She's always thought he could probably read passages from the goddamn dictionary to her and get a reaction, but what he says so quietly into her ear is way more exciting than that.
It's a nice thought. It's more than a nice thought, but the realm of fantasy is certainly where it has to stay for now.
She's pretty confident, and for all the things that have happened to her in the last five years, she'd have to take some pride in the fact that she's fairly well-adjusted. She was never an amazon, she never went hungry, she never went so crazy with grief that she did anything she regrets, she's tried her best to help the people she could, she took the best care she possibly could of St. Bernadette's while she was living there.
She found a place at the end of the universe that was almost -- almost -- a sanctuary and then was presented with a guy who would do almost anything for her and a nearly perfect little place to live with him, a place even safer than the bar itself. And in her worry at the possibility of having a repeat performance of what happened last summer and getting stuck with Junior alone at St. Bernadette's, which was no longer as safe as it once was, she nearly gave it all up just to guarantee safer possibilities for herself and Junior.
Nearly gave it all up unintentionally, but the end result is the same. And if Spike hadn't been crafty as hell and gotten this cloak and followed Hero out, she'd be here without him.
If there's one thing that's been a bit of a downfall for her, it's guilt. And not guilt over everything: though she wouldn't dream of pinning any hopes and expectations on Yorick, she doesn't regret the night they spent together.
She doesn't regret her relationship with Spike.
She doesn't regret the sweet-faced baby girl in her arms.
It's been guilt over the plane crash and the lives she took with the intention of saving. Guilt over Spike getting trapped out here with her, even though she wasn't the one who ran the shed down in a tank. Guilt over not telling Hero, for both Spike's sake and Hero's.
In the first two instances, it's one of the worst kinds of guilt: the irrational kind, the kind that's deep and heartfelt and terrible but was nothing she really could've done anything about at the times that things went down.
The guilt she feels over not telling Hero about Spike is on a smaller scale because the logical part of her can acknowledge that any time you need to keep something secret -- and Spike does have to be kept secret -- the fewer people that know, the better. And they can't even tell Ciba and Natalya.
But it's a kind of guilt she can do something about, and if Spike had told her he needed her to let Hero know, she wouldn't have gone another night without doing it.
Some days she thinks she might do it anyway.
She lifts a hand to Spike's face, rests her palm against his cheekbone, her fingers curling in the hair behind his ear. "Next available opportunity, bounty hunter. Just you wait."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2007-06-19 11:08 pm (UTC)It's a nice thought. It's more than a nice thought, but the realm of fantasy is certainly where it has to stay for now.
She's pretty confident, and for all the things that have happened to her in the last five years, she'd have to take some pride in the fact that she's fairly well-adjusted. She was never an amazon, she never went hungry, she never went so crazy with grief that she did anything she regrets, she's tried her best to help the people she could, she took the best care she possibly could of St. Bernadette's while she was living there.
She found a place at the end of the universe that was almost -- almost -- a sanctuary and then was presented with a guy who would do almost anything for her and a nearly perfect little place to live with him, a place even safer than the bar itself. And in her worry at the possibility of having a repeat performance of what happened last summer and getting stuck with Junior alone at St. Bernadette's, which was no longer as safe as it once was, she nearly gave it all up just to guarantee safer possibilities for herself and Junior.
Nearly gave it all up unintentionally, but the end result is the same. And if Spike hadn't been crafty as hell and gotten this cloak and followed Hero out, she'd be here without him.
If there's one thing that's been a bit of a downfall for her, it's guilt. And not guilt over everything: though she wouldn't dream of pinning any hopes and expectations on Yorick, she doesn't regret the night they spent together.
She doesn't regret her relationship with Spike.
She doesn't regret the sweet-faced baby girl in her arms.
It's been guilt over the plane crash and the lives she took with the intention of saving. Guilt over Spike getting trapped out here with her, even though she wasn't the one who ran the shed down in a tank. Guilt over not telling Hero, for both Spike's sake and Hero's.
In the first two instances, it's one of the worst kinds of guilt: the irrational kind, the kind that's deep and heartfelt and terrible but was nothing she really could've done anything about at the times that things went down.
The guilt she feels over not telling Hero about Spike is on a smaller scale because the logical part of her can acknowledge that any time you need to keep something secret -- and Spike does have to be kept secret -- the fewer people that know, the better. And they can't even tell Ciba and Natalya.
But it's a kind of guilt she can do something about, and if Spike had told her he needed her to let Hero know, she wouldn't have gone another night without doing it.
Some days she thinks she might do it anyway.
She lifts a hand to Spike's face, rests her palm against his cheekbone, her fingers curling in the hair behind his ear. "Next available opportunity, bounty hunter. Just you wait."