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"And the rain came down in turrents. Perfect sheets of perfect misery. Watching them became a game. Stand and watch them wash everything away."
“God, Slayer, that’s bloody depressing!” Spike shook his head and then caught the evil look Buffy was giving him. “What?”
She growled low in her throat and pretended to strangle him for a moment. “Spike, I could stake you sometimes! I’m here pouring out my heart to you, sharing this little . . . whatever the hell it is I wrote, and all you can say is that it’s depressing!”
“So?”
“ARRRGGH! Never mind.” She sat down dejectedly in the nearest chair and prayed the rain would let up soon. Being trapped in the park gazebo with Spike was far from her idea of the perfect evening. Especially when she could have been doing something else, like pulling out her toenails with pliers. Why did we team up with him anyway? He’s a jerk! And a vampire!
“Look, I’m sorry. Okay?” Obviously the words didn’t come easily for the handsome vamp. His hands were jammed into his pockets and he refused to meet Buffy’s gaze. “But it is depressing, ya gotta admit, luv. But I never said I don’t like depressing. Read Poe all the time. It’s good, really. Alright?”
Buffy couldn’t help but smile at the defiant appology. “Alright. And thanks.” She watched for a moment as the rain poured down, bending the nearby flowers over with the force of its impact. Suddenly it didn’t seem quite so sad, though. The flowers couldn’t live without a little rain. Dark as it was, the rain brought life, kept life going.
“Uh, Slayer?”
She cleared her head with a slight shake. “Yeah?”
“Just wondered if you were still with me. Looked a bit far away.”
“Getting lonely in here by yourself?” she teased.
“Maybe.” He pulled his duster tighter as a chilly wind washed over them. The bleached-blond vamp looked out into the rain. “It’s letting up. I think.”
“Yeah. It is.” Losing the rain seemed sad now. But flowers have to learn to live in the sunlight too. “Wanna head back to the library? They’re probably waiting for us.”
“Sure.” Without thinking, Spike took her arm, leading her like an old-time gentleman.
Buffy opened her mouth to make a comment, then closed it. For some reason, she knew all that anger she geared toward Spike didn’t really exist. It was a wall. She put up all kinds of walls with everyone. It helped to keep people out of the places that hurt her most. And then I read Spike, of all people, my little . . . whatever. Looking up at the vampire, whose eyes stayed straight ahead of them, Buffy realized she didn’t mind sharing it with him, that she would have felt stupid sharing it with her friends. They don’t see me like he does... The rain had stopped, she realized. And they were almost to the library. “Um, Spike?”
“Yeah, Slayer?”
“Uh . . . truce?”
He almost smiled and looked down at her. “Yeah, sure, Slayer. Truce.”