Fic: "The Glory and the Dream"
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seasonal_spuffyTitle: The Glory and the Dream
Author: Maia
Rating: PG
Words: 1224
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Thank you to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
enigmaticblues for hosting!
Notes:
This story takes place in my Gifts-verse, where Spike was resurrected as a human after "Chosen" in 2003 and went back to the name William. In 2008 he and Buffy were reunited, in 2009 they married, in 2011 they had a daughter named Eleanor and in 2015 they had a son named Geoffrey.
The title and several quotes are from William Wordsworth's Ode Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood.
There is also a quote from W.H. Auden's September 1, 1939.
Warnings: I hesitate to post this story. It is very, very dark. I'm not even sure it's "canon" for my Gifts-verse.
Summary:
Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
The Glory and the Dream
Buffy had gone to deal with another apocalypse, and the sink was full of dirty dishes. The unmentionable odour of death - and nappies. Eleanor wouldn't stop whining, Geoffrey wouldn't stop crying, the laundry was piling up, and he'd really rather be coping with what's-his-name-the-wannabe-Angelus than this. He was glad he no longer had a vampire's sense of smell.
“We have a traditional Victorian marriage,” Buffy liked to quip. “He's the wife.” Well, no, not quite. Buffy had no idea what an actual Victorian marriage was like and he doubted she would like it much, even if she got to be the man. But it seemed rather pointless to explain, so he limited himself to telling her that if she ever called him the Angel of the Hearth he would get himself turned again just so he could kill her. She smiled sweetly and mouthed the words, so he threw a dishtowel at her and resumed scrubbing.
Not that she didn't help. Sometimes. Bloody convenient, though, how Big Bads always seemed to need attending to when the home front was at its worst. He still hadn't forgiven her for her suddenly essential presence at a battle in Jakarta that had apparently been going quite well - until the moment they discovered that then 18-month-old Eleanor had smeared Vaseline all over the nursery in a Grand Artistic Statement.
A crash followed by screams and “Daaad-y he knocked over my spaaace-ship!” erupted from the living room, and he went to deal with the carnage.
*
There were moments, though (mostly when the demons were asleep) when he knew he wasn't unhappy with his lot. No, he hadn't quite know what it would be like, when he'd chosen this. (When had he ever known the real consequences of his decisions? Get the spark, all it does is burn. Have kids, live in permanent state of exhaustion.) But it was more than that...
So much of what he did was for Buffy, and in some ways, this was too. But that was only a tiny part of it.
It was for every child he'd ever killed.
And it was for himself, too. Of all the things he'd ever been (and he'd been so many) this felt the most right.
But...he'd thought the kids would bring him and Buffy closer together, and they didn't. Being parents just laid bare the gaping chasm between them. He remembered what for him was the defining argument, when Eleanor was first starting to eat solid food, and he'd told Buffy he wanted to raise her a vegetarian, like him. And it came out that Buffy didn't really get why he was a vegetarian at all, and he couldn't explain. The child is father to the vampire, the vampire is father to the man, the man thinks you shouldn't eat anything you're not willing to kill yourself – and his wife thinks that's just weird. That was the moment he realized she had no idea who he was now.
What scared him was that he didn't mind. He didn't need her to see him. He just needed her to not interfere. He'd responded to the vegetarian argument by saying that it didn't really matter what she thought since she wasn't going to be around much anyway, and even as he said it he knew it was an unforgivable thing to say.
*
Geoffrey woke crying. He had a fever. William spent the rest of the night holding the hot little body and thinking that he could not possibly survive the death of one of his children, but he knew he would survive Buffy's death just fine.
Geoffrey's fever broke at dawn, and he left the toddler sleeping peacefully and went to the window and looked out at the silver light over New York City. “Make me what I was, so Buffy can get what she deserves.” But he couldn't go back to what he was, and he couldn't transform himself again, either. On the surface he was exactly what Buffy deserved, exactly what she needed. He made it possible for her to both be a slayer and have a normal life. And he loved her. But she was no longer essential to him.
She'd been more essential to him when he'd been trying to kill her.
*
“Daddy, tell me a story,” Eleanor said.
“What story would you like?”
“The one about the vampire who fell in love with a slayer.”
He was sitting in the rocking chair, holding the sleeping Geoffrey. Eleanor was sitting up in her bed next to them, looking at him with eager expectation.
“Once upon a time,” he began, “there was a vampire who fell in love with a slayer...”
When he finished she gave him a piercing look. “Is it true?”
“Yes,” he said. He wondered how she would feel when she found out the whole truth.
“But it happened a long time ago, right?”
“Yes.”
A long time ago.
“Do you miss Mommy when she's not here?”
Damn perceptive brat. “Yes.”
But not as much as I should.
*
He couldn't sleep. He finally turned on the light, and picked up his tattered copy of Wordsworth. “Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood.” He'd first read it when he was 9, and the shades of the prison-house had been just beginning to close around him. He remembered his stomach clenching in fear at the words, At length the Man perceives it die away,/And fade into the light of common day. He'd been determined not to let that happen to him. And when he realized it had anyway, he'd let Drusilla bite him in despair.
By night or day,/The things which I have seen I now can see no more. He didn't have the eyes of a child anymore. Or the eyes of a vampire in love, either.
He thought of the way he'd once seen Buffy.
Like Wordsworth, his memory remained. Perhaps that was enough.
*
He took Eleanor and Geoffrey to the playground. He pushed Geoffrey on the baby swings while Eleanor, spunky and outgoing as always, found another little girl to play with. They seemed to be getting on just fine, so he only kept a part of his mind on watching them, and the rest of it on Geoffrey. The sensation of swinging, the sound of a bird singing, the sunlight through the leaves, the warm wind carrying the salt smell of the Hudson at high tide – Geoffrey responded to everything with utter joy. The glory and the freshness of a dream.
His heart ached for Buffy, because the dream was so distant to her. She remembered heaven, but that was a source of anguish, not solace.
*
She came home that night. He asked her how it had gone and she replied shortly, “We won.”
The children hung back from her, frightened.
Later she told him, what she'd seen, what she'd done – what she'd had to do. He listened, and held her while she cried.
She wanted it again. He could see that.
He thought they all might be better off when she got it.
And he knew, then, that he didn't need to be a vampire to kill a third slayer in his heart.
*
Author: Maia
Rating: PG
Words: 1224
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Thank you to
enigmaticblues for hosting!Notes:
This story takes place in my Gifts-verse, where Spike was resurrected as a human after "Chosen" in 2003 and went back to the name William. In 2008 he and Buffy were reunited, in 2009 they married, in 2011 they had a daughter named Eleanor and in 2015 they had a son named Geoffrey.
The title and several quotes are from William Wordsworth's Ode Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood.
There is also a quote from W.H. Auden's September 1, 1939.
Warnings: I hesitate to post this story. It is very, very dark. I'm not even sure it's "canon" for my Gifts-verse.
Summary:
Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
The Glory and the Dream
Buffy had gone to deal with another apocalypse, and the sink was full of dirty dishes. The unmentionable odour of death - and nappies. Eleanor wouldn't stop whining, Geoffrey wouldn't stop crying, the laundry was piling up, and he'd really rather be coping with what's-his-name-the-wannabe-Angelus than this. He was glad he no longer had a vampire's sense of smell.
“We have a traditional Victorian marriage,” Buffy liked to quip. “He's the wife.” Well, no, not quite. Buffy had no idea what an actual Victorian marriage was like and he doubted she would like it much, even if she got to be the man. But it seemed rather pointless to explain, so he limited himself to telling her that if she ever called him the Angel of the Hearth he would get himself turned again just so he could kill her. She smiled sweetly and mouthed the words, so he threw a dishtowel at her and resumed scrubbing.
Not that she didn't help. Sometimes. Bloody convenient, though, how Big Bads always seemed to need attending to when the home front was at its worst. He still hadn't forgiven her for her suddenly essential presence at a battle in Jakarta that had apparently been going quite well - until the moment they discovered that then 18-month-old Eleanor had smeared Vaseline all over the nursery in a Grand Artistic Statement.
A crash followed by screams and “Daaad-y he knocked over my spaaace-ship!” erupted from the living room, and he went to deal with the carnage.
*
There were moments, though (mostly when the demons were asleep) when he knew he wasn't unhappy with his lot. No, he hadn't quite know what it would be like, when he'd chosen this. (When had he ever known the real consequences of his decisions? Get the spark, all it does is burn. Have kids, live in permanent state of exhaustion.) But it was more than that...
So much of what he did was for Buffy, and in some ways, this was too. But that was only a tiny part of it.
It was for every child he'd ever killed.
And it was for himself, too. Of all the things he'd ever been (and he'd been so many) this felt the most right.
But...he'd thought the kids would bring him and Buffy closer together, and they didn't. Being parents just laid bare the gaping chasm between them. He remembered what for him was the defining argument, when Eleanor was first starting to eat solid food, and he'd told Buffy he wanted to raise her a vegetarian, like him. And it came out that Buffy didn't really get why he was a vegetarian at all, and he couldn't explain. The child is father to the vampire, the vampire is father to the man, the man thinks you shouldn't eat anything you're not willing to kill yourself – and his wife thinks that's just weird. That was the moment he realized she had no idea who he was now.
What scared him was that he didn't mind. He didn't need her to see him. He just needed her to not interfere. He'd responded to the vegetarian argument by saying that it didn't really matter what she thought since she wasn't going to be around much anyway, and even as he said it he knew it was an unforgivable thing to say.
*
Geoffrey woke crying. He had a fever. William spent the rest of the night holding the hot little body and thinking that he could not possibly survive the death of one of his children, but he knew he would survive Buffy's death just fine.
Geoffrey's fever broke at dawn, and he left the toddler sleeping peacefully and went to the window and looked out at the silver light over New York City. “Make me what I was, so Buffy can get what she deserves.” But he couldn't go back to what he was, and he couldn't transform himself again, either. On the surface he was exactly what Buffy deserved, exactly what she needed. He made it possible for her to both be a slayer and have a normal life. And he loved her. But she was no longer essential to him.
She'd been more essential to him when he'd been trying to kill her.
*
“Daddy, tell me a story,” Eleanor said.
“What story would you like?”
“The one about the vampire who fell in love with a slayer.”
He was sitting in the rocking chair, holding the sleeping Geoffrey. Eleanor was sitting up in her bed next to them, looking at him with eager expectation.
“Once upon a time,” he began, “there was a vampire who fell in love with a slayer...”
When he finished she gave him a piercing look. “Is it true?”
“Yes,” he said. He wondered how she would feel when she found out the whole truth.
“But it happened a long time ago, right?”
“Yes.”
A long time ago.
“Do you miss Mommy when she's not here?”
Damn perceptive brat. “Yes.”
But not as much as I should.
*
He couldn't sleep. He finally turned on the light, and picked up his tattered copy of Wordsworth. “Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood.” He'd first read it when he was 9, and the shades of the prison-house had been just beginning to close around him. He remembered his stomach clenching in fear at the words, At length the Man perceives it die away,/And fade into the light of common day. He'd been determined not to let that happen to him. And when he realized it had anyway, he'd let Drusilla bite him in despair.
By night or day,/The things which I have seen I now can see no more. He didn't have the eyes of a child anymore. Or the eyes of a vampire in love, either.
He thought of the way he'd once seen Buffy.
Like Wordsworth, his memory remained. Perhaps that was enough.
*
He took Eleanor and Geoffrey to the playground. He pushed Geoffrey on the baby swings while Eleanor, spunky and outgoing as always, found another little girl to play with. They seemed to be getting on just fine, so he only kept a part of his mind on watching them, and the rest of it on Geoffrey. The sensation of swinging, the sound of a bird singing, the sunlight through the leaves, the warm wind carrying the salt smell of the Hudson at high tide – Geoffrey responded to everything with utter joy. The glory and the freshness of a dream.
His heart ached for Buffy, because the dream was so distant to her. She remembered heaven, but that was a source of anguish, not solace.
*
She came home that night. He asked her how it had gone and she replied shortly, “We won.”
The children hung back from her, frightened.
Later she told him, what she'd seen, what she'd done – what she'd had to do. He listened, and held her while she cried.
She wanted it again. He could see that.
He thought they all might be better off when she got it.
And he knew, then, that he didn't need to be a vampire to kill a third slayer in his heart.
*
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no subject
2009-10-25 02:47 (UTC)I know that William in your 'verse is ambivalent at best about basically all the aspects of his vampire existence, but I can't help but think that becoming human again has in some ways been a loss to him rather than a gain. Spike said Buffy needed a little monster in her man; I wonder if maybe that insight isn't coming back to bite him here.
All of which is just speculation on my part. Feel free to ignore. :) And, thanks for this interpretation for one way things might turn out between them.
no subject
2009-10-25 22:24 (UTC)my parents are divorced
Mine too.
I know that William in your 'verse is ambivalent at best about basically all the aspects of his vampire existence, but I can't help but think that becoming human again has in some ways been a loss to him rather than a gain. Spike said Buffy needed a little monster in her man; I wonder if maybe that insight isn't coming back to bite him here.
I think William the human is no longer as compatible with Buffy as he was when he was Spike the vampire. I'm not sure it's the lack of "monster" as much that they just don't have as much in common as they used to.
(no subject)
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- Posted byno subject
2009-10-25 03:25 (UTC)And yes, this is heartbreaking. I want to take Buffy in hand. Or have Spike take her in hand. This is the feared road - that she completely cuts herself off. The true death wish - a death of the ability to love because she's forgotten how, lost forever in her cold mask.
And Spike here - his spirit, his neverending hunger, his get-up-and-go attitude - it's been worn away by time, by life, by the cries of his son and daughter in the night. He doesn't have the energy to seek out Buffy, to court her in this wild and merry chase - he is tied down to the Earth, stationary while she continues to dance in the darkness. He is the Hearth and she's forgotten how to even want the fire back.
I'm so glad you posted this. So very glad. Thank you.
no subject
2009-10-25 22:26 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-25 03:45 (UTC)Also, what
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2009-10-25 22:28 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-25 03:47 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-25 22:31 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-25 03:57 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-25 22:33 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-25 04:32 (UTC)It is so sad, but very powerful.
no subject
2009-10-25 22:34 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-25 05:01 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-25 22:38 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-25 05:17 (UTC)This is a very true picture of a marriage with young children. Having been there, I recognize how that total exhaustion can be. While you're in it, you think that your spouse is just another thing that you have to deal with, and he/she often seems like additional work, not a helpmeet at all. Then, after awhile, the children allow you a moment to breathe, and you sleep in one day, and when you wake up you find coffee on the nightstand, and things realign once more and you see a person beside you, not a (slightly) lovable obstacle.
This is very touching, and true, but I choose to think it is just one inch in the ever-changing tapestry of their relationship. Beautiful.
no subject
2009-10-25 22:40 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-25 06:57 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-25 22:43 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-25 08:42 (UTC)I've got a 'verse were Spike shanshus, and they live happily ever after... but in that Buffy semi-retires. If she hadn't - I could see this, oh yes.
Thank you so much for posting!
no subject
2009-10-25 22:44 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-25 10:45 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-25 22:45 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-25 10:50 (UTC)I don't have the words to describe how this made me feel. So incredibly believable an ending for them, too.
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2009-10-25 22:46 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-25 12:46 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-25 22:48 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-25 13:36 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-25 22:54 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-25 14:15 (UTC)Beautifully painful and real, I'm glad you did post this.
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2009-10-25 22:58 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-25 14:16 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-25 23:21 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-25 15:46 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-25 23:09 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-25 22:36 (UTC)As usual, your writing is beautifully evocative, spare and unfrilly, yet deeply emotional.
I'm glad you shared this story.
no subject
2009-10-25 23:23 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-26 01:39 (UTC)Thank you for sharing.
no subject
2009-10-29 20:42 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-27 07:34 (UTC)Guh.
I adore Buffy and Spike, and Buffy & Spike. But if I'm honest with myself I suspect that Buffy and a human Spike would probably have a relationship kind of like this one. They both have a lot of growing to do, don't they? (As a side note I've decided that I don't like the phrase "growing up". It implies that there's an end to the process, and there really isn't) I'd like to think they could grow together, but I'm not confident.
This is very believable, and feels emotionally real. NIcely done.
Also? Your writing is gorgeous here. Very spare and with each word carefully chosen for it's impact. Though I need to go read something fluffy STAT!
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2009-10-29 20:43 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-27 09:54 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-29 20:45 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-28 15:50 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-29 20:48 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-28 17:02 (UTC)<--is at a loss of words, but loved it all the same.
no subject
2009-10-29 20:49 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-28 18:35 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-29 20:50 (UTC)no subject
2009-10-28 19:26 (UTC)This was telling and broke my heart for everyone: That was the moment he realized she had no idea who he was now.
What scared him was that he didn't mind. He didn't need her to see him. He just needed her to not interfere. He'd responded to the vegetarian argument by saying that it didn't really matter what she thought since she wasn't going to be around much anyway, and even as he said it he knew it was an unforgivable thing to say.
Geoffrey woke crying. He had a fever. William spent the rest of the night holding the hot little body and thinking that he could not possibly survive the death of one of his children, but he knew he would survive Buffy's death just fine. If William wasn't convinced that Buffy's not long for this world, I think they'd be divorced before Geoffrey's next birthday. Buffy doesn't really know this man at all, and he's just not that interested in sharing himself with her.
This was another story that captured the spirit of this season's theme. It was painful to read but beautifully written.
no subject
2009-10-29 20:50 (UTC)