Chapter Text
Spike could feel sunlight on his face.
Warm rays gently danced across his eyelids, rousing him from something that wasn’t quite sleep.
When he finally opened his eyes, it was to the sight of the calm glistening waters of a small lake.
He blinked rapidly, fighting to gain his bearings and make sense of his surroundings.
It was warm. So warm. But not searing. Not burning. Just warm. It was comfortable, a gentle breeze drifting through the air and blowing his messed and barely kept hair.
Spike was standing in the sun, morning light dancing across his pale skin.
And it was morning, the sun rapidly rising over the waters.
It was the kind of morning light that seeped into the cold earth and warmed away the chill of the previous night.
Perplexed, Spike lifted his hand directly into a beam that sliced through the canopy of trees that surrounded the area.
He flexed and turned his wrist, letting his fingers play in the rays. He waited for the burning and sizzling to start but it never came.
It was just warm.
After a moment, Spike turned his attention to the rest of his surroundings.
He was standing on some sort of grassy shore, large oak trees springing up from the earth and providing a comfortable amount of shade. The leaves danced in the wind and made the shadows play along the ground.
It was beautiful.
The area around him was open and green but well kept, pretty, colorful flowers peppered here and there.
Spike couldn’t rightfully say that he’d ever been there before, but it did remind him a bit of some of the places he used to visit as a lad.
Maybe it was a park of some kind.
It would be the perfect spot for a pic—
“Hello, cutie,” came a vibrant and playful voice somewhere behind him. “There you are.”
Buffy.
It was Buffy. He knew it without having to look.
Spike turned around slowly, finding her sitting a few paces off on a blanket in the grass. It was a picnic blanket complete with a wicker basket.
Spike’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. Mesmerized. Bewildered.
She was wearing a long sun dress, complete with a white floppy hat.
Buffy Summers was a vision as she sat there smiling softly up at him, practically glowing in the golden light. Har hair spilled out of her hat and draped over her shoulders and tanned skin, looking nothing short of spun gold.
He could’ve died right there from the sight of her.
If he wasn’t already dead, that is.
She was bloody gorgeous, glowing with a calm sort of happiness.
The word effulgent came to mind but Spike quickly chased it away, focusing on her instead.
“Come on,” she nodded her head and patted the spot beside her, “we don’t have long now.”
Spike had no idea what she was talking about but he came all the same, gently lowering himself down beside her.
“So what do ya think?” She asked as she looked around, squinting adorably against the bright rays.
Spike looked around too. It was peaceful. Idyllic, even.
And a dream. It was definitely a dream.
That was the only way to explain the lack of flames and ash on his part.
But that was fine. He didn’t care. Not anymore.
Besides, even if it hadn’t been a dream, being here with her like this, seeing her in the sunlight again…it would’ve been worth dusting for.
“It’s beautiful,” Spike replied, a content sort of smile pulling at his lips.
And it was. It really was. The place was beautiful. She was beautiful.
Spike didn’t talk about it much, but this was the sort of thing he did miss after becoming a vampire. Missed the feeling of the sun on his face.
Another gentle breeze swept through the open grassy space, making the leaves rustle and dance and catching Buffy’s hair just so.
He just looked at her, wanting to memorize the scene before him. Wanting the image to be imprinted on the inside of his eyelids.
It occurred to him—not for the first time—that he was a stupid git when it came to the Gem of Amara.
He’d only seen her like this one other time and it was thanks to the gem. He should’ve been smarter, should’ve found a way to hold onto it. If only so he could see her in the sun more than once.
“I—I wanted you to see this before it was time to go. Get a chance to experience it too.” Buffy looked down at her hands in her lap, fiddling with the hem of her dress. She was almost…nervous. Like she was presenting a gift.
On impulse, Spike reached out, taking her hand in an attempt to sooth her apparent fears.
She was warm too, skin impossibly soft and smooth.
“I love it,” he told her earnestly as she met his eyes. “It’s beautiful. Your beautiful. Always wanted to see you like this. Golden. Happy. Glowin’.”
“Effulgent?” Buffy asked playfully and Spike let out a pained groan, head falling forward onto her shoulder to hide his face.
A gentle laugh reverberated through her and somehow he knew it was about his antics and not about his humiliations.
It was a loving sort of sound, through and through.
After a beat he lifted his head back up, not wanting to miss a moment. He still held her hand in his, the pad of his thumb tracing light patterns along her sun-kissed skin.
She was smiling softly again, looking at him in a way she only ever could have in dreams.
Like she wanted to actually see him. Like he meant something to her.
Like she could love him.
It was then that Buffy scooted close, her hand coming up to cup his face. He reached for her instinctively, arms circling around her.
She let her hands wander, touches gentle as they drifted over his cheeks, his lips, his chin…almost caressing.
She moved further up, fingers carding through his hair and grazing the shell of his ear and then eventually working back down.
He drew in a shuddering breath and closed his eyes as she oh-so-gently traced a line along the spot between his eyebrows and then over the arch of his eyelids. She leaned in, placing a kiss on each one. His grip on her hip tightened a bit as she did, as if to steady him. He wanted to cry. Wanted to dust right then.
Her fingertips grazed over his lips once more and then finally settled back onto his face.
He opened his eyes again, the morning light flooding in.
She was only inches away now, gazing at him earnestly. Lovingly. Almost…preciously.
“Death is my gift,” she spoke softly, and for a split second, he could’ve sworn it sounded like she was talking about…him.
“What do you mean, love?” He felt compelled to ask, though he had already known everything he needed to know about her death wish long ago.
Buffy just shook her head, like now wasn’t the time to talk about it.
Then she was kissing him, all sunshine and consuming warmth. Spike gasped against her lips but quickly fell into pace, like he had that day in his crypt after Glory.
His arm’s instinctively tightened around her, one hand coming up to thread into her golden hair.
It was the same sort of kiss too. Slow and sweet and unhurried.
It was Buffy who pulled away this time. She looked a little sad, but there was still an air of peacefulness that hung off her like a well fitting garment.
“No more time now. Your sun’s up, my night begins,” she told him, her voice a low, relaxed cadence. “Tomorrow doesn’t count.”
She glanced away, the sadness flickering across her face briefly. However, she chased it away with an air of determination, eyes finding his again as she gently took his face in her hands once more.
She guided his head forward, leaned over his shoulder, and whispered softly in his ear, her breath tickling the sensitive skin there.
“I can be alone with you here.”
Spike awoke with a gasp.