, Spike let Buffy's hand go, the sense of loss hitting him hard. He turned to the other side of the bed, getting his pants and attempting to put them on under the covers. "If you don't mind I'll stick to throwing candles." She said nervously, turning to face the wall as he put on his pants. "Yeah." Spike barely registered that she had spoken. His brow furrowed in confusion, trying to work out the transference of dream to reality in his sleep addled mind. When he looked at her again, she seemed so far away. So out of reach. He would never have her, yet she was all he had. Minute by minute this world seemed colder, harder, darker. "So, what is it you need pet? Has the Bit gone missing again, or is this just your run of the mill hack and slash mission?" As he spoke, he busied himself with cleaning the place up. Not for the purpose of making the place look nicer, but for the purpose of having something to do besides look at her. If he did, she would see how much he missed her. Ever dream he had would come pouring out. And she would leave him. No. Anything just to keep her here. "Neither actually. I actually wanted to ask you about last night." Spike stopped trying to pick up the crypt. "I wanna know what happened." Spike got up, throwing all of his clothes that had been lying around in a corner so he could wash them later, and brushed past her to go upstairs. "It's nothing." He mumbled as he walked past her. But Buffy followed after him. "Don't lie to me Spike. That was not nothing. You were screaming. What the hell was that?" He turned to face her. "It was nothing." He said the words in a clear crisp tone, eyes solid and unyielding, making it clear that the subject was NOT up for discussion. Buffy rolled her eyes. "Fine. Whatever." But it nagged at her. If she really asked him, she was sure there was nothing he wouldn't tell her. Spike paced. He needed something to do. Anything. If he stopped, If she looked at him, he knew he would have to tell her. And he couldn't. He needed to help her and if she knew what she was doing to him... "There's another reason I came here." Spike smirked, putting up his guards and forcing himself to face her. "Knew you couldn't resist me." At this she rolled her eyes, but her face was shy, uncomfortable. "What is it?" "Dawn. She was asking about you." She ventured to look at him. "She misses you." He let out a bit of breath he had been holding in. He turned away from her toward the refrigerator. "Just Dawn then." The small romantic dreamer in him wished horribly that she would miss him when he left, but the rest of him shut this thought up immediately. She never would. Not ever. "Does she now? Maybe sometime I can stay with her while you're out patrolling." "Actually, Dawn and I are doing a 'night in' thing tonight if you wanna come by. Dawn's gunna bake her famous brown pineapple cookies and we're going to watch a movie." There was a sudden sharp pain in his chest as he imagined all of the things she could say to him, all of the things she could do. He almost doubled over but he contained himself until she left. He tried his best not to make his pain known to her. "Uh, I dunno. I told some of the poker guys that I might stop by tonight. Get one up on my debts and such." For a moment he allowed himself congratulations for the smoothest lie he'd ever told her. Buffy nodded. "Yeah, alright. I just thought... but I'll tell Dawn that you can't make it." Not a fraction of a second after she left, he fell to the floor, pain wracking his chest, pulling him in two. Through the agony, a strangled laugh made it's way into the air. She does something to him and he gets hurt, she's does something for him, and he gets hurt. He wanted so badly just to stop hurting. As it always did, the loneliness of his crypt eventually sunk into him, adding a dull ache to the sharp pains. As always, there wasn't a single person to help him up. But despite his better judgment and the constant pain in his chest, Spike stood in the woods surrounding her house, looking in the back window at her in the kitchen. "Dawn! BROWN pineapple! Brown, not black! Get in here and get them out of the oven!" He heard Buffy scream to her sister in the living room. Spikes heart twisted a bit at the sight of her. She was smiling, happy. This was what he really wanted for her. And he understood that he wasn't a part of it. He would stay out of her life as much as he could, let her be happy. He sat there, watching them for hours. It was only when the colors began reappearing on the horizon that he began to head home. Upon returning home he took a bottle of Jack Daniels from the makeshift bar, pulled of the cap, and chucked as much as he could handle. When the pain didn't diminish, she finished off the bottle, taking it downstairs with him as he collapsed on the bed. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood as the tears ran down his face, clutching the bed sheets just to deal with the pain. The empty bottle fell hard with a silent crash.