He’d never seen anything quite so blue before in his existence. The waves crashing against the shore were glistening, lit by the brightness of sunlight.
He gripped his mate’s hand tighter, needing her to experience this with him. His need to have her be a part of this memory was visceral.
She stepped into his line of vision, all golden hair and sun-kissed skin, her gauzy white sundress blowing around her legs.
“This is the most incredible… S’not this type of blue in England.”
His voice was awed, and she let go of his hand to pull herself against him. He leaned his head down and she met him in a sweet kiss.
“You have to take me to the beach in England, then. You’ve seen what I grew up with, I want to see yours.”
“Of course, pet. Take you to Brighton, give you the grand tour. London too, but that’s not beaches.”
Her laugh was soft and breathy. “I love you so much, Spike. Thanks for letting me experience this with you.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Buffy. Having you here for something this big… it cements you, you know? Cements us.”
“Because no matter what you’ll never be rid of me. I’ll always be here in your memory of your first time seeing the ocean in daylight in 120-odd years.”
He spun her and pulled her back against his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around her. He pressed a kiss into her hair, and he felt her melt into him.
“I understand, you know. Having you there at Dawn’s graduation, at mine… I spent so long hiding you away, but now I’ve got you out in the open. We’re part of each other’s lives, for real.”
“I love you, Goldilocks,” he said, tickling her nose with a lock of her hair and pressing his lips to the bite mark on her neck.
She turned to him, and the smile on her face was brilliant.
“I love you too, William.”
He kissed her deeply before they made their way closer to the tide and settled down in the sand, Buffy leaning up against him.
Buffy giggled and snuggled closer to him.
“Nothing,” she replied innocently.
“If I say something you’re going to stop,” she replied, pouting up at him.
“Promise I won’t, pet.”
“Sometimes when something catches your eye, you sit there and mutter synonyms for a while. In my head I call it ‘poet-brain’.”
“I bloody well do not!” he objected.
“You bloody well do,” she giggled. “I just heard you. Or was there some other reason you were listing off types of blue?”
“I– well, I–” he sputtered for a moment, before catching her eye and failing to hold back a smile. “You’re lucky I love you, woman.”
Her voice was soft, but not too soft to hear.
He looked down at the bundle wrapped in his arms, tears flooding his eyes.
“You remember that first day on the beach in Santa Cruz? I told you I’d never seen anything that blue?”
Buffy nodded at her husband with a small smile.
“Changed my mind. Don’t think there’s anything bluer than our lil’ bit’s eyes.”
“She’s something else, isn’t she?” She stood and walked over, wrapping one arm around his waist and pressing a kiss to her daughter’s forehead.
“She’s more than that, even.” Spike’s eyes were bright as he stared down at her. “She’s ours.”
They stared at the baby girl for a while before Buffy broke the silence.
“Surprised you’re not doing the poet-brain thing.”
“Don’t need to hunt for words to fit. Nothing can even come close. She’s on her own level and she’s just…”
He paused for a moment, and Buffy raised her eyebrows.
“She’s just Joyce-Anne. Just perfect.”
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October 25, 2020 17:26