sorry about your guitar (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cityphonelines) wrote2007-05-30 12:45 pm
cityphonelines) wrote2007-05-30 12:45 pm
Fic - Glass Onion, S/X
Pairing: S/X
Rating: PG
Timeline: Some kind of future AU. Way future. Exactly how far in the future is entirely up to you.
Warning: You’re gonna have to fill in your own blanks, there aren’t any answers in this. Interpret it however you want to. In my head it was really sad.
Disclaimer: Not mine, theirs entirely
Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
darkhavens, originally posted Oct. 2004 in Bloodclaim
Xander sat atop the green hill behind the house, cradling a crystal ball in his hands. Sighing, he laid himself down, placed the round glass on his stomach, stared at the starless night sky and listened. He listened to the wind sweep over the meadow below and he listened as the grass blades buzzed under the assault. He listened the screen door opening and banging shut and he heard the lighter strike. He pushed his hearing back and let the scent of things take over, the smoke from his lover’s cigarette, the water-smell of the lake and under it all the faint, sweet smell of wild strawberries. The tiny ones that he and Spike would go down and pick on the first night of real summer every year.
He felt Spike walk over and sit at his feet. He cast his eyes downward so he could see the vampire from under his lashes. Spike stuck the cigarette in his mouth and leaned forward, grabbing for the crystal ball. He took a drag from his smoke, inhaling and exhaling without taking it from his lips. Stretching back he rolled the clear sphere from hand to hand all the while smoking his cigarette down.
“So, love, you gonna tell me what you’re doing?” Spike said, staring into it, wondering why it still surprised him to not see himself staring back.
“I’m old Spike, so old, and I don’t look it and I don’t feel it and don’t understand why everyone around me got old or died or both, but I didn’t,” he took a deep breathe and propped himself up on his elbows, “and Tara, she was the last one, so small and gray and paper thin at the end. She was the only one that didn’t claw at my skin because I didn’t have any wrinkles and the only one that didn’t hate me for it. She understood that it wasn’t my fault and it wasn’t really a gift.”
“I know Xan, but it wasn’t their fault either. Buffy and Willow, they- it wasn’t something they could handle. Buffy losing her looks, her strength and Red losing her mind, that trap of knowledge she had just rusting up full of holes and her smarts leaking out to nowhere. It was hard for them.”
“I don’t even know when I stopped counting the years, the decades, after their deaths. I’ve lost count of when my friends died,” Xander looke horrified with himself as he flopped back down on the soft grass, “I used to etch tally marks in Tara’s crystal ball so I could keep track, but I finally ran out of room and now I get lost trying to count them up. It kinda looks like onionskin now. Glass Onion, isn’t that a song? A really old song.”
Spike flicked the cigarette butt away and slid himself up from Xander’s feet. He laid himself over his eternal boy and kissed the tears from his cheeks, “Yeah, love, it was a Beatles song from long, long ago.”
Rating: PG
Timeline: Some kind of future AU. Way future. Exactly how far in the future is entirely up to you.
Warning: You’re gonna have to fill in your own blanks, there aren’t any answers in this. Interpret it however you want to. In my head it was really sad.
Disclaimer: Not mine, theirs entirely
Written for
darkhavens, originally posted Oct. 2004 in BloodclaimXander sat atop the green hill behind the house, cradling a crystal ball in his hands. Sighing, he laid himself down, placed the round glass on his stomach, stared at the starless night sky and listened. He listened to the wind sweep over the meadow below and he listened as the grass blades buzzed under the assault. He listened the screen door opening and banging shut and he heard the lighter strike. He pushed his hearing back and let the scent of things take over, the smoke from his lover’s cigarette, the water-smell of the lake and under it all the faint, sweet smell of wild strawberries. The tiny ones that he and Spike would go down and pick on the first night of real summer every year.
He felt Spike walk over and sit at his feet. He cast his eyes downward so he could see the vampire from under his lashes. Spike stuck the cigarette in his mouth and leaned forward, grabbing for the crystal ball. He took a drag from his smoke, inhaling and exhaling without taking it from his lips. Stretching back he rolled the clear sphere from hand to hand all the while smoking his cigarette down.
“So, love, you gonna tell me what you’re doing?” Spike said, staring into it, wondering why it still surprised him to not see himself staring back.
“I’m old Spike, so old, and I don’t look it and I don’t feel it and don’t understand why everyone around me got old or died or both, but I didn’t,” he took a deep breathe and propped himself up on his elbows, “and Tara, she was the last one, so small and gray and paper thin at the end. She was the only one that didn’t claw at my skin because I didn’t have any wrinkles and the only one that didn’t hate me for it. She understood that it wasn’t my fault and it wasn’t really a gift.”
“I know Xan, but it wasn’t their fault either. Buffy and Willow, they- it wasn’t something they could handle. Buffy losing her looks, her strength and Red losing her mind, that trap of knowledge she had just rusting up full of holes and her smarts leaking out to nowhere. It was hard for them.”
“I don’t even know when I stopped counting the years, the decades, after their deaths. I’ve lost count of when my friends died,” Xander looke horrified with himself as he flopped back down on the soft grass, “I used to etch tally marks in Tara’s crystal ball so I could keep track, but I finally ran out of room and now I get lost trying to count them up. It kinda looks like onionskin now. Glass Onion, isn’t that a song? A really old song.”
Spike flicked the cigarette butt away and slid himself up from Xander’s feet. He laid himself over his eternal boy and kissed the tears from his cheeks, “Yeah, love, it was a Beatles song from long, long ago.”
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