TJ (zowiebwalker) wrote in bloodclaim,
TJ
zowiebwalker
bloodclaim

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New Author, New Story

Title: Three
Author: zowiebwalker
Pairing: S/X
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I'm only a poor disillusioned student. I wish I made money off of this. This is only fiction
Comments: Always welcome!
Summary: Three has always been a good number.
Warning: Songfic! But not cheesy.
Beta'd by the completely awesome texfam . She made me write beyond my parameters. I am incredibly grateful.

It’s you that I adore
You will always be my whore
You'll be the mother to my child
And a child to my heart
We must never be apart
We must never be apart

Lovely girl you're the beauty in my world
Without you there aren't reasons left to find

And I'll pull your crooked teeth
You'll be perfect just like me
You'll be a lover in my bed
And a gun to my head
We must never be apart
We must never be apart

Lovely girl you're the murder in my world
Dressing coffins for the souls I've left to die
Drinking mercury
To the mystery of all that you should left behind
In time

In you I see dirty
In you I count stars
In you I feel so pretty
In you I taste god
In you I feel so hungry
In you I crash cars
We must never be apart

Drinking mercury
To the mystery of all that you should ever seem to find
Lovely girl you're the murder in my world
Dressing coffins for the souls I've left behind
In time
We must never be apart

And you'll always be my whore
Cause you're the one that I adore
And I'll pull your crooked teeth
You'll be perfect just like me
In you I feel so dirty in you I crash cars
In you I feel so pretty in you I taste god
We must never be apart


Smoke and mirrors. The world he sees now, all just smoke-twisting up and over and through. The mirror of life before and after. Dark and dim and so towering; and the other side is bright, vibrant and all the little atoms dancing ’round. Just like her. Sire and sister and lover. Twisting and twisting in her mad dance. Dark as smoke-hair and eyes-slim, strong, snapping eyes and fingers. Druscilla is a doorway to love and life and death-but not for him, not anymore.
Half a century and still dancing for her, with her. But she dances for herself and the stars. Never for him. For Daddy and Miss Edith. Destiny he had said, and been right a little. And now, stuck here in Sunnyhell, with this song playing, he thinks he finally understands.

I know we're just like old friends
We just can't pretend
That lovers make amends
We are reasons so unreal
We can't help but feel that something has been lost

But please you know you're just like me
Next time I promise we'll be
Perfect
Perfect
Perfect strangers down the line
Lovers out of time
Memories unwind

So far I still know who you are
But now I wonder who I was...

Angel, you know it's not the end
We'll always be good friends
The letters have been sent on

So please, you always were so free
You'll see, I promise we'll be
Perfect
Perfect strangers when we meet
Strangers on the street
Lovers while we sleep

Perfect
You know this has to be
We always we're so free
We promised that we'd be
Perfect

Spike wonders how it can come to this. This strong little girl getting in. So different from Dru. So sunny, so blonde and so brittle. So like this blasted state of California. She’d let him in because he was death. She loved the idea of it, of him, an unprovoked danger at her beck and call. Chasing her, he’s trying to find the smoke and mirrors again. But she isn’t like Dru, which he seems to forget at times.He suspects that he’d like her to be. She is something else entirely. Buffy is quartz-pretty and unbreakable. She is the storm itself. Made up of whirlwinds and cold ice pockets. Feint and strike, parry and thrust. He knows he cannot win-but oh how he’ll try.
Later on, it’s too much. Back from her rest and so very tired. Comes to him to break, again and again. He tries to hold and soothe. He knows her better than she does. But he’s the one that breaks.


I've found a way to make you
I've found a way
a way to make you smile

I read bad poetry
into your machine
I save your messages
just to hear your voice.
you always listen carefully
to awkward rhymes.
You always say your name.
Like I wouldn't know it's you,
at your most beautiful.

I've found a way to make you
I've found a way
a way to make you smile

at my most beautiful
I count your eyelashes secretly.
With every one, whisper I love you.
I let you sleep.
I know you're closed eye watching me,
listening.
I thought I saw a smile.

I've found a way to make you
I've found a way
a way to make you smile

He’s always been confusing and disjointed. Streams of words, enduring, infuriating and insightful. That’s alright, though. Spike’s always liked words in all their forms. The little boy with the big heart, there’s room for everyone, the whole wide world, except for him. He sometimes wonders what he’s been missing. Sire’s gift he’s thrown away. Being leashed gives him little glimpses of Xander, not of the whelp, or animal or strategist. But of the one on the card. He thinks he might like him if given half a chance, if the boy would let go of his hate and guilt. And The Slayer eclipses what might have been.
But then he’s burning, and the world will not. And that’s all that matters. Spike will finally rest. Until he doesn’t. And when his new world is taken away by a dragon and a Champion’s airs, he finds his heart again. In warmth and English country sides and the Scoobies. This time is different. Xander sees him now; After seeing life and death in very human hands, and the why and how of his own fallibility. Sees William and Spike as worthy. And Spike sees a sturdy foundation to house his words.

Songs:
For Dru-Ava Adore by Smashing Pumpkins
Buffy: Perfect by Smashing Pumpkins
Xander: At My Most Beautiful by REM
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