Summary: Buffy has returned to Sunnydale to bury her mother after having been estranged from her for the past five years. The cause of the problem was her mother's marriage to a certain younger man named Spike. Having to face one another for the first time in five years, Spike and Buffy find that they might need each other more than they realize.
Winner at Love's Last Glimpse awards for Best Fantasy! Nominated at Spark and Burn Awards for Best Fantasy, Romance and Best Spike Characerization. Thank you!!
Categories: NC-17 Fics Characters: None
Genres: Romance, Angst
Warnings: Adult Language, Sexual Situations
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 33
Completed: Yes
Word count: 102606
Read: 46820
Published: 12/31/2006
Updated: 01/05/2007
1. One-Two by Brat
2. Three-Four by Brat
3. Five-Six by Brat
4. Seven-Eight by Brat
5. Nine-Ten by Brat
6. Eleven-Twelve by Brat
7. Thirteen-Fourteen by Brat
8. Fifteen-Sixteen by Brat
9. Seventeen-Eighteen by Brat
10. Nineteen-Twenty by Brat
11. Twenty-one-Twenty-two by Brat
12. Twenty-three - Twenty four by Brat
13. Twenty five - Twenty six by Brat
14. Twenty-seven - Twenty eight by Brat
15. Twenty nine - Thirty by Brat
16. Thirty one- Thirty two by Brat
17. Thirty three - Thirty four by Brat
18. Thirty-five - Thirty six by Brat
19. Thirty seven - Thirty eight by Brat
20. Thirty nine - Forty by Brat
21. Forty one - Forty two by Brat
22. Forty three - forty four by Brat
23. Forty-five - forty six by Brat
24. Forty-seven- Forty eight by Brat
25. Forty-nine - Fifty by Brat
26. Fifty one - Fifty two by Brat
27. Fifty-three- Fifty Four by Brat
28. Fifty five - Fifty six by Brat
29. Fifty-seven by Brat
30. Fifty-eight by Brat
31. Fifty-nine by Brat
32. Sixty by Brat
33. Epilogue by Brat
Author's Notes:
Due to a rude and nasty reviewer that insisted on posting a new nasty review every two minutes calling me a "Bitch", I took the story down. I was encouraged to repost so as to not let this nasty person win. I decided to do so, but to only let members only review me. And as one friend told me, I got rid of the negativity and started fresh. I hope you'll read the new chapters, thank you!
Chapter One
Her mother was dead. She'd died of an aneurism. Buffy couldn't even spell aneurism. She'd tried working it out in her journal before finally looking it up. Even having the correct spelling of the thing that killed her mother was no comfort to her. Didn't even give her a sense of accomplishment that she'd learned something new. All it left was an empty feeling in her. And then of course she feared she'd one day get that thing that made your brain go ‘pop' and your body just stop. Since she'd gotten the call from Spike - the last person she'd ever think to hear from - every headache she'd gotten, she thought, Well, this is it.
Except it wasn't it. She had to live. To trooper on and bear it. Unfortunately. Now she really had barely a family. Well, unless she counted the father that dropped her once he deemed her ‘of no use to him', and Spike, who...yeah, that wasn't going to happen. The day she considered him as anything but the pain in the ass that had driven the wedge in her family, would be the day the sky would turn orange and frogs would start dropping from the sky. And he was the person she had to see back in Sunnydale. He was the person she hoped didn't kick her out of the house once the funeral was over because hell, she didn't have a home anymore. She'd used last month's rent to charter the plane out for her mother's funeral. She was broke now, only able to swindle a hundred out of her father, and she had gotten the distinct impression he only gave that to her so she'd just go. Anything to get her out of his sight faster. She had no place to stay, no money to pay for a place to stay and no way to get back to her job that didn't pay well to begin with.
Buffy Summers was stuck and in the worst possible way. Closing her eyes, she thought back to her life and how it'd all unraveled as she settled in for the last leg of her flight from Boston to Sunnydale, California.
Flashback
Buffy arrived at her childhood home at the time her mother had requested her to arrive. Joyce Summers had been secretive on the phone and yet bubbly. Something was up all right and Buffy could only hope it had to do with her father, her poor father Hank, who had been trying his hardest to get back in Joyce's good graces for some time now. He was out of rehab, going to regular AA meetings, had given up his womanizing on the side ways, and wanted his family back.
Buffy had put the good word in for him and Joyce had flat out told her it wasn't going to happen. That didn't stop Buffy from trying though. This was her father. This was her family. She had to fight for them. She had to make the things right that had gone so incredibly wrong.
It wasn't as if Buffy suffered the delusion that she'd somehow made her family fall apart. She certainly didn't make Hank drink or tell him to cheat on her mother, but she saw how he tried, saw the pain behind his eyes that told her he was a changed man and he was sorry for what he'd done, so desperately sorry. And now that he'd gone from not even being a presence in her life to someone that encouraged her and wanted to be there for her, Buffy felt she had to help him.
She just wished her mother wouldn't be so damn difficult about it.
Hoping that her mother was going to tell her that she was going to give her father a chance, Buffy rang the doorbell.
"Hello."
Buffy stared back at the slender man with the bleached blond hair and stepped back, looking up. Yep, this was her house.
The man chuckled, his blue eyes full of merriment, his smile broad. "Hi, you must be Buffy. Your mother told me you had quite a sense of humor."
He was British, she noted. "Who are you?" she asked, having a funny feeling suddenly about why she was invited over, who this guy was, and why Joyce sounded so happy on the phone. She could be quite perceptive when she wanted to be.
"Honey, you've come!" Joyce came to the door then, placing a hand on the guy's arm and beaming at him for a minute before focusing her brilliant smile on her.
Joyce appeared years younger. It was amazing what a smile could do for a person. The right smile at least-a real smile. Her wavy, shoulder length hair even seemed a lighter brown, she was wearing makeup, and her clothes were more stylish than usual. She seemed twenty years younger to her thirty-eight.
"Hi," the guy said, extending his hand. "I'm Spike."
"Spike?" Buffy repeated back, finding that something a person named their dog, not their child.
His smile faltered a bit. "It's a nickname. My real name is William Pratt."
Buffy thought perhaps she could ask where he got the nickname Spike, but decided she really didn't give a shit as she took his hand daintily and shook it.
She stepped in the house and the scent of pot roast wafted to her. Her favorite. This did not bode well.
"So, who exactly are you?" Buffy questioned Spike, not even bothering to settle herself in.
"I work with your mother at the gallery. Would you like me to take your jacket?"
"I still technically live here, even if I dorm at the University." Buffy told him. "I know where the closet is and you know what? My room is still upstairs when I come home from school for holidays."
Spike shut his mouth and Buffy turned to Joyce. "What's going on?" She knew she was being a bitch and until someone told her that what she thought was going on wasn't, she was going to continue to be one. Her visions of a happy family were starting to disintegrate before her eyes.
"Buffy, why don't you sit, dear," Joyce tried calmly. "You're being very rude and I think maybe if you just relaxed a bit--"
"Just tell me what's going on, Mom," Buffy said, sighing.
"Spike and I are getting married."
"How old are you?" Buffy demanded of Spike.
"He's twenty-eight, Buffy," Joyce answered for him.
"Jesus Christ!" Buffy exclaimed and her mother admonished her for her language. "What about dad?"
"Buffy, you knew that was never going to happen."
"What could you possibly have in common with him. He has a dogs name for fuck's sake!" Buffy shouted, tears streaming down her face. Hank was going to be so upset...
End Flashback
What followed was a series of accusations and insults that were said in malice and in response to a little girls dreams falling apart at the seams right before her very eyes. Buffy and her mother had barely spoken after that. When Joyce asked her to be her maid of honor, Buffy told her she wasn't even going to be attending the wedding. And she hadn't. Instead, she'd followed a heartbroken Hank to Boston, transferring her credits from Sunnydale University in which she was a sophomore, to Boston University and finishing out school there.
She had soon learned what a mistake it was to follow Hank. He didn't want much to do with her after Joyce had gotten married. He claimed that she reminded him too much of his "Joycey" and the family they once had been. He made it seem like her fault, as if she had failed him, them, and instead of looking to her mother for comfort from a father who no longer wanted her, Buffy became embittered toward her instead and it would be four years and eleven months before she would begin to talk with her mother.
One month later, Joyce died at forty-three, Spike became a widower at thirty-three and Buffy became motherless at twenty-five.
Chapter Two
October 24, 2005
When I see people around me complaining about this or that, I want to walk up to them and say, "My mother just died." Just to see what they'd say, just to see if I'd get sympathy. I think I want the sympathy. I want someone to tell me it's all right for me to feel like shit even if I was the one that moved away and pulled back. But I don't have to tell them that. They don't need to know that at all. I wouldn't get their sympathy then and there would be no justification any longer. I highly doubt Spike will be giving with the sympathy. I'm just his bitch of a ‘stepdaughter' that blew off his wife for nearly five years. Nearly. What's that? It was five years. That last month doesn't count for shit. Especially since she didn't even tell me she had been sick.
Why is it so hard for someone to admit they've fucked up?
Closing her journal, Buffy slid it into her purse and watched as the cab pulled onto her tree-lined road. She was home. If she could even call it home. She was in a former residence of a former life. In a place she once considered home. Tears formed and she sat still, unwilling to move for fear they would drop. She held her breath, willing for them to pass and once they did, she took a shuddering breath.
Then the cab pulled up to her old house and fear gripped her. Normally, she wasn't afraid of much, but having to see Spike gripped her in ways she never thought possible. She was at his mercy right now and if there was one thing Buffy hated, it was being at anyone's mercy.
********
Spike watched from the window as Buffy gathered her things from the cab and paid, struggling not to drop the ten thousand bags she had with her. He supposed he could help her, but he wasn't much in a helping mood. Not after he'd just had to start making arrangements for the funeral. It was enough that he'd waited for Buffy before choosing a casket. He could cut her that one small slack.
He opened the door to her and said nothing as she passed through. She looked up at him and let her things slide to the floor unceremoniously. "Hi," she said.
"Hi," he said grimly, staring at her. She'd grown. He couldn't really put his finger on it, but she appeared older to him. Her hair was longer and more golden now than bleached blond, her green eyes held some pain and the weight of experience in them, her skin was paler and she had thinned out a bit. She was dressed in jeans and a tank top and he could see muscle definition in her bare arms.
"What needs to be done?" she asked.
"I saved the casket for you."
She nodded. "I'll just put my stuff upstairs."
He figured maybe now he could help after having watched her struggle and gaining some perverse joy from it.
Hauling her things upstairs, Buffy felt choked when she got to her bedroom door. She could smell her mother still. Memories of her childhood came back: her mother smiling, laughing, sharing stories, making cookies, and kissing her boo-boos.
"Can you just leave my stuff here?" Buffy asked Spike, not able to turn to him, not able to face him.
"Why?"
"I need a minute; can you give me a minute?"
She heard him drop her things and then pad down the hall and run down the stairs. Heaving a sigh, she placed her hand on the doorknob.
Mommy, I wish I could kiss your boo-boo now.
Stepping inside, Buffy found her room as she'd left it. It was as if she herself had died and her mother had preserved her memory by not touching a thing. The only thing out of place was photo album on the bed. Moving slowly toward it as if it were going to attack her, Buffy choked back more tears. Her baby book. The image of her mother sitting on her bed and flipping through her baby book alone caused Buffy to let out a strangled cry. The tears came then, hard and uncontrollable, rocking her tiny frame to the floor where she knelt and sobbed.
Spike heard the anguished cry and took a step toward the stairs, ready to run up and comfort the crying girl, but then stopped. Did she deserve comfort and sympathy after how she'd abandoned her mother? Did she deserve to have someone hold her and tell her that it was going to be all right and that Joyce knew she loved her and that it was all forgiven?
Or did she deserve instead to wallow?
"I know you don't understand, Spike, but you've never had a child before so you don't know what it's like. I can't disown her as she's done me. I love her. I carried her in my womb for nine months; I was there when she got her heart broken for the first time-and do you know who did it? Her father. Her father was the first man to break her heart and she doesn't even remember it. Ever since then, she's carried this torch for him and sought his approval. Remember William: Only the one that's hurt you can take it away."
That was Joyce all right. All forgiving, all knowing, all understanding. He had to admit: It drove him crazy. He wanted to curse himself for thinking it, but there it was and it didn't make it any less true the fact that he didn't want it to be true. Joyce had always been such a calming force when he at times could be a downright volatile force.
He supposed that was one instance in which he and Buffy had something in common: Both of them had tempers that couldn't be assuaged by a simple kiss or nugget of wisdom. And both held grudges. He held a grudge against her for hurting her mother for so long and she held a grudge against Joyce and him. Or so it seemed.
The last month, Joyce had reached out once more and Buffy had actually taken accepted that olive branch a bit. Not enough for his liking, but Joyce assured him these things took time.
So, now he was torn between wanting the girl to wallow a bit in her pain and really feel it, and going up as Joyce would want him to, and comfort her.
Climbing the steps slowly to her room, Spike hoped she'd stop crying before he got there so he wouldn't have to do something that he felt at this point was out of obligation to his dead wife, and less about obligation to being a kind, forgiving person.
His prayers were answered for by the time he'd reached the top of the stairs, Buffy emerged, eyes red and puffy and her hair pulled back. She looked up at him, seeming surprised to see him there, a hint of a question behind her eyes. Clearing her throat she said, "I'm ready," and strolled past him to head down the stairs.
He waited a minute, staring after her, and then followed.
October 25, 2005
Today, I—we—bury Joyce. We put her in the ground. Forever. I don’t want to do it, in fact I am feeling quite adamant about not wanting to do it, but what else can I do? She’s dead.
Buffy has been quiet and unusually easy going about things. I say unusually easy going, because well, I don’t know enough about her to know if she’s always easy going or if she was just a downright bitch in this one instance. For all I know she could be the nicest person on the planet save for this one thing. Who knows?
She has said little about her plans after the funeral only hinting that she wants to stay for a little while. What am I supposed to do? Kick her out? Joyce would be spinning in her grave.
I wonder what the stages of grief are. I know there are stages and denial is one of them—I know because I already went through it and remembered some damn shrink course I took once upon a time. I could ask Buffy. She finished school and took those courses.
I never thought I’d be a widower at thirty-three.
The funeral was a blur for Spike. Mostly because he had spent most of the time in tears that blinded him. Tears, he thought, were supposed to wash away pain, but these tears only served to make him want to cry and ache just a little bit more.
Looking sidelong at Buffy who was standing across the casket from him at the burial site, gazing down at her mother, he saw she shed no tears. He wondered how she could be so cold and then thought; she wasn’t being cold, not really. It was just all internal. It had to be. She was tearing apart her insides by not letting the pain out on the outside. At least, that’s what he told himself to stop himself from railing at her.
She spared no glance at him before she walked away.
********
October 27, 2005
The Five Stages of Grief:
1. Denial
2. Anger
3. Bargaining
4. Depression
5. Acceptance
What stage am I at? I’m not sure. I think Denial lasted all of five minutes after Spike called to tell me the news and . . . and I think I’ve been stuck with Anger and Depression. Although, I’ve been angry and depressed for a very long time so it’s hard to distinguish exactly what part of me is depressed and angry about my mother’s death and which part is just an extension of me and my overall outlook on things.
Spike and I have barely spoken since the funeral and today is the will reading, here, at the house. The only ones that need be present are he and I. Should be interesting.
The worms go in, the worms go out…
“The house is left to both of us?” Buffy asked, dumbfounded after the attorney had read her mother’s will.
“Yes,” Attorney Perkins said simply, gathering up his things. “One of you would have to buy the other out to keep it and make it yours.”
Buffy looked to Spike and he looked at her. She turned away, facing forward. For some reason, she found it hard to look at him these days. Shame? Guilt? The fact that she could see his pain? She wasn’t sure.
The attorney left after one more empty condolence and Buffy couldn’t even muster up a “You didn’t know her, why are you sorry?”
She sat there, numb. “You want to buy me out?” she said finally.
“Can you afford to buy me out?”
“I’m so broke I can’t afford to pay attention right now, Spike,” she told him honestly. It was strange having a conversation with someone without once looking at them.
“Then, I guess that’s your answer,” he said simply and got up, leaving the room.
It was on the tip of her tongue to stop him, but she couldn’t do it. She had no fight in her at the moment. Or, at all. God, I hope I get that back, she thought.
*********
It was in the middle of the night when Buffy felt the anger bubble up and begin to boil over, causing her sadness to transform into a rage that was single-minded. Uncurling herself from her bed, she marched down the stairs and snatched up the phone in the kitchen.
“Hello?”
“You asshole,” she hissed.
“Buffy?”
“She’s dead, you son of a bitch! Dead! In the ground and you couldn’t even be bothered to come. You say you love her so much but you don’t—you never fucking did, did you? She was….what was she to you, huh? A possession? Just something that you lost like your fucking keys that you had to get back? You got a new set of fucking keys right quick didn’t you father? You couldn’t even be there for me! Why couldn’t you even be there for me?”
Dial tone met her raging and she sobbed so hard her chest hurt, barely able to catch her breath. Arms came around her just before she tumbled to the floor and she knew they were Spike’s but she couldn’t bring herself to care. It just felt good to know that for however long she sobbed and however long he held her, someone cared for her. Even if he did walk away after she was done, and even if he didn’t really care, he still came down, he still was holding her and that was all she needed at that moment. And when she heard him start to cry, she sobbed harder, feeling somehow partly responsible for it.
She was responsible for everything bad thing that happened after all.
********
Spike wasn’t sure how long he held her, and he wasn’t even sure exactly when he started crying, all he knew is that he couldn’t find the words to say that would help Buffy, and he kept thinking, Joyce would know what to say, and that was that, he supposed.
He’d heard her march downstairs, and wondered what she was doing. All that time as he lay in bed, staring across the room, he thought she’d been asleep.
And then he heard the screaming and when he realized who it was to and what she was saying, he hurt for her, a feat within itself since he seemed inclined to wallow in his own misery at the moment.
He was beginning to understand in that moment what Joyce had meant about Buffy and Hank. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to want someone’s approval the way Buffy wanted Hank’s, and to do just about anything to get it, only then to realize that you were never going to get it. Her father had used her as a pawn in his own game to get Joyce back, and once he didn’t get what he wanted, she’d been discarded. Tossed aside as if she were nothing. He couldn’t imagine a parent doing that, his father would have never…
It him between the eyes at that moment; if the tables were turned and it was him in her place all those years ago…
God, how could he fully blame Buffy for how she felt about him and Joyce? She’d been fighting for the family she had, the family she loved and—she’d been fighting for the life she’d had with a supposedly changed father ready to play Daddy Dearest, except she’d come home to find her mother engaged to another man. A man that was not her father, and a younger man to boot. And it’d just been sprung on her out of nowhere because they’d never bothered to tell her before. Putting himself in her shoes right now… God, he couldn’t even imagine.
It had been hard for him to imagine what it was like for her all this time because he’d only seen how Joyce was left bereft by Buffy’s blatant refusal of their relationship. He’d had her tears and her pain, he’d felt for the woman he knew, not the woman he didn’t know.
So, he did the only thing he knew to do, he held her, hoping in some way, that he could make her feel his regret without actually having to tell her.
Chapter Four
“I want my grandmother’s ring,” Buffy stated, entering Joyce and Spike’s bedroom where he had started cleaning out her things.
He sat on the bed, looking at some photo album when she entered and she winced when she realized what it could be: Their wedding album. The wedding she’d never attended.
He looked up, his eyes red. “Your grandmother’s ring?”
She nodded, shuffling her feet. “My mom promised it to me. It’s been passed down to all the women in the family and so…it’s mine, you see. So I’m taking that.”
“That’s all you want?” he questioned. “She has a lot of things you might want, Buffy.”
“For what? So I can remember?”
“What’s wrong with remembering?”
She nodded her head in his direction. “It’s not doing you any good is it?”
“Are you doing any better by not remembering?”
She said nothing, but stepped inside the room and went for her mother’s jewelry box. When she came across Joyce’s clip-on earrings, her fingers trembled. Those clip-on earrings were what Joyce allowed Buffy to wear before she got her ears pierced. And then she came across a little black bag stuffed in the corner. Opening it, Buffy found her baby teeth.
God, the tears wouldn’t stop. They just wouldn’t fucking stop. When would they stop?
“Buffy, luv, it’s all right.” And he was there again, guiding her to the bed, but she wanted to sink to the floor, clutching the bag in her hands as if it were a lifeline. They were her teeth, yes, but it was what the bag represented – Joyce’s love for her. Her father hadn’t done that; he never would have thought of it, Buffy was sure. But Joyce did. How many times had she played tooth fairy, Santa Claus and Easter Bunny? Too many times to count. And how had Buffy repaid her? By turning her back on her; by shunning her because she’d shunned her father – her pathetic excuse of a father.
“It’s not all right!” Buffy screamed, “It’s not all right and you know it. Don’t pretend you don’t know it. You hate me, Spike. I know you fucking hate me. You don’t want it to be all right for me. You don’t care, and I don’t want you to care!”
Spike stared down at her small form all curled in a ball on the floor, arms around her legs and sobbing.
“I do care,” he told her, voice rising above her cries, and kneeling down next to her.
“No, you don’t. But it’s okay. You don’t have to.”
“So—what? You’re going to wallow now?” he asked angrily.
“What do you want me to do, huh?” she asked; jumping up, fire in her green eyes. “You want me to say how sorry I am? How I regret that I lost all this time? How I never got to tell her that I loved her? I know all that already. I feel it already. I know that you hate me, Spike, and I don’t care that you do. You can take your joy in knowing that I hurt now, okay? Take your joy from it.”
“I don’t take joy in that, Buffy,” he told her softly. He shook his head and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“What are you fucking sorry for?” she demanded, completely outraged by the notion.
“For how it all happened…I didn’t realize--”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” she screamed at him and ran from the room.
He stared at the doorway, stunned. He thought an apology, and letting her know he did care, would help. But Buffy wanted him to hate her; she wanted him to hate her and berate her for she felt guilty now for not coming home, for leaving Joyce, and for being wrong about Hank. She held tremendous regret and resentment inside her and she wanted to wallow in it, wanted him to punish her, and wanted to punish herself.
Buffy was a masochist.
********
October 27, 2005
Spike thinks I’m fucked up. I could see it in his eyes. I can’t blame him. I am.
Where do I start to make things better? Do I say, “I’m sorry”? Would Spike take it? Would I mean it? If he did, would it be like saying I’m sorry to her too? Is it really all me? Or is it him too? Was I justified in all my anger and resentment all this time? He’s confused me…
It’s hard to be so angry at her now, still, and yet, I am. It’s eating at me...how do I let go of it?
Buffy avoided the task of cleaning out her mother’s things. Though, avoiding for her meant she’d stay out of the room for so long until curiosity got the better of her and then she’d walk by and step in, make a comment or two and watch Spike sort through things and she’d be off.
After the third day of doing this, Spike finally turned to her and said, “Will you stop walking by here like you’re ‘supervising’ me and just help me? I can tell you want to.”
That seemed to work, funnily enough. She jumped right in, not sure how him asking her in a roundabout way made all the difference, just that it did. Maybe because she felt she didn’t have the right to without admittance from him. Him. Who was him? Her mother’s husband. Widower, now. But there was more to him than that even if that’s what he’d been all this time. Just the guy that married his mother and made her father incapable of getting back in her good graces. He had become the epitome of so much to her and looking at him now, at his lithe, and yet muscular body, his bleached blond hair that looked as though he hadn’t washed it in a few days, his blue eyes that appeared dead – he didn’t look like much. He didn’t look like the monster she made him out to be.
“You really loved her, then?” she asked, holding her mother’s shawl in her hands.
Spike looked up at her, a framed picture in his hand. “Of course I did.”
“What was it?”
“What do you mean?”
“What was it about her that you loved the most?”
Spike smiled fondly. “Her heart.”
“Was she happy?”
“I think she was.”
That seemed to satisfy her curiosity for the moment and she continued to sort through the various articles on the bed. Damn, the woman had a lot of crap.
“What about you?” Spike said, breaking the silence.
“What about me?”
“Have you been happy?”
“You mean have I been happy not talking with my mother all this time?” Buffy couldn’t help but snap. Okay, so it was a sensitive subject for her and she felt a bit defensive about it. That couldn’t be held against her, right?
“No,” he shook his head, “I just mean have you been happy at all? You can take that question any way you want, but that’s not how it was intended.”
”If it wasn’t how you intended then I have to take it how you intended, don’t I? Not the way I would read it.”
“You’re being confrontational,” he said, pointing at her.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
He sighed heavily as if talking to her was exhausting and too much. It probably was. She was exhausted being her; she could only imagine what it was like for him.
“How about this question, free of entrapments of double meanings – how long do you plan on staying here?”
She quirked a brow, “How is that free of entrapments and double meanings? Do you want me to leave?”
“I …I will have your check for you soon.”
“So you do want me to leave.”
“Do you want to leave?”
She stared down at her hands for so long everything blurred. “I have nowhere to go,” she said finally when she could no longer see.
“What do you mean?” he sounded aghast.
“I mean I used last months rent to pay for a ticket out here. So, I’m most likely kicked out of my apartment and since I wasn’t able to get back, I most likely don’t have a job now either.”
“Do you want to go back?”
“Well, I don’t mind Boston…”
“That wasn’t an answer, Buffy.”
“I don’t want to go back. I have nothing there.”
“Not even…?”
“I have nothing there,” she repeated quietly.
“Then you can stay for as long as you need to.”
That kindness was not what she expected and she didn’t know how to handle it. She looked up at him, blinking the blurriness away and stared.
“You can say thank you,” he prompted.
“Thank you.”
October 31, 2005
Today is Halloween. My favorite holiday. If I wanted to be all deep and shit I could say it’s because it’s the one day out of the year that I get to be someone other than me. But really, I just like the scary movies, the palpable excited energy in the air, and that feel that anything is possible. So, maybe it is possible that I could be anyone but Buffy Summers, and not for just one day.
I was looking up stuff online today for shits and giggles and came across this site that talked about a dumb supper. It has pagan roots from what I read, and it’s making dinner as usual and placing out an empty plate for the person you want to remember (or your ancestor’s) that’s passed and not talking through the entire meal.
Then I looked into some Wiccan websites and found that Halloween is the time when the veil between the worlds – this one and the spirit world—is the thinnest and that it’s the best time for communicating with loved ones that have passed. It’s also the Witch’s New Year. Maybe I could make it my new year as well?
I wonder if Spike would be averse to the idea of a dumb supper. I’m not even sure if I like the idea just yet. Maybe he could talk me into it if he liked the idea.
In the spirit of Halloween and in the spirit of feeling anything except the melancholy that seemed to be following her or, hell, was draped over the house like a tent at the circus, Buffy decided to go out and go shopping for some candy for trick-or-treaters and some decorations. Spike insisted they had decorations already, but also in the spirit of The Witches New Year, Buffy wanted new ones.
Spike decided to go with her so she wouldn’t have to take public transportation.
“Sides, getting out of the house could do me some good,” he said as they slid in is car.
She figured it could do them both some good. Just being outside in the driveway lifted her spirits. Check that out…the sun!
“It’s good to see you out,” Spike told her thoughtfully as he followed her down the candy aisle at the grocery store.
She looked over her shoulder at him and placed a bag of Reese’s peanut butter cups in the carriage he was pushing. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you’ve been moping all around the house for the past week. It’s good to see you out. You have a slight spring in your step.”
She shrugged. Why was it when someone else pointed out the obvious, she didn’t want to admit it? Or rather, someone else being Spike? “Well, you haven’t been much better.”
“I know,” he agreed on a sigh.
“And what’s with the hair? Have you showered lately?”
He glared at her. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Haven’t felt like it,” he shrugged.
“You’re depressed.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Honey, I’ve been depressed most of my life. But I still shower. Not showering would just make me feel even more depressed.”
“To each his own I guess.”
“I guess.”
Veering down another aisle, Spike started placing things in: pasta, sauce, gravy.
“I –I can’t help,” Buffy said softly.
“What?” he asked, stopping to look at her beside him.
“I can’t help with the paying of the groceries. I can get the candy and that’s it.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I do.”
“I can’t have you starving.”
“I’m…” God, this was hard, “Sorry.” Please don’t make me say it again, please!
He smiled softly. “It’s okay, Buffy. And hey, if you want, you can help me down at the gallery to make some money for now until you find a job of your own.”
She wasn’t used to kindness like this. She was used to fending for herself; she was used to the bare basics of surviving. Hank hadn’t been much help to her in times of need, and pride had kept her from contacting Joyce. She couldn’t very well let her know she was wrong, that she’d failed. It was bad enough that Hank held it over her. She’d failed him. She’d failed her family. She was a failure.
“S-sure,” she stammered, ducking her head. An idea formed. “Be right back.”
Spike watched her jog off and wondered where the hell she was going. When she met up with him again in a different aisle she had a beaming smile on her face, the likes of which he had never seen on her before save for the pictures Joyce had of her around the house. She really was quite beautiful. Breathtaking, even.
She held up a bottle of shampoo.
“I got that too,” she chirped and he couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
*********
They bonded over music. Queen had come on, “Under Pressure” to be exact, in the car and Spike had thumbed the beat on the steering wheel, and when he glanced over, he found Buffy mouthing the words. He opted to not call attention to it and instead smiled and enjoyed the song, feeling suddenly not so alone. Buffy and he weren’t exactly friends but they had something between them, some sort of weird bond. Grief; he supposed that was it. Grief had bonded them.
When he looked over at her again, he found tears streaming down her cheeks. “Buffy?”
“I’m all right,” she said hastily.
“What is it? Tell me, please?”
“Just the line in the song…it got to me.”
“What line?”
“’It’s the terror of knowing what this world is about, watching some good friends scream, ‘Let me out’.”
“What was it about that--?”
“The ‘let me out’. I know how that feels.”
********
“Spike, really, you don’t have to do this.”
“I want to.”
“I don’t need to dress up!”
“I think you do. Take a break, Buffy. Be someone else for tonight. For that matter, so will I.”
If he only knew…
Half an hour later, Buffy came up with a Wonder Woman costume and Spike had a pair of fangs.
“You know what would be an even better costume for you?” Buffy asked, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.
Spike watched fascinated by what was soon to be the second smile of the day. “What?” he asked, feeling a smile start to form.
“Clean Spike: A freshly showered Spike – and it only costs what’s in your bathroom.”
Spike rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless. “I got the point there, luv.”
This time, she even laughed and he felt like a God. Even if it was at his expense that she was laughing, it still felt good to hear. A lift to the dreariness that surrounded them, the anger, the hurt…the everything.
A day out was just what they needed.
While Spike paid for her costume and his fangs, Buffy placed a hand on his arm and his eyes zeroed in on it, his arm absorbing the warmth of her skin, his skin feeling the softness of hers. Touch. It felt like forever since he’d been touched.
“Spike.”
He looked up at her, met her eyes. “Thank you,” she said.
“Y-you’re welcome.”
Averting her eyes she grabbed their bags and headed toward the car.
When they got home, Spike took a shower.
Chapter Six
Spike stared at the empty plate at the dining room table. “What is that for?” he finally asked.
“It’s called a dumb supper.”
“A what?”
“A dumb supper. It’s a way to remember Mom.”
His eyes widened. “You want to do that?”
Buffy frowned and placed the dish of English muffin pizzas on the table. So inelegant. So not Mom. “I do,” and she placed two pizzas on “her” plate.
Spike stared at it. “Where did you read about it?”
“On a Wiccan website.”
“Oh.”
She sighed, “It’s stupid, you’re right.” And she started to clean up the plate. Spike jumped up and grabbed her wrist, stopping her.
“No, luv, it’s not stupid. I just…it surprised me that’s all.”
“Coming from me, you mean?”
“Why do you always assume that I think the worst of you?”
“Cause you do, don’t you? I’m the one that hurt your wife by not talking to her. I’m the one that wouldn’t come to the wedding, I’m the one that took off to the other side of the country to be away from her, and from you…Why wouldn’t you think the worst of me? I’ve seen the hatred in your eyes.”
He shook his head, releasing her. “You’re wrong, Buffy. I don’t hate you.”
“Just dislike me strongly?”
He shook his head again. “No, I don’t. You goad me into things. Or at least, you try. Why? Why do you do that?”
That question knocked her for a loop, he could tell. She faltered, her eyes dropping to the floor, her head shaking, her hand placing the plate back down. “I…I don’t know.”
“I think you do know,” and he started to reach for her, to touch her and make her look at him, but he stopped himself. Why, he didn’t know.
“Can we eat now?”
She sounded so defeated and so scared that Spike felt the fight leave him. Baby steps with Buffy, he was learning. And really, he should have known this. With all that he’d seen of Joyce trying to deal with her, Buffy never took well to demands on her being made. He remembered quite a few times when Joyce would be frustrated with her for Buffy retreating from her and she’d mutter, “Just like her goddamn father.” It was possibly the only time Joyce swore; when she was talking about Buffy or Hank.
He stared at Buffy, seeing her again, in a new light. How horrible it must be to be like the man that you love, but hate at the same time. Or did Buffy hate him yet? Did she still harbor some belief deep down that Hank would still love her and take care of her as any good father would? Or had she abandoned those thoughts? Had she really not only lost one parent, but two?
“Yeah, we can eat now,” he acquiesced.
********
The night had been a success all in all, Buffy noted as she and Spike sat side by side on the porch swing, watching the little trick-or-treaters hit the last few houses on their way home.
Buffy smirked down at the forgotten fangs and empty candy wrappers between them. “I liked your fangs,” she told him.
He grinned, “I liked them too until they got in the way of eating.”
Buffy giggled. “I also like the black on black ensemble you got going there.”
“Well,” Spike mused, “I find black is not only slimming but when you have a lot of black clothes, you don’t need to worry about separating them in the wash.”
“God, you sounded like a chick just then.”
Spike burst out laughing. “Watch it, luv. So, why Wonder Woman?”
Buffy shrugged, “She was my hero when I was a kid.”
“How so?”
“She fought the bad guys. She was a powerful woman that still had love in her heart no matter how many times the bad guys tried to beat her down. She came back every time with her hair in place, and a smile on her face. She didn’t have a big bag of tricks, but she got the job done. She had this innocence about her and she saved those silly humans…those mortals that constantly seemed to get themselves in trouble. She always saved her man, too.”
“That’s quite a list of reasons.”
“When I was about seven or so, my mom and dad and I went hiking and I didn’t think I’d be able to do the trail. It was too hard, or so I thought anyway. My dad, he talked to me the whole way about Wonder Woman. Asked me questions and got me to get through the rough terrain by asking me what Wonder Woman would do. And sometimes, he’d make me her bracelets and tiara out of construction paper and I’d run around the house pretending to be her.”
“And now you are her,” Spike said softly.
Buffy laughed bitterly, “I’ll never be her.” She stood and gazed off in the distance for a minute, seeming to be lost in some memory or thought. She passed by him, heading into the house. “I’m going to change now, I’m getting cold.”
*********
October 31, 2005
Buffy thinks I hate her. I don’t. It’s funny because for a long time I thought I did hate her. Thought she was nothing more than a spoiled brat. It wasn’t fun to see Joyce hurt because she failed to get through to Buffy when it was obvious that Buffy didn’t want to get through to.
I get it now though, and it’s actually incredibly sad to see. I didn’t think it was possible in my grief to feel someone else’s grief, and to have it affect me the way it has.
I want to hug her. I want to find a way to reach her and it’s like sometimes she’s right there, ready to unburden herself, and then she just draws back. I don’t know what it is. I don’t get why I care if she does or if she doesn’t. Maybe because I see something desperate in her. I see that if she doesn’t let go of the things she carries so deeply inside her, she’s going to explode one day and it’s not going to be pretty. It’s going to be a mess.
It could be that I can relate, too. I can see a lost little girl inside her and I feel like a lost little boy.
The nights were the hardest, Spike knew. He wasn’t sure how Buffy dealt with them, and in fact, she’d been quiet since her phone call to Hank, but the nights for him were the worst. It was the prime time for him to remember, lying in the big bed all alone, not feeling the warmth of Joyce’s body next to his, not feeling the familiar dip in the bed, not having someone to fight for possession of the covers with. All the things that were bothersome – like the stealing of the covers or her late night trips to the kitchen – were things he missed. Things that he’d wished never bothered him, things he felt guilty for having had bother him.
Staring at the clock, he found it was one in the morning and doing quick math, he figured he’d been in bed for about two hours now, just tossing and turning. Maybe he needed some of that leftover candy and some milk, time to see what the late night snack fuss was all about.
Stepping out into the hall, he heard it, the sound of Buffy sobbing. It was a sound that he seemed to be as in tune with as he had been with the sound of Joyce’s voice, her laughter and her tears.
Taking a deep breath, and feeling suddenly nervous, Spike rapped on her door lightly. When he failed to get a response, he slowly pushed his way in and found her in the center of her bed, clutching a book to her chest and lost in her anguish.
Uncertain, he stepped forward. “Buffy.”
“What?” she replied, and he was surprised to get that.
He came closer and stared down at her.
She looked up at him. “What?”
“What – what is that?” he pointed to the book she clutched.
“Photo album.”
Yeah, those fuckers were dangerous. He felt like a git just standing there, hovering over her and so he followed his instinct and lay down next to her, facing her.
She stopped crying, looking at him, surprised. He felt for a minute that maybe he should get up, his heart was racing like it never had before, but he stayed, reached out and touched her arm.
And she started again. “I’m sorry,” she told him. “I keep doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“Crying.”
“Well, it’s something you need to do obviously.”
“When will it stop, Spike? I just want it to stop.”
“It will, baby, it just takes time.” Where the endearment came from, he didn’t know, but he was glad that she hadn’t picked up on it, or at least, he hoped she hadn’t. Not that Buffy would let something like that go necessarily.
Her next move stunned him. She reached out to him and balled his shirt in her fists. She looked up at him imploringly, desperately. “I need to tell you…”
“Tell me what, luv?” he asked, his heart racing erratically.
“Everything.”
“Let it out; tell me what you need to.”
“I feel like I have this beast inside me. This demon. I feel like I’ve had it for so long and I’ve lived with it for so long and now its coming out of me and I don’t know what to do and how to deal with it.”
“What kind of demon, Buffy?” he asked gently; stroking her arm slowly in what he hoped was a comforting manner.
“It’s the demon that tells me I don’t fit anywhere, that I’m alone, that I’ll always be alone. And it’s all my fault, I see that now and it’s hard to…” she cried harder, “It’s hard for me to admit that I fucked up and that I put my love where it shouldn’t have been, but I couldn’t help it, you see? He’s my father and we were happy once upon a time.”
“That’s not your fault, Buffy that he chose alcohol over you and your mother--”
“I know that it’s not my fault, it’s not that…it’s that I was wrong about following him to Boston and denying my mother for so long. I know it. I know. And I hate that it hurts and that I know I fucked up…I know my mom loved me, I know I did, I just hate that I was so awful to her when she tried so hard and I want to just …I want to just die. It haunts me that she died thinking I hated her when I didn’t. My pride wouldn’t let me tell her she was right and I was wrong, I couldn’t come to her and you and admit that I’d failed again.”
“Buffy, baby, you didn’t fail--”
“I did! I failed my father, I failed my mother and in some weird way I failed you too. I’m sorry I was so awful to her, I’m sorry that you got the brunt of that. I’m sorry she’s dead now. I’m sorry for it all. I want to be a good person, I do, and I’m afraid I don’t know how to be one. I lash out, I get so angry and I don’t know where to put all the rage inside me… I can’t keep my mouth shut sometimes and I hate that about myself. I have such a temper and I just fly off the handle and I want to be better, I want to, I just don’t know how… I don’t know where I fit. I don’t know where I belong…I just don’t know… I just feel so lost, Spike, and I’m tired, I’m just so tired…”
Her vulnerability, her tears, the entire rawness of seeing her so open and in touch with herself, had Spike in tears. She was like an open wound that kept getting picked and picked away at, and all she wanted to do was heal. He knew; knew all too well how that felt.
Gathering her close in his arms, Spike held her close, stroked her back and her hair, letting her let it all out and even allowed himself to cry a little too. If she noticed this, she made no mention of it, and just allowed him to comfort her the way she so desperately needed to be comforted.
Soon, both were asleep.
Spike was the first to awaken, and he knew he wasn’t in his bed the minute he was conscious. Opening his eyes, he found Buffy sleeping next to him, her hands not fisted in his shirt any longer, but resting on his chest as if she needed extra reassurance that he was there and not leaving her.
He studied her, how at peace she looked, how soft in repose. The lines that marred her face--the frown lines, the worry lines, were gone. Her skin appeared soft, gentle and once again he thought beautiful.
Spike didn’t know about Buffy, but once he’d drifted off, he had been out for the count. That hadn’t been the case since Joyce had passed.
He watched her as her eyes fluttered open and he held his breath, hoping that she wouldn’t be upset with him for falling asleep in her bed.
She surprised him by smiling shyly. “Hi.”
He smiled back, “Hi, pet. How do you feel?”
“I feel better, I guess. Still tired, but…better. Thank you.”
“For?”
“For letting me get that all out. You didn’t have to stay.”
“I fell asleep, you don’t mind?”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t. Weird huh? I mean I think I …” she took a deep breath. “I think I needed that.”
“To be held?”
She blushed to a flaming red and he bit back the grin that formed. God, that was adorable. “Yeah,” she said softly. “The nights are the worst for me.”
“Me too, Buffy, me too,” he agreed on a sigh.
“Does it feel weird for you?”
“What?”
“Sleeping in another bed.”
He shook his head, “No, I actually slept like a rock.”
Buffy smiled. “So did I. And now I’m hungry.” She flung the covers off her and looked down at him. “I can make something for breakfast if you’d like?”
Spike smiled, “Sure, pet.”
*********
Joyce’s things lay in boxes in the hallway. Buffy stared at them, the cardboard cartons haphazardly thrown together with no pomp or circumstance – noted in black marker across the side: Joyce. Just simply ‘Joyce’. It didn’t seem right to Buffy that an entire life fit into a few boxes. It didn’t matter how many boxes they had, none of them embodied her, and none of them spoke of the things she was or did.
“Not the articles themselves, not by just looking at them,” Spike explained when Buffy voiced that disturbing thought out loud. “But when I pick up her gardening hat, I think of all that time she spent in the garden tending to her flowers. To the outside observer, a straw hat, but to me, the hat she religiously wore until it was nearly in shreds because it was her ‘gardening hat’. Do you know how many times I tried to get a new hat for her and she refused?”
Buffy looked up at him. “I got her that hat.”
********
November 1, 2005
Spike and I put mom’s ‘boxes’ in the attic. Along with the rest of the stuff from relatives past, from my childhood, and just general junk never bothered to be disposed of. Things we look at and say, “My God, do you remember when we used this last?”
All her things in a box as if she never existed. All her things secreted away so we – what? Don’t have constant reminders that she existed? So we can’t touch them and access them. All those things that Spike saw on a daily basis are gone from his sight. It’s as if as soon as someone dies we all rush to get rid of everything so we can speed up the healing process and move on. So we can live our lives. So we can quicken the process of getting over it.
I fear forgetting, and I fear remembering.
I thought today that it doesn’t matter that I wasn’t around for the past five years, I have memories to sustain me well enough already—maybe more would just torment me. I had the briefest of moments where I felt no guilt, no pain. Where I felt blessedly free of all that shit. I counted seven minutes that it managed to last. Maybe I could work out a plan where I try to get that back every day and extend the time a little bit more—7 minutes each day until it spans the whole day.
“Have you thought of moving?” Buffy asked later that evening as they sat outside on the porch again, Spike having made them tea.
“Moving to--?”
“A new house free of memories. A new town.”
“Memories aren’t something that dissipates with a new residence. Memories are things you take with you inside.”
“Thank you Deep Thought Guy, I’m just saying that maybe it’d hurt less if every time you turned around there wasn’t something else to remind you…even if you did take her stuff up the attic, this house was hers, you know?”
“She’d be with me even if I left, Buffy.”
“When did you move here?”
“From London?”
“No, from Guatemala.”
“When I was eighteen.”
It was on the tip of her tongue and in the forefront of her mind: Joyce was his age when he moved. She was then happily married with a kid already.
“My parents and I moved here – to the land of opportunity --and I went to Sunnydale University.”
“What did you study?”
“Art and English.”
“What were you doing before you met my mom?”
“Nothing. Muddling through life, taking odd jobs, just sort of hanging out and not doing much with myself.“
“Why didn’t you do anything with your degree?”
“Well, when you go into Art and English, you’re pretty much slinging burgers. I wasn’t into being a reporter, didn’t really want to be a teacher, and there wasn’t much in the way of art. I wanted to write and that’s not an easy task to undertake – at least not the getting published part --so I was a well-read burger flipper.”
Buffy giggled. “And then?”
“My parents died and I had to make my own way and grow up.”
“And then you met my mom.”
“Yes, shortly after my parents died,” Spike said softly.
Silence, then. “Spike?”
“Yeah?”
“Never mind.”
“That’s not bloody fair. What were you going to say?”
“Nothing, it’s not the right time to ask such a question, forget it,” and she shook her head.
“Buffy?”
“Yes?”
“Were you going to ask if I’d sleep with you again?”
She turned to him and said honestly, expressionless, “No.”
She could have sworn he blushed, “Then what were you going to say?”
Buffy stood, suddenly feeling that the open space of the porch wasn’t open enough for her. Something felt off in their conversation, something not quite…right.
“I was just going to ask if you ever thought about remarrying. But it’s only been a week and I realize that’s not a … tactful – is that the right word?—question.”
Spike smiled up at her. “I think that’s the right word. I don’t take offense to it, Buffy. I just don’t have an answer to that. Where are you going?”
“To bed. You’re taking me to the gallery tomorrow, right?”
“Yes, be ready by eight.”
“Yes, sir,” Buffy saluted and practically ran off.
Spike sighed heavily wondering if he would be able to get any sleep that night. One night in Buffy’s bed did not mean that was the only way he was going to get any rest; it was a fluke that was all. It was a moment in time where he was able to provide much needed comfort to the girl and in ways she didn’t realize, she gave him comfort as well.
November 1, 2005
Our bond is going beyond grief. When Buffy cried in my arms last night, I understood how she felt, and what she was saying in feeling lost, like she didn’t know whom she was or what she was doing.
I hadn’t realized until our discussion this evening that I realized how much of my identity was tied up in Joyce. I went from being a student to a husband. I lost my parents, who were the world to me and I found Joyce.
Did she replace them? Did she ‘parent’ me? Was she the missing link that I needed at that time? Who am I now that she is not here? Who is Spike, truly? Who is William? Who am I now that I’m not a husband? Who am I?
Am I thinking too much?
Chapter Eight
November 12, 2005
Spike is a slave driver, but I don’t mind. I like the keeping busy. It takes my mind of things and gives me a focus on something other than my mom, my shitty father and my shitty life. I like getting my hand in something that later is going to be viewed by the public. Spike lets me be creative, he listens to my ideas and he even takes some of them. Those he doesn’t take, he at least takes the time to explain to me why it wouldn’t work, so I feel as though I’m learning something.
On our way home today, he wanted to stop off at the bookstore, he said something about not having really sat down with a book in a long while and that he missed it. I read a lot in Boston, but hadn’t picked up a book since I left Boston, so I went in with him and bought “Prozac Nation” by Elizabeth Wurtzel. Reading about a depressive, that’s just what I need. Spike shook his head at me and asked “Something you want to tell me, pet?”
Where does he come up with this endless supply of pet names? And do I like them? I do, but…but at the same time, it doesn’t make me special. It just makes me one of many that he’s called “pet”, “kitten” and “love”. And he most likely called my mom “baby.” How weird is that? I should ask him to stop. I want to be special; I want to stand out—and not just with him, but to someone. I want to feel that I am worth it and when someone calls me “love”, it’s because I’m their love. Is that too much to ask?
“Hello.”
Buffy turned to the voice that she assumed was saying hello to her in line at the Espresso Pump. She and Spike had what he called a “row” in the gallery because she wanted to hang a piece one place and he wanted to hang it another. Her creative reasoning was that the particular piece flowed better where she wanted to hang it, and from Spike’s perspective, it disturbed the flow. She called him a jackass, he called her a bitch and she told him she was going for coffee, because “only on some kind of drug can I deal with you”.
She’d cooled off when she’d left and felt guilty for having yelled at him. In fact, she’d felt dread about it. She thought, Crap, what if he doesn’t like me anymore? What if he’s done with me? That fear twisted inside her gut, twisting and turning and churning. She’d marched back to the gallery ready to say she was sorry and when her hand touched the cool metal of the door, and she received an electric shock from it, she stopped. How crazy was she? They’d had an argument but it didn’t mean he hated her. Not that he really liked her, mind you, but that feeling that he’d somehow leave her, abandon her was so strong within her, it made her shake.
On shaky legs, she’d forced herself to get a coffee, and as a peace offering, one for Spike as well.
She looked up to see a dark haired man with broad shoulders, warm chocolate brown eyes and spiky hair. His smile was sweet and inviting. Then she looked over her shoulder to see if he was talking to someone behind her.
“I said hello to you,” he assured her.
She looked up at him, swallowing hard. “Hi.”
“I’m Angel,” he held out his big hand and she took it uncertainly.
“I’m Buffy.”
“Nice to meet you Buffy. I’ve never seen you in Sunnydale before. You just move?”
She smirked. What a line. “Well, I used to leave here up until five years ago.”
“Did you go to Sunnydale High?”
“I did.
He frowned, “I graduated in 1994, when did you graduate?”
She smiled, “1998.”
“That would be why then. Where’d you go when you moved?”
“Boston.”
“Did you like it?”
“I’m back home, aren’t I?”
Angel chuckled, “Fair enough.”
“Can I help you ma’am?”
Buffy wrinkled her nose at the clerk behind the counter. She hated being called ‘ma’am’ at twenty-five. What were they going to call her at thirty? Granny? “Hi, I’d like an iced cappuccino and a latte, light on the cream.”
“Double fisting it?” Angel joked when the clerk scampered off to fill her order.
Buffy laughed easily. “No, the other one is for my…” Jesus, what did she call Spike? Her friend? Stepfather? – no way—her boss? Yeah, that could work.
“My boss, it’s for my boss.”
“Where do you work?”
“At the Summers Art Gallery at the corner—have you heard of it?”
“I have, nice place. Can’t really afford anything there, but it’s nice.”
Buffy chuckled. “Yeah, I know what you mean. My mom owned it.”
“Oh, really? That must be nice.”
“Well, she’s dead now.”
Angel paled, the clerk placed the coffees on the counter and Buffy started to laugh. The way she said it, or what she said, possibly both, are what incited her mirth. Plus the look on Angel’s face. She felt sort of crazy for having laughed that way – he would probably think she was cold and unfeeling, or just a straight up nutjob, but hey – she was.
“Sorry,” she told him after she’d paid and was gripping the coffees in each hand. “Just the look on your face and I tend to sometimes have a morbid sense of humor.”
Angel cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to hear about your mom.”
“Eh, it’s all right. You didn’t know her.”
Light and breezy, Buffy, light and breezy. What was she supposed to do, after all? Go on a diatribe about what a great mom she was, how she’d been a miserable daughter to her, and how her death had turned her world upside down in so many ways? No one wanted to hear that crap.
“Uh, if you want to wait a minute, I’ll walk you back to work?” Angel offered.
“You don’t have to--”
“I want to.”
Buffy shrugged, trying to appear calm and slightly indifferent. Isn’t that what guys liked? She wouldn’t know, she hadn’t had much experience in dating. Men found her to be too independent. Which was funny considering she felt she came off as too needy.
********
“So, you must work somewhere glamorous. You’re wearing a suit,” Buffy observed as she and Angel strolled down the street to the gallery.
“I’m an associate at a law firm.”
“So, not glamorous?”
“Hardly. I work all day, sometimes all night…I have demanding clients and attorney’s. I’m waiting until the day I’ve sufficiently proven myself and can become partner.”
Buffy knew all about wanting to prove oneself. She felt as though she’d been trying to do that all her life. “You will, I’m sure,” she said, even if she didn’t really know that he would. For all she knew, he was a slacker that didn’t really do much of anything.
“Thanks.”
“Well, this is where I stop,” Buffy chirped and stepped up on the doorstep to the gallery.
“So, uh, can I take you out for dinner sometime?” Angel asked shyly.
Buffy smiled. He wanted to date her after she’d laughed for his condolences? Maybe he was a nutjob too. “Sure,” she said calmly, thinking that maybe this was a sign of things to come. Of good things to come.
Angel smiled and dug in his pocket, extracting a pen and business card.
“So, how many women’s phone numbers you have in that pocket anyway? Talk about being prepared,” Buffy laughed.
Angel chuckled, “Really just a fluke, I swear.”
She was tempted to ask him to fork over all the cards in his pocket, but then decided that might creep him out. She dictated her number and he handed her one of his cards, assuring her he’d call that night. Buffy thought, I’m not going to hold my breath, though she really hoped he did.
Entering the gallery, she nearly knocked into Spike who was standing there, scowling, looking past her and through the window.
“What was that all about?”
“What were you doing? Spying on me?”
“Maybe,” he shrugged and took the coffee she offered him. “Thanks, pet. Now, who was that?”
“Angel.”
“What the bloody hell kind of name is that?”
”That’s rich coming from Spike.”
He glared at her, “Point taken.”
“He’s…just…a …lawyer.”
Spike raised a brow, “Take your time getting that sentence out.”
“Shut up. He asked me out.”
His expression darkened. “Oh?”
“Yeah, look, can you not make a big deal out of it? Please? Stop scowling! God, you’re not really my stepfather ya know,” and she pushed past him, heading for the back.
Spike sighed, “Yeah, I know.”
“Spike?”
Spike looked up from the forms he was looking over to find Buffy chewing her bottom lip and playing with the hem of her shirt. She reminded him of a little girl at that moment and he smiled. “Yes?”
“You weren’t really that mad at me earlier, were you?”
“When?” he asked, confused.
“When we were arguing about that painting.”
It was times like this when Spike was reminded that Buffy was not tiny-hearted and that things did not just roll off her back like they were nothing. The girl felt things hard and deep. She played a good game of pretending she didn’t care, but she did. And since that night she’d unloaded on him, they’d had a funny kind of relationship. They still danced around issues at times; sometimes they’d talk about them, but only briefly. If there were one word he had to use to describe their relationship it would be delicate. Well…maybe not even that. It lay somewhere between strong and delicate, but leaning toward delicate. This whole thing was new to them still and he knew that. More than once a day he was struck with the thought that Buffy was all he had right then. And on the other side of that coin, he was all she had. It was a delicate situation to be in for it begged the question: Did they really like each other or did they just put up with each other for fear of dealing with things alone?
But, looking at her now, at the fear in her eyes, the way she looked at him as if he held her life in his hands, Spike decided to go with the idea that she truly liked him, as well as needed him. God, how lonely and afraid must she be to feel that one little tiff that was soon forgotten was something that could end their…whatever they were.
Hank truly was a bastard.
“Buffy, I can be quick to temper--”
“No, shit.”
“You’re one to talk.”
“No, shit.”
He grinned, “But we said our peace, yeah? You called me a jackass, I called you a bitch, you went for coffee to cool off and we’re fine. Okay?”
Instantly, she relaxed, letting out a breath that it would seem she’d been holding. Her entire posture changed; a weight was lifted. He had the sudden urge to hug her. Before that night they’d shared a bed and he’d held her, when was the last time she’d been hugged?
“Okay,” she nodded and started back to the front.
“Buffy?”
“Yeah?”
“How did you meet that guy?”
“Who? Angel?”
“Yeah, Angel.”
“In line at the coffee shop.”
“Oh.”
“I think I freaked him out too, I’m surprised he asked me out.”
“How’d you freak him out?”
Buffy chuckled a bit, “Well, he asked where I worked and I told him. He made a comment about how it must be cool to work for my mom or whatever and I said ‘No, she’s dead.”
“Buffy!”
“What? It’s true isn’t it?”
Spike shook his head. “That’s cold, Buffy.”
“It’s not cold,” she said indignantly, “It’s the truth. She is dead. What was I supposed to say? ‘Yeah, it is cool working with her’?”
“You could have said she ‘passed away’.”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Give me a break.”
“You’re such a brat.”
“I know it,” she said proudly.
“Go back to work, brat.”
“Yes, sir!” And she made a big show of saluting him. “Need some fuckin’ direction in my life don’t I?”
Spike heard her laughing all the way to the front and he couldn’t help but laugh too.
*********
“Do you ever think what it would be like to have a mental illness?” Buffy asked on their way home from work that day.
Spike glanced over at her, “I’ve wondered, but not in depth or anything. Have you?”
“Yeah. I mean have you ever wondered what it would be like if one day you woke up and heard voices? Or if you thought the TV was talking to you. If you were like that guy in ‘A Beautiful Mind’, and you thought the government was after you.”
“You have to stop watching and reading these things about mental illness, pet. They’re starting to get to you.”
“Nah. I just…I guess I find comfort in knowing I’m not that bad off. And then I get scared cause I think I could be one day.”
“Buffy,” Spike said sternly. “You’re not going to be like that. I won’t let you.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think it’s something you can control.”
Silence, then, “You know what I wonder?” Spike asked, smiling.
“What?”
“If people who are crazy know they’re crazy.”
“I don’t know. Do you?”
“Brat.”
And Buffy just laughed again.
********
November 13, 2005
That ponce Angel called Buffy this evening. Now, he was supposed to have called last night when he got home like any truly enamored boy would do. That’s the operative word here: boy. What is with making the girl wait for his call? Fucking amateur.
She went into the other room to talk with him; right in the middle of a movie we were watching together. That kind of hurt. It made me want to stamp my foot and demand that she stay and call him later – this was my time.
But, I have to keep myself in check here. Buffy is allowed to have friends, she’s allowed to date if she chooses. Just because I don’t have many friends to speak of, just because Joyce was pretty much it, doesn’t mean that I have to hold it against Buffy for trying to live her life.
I just don’t think she realizes that I need her. I know she needs me—her reaction to our stupid little tiff was testament to that, but I don’t think she knows I need her too. Maybe I should tell her?
“What’s this?” Buffy asked when Spike placed something thin and rectangular wrapped in aluminum foil on her lap.
“Open it.”
Tearing into the gift, Buffy smiled. “’Queen’s Greatest Hits. Volume One and Two.’” She looked up at him. “Don’t you have this?”
“I don’t actually. But now you do and we can listen to it when we’re working or when we’re cleaning the dishes from dinner.”
Buffy beamed at him, “Thank you.”
“I’m thinking we should expand on the things we have in common: Queen, moping, and candy.”
Buffy laughed.
“Though I think we’re learning we have more in common everyday, don’t you think, pet?”
“I do. Thank you,” and she jumped up from the couch and pecked him quickly on the cheek. “I’m going to play it while I get ready for ‘The Date.”
Spike nodded, his cheek tingling from her kiss, and his blood simmering to a boil over her date.
Chapter Ten
Buffy was too weirded out by having Angel meet her at the door. What was supposed to happen in that little scenario? Did Spike, who was only eight years older, make the pretense of being her Dad and pretend to clean a gun while he questioned Angel? It was what she imagined her own father would do one day—okay, maybe not cleaning an actual gun, but making her date uncomfortable, letting the guy know that she was his little girl and the guy did not have free reign to hurt her in any way. Sadly, Hank never had. When she told him in the past that she was seeing this boy or that, the news fell on deaf ears.
Spike seemed all too eager to meet Angel and play the part, but Buffy hadn’t gotten around to how to explain exactly what Spike was, she herself barely even knew, so she didn’t think it necessary to make an already strange situation, stranger. She felt bad enough about leaving him behind. What was he going to do with himself while she was out? Not that he wasn’t a big boy and couldn’t figure it out, but they’d spent every day and night together under the same roof and there was a kind of comfort in that. She felt as though she was abandoning him, and she knew all too well what it felt like to be abandoned.
“I’ll be fine, Buffy,” he assured her when Angel pulled up in the driveway.
“What are you going to do?”
“Read. Maybe write. Watch TV. Perhaps in that order, maybe not in that order. Would you like me to take minutes?”
“Now you’re just being…what’s that word?”
He smiled, “Shirty.”
“Yeah, that’s odd by the way, but ok. All right, I’m off like a prom dress!” she called out over her shoulder as she made her way to the door.
“You better not be taking anything off! It’s your first date!” Spike shouted, following her to the door.
She giggled breezily. “It’s an expression. But I like that. You do the stepfather role quite well.”
Spike growled and Buffy giggled again, giving him another peck on the cheek. He watched her through the window as she ran out to meet Angel, who had been on his way up the walk to greet her.
He had to hand it to her; she wasn’t dressed like most girls her age seemed to dress these days. There were no signs of underwear peeking over her low-rise pin-striped khaki’s and a matching pink v-neck that did not have her cleavage hanging out. She also wore a matching scarf that draped down her front. She looked fresh and pretty, approachable and respectable.
The house was empty without her. He could hear the clock ticking in the background and the hum of the fridge. When Angel’s jeep sped off, Spike sighed heavily and went to turn on the TV. He couldn’t stand the sounds of silence much these days.
********
Angel, Buffy decided was a nice enough bloke. She felt the urge to roll her eyes at that thought. She was spending way too much time with Spike if she was starting to sound like him in her head.
He took her out for Chinese food after hearing that it was her favorite and then to a movie since there was a horror film out she had mentioned she wanted to see. Some, Buffy supposed, would think it was an odd sort of date--for how could they really get to know each other sitting in a theater? But it was just the type of date that Buffy liked. That way, there wasn’t too much talking. She hated too much talking on a date. Mostly because she never knew what to say and too many times she’d put too much stock into the first date and trying to “read the signals” and “signs” that this could go somewhere. Screw that.
She’d take Angel in small doses, stretch out their getting to know one another and make it last. It’d give her something to do; it’d at least amuse her for the time-being. Angel, from what she knew already, seemed a simple kind of creature. Not simple as in stupid, but simple in that he was a go to work, come home, veg, sleep, get up and repeat the process again kind of person. His intellectual pursuits didn’t go beyond that of work, which was a lot of work and important work, but nothing for the soul, nothing that challenged his heart and his mind for the betterment of his nature.
And when the hell had she become so obsessed with that sort of thing anyway? Oh yeah. Probably because she felt as though her soul was black.
As if she had much room to talk anyway about the betterment of life. She’d graduated with honors and done what? Went to work in a candy store. It certainly had sweetened her disposition that was for sure. What did she have to show for that hard-earned Bachelor of Arts in Communications diploma she’d received? Abso-fucking-lutely nothing. That didn’t stop her however, from testing Angel on his awareness of the world around them, on his opinion of it and the state it was in, on the state of his soul and what he felt his place in all of it was.
“You’re so…deep, Buffy,” he told her.
She smiled mysteriously, liking very much the sound of that, and because she liked that statement, she started to like Angel.
********
November 15, 2005
Buffy was secretive about her date with Angel. By impression only, I’d say she wasn’t all that impressed. However, she plans to see him again. Maybe to give him another chance? When I asked her how the date went, all she said was, “Fine”, and shrugged. Then she sat down with me to finish the movie I was half-watching while I read a book of collected poems.
I don’t have the attention span to study one author’s work the way I used to enjoy. I only have the attention span to read briefly, make a couple notes, and move on. Why did I never do anything with my English studies? I mean, I was a double major in art and English, but I always leaned more towards English. Thought about writing a book with illustrations—my own illustrations— as childish as that sounds. Thought it could be a way to meld my two loves together though. I could have written based on the art, or drew based on what I wrote.
Then my parents died and with them, my direction. Then I met Joyce and she gave me direction.
I do not like where this self – analysis is going. I’m starting to feel guilty about something that I can’t even describe. And here, in this journal is where I’m supposed to self-analyze and share my thoughts and feelings. But when you can’t even admit to, or bring yourself to share your own thoughts with yourself, then what do you do? Tell your journal you’re just not ready, I guess.
Journal, I’m not ready.
Buffy has been really into reading Wiccan websites for information on different things. She was telling me the other day about how Wiccans view darkness. Supposedly, they don’t think of it as wholly bad thing. They see it as a chance to learn things about yourself, about the deep down inner you. It’s a journey; it’s where you learn things about yourself that you hadn’t before explored. Who knew so much could happen when you shut the light off before you drift off to sleep? But it’s true though. At night is when those thoughts of who I am, where I’m going, and what I’m doing plague me most. It’s the night when I think of Joyce. It’s when I am alone in the dark in my bed that I worry.
Buffy is…
Journal, I’m not ready.
“Spike?” Buffy called from where she was on the computer in the living room.
“Yes, luv?” Spike questioned back from the kitchen as he chopped onions for the spaghetti sauce he was making for dinner.
“Do you have a Paypal account I could use to order these books?”
“I thought you had one.”
“I can’t remember my password and they want me to fax all this crap to them. It could take three weeks. I want these now and I already won the bid on E-bay.”
“Luv, we really need to work on you thinking these things through first,” Spike told her, walking in the living room.
She was staring at the screen. “I think about enough things, trust me. The guy I’m buying the books off of won’t let me send him a check or a money order. He said he doesn’t go to the bank that often to take care of them. You know what I think?” she asked, looking up at him.
“What’s that?”
“I think he’s a heifer. He’s like the mom in ‘What’s Eating Gilbert Grape?’ He can’t leave the house because he is in fact imprisoned because of his hieferness.”
Spike burst out laughing, unable to stop himself. “You have a wild imagination, pet.”
Buffy beamed up at him. “Thanks! So, can I use your Paypal? I’ll just give you the money for them.”
“Sure, luv. What are you getting?”
“Michael Foucault’s The Rise of Insanity in the Age of Reason--”
“Of course,” Spike said dryly.
“And a couple books on Wicca.”
“You’re really getting into that, aren’t you?”
“I guess that means I need something.”
“Like?”
“I’m not sure yet. A reason for everything. A way for everything to make sense.”
“I see.”
“Maybe we could do it together,” she said hopefully, looking up at him.
He smiled, “Maybe, pet.”
********
November 22, 2005
I had sex with Angel last night. It was our third date. Is that bad? I don’t even know. All I knew was that one minute we were sitting in his apartment watching a movie and I started thinking how the next day was Thanksgiving and how my mother was dead and even if I hadn’t spent the last five Thanksgivings with her, I knew what she was doing on them – what she was making –mashed potatoes with lumps and gravy with turkey chunks – and I knew that I could, at any given time, go to her and not having fucking Lean Cuisine for my Thanksgiving dinner because my fucking father was too fucking busy with his new fucking family to even care about me and ---
And I turned to Angel and asked if he wanted to fuck. What guy is going to say no to that? He was floored by it at first, I could tell and he asked a dozen times just before I went down on him if I was sure. Funny how a blowjob can shut a guy up for good, which was just what I was going for.
Then I came home even after Angel begged me to stay. I couldn’t do that though. Spike was home and Spike was no doubt waiting up for me. When I came home that night, I couldn’t look Spike in the eye.
Today was a moping day, Buffy decided. The Macy’s Day parade had been on, and it didn’t matter to her. She could smell the turkey that Spike had woken up early to put in, and she didn’t care. She didn’t care that she hadn’t showered either. She should what with Angel’s scent still on her.
Finding Buffy on the couch still, where she’d been since nine that morning, Spike sighed heavily and sat down next to her. “Pet, it’s hard for me too.”
“Then wallow with me.”
“Some of us wallow in different ways.”
She looked over at him, turning her body toward his. “How are you wallowing?”
“Buffy, come on,” he shook his head, “I don’t want to get into that.”
“Why not?” she pouted. “It’d make me feel better to know.”
He heaved a sigh. “Well, I cried this morning, how’s that?”
“You did?” God, she seemed so eager about it.
“You have a morbid fascination with people hurting, you know that?”
Her eyes welled up in tears. “No, it’s not that.”
“Christ, Buffy, I’m sorry,” and he moved closer to her, enfolding her in his arms. “I didn’t mean that.”
“Yeah, you did. It’s just that I like to know that I’m not alone in these things, Spike. I …I’ve been alone so much and it kills me to know that all of that was my doing --all my doing. I feel as though I’d been cut off for so long from people – being depressed as I was, not having many friends that I could really talk to and now I have…”
“Me?”
“Yeah,” she took a trembling sigh, “I have you.”
“And it feels good to share, yeah?”
“Yes. I didn’t realize I needed it. When you wallow in your own misery for so long you tend to feel you’re the only one that feels that way in the world. And when you realize that you’re not alone, it becomes a fascination almost. Like, how do you deal with it? How is it that you cried this morning and was able to get up and still put a turkey in? I felt like shit last night and I – How do you do it?”
“You felt like shit last night and you--?”
“I cried.”
“You’re lying to me.”
She scowled up at him. “How the fuck do you know?”
“I can just tell. You breezed right past that, Buffy. What did you do?”
“It’s none of your business!” she shouted and pushed out of his arms, standing up. “I’m taking a shower.”
“You expect me to share but you fucking can’t?” Spike shouted back at her, jumping up from the couch. “That’s not fair, is it?”
“Life isn’t fair.”
“Spare me the cliché’s Buffy.”
“I cried in your arms already, what more do you want from me?”
“Everything, I want everything from you! I want to know when you’re sad and happy, angry and anything in between. I want to know it all, not just the bits and pieces you share and then expect me to bare my soul to you. You want to wallow with me but that just means you want to sit here in silence together and suffer alone.”
She stood there, completely stunned, staring at him.
“You make jokes, you hide behind your quips and your sarcasm, and oh God, pet, you’re a funny girl, but I need more than that. I don’t want to be alone either!” And he started to cry, goddammit, he started to cry.
And he sobbed harder when she brought him into her arms and held him just as he’d held her once upon a time. She whispered, “I’m sorry” over and over to him, stroking his back and holding him as tight as her little arms would allow.
“What did you do, Buffy?” he whispered when he was done sobbing his heart out.
“I slept with Angel.”
That didn’t help, that made it worse. Much, much worse. Spike felt sick, angered, and something else he did not want to define. Not that he wanted to feel anything he was currently feeling at all. He didn’t want to have that reaction to her having been with her boyfriend. He didn’t want to have the reactions he had whenever she went out with the idiot.
Pushing her away, he stared down at her face full of apology, and her own face wet with tears. He shook his head and stalked off, leaving the house completely, leaving her there. Alone.
*********
“Hey Joyce,” Spike said upon coming up to Joyce’s grave. Plopping down on the slightly wet grass, he sighed, trembling, and started to cry. “Your daughter is killing me, Joyce, she’s killing me…I can’t…I can’t do this.”
Getting up, he headed to the one bar in town he knew would be open.
Chapter Twelve
Buffy was a wreck, not only did she not know where Spike went but he left her feeling as though she’d committed murder for telling him about Angel. He was the one that asked!
After the first hour Spike was gone, she worried, but told herself he was a big boy now and he’d be back soon, then when the second hour approached, she started to pace, and then when the third hour approached, she went looking for him. It was four in the afternoon, where the hell could he be? They had a turkey cooling in the fridge now, untouched. What was Thanksgiving without turkey?
“And what’s Thanksgiving without family issues,” she muttered as she tried to maneuver his boat of a car up and down the streets of Sunnydale. Winding around the confusing cemetery roads, narrow as they were, she passed by Joyce’s grave, she could see it from the car, and kept going, feeling a stab in her heart. She turned away but not before she shed a few tears.
After searching for an hour on virtually empty streets, Buffy went home, perched herself on the stairs facing the door, and waited.
********
Spike stumbled through the door at eight. Placing her book down, she looked up at him, stone faced. He stopped, and stared at her and in the next instant she was in his arms and they were both crying and holding on to each other.
“Don’t leave me again,” she demanded, “Don’t do that again!”
“I won’t, pet, I won’t.”
“I was scared, I was looking for you!”
“I’m sorry, Buffy, I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
She nearly pulled his hair to make him look at her, his head being buried in her neck. She knew he’d been drinking; she could smell it on him and could see the glassiness in his eyes.
“Don’t leave me again, Spike, please,” she begged again. “I need you.”
“I need you too, I do. I need you too.”
“I’m sorry, too,” she whimpered, “I am.”
“Ssshhhh…” he whispered and kissed her, quickly.
It was a kiss of comfort, not of lust, but it jumpstarted her heart just the same and that left Buffy reeling. She jumped as if shocked and stared up at him, wild-eyed.
“Let’s get some food, yeah?” he said, already pulling her to the kitchen.
It meant nothing to him, nothing. Not in his inebriated state. It wasn’t even a real kiss. It wasn’t. That was Buffy’s mantra for the entire night.
*********
November 22, 2005
I did a bad thing. I got a blowjob at the bar. In the alley next to the bar to be exact. I hate it when people use the excuse ‘But I was drunk!’ But I was. I really was. So drunk I was surprised I got it up, but she…
She was on her knees in front of me, sucking me off, moaning in her throat, enjoying it, it seemed, as much as I was. God, it felt so good. Joyce never…
My mind was a haze, I couldn’t even see and I didn’t even try, I just let my head fall back against the brick of the building and let myself get lost in the sensation.
I sobered up right quick after I came. I heard a voice, and that voice had said Buffy’s name. It said her name lovingly, desperately and it made me snap my eyes open to find the source of that voice that was calling my Buffy’s name.
When I looked down at the girl before me, wiping her mouth and glaring at me, I realized: I’d said Buffy’s name.
Journal, I’m not ready…but I’m getting so close it frightens me.
********
The day after the fiasco that was Thanksgiving, Buffy and Spike decided to give it another go. Buffy called it a “Do Over”. With a do-over in mind, Spike taught Buffy to prepare mashed potatoes, squash and sweet potatoes—with marshmallows and brown sugar on top, just the way Joyce always made them.
With a warmed Turkey and a feast before them, and Queen’s “I’m Going Slightly Mad” on repeat per Buffy from the living room, they ate until they were full, Buffy complaining that she needed to unbutton her pants. Spike laughed, but changed into his sweat pants for comfort, and the pair sat back and watched an early preview of “A Christmas Story”.
Buffy was the first to nod off during the movie and her head fell onto Spike’s shoulder when she did. Spike smiled tenderly down at her whilst trying to fend off the guilt he felt at the joy he took in Buffy resting on him.
It wasn’t wrong, nothing was wrong with them. They were both broken hearted and feeling sad. It was normal. But was it normal to feel so desperate for her company that he couldn’t stand to let her out of his sight for a moment?
All he’d wanted was to find solace in her – and not in a sexual way either. She didn’t think he was a monster. Course, she also didn’t know he’d gotten a blowjob from a nameless and at that point, faceless blond; spewing himself in someone else that was not her mother. Then add to that the fact that he’d said her name and not her mother’s. Talk about feeling fucked in the head.
He’d do well to remember that she was off-limits, and she was Joyce’s daughter. His dead wife’s daughter and it was completely and utterly wrong and unnatural.
Unable to stay where he was any longer, Spike carefully got up, lifted Buffy’s legs onto the couch, and covered her with the blanket draped on the armchair she’d been reading in earlier and left her to sleep.
Distance was imperative here.
*********
“Spike?” Buffy began a few days after the “Do Over” Thanksgiving.
Spike looked up from the book he was reading in his favorite armchair that consequently was Buffy’s favorite as well. “Yeah?”
“Can I ask you something?”
He braced himself. The way she asked, the shy way she asked, coupled with the uncertainty and fear in her eyes had his mind reeling with all the possible things she could ask – like why he had been so upset with her for sleeping with Angel.
“Sure,” he said weakly, sitting up straighter. He slid his legs off the ottoman in from of him, and leaned forward.
She sat down on said ottoman and looked up at him intently. “I want to say a few things, get a few things out about my mom, me and even you and …And I was hoping that you’d listen to me. I feel that if I tell you it’d be like telling her. Do you understand?”
He nodded and placed his book aside. “I do.”
“Okay, here goes.” She took a deep breath and looked down at her hands. “I’m sorry that I left the way I did. I’m sorry that I didn’t hear you out and try to understand. I’m sorry that it fell on deaf ears when you told me you were not going to get back with my father. I didn’t…” she heaved a trembling sigh and some tears started to fall. “I didn’t want to hear it. I just wanted things back the way they were and when I left, I was so angry for taking up with someone else and for not telling me. I just …I just wished I’d known…” Buffy was full out sobbing now and Spike took her hands in his, squeezing them, fighting off the urge to gather her in his arms just yet. She needed to get this out and he understood that. It’d been a long time coming.
“I should have tried after. I should have allowed you in and told you how my father – how Hank didn’t want me anymore. How I became nothing but a nuisance to him and how I didn’t fit into the new family he had. They hated me and I couldn’t…I couldn’t understand and I was too proud to tell you. I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for not giving Spike a chance. I see now that he’s a good man, much better than Hank. I’ve had all this anger inside me for so long and I want to get rid of it, Momma. I really do. I want to heal; Momma and I didn’t think that I could do that without telling you that I love you and that I’m sorry.” She looked up at Spike and instantly he gathered her to him, pulling her into his arms and cradling her on his lap while she cried her release in his neck.
“I’m sorry too,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry I just sprung it on you and then expected you to be okay with it. I should have told you straight away and I was in the wrong for that, I was. And I forgive you Buffy. Can you forgive me?”
“Yes!”
“I love you, too,” Spike whispered, shutting off his mind that was intent on coming up with all sorts of meaning and implications to that declaration. It was for healing, not for anything else.
Thirteen-Fourteen by Brat
December 22, 2005
I suspect Buffy is dead set on spreading holiday cheer. She has been non-stop decorating, singing Christmas carols, baking – yes, baking – cookies and watching every damn Christmas special that comes on, and better yet, she makes me watch them with her. When I complain she calls me The Grinch. When I handed her her paycheck this week she said, “Thanks Scrooge!” That’s my funny girl.
She’s determined to make this holiday better than Thanksgiving and I’m with her on that entirely. I just wish for one night I could find reprieve from the guilt that plagues me.
I have feelings, strong feelings, for Buffy. There I said it. I admitted it. It’s all I’m willing to admit at this time. I don’t want to get into the nature of them exactly, though it’s pretty obvious.
I’m so sorry, Joyce. I wish they would stop. I wish I could not have them, but they’re there and I can’t stop them. I’ve tried, oh God, have I tried.
She’s still with Angel and I thought that fact alone would aide in stopping them, but really, it only serves to fuel them more since I can’t stand the idea of him touching her.
I met him, once, briefly. It was opening night at the gallery, of which Buffy had put blood, sweat, and tears into – sometimes literally. He had his arm around her when they came up to me and the look on her face told me to be nice, please, for her. So I was, though I felt territorial which I’m sure he chalked up to me taking the stepfather role. God, I wanted that to be it.
Tomorrow she is forcing me out to a Christmas party with her and him and I am not looking forward to it. Do I have to be subjected to their relationship? She won’t talk to me about him, and for a while I suspected he was beating her because she was so quiet about him. I’m not sure if the not knowing makes it worse than the knowing would. She’d learned her lesson from when she told me she’d slept with him and now I just feel I have to know.
Christ. I’m so fucking sorry Joyce.
The party at Angel’s posh apartment was in full swing by the time Buffy and Spike arrived. Buffy had her arm slung through Spike’s the whole way from the car, to the elevator and up to Angel’s door, and the instant they entered his home, Buffy’s hold on him left. That was enough incentive for Spike to dislike Angel and his stupid goddamn party.
Simply put, that had set Spike for the rest of the night. Feelings of jealousy these days over Buffy’s relationship with Angel went hand-in-hand for the feelings of guilt he felt for having feelings for not only another woman that was not his deceased wife, but for his deceased wife’s daughter. His mind these days, he felt, was in a constant torment – a veritable hell that he could not escape from.
He felt at times perhaps he should ask her to move out, to give them both some space for he knew that the dependency they had on one another was not healthy, yet the idea of not having her there, just simply there, drove him mad. He likened the feeling to losing an appendage. Buffy leaving would be like cutting off his arm.
He tried to tell himself that he had felt the same way when Joyce had almost backed out of their engagement because of Buffy, but …he didn’t. He had felt anger and hurt, yes, but he was troubled and plagued by the thoughts that Joyce had represented for him more of a means to find some direction, acceptance and nurturing than a real, true love. Joyce took care of him; he and Buffy took care of each other. Joyce never held him accountable for much, and Buffy held him accountable for everything – everything that was his anyway. And he did the same for her.
He was learning who he was through Buffy and she was learning through him and through her loss. The adage of one door opening after one had closed, was true in this case.
And more and more everyday, Spike found himself pondering at times the idea of what would have happened had Buffy not left, but had stayed around and been part of his and Joyce’s life. And then, his thoughts would take a dark turn: What if he’d met Buffy first?
“Now, I want you to mingle. I want you to have fun,” Buffy ordered him as she fixed the collar on his shirt—the shirt she’d chosen because it brought out his eyes.
He smiled warmly at her, unable to keep the tenderness he felt for her at bay when she was concerned for him and his happiness. “Yes, dear.”
“Listen…one thing…”
“What’s that?”
“You’re not allowed to like anyone more than me,” and she grinned mischievously, though Spike knew there was underlying truth to it.
“Like that would happen.”
“Just making sure, you know how terribly insecure I can be,” and she smiled brightly.
“Don’t you like Angel more than me?”
She smirked and gave him a look that said he was nuts. “Please. Spike, I don’t like anyone as well as I like you.”
“Yeah, right,” he scoffed lightly, willing her to assure him still.
“It’s very true and you know it. You’re my most favorite. The rest of the world can go to hell.”
The truth in her voice and in the expression on her face set him straight. “I feel the same way about you, luv.”
“That’s what I thought.”
********
“I have someone I want your stepfather to meet,” Angel told Buffy, following her into the kitchen while she got Spike a beer.
“Angel, I wish you wouldn’t call him that. He’s not really my stepfather and it gives me the wiggins when you call him that.”
“It makes me feel more comfortable and secure to call him that, so I think I’ll stick with it.”
Turning from the fridge with beer in hand, she raised a brow, daring him with her expression to explain that one.
“Buffy, come on. You guys live together, work together…when you’re not with me, you’re with him and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think something was going on.”
“Well, youdo know better and you do know that nothing is going on. Spike and I are…”
“You’re completely dependant on one another. Buffy, you have to clear it with him before you can do anything with me!”
“That’s not true; I just don’t like to leave him alone… Angel, he lost his wife.”
“And you lost your mom and you’re still living your life.”
“Do it,” she challenged. “Be an asshole so I can tell you to fuck off.”
Angel sighed, “I’m not trying to be. I’m sorry. Look, I just want him to make a friend—don’t you want him to make a friend?”
“Who?”
“My cousin, Winifred. Well, Fred is what I call her.”
“Oh. She the one I’ve seen in pictures?”
“Yes. She’s a nice person and--”
“And I’m not?”
Angel pointed at her. “You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?” she asked innocently.
“When you twist my words around and make be an asshole.”
Buffy smirked, “Aren’t you clever?”
“Don’t you want Spike to make a friend? A friend that will keep him company when I take you out of town for New Year’s?”
Buffy started to reply, when what he said registered. “What?”
Grinning, Angel came over to her, taking the beer bottle out of her hand and placing it on the counter. Pulling her into his arms, he nuzzled her cheek affectionately. “I have a week off. I want to take you to away to Hawaii for a few days.”
“What?” she was having a hard time wrapping her mind around this.
“Merry Christmas,” Angel said grinning down at her.
“Angel—“
“Don’t tell me you can’t because of Spike.”
“But—“
“Buffy, please!”
“I can’t just leave him like for New Years!” Buffy exclaimed and pushed Angel away. Grabbing the beer for Spike, she stalked off, Angel at her heels. He was yapping, she was ignoring— she found it easier to tune him out at times. She stopped in her tracks when she found Spike chatting up a brunette that looked somewhat familiar to her…
“Well, seems Fred and Spike have already met then,” Angel said, smiling proudly.
Buffy wanted to hit him.
Chapter Fourteen
Buffy had no right to be upset with Spike for talking to a woman. Yes, a woman. He was a widower and he was in fact alone, save for her, and it wasn’t even that she felt he was betraying her mother. It wasn’t that at all. She wished it were that.
And besides, she was the one who told him to mingle. She wanted him to make friends, wanted him to go out and live his life. Buffy understood he was still grieving, but she figured if he went out at least maybe it’d help. Course, she didn’t expect it to be a woman.
Double standard? Totally.
“Hi!” Buffy greeted the pair all too cheery, all too saccharine sweet. Spike would see right through it. In fact, he gave her a questioning look. Ignoring him, she stuck out her hand to the woman with the waist length brown hair and eyes as warm and as friendly as Angel’s. “Hi, I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m uh, seeing your cousin. I’m Buffy.”
Fred smiled, somewhat shyly and nervously, darting a glance to Angel.
“Hey Fred, glad you could make it,” Angel said happily, hugging his cousin.
Buffy rolled her eyes and Spike nudged her with his elbow.
“I was going to introduce the two of you anyway,” Angel was saying, “So it’s good to see you two talking.”
Buffy looked up at him, “Do you want me to call you ‘Emma’?”
Spike nudged her again and Buffy started to laugh.
Angel took her elbow, “Come on, Buff. Let’s go have a drink, all right?”
Buffy looked to Spike, awaiting his green light before she went. He nodded and she allowed Angel to lead her away.
********
Angel spent the rest of the party convincing her to go away with him, and her answer was the same each time: “I have to ask Spike first.”
He didn’t seem to get that holidays were a big deal when you’ve lost a loved one, and she knew he had never lost anyone close to him and she also knew that just based on her, he didn’t get it. She didn’t let anyone but Spike know that she hurt. Angel never knew what happened on Thanksgiving. He’d asked how it went, she’d said fine, and that was the end of it. In that respect, she could understand how Angel might think she was doing just fine, and yes, she was doing better, everyday was a step toward healing, but this was the holiday season, and therefore not necessarily a happy time after just losing someone you love.
Which, she found it funny. She spent five years without her mom at Christmastime, but just like Thanksgiving, it was with the idea that she could go if she chose to. And, her mom always called at least three times that day, irregardless if Buffy answered the phone or not.
It was with those thoughts plaguing her that she started to feel she needed to get out of the damn party and away from Angel and his nonstop blathering about New Year’s, about her and Spike’s dependency on one another, and how he really thought this was a good thing for them as a couple.
She started to feel as though she couldn’t breathe and when Angel tried to gather her in his arms, she shoved him away with all her might. “I don’t want you right now!” she screamed at him. Somewhere in her mind, she was aware that this was going to cause a scene and she felt embarrassed by it, slightly, the other part of her not caring. When he suggested they take a walk out onto his balcony, she told him she’d only go without him there and he told her that was not an option.
“I don’t trust you alone, Buffy,” he told her.
“What? You think I’m going to kill myself or something? Are you fucking nuts?”
She could see from his face that he thought she might be and that only served to anger her further. Pushing her way through the party, she had one intent: The Door. The Exit. A way out. And she made it, finally, running down the hall with the walls closing in around her, and someone shouting her name. She opted to use the stairs instead of the elevator and when she finally made it outside, she heaved the deepest breath she could, feeling light-headed.
“Buffy.”
And then Spike was there: Gathering her in his arms, holding her close, helping her breathe.
Maybe she was too dependent on him.
“Baby, what happened?” he murmured, brushing hair from her face as strands clung to her wet cheeks from the salt pouring from her eyes.
“I’m home and she’s not!” she managed to get out through the sobs that wracked her body.
“I know, I know…” he murmured and held her tightly.
“He thinks I’m crazy,” she whispered. “I think I am.”
“What?”
“Angel thinks I’m crazy. He thinks you’re crazy. He thinks we’re crazy together.”
“Did he say that?” the tightness in his voice indicated his defensiveness on the matter.
“He said we’re too dependent on one another.”
Silence.
Buffy pulled back, looking up at him. “Do you think we are?”
He met her eyes, gazing at her imploringly, willing her to understand. “Yes.”
That felt like a slap. She pushed at him, breaking free.
“Buffy, I won’t deny that I need you that we need each other, but I think he’s right. We are dependent on each other in a way that borders on unhealthy. At least for me.”
“How?”
“Buffy, you’re the only one I trust, the only one I count on, the only one I can talk to-”
“It’s the same for me!”
“And yet you have Angel.”
“Angel,” she spat, “He’s just--”
“Your boyfriend.”
She clamped her mouth shut.
“Buffy, I can’t bear the thought of being without you…how is that healthy?”
Her eyes welled up in tears. He was right. She hated it, but it was true. Hearing her feelings spoken from Spike’s lips finally pounded it in her thick skull.
“He wants me to go away with him,” she told him, “For a week. During New Year’s.”
Spike visibly froze. “And?”
“I…I told him I’d ask you. I don’t want to leave you alone on New Year’s, Spike--”
“Go.”
“What?”
“You have to go.”
“No, I really don’t.”
“Yes, you do. I want you to go.”
“You—you want me to?” she asked meekly.
“Yes,” he said resolutely, on a sigh, meeting her eyes.
“What will you do?”
“Fred was talking about going into L.A. for First Night. Maybe I’ll go with her.”
Buffy nodded, fighting back tears. “Okay.”
“Buffy, pet, I…” he said impassioned, “It doesn’t mean I don’t need you or want you here, it doesn’t mean that at all.”
She nodded, “I know.”
“But you were right about needing other things, too.”
“I know.” I just didn’t want to be.
Spike held out his hand. “Come on, luv. Let’s go back to the party, okay?”
She nodded, taking his hand and allowing him to lead her back inside. Just when they were about to re-enter Angel’s, Buffy turned to Spike. “Do me one favor?”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t call me ‘luv’, ‘pet’, ‘baby’ or ‘kitten’ if you plan to call her that,” and she opened the door and stepped inside, heading off to find Angel before Spike could get a word in edgewise.
December 25, 2005
I am not looking forward to today. I seem to be perpetually stuck in rewind of Christmas’ past with my mom. Of course those lead to thoughts of Christmas’ past with my dad too. When we were all big one happy family.
What a joke.
It’s weird how you can be going along one day, happy as a clam, thinking nothing can penetrate you and then something happens to make your whole fuckin’ world unravel. It changes everything, sends you spinning and catapults you into a whole new direction you never even contemplated before and has you doing and feeling things that you never thought you’d do or feel.
I think about how you never really know a person. I was watching the news last night with Spike and all it was, was murder, murder, murder. There was this woman and child that were murdered by her husband in their bed. They’d been married for six years, they had a business together and then he just off’s her and their child. He says they had money problems and he’d gotten them in debt and didn’t want to drag her into the misery of it. How fucking sick is that? This woman, this woman who had a child with her husband, had no clue that her husband, the man she loved, was capable of something like that. She had no idea that one day; he would just flip out and kill her.
Spike said that you can tell certain things about people, but you just chalk it up to them being ‘weird’, and that it’s just part of them. That they must convince themselves that they wouldn’t really do that because no one thinks that anyone is going to do something like that and especially not to them, because everyone always thinks they’re the exception to shitty things happening to them. So, the inclination that the one you’re with could murder another is felt and thought of, but it’s just put aside as a quirk. Strange. And the idea that you think you’re impervious to all the bad that could happen is, I feel now, ludicrous. Life can be so damn random.
For example: My mother probably never knew that something would set my father off enough one day that he’d drink himself into oblivion on a regular basis and sleep with whore’s. And I bet my father never knew he would one day do that too. Or did he? There must be some kind of sickness inside another that just snaps one day, facilitating a chain of events that you can’t control or comprehend.
I bet my mother never would have thought that Spike and I would be living under the same roof and caring for one another as we do. I don’t even know how to define what he and I are. But we’re something. We’re something so much that sometimes I feel it’s going to swallow me whole. And I can’t stop.
I’m sorry, Momma.
Looking around the living room, at the wrapping paper and open gift bags, sitting with Spike in front of the glittering Christmas tree, Buffy smiled. “Wow, we went all out,” she observed.
Spike grinned. “Did you really like the ring I got you, luv?”
“Of course! It’s got my birthstone and my mother’s. What’s not to love about it?”
“You don’t think it’s creepy?”
Buffy laughed. “No. I figure one day when I have kids I’ll add onto that. I want my mom’s stone, my children’s, and mine. Did you like the books I got you?”
“Naturally. Just not gonna be able to share my love of poetry with too many.”
Buffy shrugged and stood. “Oh, I’m sure Fred might appreciate it.” She couldn’t help the slight bitterness in her tone though she tried to keep it out.
“Pet--”
“Can we make cinnamon toast now? I’m starving.”
Spike sighed, “Sure luv.”
********
“What did you and my mom do on Christmas?” Buffy asked over dinner later that evening.
“Pretty much what we did today; open presents, eat, watch TV. Every once in a while we would go out to dinner.”
“Oh, that must have been nice,” Buffy said softly, picking at her food.
“You all right, love?”
She nodded. “Just thoughtful.”
“What did you do?”
“Had TV dinners or pasta and watched TV.”
“Buffy…”
“What?”
“That’s…just…”
“Sad and pathetic?” she offered. “I know it is.”
“And your Dad…?”
“He was too busy with his new wife and kids. He never invited me to come over and I never bothered to ask after the first Christmas came and passed.” She looked down at her plate. “I had too much pride.”
“I don’t think it’s that, Buffy, not in that case.”
“Then what is it then?”
Spike sighed, and settled back in his chair. “I think you were smart. You protected yourself from getting more hurt by his either blatant refusal to see you or by treating you like shit the whole time you were there. You didn’t need that shit.”
She smiled, “You’re angry.”
“Damn straight I’m fucking angry! That man has caused more pain in this family…I hate him, Buffy. I’m sorry to say it, but I do.”
“I know.”
“He hurt you…and Joyce of course.”
“Right,” Buffy agreed, nodding.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be…I get it. You know what really sticks in my craw?”
“What?”
“That no matter how much I hate him… I still love him, too.”
********
December 25, 2005
Buffy started packing after helping me do the dishes after dinner. She was running up and down and all around gathering her laundry. She’s supposed to be gone for a week, but she’s packing for more like two weeks.
I’m trying to fend off the gigantic ache I have in my chest at the thought of her leaving. I keep thinking ‘It’s only one week’, but I haven’t been without Buffy for two months now. The house is going to be so empty and huge without her. What will I do with myself? Where will I go? I feel so ridiculous thinking like this…I’m a grown man; I can survive just fine on my own. I don’t need to have Buffy here to take care of me…or is it that I take care of her in turn that I’ll miss the most? Not that she needs much tending to, but she has those moments when she’s sullen and retreats within herself, or lashes out and needs someone to talk to.
Angel doesn’t get her. And honestly, I don’t think it’s his fault. I think it’s hers. She doesn’t let him in, doesn’t tell him the things that go on in her mind and doesn’t let him see her pain. For that reason alone, I know this relationship is doomed to fail. So why does she stay? Why does she bother—for that matter, why does he?
********
Spike barely slept the night before. He’d spent the night tossing and turning, thinking of Buffy leaving, thinking of him being alone, thinking of her deciding she didn’t need him anymore.
When he heard her in the early morning getting ready to go, he got up to make coffee and breakfast for her.
She came down, lugging her suitcase, a duffel bag, and a backpack. Bursting through the kitchen, she heaved a sigh. “Damn, I have a lot of crap.”
Spike chuckled, “You’re going for a week, and you’ve packed for two.”
“No, a month. I packed for a month.”
Spike laughed, “What am I going to do with you?”
Buffy grinned, “Love me. That’s all you can do.”
His breath hitched, and more than anything he wanted to reach out, touch her face, and draw her in…
Then guilt and disgust kicked in and put a wet blanket on the rising emotion swelling inside him. Something that was considered pure was perverse in this case. It was tearing at him; eating at him…it was driving him mad.
When Angel arrived, grumbling about Buffy’s bags, Spike and Buffy stood, facing one another while Angel loaded the car with her things and just stared at each other.
Then she launched herself on him. “You sure you’ll be all right?”
“I will,” he managed to get out through the sob clogging his throat.
“I’m going to miss you. I’ll be home soon.” And she kissed him quickly. Before he could react, she ran out and he let her go, feeling he’d just lost a limb.
Chapter Sixteen
“I’m here. You all right?”
Spike smiled into the phone, relaxing now that he knew she had landed safe and sound. “I’m fine. Are you in the hotel?”
“I am. It’s pretty sweet let me tell you. It’s like an apartment. It’s got a living room, a kitchen…I could live here.”
“Don’t get any ideas.”
Buffy laughed, “I won’t. What are you doing?”
“I was reading with the TV on.”
“What are you doing later?”
“I don’t know. Kind of flying by the seat of my pants.”
“Angel is already driving me nuts. Think I’d get into a lot of trouble if I drown in him in the ocean?”
Spike laughed, “Yeah, I think so. Why is he driving you nuts?”
“He’s just being…him.”
“Buffy…what are you doing with him?”
“Oh, no you don’t. No deep talks now, buddy boy! Listen, I gotta go. He wants to eat,” she sighed with great exaggeration, “Such a simple man. I will call you tonight. Love you!”
The ‘love you’ thing was a first. Spike decided he liked it.
********
December 29, 2005
All right, so this being alone thing is not that bad. It’s not great, mind you, but it’s not bad. I’ve kept busy. I’ve gone to work and all, and when I’m done, I come home and do some things around the house that I keep saying I’m meaning to do but never do. So far, I’ve washed the windows, weeded the garden, mowed the lawn and started cleaning out the basement.
Fred has called a few times. I don’t call her she calls me. We have plans tomorrow night for dinner and a movie. I suppose in certain circles this is considered a date, but I don’t think of it as one. I think of it as … hanging out. Making a new friend. I can’t consider it dating because…because I just can’t. I can’t because of Buffy, which leads me to Joyce, and then back to Buffy and Christ, I do think too much.
Buffy has called; informing me of her activities and making sure I’m all right. I think when I told her I was finding things to do she was a bit put out by it. Now she knows how I have felt when she goes out with Angel. It’s sick isn’t it? It is. It really is. And now that I seem to be doing well enough on my own, and now that I know I am not wallowing in grief when made to be alone, I feel that my need for Buffy is changing to something greater. Something that is going to bury me alive.
I’m drowning in her.
********
December 31, 2005
Angel and I broke up. I ended it, though he’d probably say he was the one that did it. He doesn’t get me and he thinks he does and it just grates on me. Why have I stayed with him? Spike asked me that and I had no answer for him. I have the answer now, I have had it, but I just felt like such a bitch for thinking it.
I kept him around because he passed the time, because he amused me, because he was so simple and I could easily confuse and bewilder him. I liked that I was a puzzle he tried to figure out but failed to do so. And that was my fault. I only gave him a piece here and a piece there. The only one that’s gotten all of me is Spike.
Angel told me I was in love with Spike, and that Spike was in love with me. He accused me of secretly harboring desire for my dead mother’s husband and told me I was sick and demented. I don’t even know how it started…
Oh yeah. I wanted to call Spike to see how he was. Angel started on one of his diatribes about how I was dependent on him and I should let him be and this was our vacation together and blah, blah, blah. I got sick of hearing him and told him to shut the fuck up and that as per usual, he didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about. And that made him snap and that’s when the accusations started.
I broke up with him then. Then he said something really cheesy like “don’t bother cause I’m breaking up with you!” I told him “You’re an idiot.” I left him at the beach we were at and told him I’d find my own way back to the hotel. Well, he hightailed it out of there soon after, tearing off in his rented car and checking himself out of the hotel before I could get there and just leaving me a ticket home.
I was going to call Spike and tell him, say, “You won’t believe what just happened”, but I couldn’t. That was not an area I could get into with Spike. He’s in love with my mother still, and yeah, we are dependent on each other – though it never bothered me the way it has apparently bothered Spike which is why he told me to go on this goddamn trip to begin with.
It’s gotten me thinking of the past two months: Of me, Spike, and our living together-- the whole thing. Angel was right. Or rather, is right. The way I feel. I think he’s right. Funny. I go from “he is right” to “I think he’s right”. Because it’s wrong. It’s wrong and I’ve done so well and at denying it all this time. I have. I really have. I haven’t really even written about it or thought it and if it does pop in my head, I shove it out.
And now I’m crying and I’m confused and my instinct is to call Spike and make him tell me that it’s all right…but I can’t share this. It’s sick and it’s wrong and he’d tell me that much if I told him. I couldn’t bear him telling me it’s sick and it’s wrong…or just that he couldn’t even think of me that way because I’m his stepdaughter and he still loves my mother…my mother. God, Mom, I’m so fucking sorry for this! I’m so sorry, God, please forgive me.
********
“How was your New Year’s? What did you do? I tried calling,” Buffy said on New Year’s Day as soon as Spike picked up the phone.
“Hi, luv. I went to L.A. with Fred. Couldn’t hear my phone at all and then it died on me.”
“Did you have fun?”
“I did. We just sort of hung around the city, checking stuff out. What have you been up to?”
“Angel and I broke up.”
“What?””
“You sound angry. Why are you angry? I thought you’d be happy to know I wasn’t with the ‘ponce’ anymore.”
“Pet, I just don’t like knowing you’re hurt. And that you spent New Year’s Eve alone.”
She snorted, “I’m not hurt. I’m fine. I’m a trooper remember? I’ve been through much worse than Angel could ever do to me.”
“You never really cared for him, have you?”
“Gee, ya think?”
“No need to be cheeky luv.”
“Sorry.”
“Now I know you’re upset if you’re apologizing.”
Buffy took a deep breath. “Spike.”
“What, luv?”
“I’m…I’m gonna stay here a while longer I think.”
Silence, then, “What do you mean?” he whispered.
“I mean, I think I’m gonna take some time here and not come home tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“I…I think I need to.”
“Buffy, I want you to come home.”
“I know and I do want to …sort of…but I think I need to take a bit of time for myself.”
“Is it possible that you cared for Angel more than you let on, Buffy?”
“No…really not. He was just…Passing Time Boy.”
“Then…why?”
“Spike, please. I can’t talk about it right now.” And now she was starting to cry. I want you to love me! And you can’t and I can’t, and I don’t know how to make these feelings stop. I just want them to stop so I won’t feel so goddamn bad….
“I miss you,” he whispered.
“I won’t be long.”
“Do you promise?”
“I promise.”
Seventeen-Eighteen by Brat
January 5, 2005
I’ve been here four days longer than I’m supposed to. I’m using the money I have squirreled away in my bank account, which after what I got from Spike and my mom, is enough to sustain me for quite some time. Not that I plan to use all of it. I am thinking…
I’m thinking of heading toward Boston. For what, I’m not sure. Closure maybe. I feel like I need to face my father one last time. I can’t let him go on thinking he got the best of me. I can’t let him go on thinking he succeeded in getting rid of me. I feel like all these things are starting to come to a head now and I just need to start somewhere. God knows I can’t face Spike right now. Maybe I wasn’t meant to settle there. Maybe I was meant to work some shit out with him and then move on to find my own life. I don’t know. I don’t know where I belong; I only know where I want to belong and where I felt like I could belong. But as per usual, I was wrong and what I wanted was wrong. I hate that word. Wrong. It’s right up there with the word “No.”
And I can’t be around Spike while he’s doing whatever with Fred. I just can’t bring myself to do it. I don’t do jealousy well. At all. It’s best for him. It’s best for me.
I hate my life.
“When are you coming home?” Spike demanded.
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“That I don’t know.”
“Pet, it’s time now, huh? Don’t you think it’s time to come home?”
“No, it’s not time yet. What have you been up to?”
He sighed heavily, raking a hand through his hair. She really didn’t get how desperate he was feeling at that moment in time did she? “I’ve been working, reading, watching TV, not doing all that much really.”
“What about Fred? Have you seen her?”
“Here and there.”
“Well, why don’t you invite her over and have dinner or something?”
“Buffy… What are you doing?”
“I’m talking to you.”
“Don’t play games with me like you did with Angel,” he hissed.
“Spike--”
“When are you fucking coming home!” he shouted then, frustrated.
“I don’t know I’m going to Boston!”
“What?”
“I’ve decided to go to Boston.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think?”
“To see your father.”
“Give the boy a medal,” Buffy remarked dryly.
“Why?”
“I just feel I have to.”
“No, you don’t have to. Why are you going to put yourself through that Buffy?”
“Maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment . . . I just feel like I have to. Just one last time try and talk with him. See him. If he treats me like shit again, I’ll know.”
“Buffy…listen, all right? You want to go, fine, but let me come with you so you don’t have to do it alone.”
“That’s sweet, but no. I have to do this on my own.”
“Why?” he asked incredulously.
“I don’t know.”
“Would you stop fucking saying ‘I don’t know’?”
“Spike,” she sighed heavily. “You ever take a journey? A journey with yourself?”
“I don’t…I guess. I feel like I have been on one already.”
“Well, this is my journey, and maybe yours. You said yourself we were too dependent on each other.”
“I wish I’d never said it,” he muttered.
“And you were right. Well, this is a journey I have to take and I have to do it on my own so I can get some clarity…I don’t know what’s going to happen when I get to Boston and see him. Most likely nothing, but I have to do it. Alone.”
“That’s what this is about? You having done things for so long on your own and now that it’s been brought to your attention that you might need someone there, you don’t want to admit it and you don’t want any part of it.” He was angry and bitter and he didn’t care anymore.
“No, that’s not it at all. You were the one that told me to go in the first place so don’t start making this out to be my fault!”
“So, what? You’re punishing me now?”
“No! Spike, I just need some time to myself to see him and get some closure and I need to do it alone. I will be back. I promised you I would be and I will.”
“Yeah, next month,” he muttered. “What about your job? You have a job here, remember?”
“It was only temporary. Fire me if you see fit.”
“You’re irresponsible.”
Buffy snorted. “Funny, I don’t see it that way. When I lived in Boston, I never missed a day. I couldn’t afford to.”
“Then what do you call what you’re doing now?”
“Taking care of unfinished business that comes before my job right now, Spike. Just think—if I hadn’t come home to bury my mother and skip out on my job in Boston, you never would have been graced with my presence.”
“Buffy, honestly--”
“I have to go now.”
“Where? Where do you have go now?”
“I’m at the airport now. I’m boarding my plane. I’ll call you when I arrive if it’s not too late your time.”
“Call me no matter—“ Dial tone. “What.” With a roar of anger, Spike flung his phone across the room and it shattered.
*********
Being back in Boston was strange to Buffy. One part of her felt as though she were home in some respect, and the other part felt out of place, however, that pretty much defined her entire stay in Boston for those five years. Home, and yet, not. She felt as though since her parents had split, she had been on a constant search for where she felt completely at home. The closest she’d come to it was in Sunnydale. With Spike. With him she could be who she was: crazy, defiant, stubborn, nurturing, loving and caring. She could be all the things inside her that ached to be free and let them out once in a while, but only once in a while, for she feared that given free reign, they’d run amuck. With Spike she let those things out of their cages more and more frequently, feeling she had a jumping off point, and a safe place to land with him.
It was those things that made her care for him more than she should. Unaccustomed to using the dirty “L” word when it was not in relation to family, it felt even foreign in her mind. She felt a whole lot of it inside her, ready to spew forth and cover Spike like a warm security blanket that he’d always want and need, but would never go without. When the dam burst, she feared it would take them both under with her and there would be no return from it. Buffy could be a rather giving and passionate spirit when she felt there was someone deserving of it. So far, it had been Mr. Gordo, her one time sleep companion in the shape of stuffed pig, and now, Spike.
Which brought her to her current situation: Her father. The seeing of, and the being seen part of her trip.
Whatever the outcome was, she wondered if it’d be as life-changing as these sorts of things were supposed to be, or if she would leave, none the worse for wear, feeling as though she’d said goodbye to an old friend that she’d just caught up with, reminisced over old times, healed a few wounds left, only to think fondly back on it, and smile with only a pin prick of sadness to follow her musings.
The winters in Boston were always bitter and Buffy cursed the fact that she hadn’t thought through the weather conditions better. Thankfully, she’d arrived just before the shops were to close, and so jet-lagged and weather beaten, she purchased herself a couple pairs of jeans, socks, two sweaters, a winter coat, a hat, gloves and a scarf. Thankfully, she had at least sneakers to keep her feet warm. Tossing her light cardigan that did nothing to shield her from the cold in her suitcase; Buffy hailed a cab and had it take her to the Sheraton, the closest hotel she knew of near her father’s penthouse.
She’d check in, call Spike, try to get some sleep and tomorrow, she would see her dear old Dad.
Chapter Eighteen
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“You sound hoarse,” Buffy observed.
Spike sighed, “Do I?”
“Mmm…and rather annoyed.”
“Where are you?”
“In a hotel. Why is your cell not working?”
“I threw it. What hotel?”
“Sheraton, right in the heart of the city. What’d you throw it for?”
“You pissed me off with your refusal to come home.”
“Oh.”
“Have you seen him?”
“Not yet. I figure I need a full night’s rest to do that. My body is all out of whack now; I don’t even know what the hell time it’s on anymore.”
“Buffy, I’m worried about you.” He sounded so very weary.
“Do I exhaust you?”
“At times you most definitely try me. Why do you ask?”
“Because you sound tried.”
“What do you want me to say? You traipse off to Boston after opting to not come home and you don’t even want me to be there with you when you face your father. Have you learned nothing Buffy? You are not alone. Not anymore.”
“I know,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Right now I’m thinking damn you for making me cry.”
“Let me come out there. Let me be there with you.”
“So I can introduce you as the man that my mother married over him? I don’t think so.”
“You could just introduce me as Spike. Even William if you prefer.”
“And you’re what to me?”
“Your boyfriend.”
Buffy laughed--a sort of hysterical kind of laugh that stopped just as abruptly as it started. “I don’t think so.”
“Your friend then. It’s not like you have to define it! Are you …ashamed of me?”
“What? No! Spike, God, why are you making this about you? It has nothing to do with you! This is about me and my Dad and my head.”
“Your head?”
“Yes. I need to think and get my head on straight and I can’t do that when you’re with me.”
“I make you lose your head?” he sounded almost hopeful by the thought.
“Yes. You do.”
“You make me lose mine, too,” Spike said quietly.
“Like my mom did?”
“Buffy--”
“I have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow,” she said, choking back a sob and feeling incredibly guilty and ridiculous for even asking that question. How stupid was she? She truly was a glutton for punishment!
Shutting her phone off as soon as she hung up, Buffy sobbed for all the things she could never have, but so desperately wanted—her mom, her father’s love, Spike, and a life full of things she could simply be content with having without always feeling like she had her nose pressed to a glass window, always wanting what was just out of reach.
*********
January 7, 2006
The girl is thickheaded, that’s all there is to it. Why won’t she listen to me? Why does she always insist on doing things her way? She leaves no room for other options. It’s bad for her to be there alone to face her father and no, she doesn’t have to do it alone. Hank is a bastard, he’s going to hurt her and I’m not going to be there to pick her up when she falls.
Or am I just thinking she’ll need to be picked up, but maybe she really doesn’t need to be picked up. She is a strong girl. She was right in having been through a lot, and I have a feeling she’s about to go through a lot more.
I’m recognizing in me the need to be needed. I want to help her. I want to …I want to do something that I can’t do. I want her to need me as I need her. If she needs me, then she won’t leave me. How sad is that?
Christ, I feel like I’m losing my fucking head! Maybe she’s right. Maybe this is what we both need. Time and distance from each other, so then why the fucking hell do I feel nuttier the longer she’s gone?
I know why. I know. Like I said if she decides she doesn’t need me…or not even that. If she doesn’t want to come back, if she’s grown tired of me, or if she thinks she doesn’t want or need to be around the guy that married her mother anymore…what if she meets someone else? What if she meets them and they convince her to stay with them …then what? She promises to call, to write, to email and promises to visit except years go by and she doesn’t…she fades from my life and I’m left here, pining.
And I never felt this way with Joyce. Never. Never felt this all consuming passion and need where she was concerned. I felt safe and secure and loved, but not the same. Not with the intensity added onto it like I do with Buffy. Joyce never challenged me. Buffy challenges me. She forces me to see things in different ways. She makes me become the nurturer instead of the nuturee – Christ, is that a word? And she’s gotten me back into literature too. Well, I mean, I did get the books and all, but she reads like a demon too. She asks me questions, she makes me think, and she pushes me. With her I’m someone. I’m a man. I’m learning who I am everyday, for everyday she forces me to learn a different facet of myself.
Like right now, I’m learning I have no patience.
I’m also learning what it means to have guilt in spades. Here I am with all these feelings that I never had for my wife. Aren’t you supposed to marry the person you have these feelings for?
********
“You’re not here with me.”
Spike looked up from the dinner he wasn’t eating, but poking at. He smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, Fred.”
“You miss Buffy,” she said simply and sat back in the black vinyl booth, pushing her plate aside. They’d gone out to dinner to a little Italian Bistro that Fred had wanted to try, and considering all he was going to do was mope home alone, he figured what the hell?
Spike said nothing for a long time, contemplating how to tell the girl he was with that she was right, he was thinking of another. “I’m sorry, Fred,” he said finally. Smooth Spike, real smooth, he thought.
“Why are you sorry?”
“Because we’re…and you’re…” he sat back. “Now I’m not sure anymore.”
Fred smiled. “Look, I’ll be honest with you. I like you. I think you’re a good man, but I’m not looking for a relationship right now and I kind of knew already that you weren’t ‘available’.”
“Oh?” he asked curiously, wondering if his heart had been on his sleeve the whole time.
“Well, with your wife and all…” she looked away, blushing, “I’m sorry, that was rude of me.”
He shrugged, “Not really. Most wouldn’t bother even hanging around someone like me.”
“Buffy does.”
“Buffy is my wife’s—late wife’s—daughter. Buffy had nowhere else to go.”
“And she realized she needed you, and that you needed her.”
Spike stared at Fred, bewildered.
Fred laughed, “Relax, Spike. I’m a psychologist, its part of my job to read people. It’s hard to not have my professional training spill into my personal life.”
“Should have known better than to befriend a shrink,” Spike grinned. “So, what’s your prognosis of me?”
“I think you’re human.”
“So, pretty bad huh?”
“Why don’t you tell me a little about your relationship before Buffy came home?”
“You sure you want that? I’m not going to pay you for this appraisal of me,” he joked nervously.
“This one is on the house,” Fred smiled. “I’m just your friend that happens to be a professional ‘shrink’.”
“Sorry about that,” Spike said sheepishly.
“Eh, don’t worry about it. Look, I think you need someone to talk to that isn’t Buffy. Am I right?”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“So, why don’t you start from the beginning? Start with Joyce.”
“Well…when I met Joyce, I had just lost my parents and I was a directionless sod…”
January 8, 2005
I love her.
I love Buffy.
I’m in love with Buffy.
There, I said. To my journal, granted, but Fred suggested I try it. Look at it on paper; see how it makes me feel. She is right. There is a difference between thinking it and then saying it, or rather, writing it. I couldn’t exactly say it to her. It didn’t feel right, but she knew. She guessed. I always have worn my heart on my sleeve.
Looking at it, the words “I’m in love with Buffy” seems strange. Because it’s more real now that I can see it. Writing it down gives it proof, makes it real, makes it have substance. Gives it wings.
My heart is racing…I do feel guilt. I feel I’m betraying Joyce. Saying “I love Buffy” is much different than saying “I’m in love with my dead wife’s daughter.” Such a different connotation. One says, “How nice!” the other says, “Sick bastard!”
But how can it be sick? She’s only eight years younger than I am, she hadn’t been living with us or even remotely close and . . . yeah, that’s where the “It’s not sick” brigade ends. The fact of the matter is she’s still my dead wife’s daughter. The fact is we’re both still grieving…but in the same way? I do miss her; she was my wife after all, but… I’m not grieving our marriage the way I was at first. I think it’s moved into something else. I’m grieving that person I was with her.
God, I hate this. I hate thinking these things. But I suppose this is what Buffy would call “taking a journey with yourself”. So, let’s go on a journey, self.
Fact: I did love Joyce. She was what I needed at the time. She gave me love and direction and care. She was a wonderful woman that I will never forget and not because she led me to Buffy. But because of whom she was. She taught me a lot, but I had to go further.
And now I am.
Fact: I might have never let go of Joyce. I would have stayed married to her, most likely, but I know, at least I think I know that I would have wondered if there were more for me.
I have a secret: I already was starting to wonder. Was there more for more in the world? Was I just content or was I happy? How much longer would I stay content? I’m guessing when you start questioning your contentedness that means it’s on its way out. It’s much more comfortable to stay the person who never asks questions and is completely content with life than to be thrust back in the world and have to deal with not only the world, but yourself.
I wasn’t thinking of straying though I wondered if there was someone perhaps that I was meant for – if there was someone that shared more of my interests.
Joyce and I got along well enough, but…but it was more that she took care of me. She was more a mother to me than a wife. God, that sounds so sick, doesn’t it? But I didn’t realize it then. I didn’t know!
Buffy doesn’t take care of me like that, but she does take care of me, and I take care of her. We look out for each other, support one another. She’s my best friend. She challenges me in ways that Joyce never did.
Joyce was what I needed then, Buffy is what I need forever.
I think that’s all I can do for today.
Buffy was nervous to see her father. She had no reason to be, but she was nonetheless. He was, after all, the proverbial asshole in this scenario and he should feel as such, but she knew he wouldn’t. Buffy always had a hard time understanding the motives of complete and utter assholes. They acted almost like sociopaths with having no remorse. It was amazing to her and man, it was a skill she wished she could perfect. Instead, things ate at her like a flesh eating disease.
Walking down the hall to his penthouse, she began to shake a bit, and her heart began to race. What was the outcome of this visit going to be? She could guess, but…she was so hoping for the alternative. She didn’t think the alternative – him being happy to see her—would happen, but goddammit she hadn’t learned how to not get her hopes up.
Rapping on the door, she held her breath.
The door opened and there stood Hank’s new wife, Judith. The blonde woman’s gray eyes widened. “Buffy!”
“Hi,” Buffy said, still not breathing properly.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was in the area and figured I’d come and see everyone,” she jammed her hands in her pockets. This had to be the strangest conversation ever. Judith had to know about that late night phone call, not only that, the woman knew what a jackass her father was to her; she was just too chicken shit to say boo to him. Yet here she was, standing before her “stepmother” acting as if she’d been on vacation (well, she sorta had been), and was back to just say “Hi!”
“He’s not here…he had a check up…why don’t you come in?”
Buffy nodded slowly, feeling strange about the whole thing, but figuring, hell, she’d come this far… why the hell not go further?
“I’m so sorry about your Mom, Buffy,” Judith said softly.
Buffy took a deep breath and nodded, smiling, “Thanks.”
“And I’m sorry that we weren’t…”
“Don’t worry about it,” Buffy said, shrugging it off. It wasn’t exactly a shrug-offable thing and yet she was doing it. Stepping inside, Buffy prepared herself to enter a world that she never belonged to and wasn’t sure anymore that she necessarily wanted to belong to anymore.
*******
The thing that always struck Buffy about Judith was her perpetual positive spin on everything. She was like a 50’s housewife that never said a word against her husband, even if she happened to disagree with his actions, and raised her kids –two preteen girls –to be the same way. They were bouncy and happy—full of sugary sweetness.
She marveled that her father had managed to elbow his way into such a family. She figured that Judith had already been strong-armed by one husband and so didn’t manage to see that she was being strong-armed in the next one. She was used to it and just accepted things the way they were.
She flitted around the apartment while Buffy waited for her father to arrive home, chirping like a bird about this and that, and when her stepsisters came home (Eveline and Madeline), they chirped around her as well – sharing success stories from their classes in middle school, their outlook on attending the high school in the fall and their hope to maybe take a college course or two while there as well. They were honor students naturally, incredibly smart and unnaturally progressive for their age. At least Buffy thought they were unnaturally progressive. It could be that she was just jealous. She’d done well in school, but she was never ahead of her class—she wasn’t naturally smart, she had to work at her education, it didn’t come to her like it did to Eveline and Madeline-- the bookworms with matching glasses, gangly limbs and stringy long brown hair. They might as well have been twins. She remembered often feeling like Debbie Downer when she’d arrive on the scene with them.
“We saved you the Sour Patch Kids from trick-or-treating!” Eveline burst out with much excitement and tore off to her bedroom to get them apparently.
Madeline wrinkled her nose. “Why do you like them?” she asked.
Buffy smiled. “Because they’re just like me.”
“How?”
“Sugary on the outside, and sour on the inside,” and Buffy fought the urge to giggle at both Madeline’s bewildered look and Judith’s disapproving one.
*********
“So, what happened when you saw him, pet?” Spike asked later that evening while he relaxed in his favorite lounger and Buffy relaxed in her hotel bed.
“First, let me tell you that Judith, my father’s new wife, has to be a pod person. No one can be that perpetually happy all the time. It’s nauseating! She’s like a Stepford Wife. I used to think that something was wrong with me when I hung around her. I mean, she has a positive spin on everything and I thought ‘Damn, I’m just a Negative Nilly’, but you know what? I’m not Negative Nilly, I’m just realistic. And she is not. I’m telling you Spike; she’s like Ted Kazinski in the making. She’s got notebooks somewhere of intrinsically plotted murders of those around her. She has to be a fucking loon underneath that saccharine sweet exterior. Either that, or someone is just gonna take her out one day. I’m convinced of this.”
Spike couldn’t stop laughing. “Oh, kitten, you do make me laugh.”
“Thanks,” and she smiled into the phone.
“So, how’d it go with your Dad?”
“Nothing big at all. I kind of guessed that. He didn’t really talk much…just sort of nodded at me acknowledging my existence and asked how I was. Judith invited me for dinner and I got the sense he didn’t really like that. I amused myself by swearing every once in a while and getting a death glare from her and my dad and giggles from Eveline and Madeline.”
“Such a bad girl,” Spike said fondly.
“Well, I figure if I don’t make myself laugh, I’ll cry. Tragedy and comedy are linked closely, that’s what you told me, right?”
“Right.”
“So, I can look at this as a tragedy if I wanted to, but why bother? I’ll just dig in my heels and make him talk to me. I’ll see if I can gain amusement from it and make him crack. I figure my sense of humor about it is what’s going to save my life.”
Spike sighed heavily. “Pet, I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t be. I’m fine.”
Famous last words, they both thought.
Chapter Twenty
“You what?” Buffy felt as though the man who’d helped create her had just punched her in the gut.
“I have cancer. Prostate cancer to be exact. I just found out yesterday,” Hank told her the next evening after an awkward dinner in which Buffy had gotten the impression yet again that she was not welcome. After that fun dinner, Hank had requested to have some alone time to talk with her. She thought maybe they’d have a real talk now, the kind where he apologized and she accepted with some hesitation--only after he promised to be a better father.
“Dad, God, I’m sorry--”
“I’m going to be fine,” he waved her off. “I want you to go back to Sunnydale, Buffy. Get yourself away from this. You don’t need it.”
“Dad, I’ll stay here. I’ll get another job and find a place to live so I can help out and-”
Hank shook his head. “No, Buffy. You have to go. You’re a twenty-five year old woman that needs to live her life, not hang around and have to deal with things like this.”
“Dad, I wasn’t around for Mom when she was sick and I want to be here for you--”
“Buffy, I said no!” Hank shouted, startling her. “Go home.”
Buffy stood stock-still. This was it. The moment she’d been waiting for. The moment of truth, the moment that was going to change her whole world – again.
“You don’t want me to stay not because of me, but because of you. Because it’d be easier for you,” Buffy said quietly.
Hank said nothing, just turned from her.
“Why do you hate me, Dad? What did I do? Is it because of Mom? Is it because I failed you? Is it because she married someone else?”
Still he said nothing, and that is when Buffy snapped.
“Why do you hate me?” she screamed at his back. “Why do you hate your flesh and blood? What the fuck did I ever do to you? Why do you love the kids that aren’t yours and hate the one that is?” She was screaming and crying, ranting and raving so much—repeating over and over her questions, that she barely noticed Judith come and pull her out, taking her not only out of the room, but out of her father’s life.
Standing with teeth chattering, Buffy stared at Judith who stood with her on the sidewalk just outside the building. How had that happened so quickly?
“Go home, Buffy. Just leave him, okay? Just leave him and don’t come back…spare yourself the pain,” Judith was saying to her, but Buffy didn’t comprehend what the woman was saying beyond ‘Leave’. Her father always wanted her to fucking leave! And the ones that wanted her to stay were the ones she left.
The blackness came then and surrounded her, shrouding her mind and her thoughts…the demon inside her that had lain dormant was back with a vengeance and all Buffy wanted to do was scream until the Earth shook.
*********
“Baby, what happened?”
Buffy was sobbing into the phone, Spike was barely able to understand her, but he’d managed to decipher that she was back in her hotel room and that things had not gone well with Hank.
“He has cancer…he doesn’t want me here. He told me to go home and then…then J-Judith came and pulled me out of there, told me to go… why does he hate me, Spike? Why?” She sounded like a lost little girl and he had to guess that at that point in time, she was. There was nothing more he wanted to do than gather her in his arms and hold her. No matter how many times she tried in her life, it was never good enough and the little girl that loved her Daddy didn’t understand it, and because of that, the grown woman she was now didn’t understand it and so desperately needed to. It angered Spike that Hank could do that to her. Angered him beyond reason.
“He’s a bastard,” he swore viciously. “And he doesn’t deserve you.”
“You know…that’s what I keep telling myself but I’m beginning to wonder about that. I mean, if I’m such a great prize wouldn’t that make him want me around? Wouldn’t that make him love me? What does it take, Spike? What does it take for him to love me? I am his flesh and blood!”
“Buffy, honey, you are a great prize. He’s just so damn weak and pathetic—you shine baby. You’re the sun and he’s just dirt--”
“Maybe I shouldn’t shine then.”
“Buffy--”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so tired…”
She sounded so despondent and suddenly so far away – she did not sound like herself and it wasn’t the tears, it wasn’t the hurt -- something was off with her and it was frightening him.
“I think I need some sleep,” she said wearily.
“How about coming home, Buffy?”
“No… not now…”
“Why?”
“Because I’m so fucking tired. I can’t…I can barely keep my eyes open. My limbs feel so heavy. I feel like a dead weight.”
“Buffy, come home tomorrow.”
“We’ll see.”
“Buffy--”
His plea fell on deaf ears for she’d hung up.
********
Buffy stared up at the ceiling, her phone off and charging, the blinds shut in her hotel room, the room smelling almost moldy and dank. She needed air; she needed sun. Except the thought of moving from the bed was too much to even contemplate. It was positively exhausting to think about. All she wanted to do was stare up at the ceiling and try to make patterns and images out of the cracks and marks on it. Though, even that was proving to be tiring.
She felt as if she’d spent months as an insomniac and in a flash, the add up of nights spent not sleeping had caught up with her and her body was demanding its rest. Her mind was demanding reprieve. Of all the things she had cared about, suddenly she cared for nothing except to gain that rest she so desperately needed.
I’ve done it, haven’t I? I’m nuts. When simple things like getting up and going out for food become mountains I have to climb, then I must be at the break. I feel it, I feel it closing in around me...I need…and I can’t have…I am alone.
*********
Spike was losing his patience. He’d called a thousand times and each time had gotten her voice mail. He was worried about her and was torn between catching a flight out to find her or just waiting to hear from her. Knowing his impulsive girl, she could be on her way at that moment.
Pacing in the kitchen and scratching his imaginary beard, he tried not to look at the phone. A watched phone never rings.
Turning to look out the kitchen window, he took a deep Buddha breath and shut his eyes. He was tense all over and this deep breathing thing was not helping the way Fred said it would.
Then his phone rang and he lunged for it. “Buffy?”
“Fred.”
“Oh.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“No, I’m sorry, that was rude of me,” he shook his head, running a hand through his hair.
“How are you?”
“Stressed.”
“From the other night?”
“No, Buffy she’s upset…her father strikes again!”
“What happened?”
“He has cancer and he just told her last night. Then, he told her to go home. He shoved her out of his life again.”
“That poor girl.”
“So if I murdered him and pleaded insanity, would you testify as my psychologist in court?”
Fred laughed, “Of course.”
“I’m worried about her Fred.”
“I know you are, Spike. You love her; it’s only natural that you would worry. However, give her some breathing room right now. Let her know that you are there, but don’t smother her. That’s not what she needs.”
“Doesn’t she need the opposite of what he gave her? Love? Support? A little bit of smothering?”
“Let her come to you. Oftentimes when we push too hard with the ones we love, they run the other way.”
“Tell me again that it’s okay?”
“It’s not wrong of you to love her, Spike.”
“I can’t stop feeling guilty,” Spike whispered, his eyes shutting tight.
“Like I told you last night, it doesn’t mean that your marriage was a sham, Spike. Joyce was what you needed at the time and you did love her in your own way, but Buffy--”
“Buffy consumes my whole being,” he whispered. “She’s everything.”
*********
Sitting on some steps leading up to some bank, Buffy plopped herself down with a Coke and Hamburger from McDonalds. She was still exhausted. It’d taken everything for her to get out of the hotel. When she couldn’t find a clean pair of socks, she started to cry. Then when she couldn’t find her hotel keys, she started to cry. All she seemed to be able to do was sleep, cry, and stare off into space.
Focusing in across the street at a truck with large steel tubes in the back, she pondered what it must be like for the car behind that truck. Was it freaky? She imagined it’d be freaky. What if one of those tubes fell loose? What if it went slamming into the car and right through the windshield? It’d sever their heads.
That’s be a horrible way to die. Though…would you even feel it? Maybe it’d be a quick and painless way to die? What about a gun to the head? Would that hurt or would it be so quick, you wouldn’t feel a thing? You just put that thing to your head…or, maybe in your mouth. Would I be able to put a gun in my mouth? The cold metal…my lips wrapped around it, my finger on the trigger…It’s probably all in the anticipation. Once the trigger was pulled, it’d be so easy. Pull, Bam, done. Dead. Forever. I wouldn’t be able to hang myself and slitting my wrists is out of the question…that’d involve pain, I’m sure. What about pills? When I got my wisdom teeth out those drugs knocked me out…that’d be sweet. I’d just go to sleep and not wake up. I wonder if aspirin would do it or maybe sleeping pills? And what if I were found? Christ, that’d suck. Just one more thing I’d have failed at! I’d have a do-over if I died. If I killed myself, I’d have a do-over just like Spike and I had a do-over Thanksgiving. I could come back and start over with a new life. Make better choices, do the right things…I could do it. I could do it…
**********
“I need to take a break,” Buffy stated simply to the skinny nurse with tortoise shell glasses.
“We all need a break now and then, honey,” the nurse drawled, clearly unimpressed.
“Well, if I don’t get a break, I’m not sure exactly what it is I’ll do.” Buffy was losing her patience. She thought she was going to fucking die here!
“What are you saying exactly?” and the woman peered over her glasses at her.
“I think you can guess from just that. I don’t know what I’ll do. If you want specifics: I don’t know what I’ll do to myself.” Or what harm will befall me now that I’m in fact afraid to die.
That was all it took for Buffy to check into the local mental health clinic in Boston. Her thoughts of suicide had frightened her, the feeling that she could actually do it had scared her. She didn’t want to die, not really, but it seemed so plausible…and that’s when she became frightened that she was going to die. It would be the irony of her life to decide she didn’t want to off herself, and then end up being offed. She envisioned herself getting hit by a car, shot, murdered…she felt impending doom and it was suffocating her.
She felt the break happen in her mind the night before, from which carrying on as she had been had really just been leading up to this moment—the perfect moment in which she would feel a collapse of mind and spirit. Where the life would be drained from her and all her fighting and pushing through the blackness that threatened to take her over, finally covered her, encased her in its arms and carried her away in its sickness. It saw its window and it infiltrated.
There were of course the tears to contend with that belied the numbness that settled around her being. Once she started, she could not stop.
So, now, here she was in a mental health facility – not put quite on severe watch, but on moderate watch, and everything had been taken from her – anything potentially hazardous to her health and could be used to off herself, such as the small mirror in her purse for she could break the mirror and slash her wrists.
“I really don’t want to die,” she told the nurse that rummaged through her things. “I want to live. I just feel that I could die if I don’t get some fucking rest.”
The nurse said nothing and Buffy flipped her off when she left her room. Looking over at the empty bed next to her, Buffy wondered if she’d find herself with a roommate before the night was over.
The room iteself was fascinating to her. Everything was bolted down to the floor. And the windows had bars on them. She laughed at that. The TV in the too-white room was so far up in the wall she couldn’t reach it. She knew she had a remote, but she felt if she could reach the TV and its dials, she would have accomplished something. But, no.
Instead, she lay down; rolling over so that her back was to the door, effectively shutting out the world. Curling herself in a ball, Buffy stared at the opposing wall and let the tears that threatened to come just hang in the balance of either drying up or falling until her vision blurred from them.
What is wrong with me? she thought. who checks themselves into a mental health facility? Who convinces themselves they’re going to die like that? I’m going to be fine and I don’t need to check myself in to a fucking mental hospital because I tweaked myself out.
Except here, she felt she could say “I’m crazy” and it was okay. It was normal. Out there, in the big bad world, it wasn’t. She could tell Spike she was crazy until she was blue in the face and he wouldn’t get it. He’d laugh. Or he’d ask if she wanted to talk and what could she say? “I think I’m in love with you and I can’t be. So can you be a little less you so I can be a little more me?”
Spike being Spike made it difficult for her to shut off her feelings for him; Spike being Spike made her lose her head. Spike being Spike made her feel like a dirty girl when she thought of him holding her, kissing her and touching her. Wouldn’t he be surprised to learn that she’d often thought of him while fucking Angel?
Then there was her father. And her mother. And death. Death surrounded her. From the death of her family, to the death of the lies sold as truths, to the death of her mother, to the death of her father’s health that was now taken over by a disease, and the death of her rational facilities, Buffy felt death all around her.
Death was her art.
********
“I need to call my stepfather,” Buffy told the nurse when she came back to check on her. She hadn’t moved much, just rolled over to the other side and played the game of: “Who was the whack job that was in that bed?” with the still empty bed opposing her. She’d tried to play the game of who was in her own bed except it frightened her. What if their illness was attached to that bed and she somehow absorbed it inside her? That was the last thing she needed.
The heavy set nurse with orange frizzy hair pulling out of the bun she held it in gave her a withering look. “You didn’t call anyone to tell them you were comin’?”
Buffy sat up. “No. I just came. I didn’t know how to tell him. I was a little too paranoid about dying at the time.”
“Come with me.”
Buffy followed the nurse down white hallways that hurt her eyes to the nurse’s station where the nurse’s and a few doctors stared for a moment at her before attending back to their business.
Picking up the phone she was directed to use, Buffy dialed Spike. When she received his voice mail, she left him a message. “Hi, it’s me. I’m in a mental health facility. It’s called the Center for Health and Development. I don’t think I’m too bad off so you could probably visit. But maybe you shouldn’t…That might be bad… Goodbye, Spike.”
Twenty-one-Twenty-two by Brat
How cruel was it to not be able to sleep after so desperately wanting to? After saying over and over “I need some rest, I need some sleep, that’s all I need…” and then not be able to sleep? Well, not well at least. Buffy’s night was restless. She tossed, turned, stared into the dark, tossed, turned, and stared into the dark. Was it real dark? Or the dark that surrounded her? With that thought, she started to cry.
“You’re lucky you don’t have a roommate,” the nurse told her in the morning when she came to get her for breakfast.
Yeah, that’s what I am. Lucky.
Plastic utensils. That’s what she was given. Plasticware – such fine dining. Finding a corner in which she could eat the runny eggs and dry bacon – such a contrast—Buffy nibbled on her bacon and watched the “crazies” in what looked like her high school cafeteria. Some wept, some talked to themselves, some to each other. It was sort of fascinating in a creepy way.
Maybe I don’t belong here, she thought, and started to cry again.
********
The ring of his cell woke Spike, and he cursed when he hit it with his hand on the nightstand and it went flying, skidding across the floor and under the bed. Nearly falling out of bed in his haste to get it, he cursed some more.
Then a little ring tone of some sort let him know he had a voice mail. Yanking it up, finally, he checked the number. Not a number he recognized. Warily, he pressed the numbers to get to his voice mail and immediately paled upon listening to the message.
Mental hospital? Buffy was in a mental hospital?
Shutting his phone, he reopened it and, with his heart in his throat, rang information about where to call to get a flight out of LAX to Logan. His fingers were trembling, though to look at him, he seemed calm. Inside though, Spike was in a panic. His only thought was to get to Buffy and as soon as humanly possible.
********
“So, you told the nurse you didn’t know what you’d do to yourself,” her therapist, or rather, the therapist that had been assigned to her said.
Buffy nodded, “Yes.”
He was British, just like Spike. This was going to be just fucking fantastic and helpful. Except, this guy was older. He had short brown hair that was graying at his temples, glasses and thin lips. His name was Dr. Giles. He seemed nice enough, if not straight to the point and a little wary. Buffy had to figure that he had a lot of nut job’s to deal with and was probably a little jaded. Either that or he saw through her façade of threatening suicide and felt betrayed. How weird that a therapist could feel betrayed by something like that. Didn’t he know how much it took for her to come in? Okay, so it didn’t really take much of anything since she reasoned: I feel as though I’m going fucking crazy and I need to go somewhere that is not out there. That’s what the world felt like suddenly. “Out there”. The deep dark “Out there”. Out there her mother was dead, out there Hank had cancer and hated her, out there she was falling for Spike and felt guilty for it…out there he was dating Fred and she was alone…or was soon to be alone. Out there, out there, out there. It was all “out there”.
“Do you want to kill yourself, Buffy?” Dr. Giles asked.
She started, not expecting him to use her name so soon. “No, I don’t. I don’t want to die.”
“Then why did you say it?”
“Because I needed to get away from the world. I couldn’t take it anymore.”
“Do you feel overwhelmed?”
“I feel as if I’m sinking into a deep, dark abyss. I feel like I can’t handle anything past tying my shoes. And hey, my shoelaces were taken. Do you really think I’m going to use shoelaces to hang myself?”
“You threatened suicide,” Dr. Giles said, almost accusingly.
“Well, shoelaces wouldn’t work anyway. They’re not long enough and they’d snap. Besides, I can’t stand anything around my neck.”
“Buffy, what happened to you?”
Oh, so he wanted straight Buffy now. Her eyes welled up in tears. “My mother died after I hadn’t spoken to her in five years. I came home to bury her and met my stepfather that I ended up falling for and then, to make a long story short, I came to Boston to see my father that shunned me and found out he has cancer. Instead of wanting his flesh and blood daughter to be there with him, he wants me to leave him so he can be with his new family. He has prostate cancer. How perfect is that?” She laughed maniacally then. “Guess that’s his karmic payback for fucking around on my mother. Too bad he didn’t get ass cancer though; now that would have been perfect for him.”
“You say you fell in love with your stepfather?”
Buffy smirked. “I suppose that would be the thing you’d focus on after all that,” she said sardonically.
Dr. Giles gave no expression, instead he cleared his throat. “Buffy, do you feel you want to die?”
“No.”
“Harm anyone else?”
“Unless it’s my Dad? No.”
“Then why don’t we start from the beginning. Tell me about your mother and your estrangement.”
“This’ll be fun,” Buffy muttered before launching into her story.
********
January 11, 2006
After Dr. Giles -- or Giles as I’ve decided to call him—deemed me not about to stab myself with a pen or inflict any such harm to myself, he gave me my journal back. He said that it’s a good thing that I write and that it will help me. He even talked about me sharing what I write.
So, how’s this: BITE ME!!!!
My private thoughts are my private thoughts. I will share them if I see fit. I’m most likely going to share them anyway because I just want to feel better. Like I really want to feel as crazy as I do. Though I’m beginning to wonder if I am crazy or just under a lot of stress. The years have come to a head and all the bad is just gushing out of me like a fountain. I’m Fountainhead. It’s all spewing out of me now and when it’s done, I’ll be cleansed. I’ll be pure. I’ll be a functional member of society and maybe I’ll be as bright and as cheerful as Judith.
Yeah, that’ll happen. Freaking cherry pie on the wall if that happens.
I miss Spike. I wonder what he’s doing…who he’s doing…what kind of daughter am I? I leave her for five years and then I fall in love with her husband? And then, then I get mad about her husband doing someone that isn’t me. How fucked up is that? How fucked up am I?
It’s not that I don’t love her. I do. I miss her everyday of my pathetic life. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t wish I could have done things differently, that I don’t wish I could take back every time I’d hurt her…and really, all I’d ever succeeded in doing was hurting myself when I hurt her. It was a nail in my fucking coffin too.
What do you do when you don’t know how to forgive yourself?
********
It was morning and Buffy was being shaken awake. That was not wise, and Buffy was just about to turn and snap at the nurse when she said, “Spike is here to see you.”
Buffy stared at the nurse. “What?”
“Spike. Weird name. Your…stepfather?”
Buffy gulped and slowly rolled to a sitting position.
“Do you want to see him?”
“Yes.”
The nurse started to leave.
“Which means, I shouldn’t and I won’t,” Buffy told her and started to cry.
********
“What do you mean she won’t see me?” Spike demanded to the orange haired bully that was currently telling him to keep his voice down. He glanced at her nametag, “Beatrice is it? Listen, Bea, I came all the way from California to see her, let me see her!”
“She doesn’t want to see you,” The nurse stated firmly. She glared at him, giving him the once over. “And I can see why!”
“She’s in a mental hospital; you think she is in a position to make all the right choices right about now?” Spike snapped.
“Excuse me; is there something I can help with?”
Spike’s head snapped to the side to find an older gentleman in a suit studying him closely. “Yes. I want to see Buffy Summers. And Bea won’t let me see her.”
“Dr. Giles, Buffy requested not to see him.”
The man named Dr. Giles studied Spike closely. “Are you Spike? From California?”
Spike’s back went up immediately. He straightened. “Yes.” God, he’d already made a name for himself?
“I’m Dr. Giles,” the man said, holding out his hand. “I’m Buffy’s doctor. Maybe we could have a chat?”
Spike nodded slowly, “Please.”
Chapter Twenty-two
“You came all the way from Boston to see her?” Dr. Giles asked as he opened his office door and stood aside to usher Spike in.
Spike glanced up at him warily. “When you find out the person you care about has checked themselves into a mental health facility, you tend to worry and do whatever it takes to get to them.”
“So you care for her a great deal then?” Dr. Giles said, sitting down behind his desk, placing his hands on his lap and studying Spike with a blank expression.
Spike could do without the look and the question. It felt like an accusation more than a question. “I do care for her a great deal, yes.”
“What is the exact nature of your caring for her?”
“What are you trying to get at, you bloody git?”
Dr. Giles smiled. “I’m sorry. I realize my methods can seem a bit underhanded. I apologize. I just want to help her, as I’m sure you want her to be helped.”
“We’re not sleeping together, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Spike told him. “We live together. We have since her mum died – my former wife.”
“My condolences.”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Spike muttered. “Look, she took off to Hawaii for a week with her boyfriend. While she was there, they broke up. She got it in her head to see her father that pretty much discarded her when he didn’t get what he wanted. Her father drops the bomb that he has cancer and the next thing I know she’s sobbing on the phone to me and checking in here. And now she won’t see me?” To his great dismay, Spike started to well up in tears. “I’ve traveled very far to see her, Dr. Giles. I’m worried about her. Is she all right? Did she hurt herself? Why is she here?”
Dr. Giles’ whole demeanor softened. Clearing his throat, he said gently, “I’m sorry, Mr.?”
“Pratt. But I hate that. It’s Spike.”
“I’m sorry, Spike. I can’t disclose the reasons why she checked herself in. All I can say is that she did what most people neglect to do when they have reached their limit – she sought help to feel better. It’s commendable.”
“I knew she hadn’t been happy; we’ve both been grieving and sometimes she’s real good at sharing with me and other times she just closes herself off.” He wiped at his tears. “I’m crying like a Nancy boy, aren’t I?”
“It would appear that you’re under stress yourself.”
“I am.”
“I can assure you that Buffy is fine. She is not hurt in any way.”
“Can I see her? Please? I just want to see her so I can see that she’s all right with my own two eyes.”
Dr. Giles sighed. “I will see what I can do. Have you checked into a hotel yet?”
“Not yet. I came straight here from the airport.”
Dr. Giles smiled softly. “You were indeed worried.”
“I wasn’t lying when I said I care for her a great deal, Dr. Giles. For a while now Buffy has been all I have.”
“Do you think it’s fair to put her in that position to take care of you when she needs to take care of herself right now?”
Spike glared at him. “That’s not how I meant it. I meant that I have come to care for her a great deal in the time we’ve been together. She’s been all I had, and I’ve been all she has. We’ve come to know each other quite well. The last thing I want is for Buffy to be in pain. I want her to be better, but I don’t want her to be alone. She has been alone for far too long in this world.”
Dr. Giles nodded thoughtfully. “I will see what I can do. Why don’t you leave your contact number and I will ring you when I receive an answer.”
“Thank you,” Spike said brusquely, feeling uneasy about this whole damn situation, as if he wasn’t already feeling uneasy about it. Now he had some doctor that was not Fred, to prey upon his already troubled feelings regarding Buffy.
And now he had to wonder: What had she told this quack?
********
“How long have you been crying now, Buffy?” Dr. Giles asked later that afternoon.
Buffy was exhausted—emotionally, physically and mentally. She’d sat up and sobbed her heart out after she told the nurse to not let Spike in to see her.
”Since Spike was here.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to see him.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
She stared at him incredulously. “Have you been listening to me at all?”
“Do you think you would feel this way if you’d seen him?”
“No…I would have been happy and relieved to see him. But it wouldn’t have lasted.”
“Because then you would have felt guilty?”
“Yes.”
“Because of your mother.”
“Yes. Look, are we going to rehash this crap, or are you actually going to give me something I can work with here?”
“I think you should see him.”
Buffy stared at him. “What?”
“I think you should see him.”
“Why do you think I should see him?”
“I had the pleasure of meeting him after you declined his visitation. He’s worried about you. And seeing how you have been unable to stop crying because you denied seeing him, I think you should see him to alleviate this stress.”
“And then after?”
“We’ll deal with after later.”
“What kind of shrink are you?”
Dr. Giles chuckled. “Trust me a little bit, Buffy, that’s all I ask. Just trust me a little bit.”
“I don’t trust anyone.”
“Do you trust Spike?”
“He’s the only one.”
“So, when would you like to see him then?”
*********
January 12, 2006
I’m going to see Spike today. Giles said he’d call for me. I never in a million years thought he’d want me to see him. I thought I was doing a good thing by notseeing him. Quitting cold turkey and all that. Apparently, Giles thinks I’m doing worse for myself. So, is he planning to wean me then? God, I haven’t seen Spike since the day after Christmas. I’m afraid to see him and yet, I so desperately want to see him. What if I’m worse after I do, though I get the impression Giles thinks I’ll be better . . . that could just be me. Wishful thinking.
*********
Spike was early for his visitation with Buffy. Almost a half hour early.
“Spike, how’d I know you’d be here so early?” Dr. Giles joked when he entered the lobby where Spike was sitting, one leg bouncing up and down.
Spike grinned half-heartedly.
“Why don’t I take you down now? No reason for you to wait a full twenty minutes.”
Spike stood and followed him, feeling more and more anxious with every step. “Clean facility you got here. Very white.”
“Nervous, Spike?”
“Yes, I am. I don’t know how to …how to act.”
Dr. Giles stopped and turned to him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean she’s not happy. She’s here, which means she’s not happy and I don’t know how to be with her.”
“You don’t be any other way other than how you always are with her, Spike. What would you have said to her yesterday when you were here?”
“I wasn’t thinking anything beyond just holding her in my arms.”
Dr. Giles smiled, “Then do that if you feel so inclined.”
“She rejected seeing me yesterday.”
“Yes, that is true, she did. But today is different, isn’t it?”
“You’re not going to tell me a damn thing here, are you?” Spike asked, grinning slightly.
“Now you’re getting it,” Dr. Giles said, grinning back.
********
With his heart in his throat, Spike watched Dr. Giles push the door to what he assumed was Buffy’s room. The wooden door was more comforting than the white the facility seemed to endorse throughout. He wasn’t sure why it was better, just that it was.
Dr. Giles stepped aside and Spike pushed his way through. Buffy had been sitting on her bed and now she stood, staring at him. She was dressed in a t-shirt, yoga pants and she must have showered since her hair appeared slightly damp, and she wore no makeup.
He stared at her for a long minute, drinking her in. There were no marks on her, no sign that she’d been hurt in anyway. He met her green eyes, saw the fear and the need and he lurched forward. They met each other halfway. It was a repeat of Thanksgiving when they’d lunged at each other, clawing to get as close as humanly possible to one another.
“I’ve missed you so much,” Spike rasped, never again wanting to feel as desperate as he had since she’d refused to come home.
“I missed you too,” she whispered, crying and wetting his neck where she had her head buried.
“Baby, please don’t leave me…stay with me, okay? Stay with me.”
She said nothing.
“Come. Let’s sit and have a chat, hmm?”
She pulled back and nodded, wiping at her tears and Spike led her to the bed where he sat down and pulled her on his lap. The need to hold her, feel her, was great within him and he was not willing to relinquish any kind of hold on her.
“Tell me what happened, kitten. Tell me all about it.”
Twenty-three - Twenty four by Brat
Chapter Twenty – three
“I can’t tell you everything, Spike,” Buffy told him sadly as he held her on his lap.
“Buffy, you can tell me anything and everything. You should know that by now,” Spike insisted, brushing some wet strands from her face, his fingers lingering around her locks longer than he knew they should, but he couldn’t stop himself.
“I had a mental collapse I think. I was thinking awful scary thoughts,” she said meeting his eyes.
His hold tightened. “Like what sort of thoughts?”
“Death. Suicide. Dying.”
“Buffy, Christ--” he shook his head. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you let me come out here? I told you to let me come out here!” He couldn’t keep the frustration out of his voice. The thought of her dead, of doing something so horrific to herself was a thought, an image in his head that he did not want. He held her even tighter.
“I know! That’s why I checked myself in here. I was convinced I was going to die one way or another, so I came here.”
“Your dad?”
She pushed off his lap and he fought the urge to reach for her, instead, he sat still, waiting for her to continue.
“He’s part of it, yes. I thought maybe some time apart, maybe he’d want me again.” God, she sounded like a lost little girl and the sound made him ache.
“I thought maybe he’d love me,” she shrugged, twisting her hands before her. “Maybe he missed me and was just too proud to call me. You know-kind of how I was too proud to call my mother? The apple doesn’t fall far from the fucking tree does it?”
“Buffy, I can’t make excuses for your father. I know it’s hard to accept and get over, but that man is an asshole.”
“Yeah I know that logically in my head. I know he is. What kind of father would treat their child the way he has?” The tears were pouring down her cheeks now. “But…but it hurts so badly, Spike. All I want is to matter. And I don’t. Not to him. I don’t matter.” And she sank to the floor, sitting cross-legged, hiding her face in her hands as she wept.
“You matter to me,” he whispered, settling across from her in the same fashion.
“It’s not just that. It’s an amalgam of things,” she told him.
“Tell me more.”
She heaved a deep sigh and stared off for a minute. “It’s just…do you know how much shit I wish I could take back?” she said, looking at him finally. “I wish I could have a do-over of the past five fucking years. I wish I could go back to that time when my Dad picked up and left for Boston and stayed to work things out with my mom like she begged me to. I have no right to be angry with her still for not telling me, for just meeting you and not even bothering to tell me. I don’t have a right to be angry with a dead woman that I can’t yell at and scream at…and whose fault is that? Mine. I should have yelled and screamed instead of just blowing her off the way I did. Should have swallowed my pride. And I’m angry. I’m angry still…everything’s just a mess in my head, and I’m so fucking tired.”
“It’s okay to be angry, Buffy; it’s okay to be angry with her. Just because someone dies doesn’t mean our feelings die with them. She should have told you. We should have told you. Forgive me, I didn’t know any better, I’d never had kids, I wasn’t thinking--”
She shook her head emphatically, “But I’ve betrayed her. I was supposed to do well. I’m supposed to be on the straight and narrow now. Make amends with you, with me, and I’ve fucked everything up further!”
“How? How have you done that?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Yes, you can. We’ve been over this,” he pressed, “You can tell me anything. In fact, I want you to. No more secrets, remember?”
“I can’t!” She yelled. She jumped up and stared down at him, “You shouldn’t have come.”
“Don’t say that,” Spike said hoarsely, standing up. Great, tears were coming again. “Why? Why did you not want to see me?”
“Its part of what I can’t tell you,” she said mournfully.
He threw up his arms in exasperation. “Buffy, for fuck’s sake…do you know how out of my mind I’ve been worrying about you?”
“You’ve been out of your mind? Look where I am!” and she gestured around her.
“I want to help--”
“You’re part of my problem so how the hell do you expect to help me?”
That was not what he was expecting. Spike froze, staring at her. “What?”
“You,” she gestured at him, arms flailing wildly about. “You’re part of my problem! You’re a big part of it! I’m not supposed to feel what I do for you and it’s all your fault for being so fucking perfect. God, why do you have to do that? Why do you have to everything I want and need? Can’t you have the decency to be an asshole like every other male I know?”
“Buffy--”
“And you are my mother’s husband. Do you have any idea how that fucks with my head? I’m not supposed to be in love with you! Here I am thinking you’re off fucking Fred and I’m jealous because I want you to be fucking me. How sick is that? What kind of daughter does that make me that I want her husband like that? That’s disgusting. As if hadn’t already made a mess of things, as if I hadn’t already hurt her enough!”
Getting up from her bed, Spike strode over to a crying Buffy and placed his hands on her elbows, tugging her to look at him.
“What?” she demanded, “What?”
“Buffy…” he began and heaved a deep sigh. This was truth-telling time. If they were ever going to heal, and heal properly, then it was time to admit those things that obviously both of them were afraid to admit. If he’d only known that all this time she’d been having similar feelings…but she’d had Angel! That she’d treated like shit, but nonetheless. He wasn’t a mind reader.
“Buffy, I’m in love with you.”
Chapter Twenty – four
“What?” Buffy whispered, staring up at him wide-eyed and in disbelief.
Spike reached out, cupping the side of her face with one hand. He gazed into her eyes, his expression soft, and his eyes tender. “I’m in love with you, Buffy Summers,” he said deeply. I have been for some time now and--”
She shook her head, and pulled his hand from her face. “You can’t be.”
“I am,” he frowned. “Why are you upset by this? I thought you’d be happy to know that you’re not alone.”
“What about my mom?” she demanded.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not right! Just because you say you feel the same--”
“What do you mean because I ‘say’ I feel the same, I do! And your mom…she’s not here, Buffy.”
“Yeah, thanks Sherlock,” she said dryly, and then threw up her arms. “Hence the goddamn problem!” She started pacing, fidgeting once more. She pointed at him accusingly. “You were the one married to her and now you sound so callous about it. God!”
“You think you’re the only one that’s had a hard time of it, Buffy?” he demanded.
“Excuse me, but visitation is over now.”
“This is not a good time to call visitation over!” Spike bellowed to Beatrice, who had just entered the room, undetected until she spoke. “We’re in the middle of something right now, Bea, can you give us a few?”
“I’ve already given you more than a ‘few’,” Beatrice snapped. “It’s time for Buffy’s therapy session.”
“This is fucking therapy! Tell Dr. Giles to get his ass in here if he wants to fucking help.”
“Spike!” Buffy exclaimed and put her hand on his arm.
Looking down at her, into her brilliant green eyes that were wide with uncertainty and fear, he immediately calmed. His breathing slowed to a normal pace and he kept her gaze.
“Do you need to be locked up too?” she asked lightly.
Spike laughed nervously, “If it meant I could be close to you--”
Buffy moved her hand off his arm and shut her eyes. Shaking her head, she whispered, “Don’t say that.”
“Why? Why can’t I say it, Buffy?” he begged.
“Because it’s not real! You’re just…just transferring what you felt for my mom onto me!”
“No, I’m bloody not and if you’d listen to me you stubborn chit--”
“Did you just call me a shit?”
Spike let out a roar of impatience and soon two, what could only be security guards by the size of them, came into the room. Spike sighed, defeated, and held up his hands. “I’m going,” he told them. Looking down at Buffy he vowed, “This isn’t over.”
In a moment of inspiration, he leaned down and kissed her. Just lingering enough to be considered more than just a peck. “I do love you.” he whispered and headed out the door, followed by the burly security guards.
Buffy touched her fingers to her lips, the sensation of his kiss lingering blissfully. “I love you too,” she whispered and a shiver ran through her.
********
“You’re not crying today,” Giles observed.
Buffy turned her head slowly to him, after having been staring off into space contemplating reality and fantasy. Had Spike really told her he loved her? Had that been real? Or had that been fantasy? Though she hadn’t imagined in her fantasy that he’d be telling her whilst she was locked up, and in her fantasy she wouldn’t have such a reaction to that proclamation. In her fantasy life, she would throw her arms around him and kiss him senseless. So, yeah, that had to have been reality.
Reality blew donkeys.
“No, I’m not,” Buffy said finally. Hell, as long as they were both stating the obvious.
“Did you have a nice visit with Spike?”
“I don’t know if I’d call it ‘nice’.”
“What would you call it then?”
“Informative.”
“How so?”
“I told him I loved him, Giles. It just came out. He was pushing and pushing me to tell him what was bothering me and I’m…I’m a horrible liar. I really am. I can’t lie to save my life and I couldn’t sit there and have him ask me all that was bothering me and not at least let him know there was a missing link to it all. Not that what I told him wasn’t enough, cause hi, full plate here with the mom dying and the dad being a prick. Oh yes, and a hefty side of guilt for multiple things.”
“Why don’t we start with that guilt? What do you feel guilty for exactly?”
“That I didn’t make amends with my mother before she died for one,” she began to tick off on her fingers.
“Buffy, there is nothing you can do about that now. Spending your time beating yourself up over it will not help; it will only make you feel worse. Do you think your mother would want you to spend your life in regret and self-pity?”
“No…”
“I want you to do something for me in your journal. You ready? Listening?”
“I am.”
“I want you to write her a letter. Tell her everything. All of it. I know you have anger toward her, and I want you to get that out too. The next time we meet, I want you to read it to me.”
“You know,” she mused thoughtfully, “I did something similar to that with Spike once.”
“Oh?”
Buffy nodded, “I told him how I felt, unloaded on him as if he were my mom.”
“And how did that go?”
“It felt good, actually. For a little while anyway.”
“Then each time you do it, it will get better and better. I think for that day we’ll schedule our session outside, what do you think?”
“Isn’t freaking cold out there!”
Giles smiled, “I think some fresh air would do you some good, don’t you think?”
Buffy sighed, “Yeah, actually, it really would.”
“Tell me some more about your visit with Spike.”
Buffy heaved a heavy sigh, filling her lungs to capacity, “He told me he was in love with me too.” And she expelled the air, staring at Giles, waiting for the disgust to register across his face.
The disgust never came.
“Oh? And how did that make you feel?”
Buffy burst out laughing. “You know, I’ve been waiting for you to say that! Is that like the first thing they teach you in shrink school? Well, this is even more surreal now that you actually said it.”
“Well?” Giles prompted.
“I felt…” she looked down at her fidgeting hands. “Relieved.”
“How so? Give me some more here,” Giles encouraged.
“Well, it’s always pleasing to learn you’re not alone in having feelings for someone. It was nice to know that all this time he was right there, feeling for me too.”
“Anything else?”
“I thought maybe there was something wrong with him for it.”
“Why? Because of your mother?”
“Partly, yes. Like it’s not really me, but maybe I’m a substitute. And then I felt guilt, felt as though I were stealing my mother’s husband from her.”
“You tend to think everything is your fault,” Giles said, frowning. “You blame yourself for things you have no control over. Spike recognized something in you that spoke to him. He loves you for who you are.”
“How the hell do you know? You didn’t know her, you barely know me, how do you know that I don’t remind him of her and that’s what draws him to me?”
“Part of my job is to read people, to hear not only what they’re saying, but what they are not saying. To watch them, observe them, and read the signals in their tone and body language. Buffy, transferring as you’re accusing him of would in this case be simulated. It wouldn’t have reality attached to it. He’s invested in your world. He’s worried for you, and his feelings are most definitely real. You’re not stealing your mother’s husband. Buffy, she’s dead. She’s gone and Spike is a young, virile man--”
“Do you want to date him?”
Giles continued on, ignoring her. “He has to move on at some point. Do you want him to be alone for the rest of his life?”
“No. Well, yeah. I want him to be alone if he wants to be with anyone else.”
“Anyone else that’s not you, correct?”
“Right.”
Giles smiled. “Your father put a lot on you at a young age. He held you responsible for putting his marriage with your mother back together. That was not your place to do that, Buffy. You are his child, not the one ordained to clean up his messes. That’s him. It was his place to fix what needed to be fixed and your mother opted to not make the choice to be with him again. You didn’t fail him, Buffy, and neither did she for that matter. No one failed here, except for perhaps your father for having strayed to begin with. People stumble; fall, and sometimes, they even get back up. Some don’t. Some don’t stand on their own two feet once they’ve gotten up and use others as a crutch. Your father stumbled and fell, and while he did clean up his act, he leaned on you to make things the way he wanted them, and on his terms. You are not the failure here, Buffy, he is. He failed you as a father.”
“Giles!” Buffy exclaimed, now crying, hunched over and hiding her face.
“Let it go, Buffy, let it out,” Giles encouraged. “You need to. You have kept it in for far too long. You have let him brainwash you into thinking that it was you. It’s not you. It’s him. It was not your job to fix him or his marriage to your mother. That was not your job and it was not your fault.”
His words tore into her brain like a scalpel, needling inside, and planting themselves there. It wasn’t that she fully felt it or accepted it, but she saw the truth in it. Saw that perhaps he was right, and that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t to blame for everything. It was both freeing and frightening.
Twenty five - Twenty six by Brat
Chapter Twenty five
January 12, 2006
I needed to hear what Giles said about my father. I really did. It had more effect than when my mom said it, or when Spike called him an asshole, and when even I called him an asshole. I feel like I’ve been waiting for someone aside from the usual suspects to tell me it wasn’t me; it was him. Judith hinted at it, she knew, but she couldn’t exactly say anything.
I feel like Giles planted a seed with his words, and the more I hear them, the more I play them over and over, the more they’ll grow and wrap around my mind like a vine until I’m covered. Until I believe.
********
“Fred, Christ, I’m sorry to be bothering you,” Spike said into his phone. Sitting on his bed in his hotel room, he sat hunched over, cradling his phone to his ear.
“Spike? What’s happening? Where are you?”
“I’m in Boston.”
“Massachusetts?” she sounded stunned.
“Yeah, I caught the first flight out. Buffy, she called, she checked herself into a mental health facility.”
“Oh my,” Fred gasped.
“Yeah, she was thinking about dying and suicide. Fred, I saw her today and she told me. She told me she loved me.”
“And?”
“I told her I loved her, too. She accused me of transferring my feelings for Joyce to her. Then the goddamned nurse came in, and then security, and I had to go.”
“You sound frantic.”
“I am!”
“Spike, calm down. Buffy is in a safe place. How about you, hmm?”
“I’m fine, I’m not thinking crazy thoughts if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m sorry to be calling like this, but I just don’t know what to do. Fred, how do I help her? What if she won’t see me after today? You know I even contemplated checking myself in if it meant I could be there with her.”
“Wow,” Fred gasped.
“What?”
“You really love her…it’s just amazing how much. I didn’t think that kind of love was possible in this day and age. People are so jaded and cynical these days, it’s a rarity you find the kind of love you feel for Buffy.”
Spike sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead. “What do I do?”
“Patience and time, Spike, that’s what she needs right now. In the meantime, you need to take care of you. You will be of no help to her if you don’t take care of yourself.”
Spike started to cry. “I just want this nightmare to be over. I’m wishing all sorts of things I shouldn’t be wishing!”
“Like what?”
“I can’t say— they’re horrible!”
“Spike, wishes are just that, wishes. It doesn’t hurt anyone to make a wish.”
“What about that saying, ‘Be careful what you wish for’?”
“And how many times do people actually get what they wish for?”
“True. I wish…”
“Go on.”
“I wish I’d met Buffy first,” he whispered. “I wish I’d known her first. I know I would have loved her, I know it.”
“Perhaps you would have, but it wasn’t the right time for either of you.”
“I don’t fucking care, Fred!” Spike shouted.
“Spike, you can’t change the past or the choices that were made. The fact is, you simply did not know Buffy then. You met her mother first and you did love her, no?”
“I did,” Spike whispered, “In my own way.”
“Spike, you had no way of knowing what would happen. Listen, you want to help Buffy and yourself? Then stop this merry-go-round of self-pity and stop with the ‘should haves’, the ‘could haves’, and the ‘might haves’. All they are going to do is make things worse. What’s done is done and you had no way of knowing. I imagine Buffy is feeling pretty lousy enough right now, the last thing she needs is you bashing on yourself as well. That will only serve to set her back further. If you want to move forward, then accept that yes; you do love Buffy now, yes; she is your late wife’s daughter, but no; it is not wrong. Just different. A tad unconventional, but not sick. For heaven’s sake, you’re only eight years apart.”
Taking a shuddering breath, Spike fought to gather control of himself. Settling back against the bed headboard, he wiped the tears from his eyes and nodded. “You’re right,” he said, “You’re right. I’m not going to help either of us if I don’t get it together.”
“You do want to work things out with her, right? You want to be with her, right?”
“I do,” Spike gushed, “I want to be free to love her. I want that so much.”
“Concentrate on that. Think on the future. Buffy needs that now, and so do you.”
Spike took another deep breath, “Yes, you’re right. Thank you.”
“I’m here if you need to talk, Spike, you know that.”
“You might regret telling me that,” he chuckled lightly.
“I haven’t yet, so I doubt I will. What will you do now?”
“I’m going to get some room service, watch some TV, and turn in. I’m feeling pretty exhausted. Tomorrow, I’m going to stop by and see her… or should I wait a day?”
“What do you want to do?”
“See her tomorrow.”
“Then see her tomorrow,” Fred said simply.
“I just hope she lets me,” Spike murmured.
********
“Your stepfather is here.”
Buffy looked up from her notebook to find Bea with a disapproving and annoyed frown on her pudgy features. Buffy set her pen down and stared at Bea, trying to decide what to do.
“Can you not call him that?” Buffy said, biding herself some time while she pondered if she should see him or not.
Bea stood tall. “Isn’t that what he is?”
“Not really. It’s complicated. He’s only eight years older.”
“Look, do you want to see him or not?”
Inhaling, Buffy shook her head. “Not today,” she said, exhaling.
Bea shrugged and walked out of the room and Buffy stared down at her notebook. I will see him. Just not today, she told herself to keep the tears at bay. Picking up her pen, she went back to working on her letter to her mother.
*********
Bundled up, Buffy followed Giles out of the building for their session. As soon as the chill of the air hit her, she felt better. She was out in the world and it wasn’t as scary anymore. It felt good. Course, she was also still in the confines of the hospital, and a chain link fence closed them off from “out there”, so she was out in the world, and yet not. She was in a space outside of reality, just like those magic circles she read about in her Wiccan books.
Lifting her head up to the sky, she smiled and shut her eyes. It was a gray day, as most days in Boston were during the winter, but it felt wonderful anyway. Taking deep breaths, Buffy was oblivious to Giles until he cleared his throat.
She looked at him sheepishly, “Sorry.”
He smiled, “Don’t be. Feels good to be out, no?”
Buffy nodded profusely, “It really does. I feel the negativity inside me just melting away.”
“Good,” Giles smiled and handed her a black Sharpie.
“Okay,” she said, discombobulated.
Giles chuckled and dug in his pocket. “That probably makes no sense without these,” and he produced an assortment of colored balloons and string.
“Yeah, it’s all making sense to me now. Totally,” Buffy said dryly. “What are we doing?”
“You, what are you doing.”
“Okay, what am I doing?”
“You’re going to blow up these balloons and write on them with that Sharpie what you wish to get rid of. Then, we’re going to tie string on them, and release them. One of them though, one you select special, stands for your mother. I want you to read your letter, and then tie it to that balloon you choose for her and release it. Tomorrow, we’ll do the same for your father.”
Buffy gulped and took a deep breath.
“You think you can do it?” Giles asked.
“I can. I just might slobber all over the place.”
Giles smiled, “That’s fine. I’ve seen you, uh, slobber before.”
Buffy giggled and sat down on the park bench just behind Giles. “All right, she said, looking up at him and holding out her hand. “Let’s get to work.”
Chapter Twenty-six
“Why did you opt to not see Spike today?” Giles asked as he watched Buffy blow up her balloons. She would blow half the balloon and then place it over a helium tank one of the nurses brought out for their activity.
Taking her mouth of a blue balloon, she moved her sore lips around and rolled her eyes, placing the balloon around the knob of the tank to fill up. “Was wondering when you’d get to that.” She handed him the balloon to tie off and add string to while she grabbed a pink balloon, the one she decided would stand for her mother. “I wasn’t ready to see him. I felt like I had to get my head together first and try to wrap my mind around all that he’d told me.”
“You know what I think?”
“No, but I’m sure you’re gonna tell me,” Buffy drawled, stretching out the ‘neck’ of the pink balloon.
“I think when you say you wanted to get your head together before seeing him; you meant you want to see if you can not feel for him what you do. That given enough time, you’ll stop, miraculously.”
Buffy nudged him with her elbow. “Cheeky bugger.”
“Am I right?”
“Yes, unfortunately.”
Giles smiled. “It is part of my job, Buffy. Why do you want to not feel for him?”
“Why do you encourage it? Isn’t it your job to discourage me from having feelings for him?”
“Now why would I do that when I think he’s good for you?”
Buffy’s eyes bugged. “You think he’s good for me?”
Giles chuckled. “Yes, I do. Very much so. Buffy, that day you denied seeing him, you cried all day long, after you made the decision to see him, you stopped.”
“But now I have a whole new set of issues now that I have seen him!”
“Only because you’re making them that way. I will admit I had my reservations about the two of you, but after having met him and worked with you some, I don’t see the wrong here. I will also admit it sounds funny, but the reality and the truth of it, is that it’s normal and natural. First, there’s only an eight year age difference, second, you two barely knew each other, having never lived under the same roof before, only knowing of each other and third, I imagine there are quite a few similarities between the two of you aside from your mother that you both share. Am I right?”
“Yes,” Buffy said slowly.
“Buffy,” Giles said earnestly, turning toward her. “He loves you a great deal, and what’s more, you love him. He’s come all this way to help you and be there for you. Don’t turn him away, and don’t turn what you have with him away. I am not going to lie to you and tell you that there are not going to be a few hurdles to get over, but that’s any relationship. Allow yourself happiness. Allow yourself him. My job is to lead you to what’s healthy and good, to what’s right for you to get well, to stay well. Buffy, hold onto Spike and don’t let go.”
“Giles?” Buffy asked softly, nibbling her bottom lip.
“Yes?”
“You spied on us when he visited, didn’t you?”
He narrowed his eyes slightly. “Cheeky bugger.”
********
Emblazoned on one blue balloon was the word “ANGER”. Buffy looked to Giles who frowned.
“What?” she asked.
“Don’t skimp on it, fill that balloon with all that you’re angry about,” he directed.
“Okay, then.” Taking the Sharpie, Buffy began to fill the balloon as directed, telling him out loud what she was angry about. “My father hating me…my father being an asshole…my attitude toward my mother for the past five years…myself…myself…not being able to forgive myself… not being able to forgive her…my father…” She stared at the balloon and then at him. “It doesn’t seem like a lot now, does it?”
“Being angry with yourself packs quite a bit, Buffy. All those things you listed don’t make them any less just because they don’t make an impressive list. They say depression is anger turned inwards. You’ve had all these things pile upon each other over and over in different ways with different scenarios. Trust me, you have quite a bit.”
Standing, Buffy held up the balloon over her head. “Goodbye, Anger!”
“Again!” Giles encouraged.
“Goodbye, Anger!” Buffy shouted and watched the balloon take off, get caught in a tree and pop. She laughed in delight. “It deflated!”
Giles laughed. “That tells you something doesn’t it?”
Buffy smiled brightly at him. “I’m deflating.”
********
After letting guilt, sorrow, and then grief go, it came time for the letter. Reaching into her pocket, Buffy produced a wad of tissues. Giles looked at them and then up at her.
“To cut back on the slobbering as much as I can,” she explained, “Do you mind?”
He grinned and took the proffered tissues. “I do not.”
Taking out her worn blue notebook with a crease right down the center from folding it in half so much to cram it in a drawer or in her suitcase, Buffy flipped to the last page, taking pride in hearing the papers crinkle as she flipped through them. Her journal was well used and for that reason, her most trusted friend.
Taking a deep breath, she began unceremoniously with “Dear Mom”, and already began to well up in tears. Swallowing hard, she continued past the sob in her throat. “Mom, the first thing I want you to know is that I love you and I never stopped loving you even when it seemed that I did. I was angry with you and my pride, you know the one I inherited from my father, is something vast and fierce. Unfortunately. It’s something I wish to work on.
I never did tell you, Mom, that there were so many things about you that I wished I could have inherited – your patience, your ability to forgive, and the enormous capacity you had to love. Those are things to be in awe of, to strive for, and to admire. I have always admired you, Mom.”
Buffy paused then and Giles handed her a tissue. Wiping at her eyes, Buffy took a shuddering breath and continued. “The memories I have of my childhood when we were all together, were happy memories. I tried to hold onto those days, often forgetting what it was like when Dad turned to alcohol instead of us to comfort him. I see now that I preferred to see things through rose-colored glasses, as one often does when they want what they once had, back. I made you the monster instead of him, and you have no idea how eternally sorry I am for that.”
Buffy paused, trying to gather her wits about her. Looking away from Giles, she took several deep breaths and then continued when the need to break down had passed. “I wish you had told me, Mom. I wish I had known of your relationship with Spike. I wish I had known of your plans. You made me so angry when I came home at your request and he was there, and you were so happy in your plans to marry him. How did you expect me to react? How did you think it was going to go when you fucking knew I wanted you to get back with Dad? A child’s dream, I know now, but it was still my dream.
I had to go, Mom. I had to go with Dad because you’d betrayed me, you’d betrayed us, and you’d betrayed our family. I soon learned what a mistake it was, but pride, my goddamned pride, wouldn’t let me tell you. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it Mom?
He didn’t want anything to do with me. He used me. He saw you in me, he saw my failure as a daughter to get our family back together, and I blamed you for that.” Placing her notebook, open, on her lap, she reached out at the same time Giles handed her tissues and she promptly blew her nose.
“I blamed you for making him hate me, for making things so hard and so difficult,” she continued on through her tears. “I hated you and I loved you, and I hated him and I loved him. It was easier to …to hate…you…because you loved me. It was harder to hate him because he…he hated me, Mom and it was hard, it was so very hard to know that. I didn’t get it then, and I don’t get it now no matter how hard I try. I have to ask myself – did he ever love me? Or was I just there? What if you had gotten back with him? Would I have mattered after a time? Ever? I don’t have the answers to those questions, and I realize, I never will. Your precocious daughter hates not having answers. His denial of me fucks with my head.
I came back, Mom. I came back and I made amends with Spike and . . . I love him.” Buffy shut her eyes tightly, this time not even bothering to read from the notebook. “I love Spike and…and I don’t know what to do about it cause I feel like I’m betraying you, Momma. Please, please don’t hate me for loving him. He’s such a wonderful man, you were right…you did good, Mom. You did. Please, Mom, forgive me. Please let it be okay that we love each other,” she whispered on a plea, “Please let it be okay.” And she sobbed into her gloved hands.
“Buffy,” Giles whispered.
“What?” she asked mournfully.
“Look.”
Buffy removed her hands from her eyes, and opened them slowly. Snow. It was snowing.
“I think you got your answer,” Giles said, “What do you think?”
She nodded, unable to speak past the wealth of awe and emotion swelling inside her.
And when she released her balloon for her mother, her letter attached, Buffy waved and blew it a kiss. “I love you, Mom!” she shouted, watching it drift off.
“How do you feel?” Giles asked.
“Tired. Exhausted, really.”
“That’s what happens after a cathartic activity.”
Buffy smiled. “I like that word. I always have. Cathartic. It just sounds good, doesn’t it? ‘The purging of emotion’. I think I should do that more often, what do you think?”
Giles smiled. “I think that’s a marvelous idea, Buffy.”
“Me too, Giles, me too. . . So, do you mind if I call Spike when we get back?”
Twenty-seven - Twenty eight by Brat
Chapter Twenty-seven
“Hey.”
“Buffy,” Spike breathed into the phone, his tone reverent. It made Buffy smile. Hopping onto the reception desk, she earned a glare from Bea.
“Whatcha doin?” she asked, swinging her legs back and forth.
“I’m watching TV. You?”
“I’m sitting on the reception desk, watching Bea glare at me.” Lifting her head slightly from the phone, she said to Bea. “Don’t you have room checks now? I can hold down the fort if you want. I think I’m good at spotting the loons.”
She smiled when Bea glared harder and Spike laughed raucously into the phone.
“You like to torment her,” he said fondly into the phone.
“So do you, I noticed.”
“She is a bit prickly isn’t she?”
“Pretty much, yeah. So, how are you?”
Silence.
“Spike, you still there?”
“Just a little surreal that you’re asking how I am.”
Buffy giggled. “Well, it’s not like your feelings cease to exist because of where I am. It’s really not all about me.”
“I know that, but…”
“But you feel bad telling me how you feel, right?”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t feel like you can tell me.”
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?” she asked, clearly confused.
“Getting into my head.”
Buffy laughed. “Honey, if I had been in your head all this time, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he drawled, chuckling nervously.
“Oh?”
“Another time,” he promised.
“I’m going to be okay, Spike,” she told him softly.
“Buffy,” he sighed. “I…when can I see you, luv?”
“Tomorrow? How does that sound?”
“Give me a time and I’ll be there.”
“With bells on?”
“For you? Anything.”
********
Spike came in with bells all right, “Santa’s bells” she called them. The gold kind that made a distinct and clear ring when shook. Buffy beamed up at him and hugged him, playing with them on their string over his shoulder. It distracted her from how wonderful it felt to be in his arms. He was safety personified despite how muddled the feelings attached to him were. It was interesting to say the least – she lost her head with him, and yet found it at the same time. Love, she concluded, was a funny thing.
“Did I ever tell you the Polar Express story?” she asked him.
He pulled back slightly, grinning. “No.”
“Well, see,” she began and sat on her bed, on her hands. “I believed in Santa for a really long time. Abnormally long.”
“How old were you?” Spike asked, settling down next to her.
“Ten,” she admitted sheepishly.
He laughed, “You got teased didn’t you?”
“Mercilessly. I think it was more out of stubbornness at that point than real belief.”
“You? Stubborn?” Spike said in mock shock, placing a hand over his heart.
She nudged him with her elbow. “So, we read the Polar Express in class and I loved it. I came home and told my mom how at the end of the story the little boy remembers his trip because he has leftover in his hand, a bell. A bell like this,” she held up the bell, “that reminded him of Santa and that his trip was in fact real. So, that Christmas, my mom hunted for a bell like that to keep me believing.”
Spike grabbed a corner of the string and tugged on it. “How long did you continue believing after that?”
“For about an hour until my father told me he had been with my mother when she’d gotten the Archie comics dolls I’d wanted.”
“How did that make you not believe?”
“The note said those dolls were from Santa. In all fairness, he was nursing a hangover,” and she rolled her eyes. “I didn’t have the heart to tell my Mom after she’d tried so hard to keep me believing, so I told her next Christmas that I just stopped believing.”
“That was kind of you,” Spike whispered, his fingers caressing her hand just slightly. “Buffy, are you going to come home once you leave here?”
She looked up at him, “There wasn’t even a segue to that question, points for just coming out with it.”
“It’s been on my mind,” he confessed, meeting her eyes.
“No, shit, really?”
“I don’t want to push you into going back to Sunnydale, but--”
“I’m going back to Sunnydale, Spike. Boston is not my home anymore – scratch that – it never was my home. Sunnydale is…it could be my home, I think.”
He frowned, “You’re not sure.”
“I’m not sure about a lot of things. I’m trying this new ‘One day at a time’ plan. See, before I would just try to shove things out of my head to get over them. I thrived on Denial. It was always go, go, go so I didn’t have to think, think, think. But now, I’m trying to think and then go. I’m not that coordinated, so this should be interesting.”
“Kitten, not to be a selfish git, but where do I fit into all this?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean where do I fit in, in your life? Is there a place for me?”
She looked up at him solemnly. “Spike, there will always be a place for you in my life. I told you I don’t like anyone more than you, and I never will.”
“Buffy, God, I … I love you so much,” he said hoarsely, grabbing her hand and squeezing it, staring at her intensely.
Buffy could feel the need and want radiating off him, and she wanted nothing more than to reciprocate and fall into his arms, and pledge her undying love; yet it wasn’t time yet. Steps were being made everyday and even though Miss Instant Gratification wanted to throw caution to the wind, she couldn’t do it. When she was sure she wouldn’t have guilt and doubt soon after, she would love him like no other.
“Spike, can we just take that one day at a time, please?” Staring down at their hands that were entwined, she smiled, “See? It’s already part of my repertoire. ‘One day at a time.’”
“We can do that, kitten,” Spike whispered. Clearing his throat a second later he said, “So, tell me. How’s therapy been going?”
********
January 13, 2006
I don’t know how to be. I don’t know how to act. It appears some of the weight Buffy had been carrying around is lifting, but I don’t know what to do to help. Do I make it worse for her? She says she needs me, but what if I am not what she really does need? I’m sure Dr. Giles would have told me to get the fuck out of dodge if I were making things worse.
She told me briefly about her therapy sessions and I couldn’t help but think that balloon activity was something her and I could both benefit from together. I’m even thinking of making my way to Boston Common and just doing it on my own. There’s so much I need to let go of too. My revelations about my marriage for one, guilt for another for those revelations being another.
I don’t think of Joyce when I’m with Buffy. I am so consumed with Buffy that she’s all I can see, hear, and feel. Does that make me obsessed with her? Do I care? I’d never felt this way for anyone, and my mum had told me once upon a time that everyone has that one person in their life they’d lay down their life for. Buffy is that person for me. One day I’ll tell her that.
It’s only after that I think of Joyce and wonder what she’s thinking—if she knew that this would happen, if she wants it for us, or if she is disgusted. Of course I’m not going to tell Buffy my thoughts; she doesn’t need it, it won’t help her.
I’m thinking my next course of action is selling the house. Buffy asked me once upon a time if I should do it for all the memories it held and I’d scoffed at the idea. Now I’m thinking it’d be better for us. A fresh start. It won’t help her state of mind to be in the house that is her mother while we’re trying to…
Trying to make a go of it? Is that what we’re doing? Christ! I don’t even know.
Would it be running away to leave? Or would it be the best for both of us? I don’t want to ever look back one day and have it be that we both ran because they impaired our relationship.
I just need some guidance here; I don’t want to do the wrong thing, for either of us.
Chapter Twenty eight
His eyes were aglow with passion and Buffy felt her desire for him soar. Pulling her to him, Spike growled just before his lips covered hers in a wholly ardent kiss that left her breathless and dazed.
In the next instant, she was on her back, on a bed. Spike was lying between her legs, peppering reverent kisses down her neck, heading towards her still clothed breasts. In fluid movements, her shirt and bra were gone and Spike was expertly suckling at her, causing her center to clench with need. Her nails raked down his back, spurring him on and when he reared up, disposing her pants and thong, she reached for him, needing to feel him against her, inside her. Needing to know that this was real and it was okay.
He made love to her with his mouth, circling her clit with his pointed tongue and driving it as deep as he could in her center. She came, screaming his name and he lunged up, penetrating her core with a deep driving thrust, causing her to scream again. Where his clothes had gone so fast, she did not know.
“I love you,” she murmured to him, cradling his face in her hands and kissing him sweetly, languidly, but with no less voraciousness.
He was driving deep within her, touching her heart, her soul, filling her completely. His eyes bore into hers as his thrusts sped and grew harder. “I love you,” he whispered and that was all it took to drive Buffy over the edge, taking her with him.
Panting, Spike rolled them onto their sides as they came down from their climaxes, and held her close. Their sweat slickened bodies entwined until Buffy didn’t know where one began and the other ended.
Sensing a presence at the door, Buffy turned and started when she found her mother, standing there, expressionless, and staring at them. It was then she realized that they were in her bed. Correction: Their bed and their room.
“Mom!” Buffy managed to call out before Joyce vanished and the door slammed shut.
Buffy’s eyes popped open and she broke immediately into a cold sweat. Swallowing hard, she rolled over, burrowing under the covers and trying to get her breathing under control. Shutting her eyes tight, she fought back the tears that threatened to spill.
One step forward, three steps back, she thought. It was just a dream, you moron! Just a dream. You had an emotional day and it’s normal, completely normal for you to have a dream like that. Your subconscious is just playing a practical joke. An evil practical joke. Just let it go. It’s okay for me to love him. Mom doesn’t hate me, she doesn’t. She doesn’t.
********
Spike came inside Buffy with a gush, filling her with his seed, and making her his.
Peering down at her, he found her sobbing her heart out. “Buffy,” he started, his heart breaking at her tears, feeling he’d just done something terribly wrong by her.
“Now look what you’ve done!” a voice said accusingly.
Looking up, he found Joyce standing by their bed. “Joyce--” he started, stunned. He needed to tell her he was sorry, he needed to tell her that he didn’t know it would happen, but that it had, and he loved Buffy – but she vanished before he could get another word out and then he woke up.
Sitting up in bed and flicking the bedside lamp on, Spike rubbed his face with his hands, willing himself to snap out of the dream induced haze. It was just a dream, he told himself. Getting up he strode to the bathroom to relieve himself and splash some cold water on his face.
When he crawled back into bed, he stared at his phone, itching to call Buffy, but knowing he couldn’t. He knew it was better for her to be there while she healed, but he hated that he couldn’t reach out to her. All he wanted was to hear her voice to anchor him back to Earth. That was selfish of him, wasn’t it? He wanted to hear her voice to make him better.
He blamed the dream he’d just had. Dreams that fucked with your head, made you blur the lines of what was real and what wasn’t, and evoked feelings inside you that you were grappling with already, bringing them to the forefront.
He really, really hated that. His waking life was full of enough drama – did he need that in his dreams too? Especially when the beginning of his dream had been erotic and perfect—he had after all been making love to Buffy. And therein laid the problem, apparently.
Sighing heavily, Spike grabbed his journal and began to write.
********
“You have your letter for your father?” Giles asked when he met up with Buffy later the following afternoon for her session.
Buffy nodded, her hands stuffed in her deep pockets, her journal jutting out as she held it firmly in her grip.
“You look tired,” Giles observed as they made their way out onto the grounds.
“I am,” Buffy murmured, staring at the dirty snow mounds.
“Did you have a bad night?”
Choking back a sob, Buffy nodded.
“Can you tell me about it, please?”
Buffy stopped and turned to him. “It’s kind of embarrassing,” she said, her voice trembling.
Giles placed a hand on her arm gently. “Buffy, you can tell me. I’m your therapist and I’m here to listen, not to judge.”
“I dreamt I was having sex with Spike,” she blurted out.
His startled expression served to make her giggle. “Thank you,” she told him, “I needed that.”
He cleared his throat and took off his glassed, cleaning them with his scarf.
“That’s not a really good idea,” Buffy mused, “Scarf is scratchy. That’ll screw up your glasses.”
“What happened in the dream to upset you? Was that it?” he urged, putting his glasses back on.
Biting her bottom lip, she shook her head.
“Then?”
“When we were, you know, done, I felt a presence there and I looked over and saw my mom in the doorway. It was then I realized that we were in her bedroom. Their bedroom and in their bed. She didn’t say anything; I couldn’t even read her expression. I said, ‘Mom’, and she vanished.”
“It upset you to see her like that.”
“Well, yeah! Thank you from the department of the obvious. I was in bed with her husband!”
“Spike is a widower, Buffy. She’s gone.”
Bursting into tears, she exclaimed, “I just thought that it was going to be okay from here on out! I thought after yesterday I was getting better and that it would be better. Then I have a goddamn fucking dream and I’m right back where I started!”
“Buffy, come, sit down here,” Giles said calmly, leading her to a bench and extracting tissues from his pocket, which did not go unnoted from Buffy. Wiping at her eyes and snot, she waited for his guidance that he gave so effortlessly. Sure he had the training, but she was ever envious of those that just seemed to have their shit together. She wanted her shit together. It reminded her of those girls in elementary school that never had a hair out of place, never wore an outfit more than once, and always had the best lunches. She always thought their lives were so easy for those reasons, while hers floundered because she always had hair out of place, she didn’t always have a new outfit to wear every week, and she always had the worst lunches – the school lunches.
“Breathe,” he instructed and she inhaled and exhaled slowly. “Listen, dreams like that are part of the process. You did a lot of work yesterday in the way of releasing these burdens and starting to come to terms with them. Buffy, this is a process. Did you think you would be healed overnight?”
“I wanted to be,” she whispered. “I felt good after our session and I wanted to hold on to that. I thought I was going to.”
“There are setbacks in any kind of regime, Buffy. There are good days, and there are bad days. The point is to make those bad days bearable by finding ways to cope. You’re not going to walk out of here never having a bad day again, and never having something upset you again. That’s just not realistic.”
Buffy nodded, “I know. I guess I just hoped.”
“What did the dream mean to you?”
“Well, it made me feel very strongly about never having sex with Spike in their room on their bed.”
“What else?”
“I didn’t know if she was upset with me or not. I wanted to know if she was upset with me. How am I going to move forward with Spike if I can’t get past this, Giles? I just want to…I just want…”
“Say it.”
“I just want to move forward with Spike,” she whispered. “The door shutting, I want that to mean that now that she knows, we can close that door and move on. But on the same end, I can’t move on if she hates me for it.”
“Buffy, she’s dead and you might never know what she thinks. You have to come to terms with the fact that you might never know. Sometimes answers are not readily given in life.”
“I hate that.”
“Don’t we all. Listen, if you’re looking for symbolism here, then have you forgotten the snow that fell yesterday when you released your letter and balloon for your mother?”
Buffy nodded, “I did forget,” she admitted guiltily.
“Because you’ve trained yourself to focus on the bad rather than the good.”
“I have.”
“So, name something else for me that’s good.”
“I saw Spike.”
“And how is he?”
“You mean you weren’t spying on us this time? He was good. He was concerned about where I was going after I left here.”
“And?”
“I told him I was going to go back to Sunnydale. I think I want to get a place of my own though.”
“That makes sense. Did you tell him that?”
“Not about my own place. I think he’d be upset by it.”
Giles nodded, “Perhaps. But you have to do what is going to help you. Taking care of yourself first is imperative. Spike can come after.”
Buffy chortled, “What happened to giving of oneself to another?”
“You can give to another, Buffy, but not at the risk of losing yourself and your needs. Then you’re not really giving anything to anyone, but rather running on empty. You’re in a precarious state of mind right now and you can’t afford to be running on empty.”
“You know, Giles, I think you’re spot on with this shrink gig.”
“Why thank you,” Giles said dryly and Buffy giggled. “Do you have your letter?”
“I do. But I don’t want to read it.”
“Oh?”
“I want to send it.”
“Oh?”
Buffy giggled. “Yeah, I want to send it. That’s my way of releasing it. He needs to hear what I have to say. Even if there’s a chance he won’t read it. I won’t focus on that. In my head, he’s going to read it.”
“You know, Buffy, I think that’s a novel idea.”
“You do?”
“I do.”
Buffy beamed up at him, proud of herself.
Twenty nine - Thirty by Brat
Chapter Twenty nine
“Can I talk with you?” Spike asked Dr. Giles nervously, his feet shuffling in anticipation.
Dr. Giles peered at him over his glasses, “Of course. Why don’t you come into my office? Are you seeing Buffy today?”
“Yeah, I am. I wanted to talk to you before I did that though.”
Nodding, Dr. Giles led him into his office and gestured for him to sit down. Spike decided instead to pace. Rubbing the back of his neck, he glanced over at the good doc, waiting patiently in his chair for him to start talking.
“Am I making her worse?” Spike blurted out, stopping his pacing finally, his hand still on the back of his neck.
“You think you’re making her worse?”
Throwing his hands up in the air, Spike growled. “Don’t do that bit where you answer my questions with a question!”
“Forgive me, but that question most certainly confused me.”
“It did?”
“Yes. I don’t think you make her worse, Spike. I think you are what she needs. You make it better.”
Relief flooded Spike and he now sat, sinking into the chair with a sigh. “I do?”
“You do.”
“I’m just…” he shook his head. “I feel lost here, Dr. Giles,” and then the tears came. “I don’t know what to do for her. All I do is talk with her and tell her I love her, and I don’t know if that’s what she needs.”
“Spike, I am going to tell you what I told Buffy. Part of my job is to lead her to the things that are good for her, and lead her away from the things that are bad. If I thought that you were bad for her, I would not give you permission to see her. I run a tight ship with my patients and their care is number one priority.”
“Good,” Spike said nodding, “Good. I’m glad. I want her to have the best care. I want her,” he broke off, trying to reign in his emotions. “I want her to be well. I just feel like maybe my own feelings of guilt are evident and it causes her to hesitate.”
“You loved your wife, yes?”
“I did. Not …not the way I love Buffy though.”
“And that causes you guilt?”
“Yes. I reckon there would be a level of guilt attached if I took up with any woman after my wife died, but the fact that it’s her daughter…”
“Have you considered telling Buffy that you love her differently? It might help both of you if you did.”
“It would help her?” Spike asked, eagerly.
“And you,” Dr. Giles. “Words, as Buffy has learned, carry power. With that power is knowledge. Tell me, do you keep a journal?”
“I do.”
“Then you know that when you tell your journal something locked inside of you, it give you a sense of freedom, right?”
“Right.”
“Tenfold when the words are spoken. I’m not suggesting that every thought should be spoken to give it wings and land where it may, but I am suggesting that sometimes there are words we keep inside that need to be spoken. In this case, I think those words need to be told to Buffy.”
Spike nodded slowly, imbibing what Dr. Giles was telling him and wondering if he would ever be able to tell her all that was in his heart, all that was his own journey he’d been on since Joyce’s passing.
“She is a wonderful girl, isn’t she?” Dr. Giles prompted.
Spike smiled immediately. “She is. Though she doesn’t realize it a lot of the time. She talks a good game.”
Dr. Giles chuckled. “Yes, she does. Are you meeting with her now?” he asked, looking up at the clock on the wall.
“I am.”
“Warm in that jacket? Buffy’s taken to spending some time outside.”
“Ever since that balloon exercise?” Spike’s eyes widened. “Shit, was I not supposed to let on that I knew about that?”
Dr. Giles chuckled. “It’s quite all right. While I don’t necessarily always encourage the patient to discuss their sessions with another, sometimes it helps and I understand that. In this case, I do find it helpful for her and you.”
“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” Spike asked, grinning slightly.
Dr. Giles smiled, “No, Spike. I think you’re a man in love who wants the best for the woman he’s fallen for.”
“Yes,” Spike said, nodding adamantly. “That’s exactly it.”
“And I also think that with time, patience and communication, both of you will heal together. We’re human after all, and we do need others, whether we want to or not.”
Standing, Spike announced, “Well, if you’ll excuse me doc, I have a girl to see about.”
Dr. Giles chuckled. “Yes, and she rather can be an impatient sort, can’t she?”
Spike grinned goofily. “That she can be. Thank you, Dr. Giles.”
“The pleasure was all mine.”
********
Spike smiled fondly at Buffy when he saw her all bundled up in her coat, scarf, gloves and hat. “Well, hello Nanook of the North.”
Buffy giggled and then frowned. Touching his jacket, she looked up at him, “You gonna be warm in that? I want to go outside.”
He shrugged, “I’ll survive.”
“Spike, you really need to get something warm if you’re going to be staying here. It’s the dead of winter!” she admonished him as she led him to the door and down the hallway.
“I’ll be fine, kitten.”
Slinging her arm through his, she leaned into him slightly. “How are you?”
He felt on top of the world at the moment, that’s how he was. Buffy was by his side and she had initiated contact by putting her arm through his. Bending his arm slightly, he put his hand over hers. “I’m well. How about you?”
She nodded, but didn’t say anything.
“Buffy,” he said slowly, and nudged her with his hip.
Stepping outside, after having gained clearance from the nurse on duty, Buffy and Spike made their way out into the frigid air.
“Let’s walk around so you’ll keep warm,” Buffy suggested and started out on the concrete path that made a big rectangular loop in a quad like area smack dab in the middle of the facility.
“Are you avoiding the question?” Spike prodded after a few moments of silence.
“No… maybe. Just a lot on my mind. Go fig. I’m in a mental facility and I’ve got a lot on my mind,” and she started to laugh.
“I hate it when you do that,” Spike grumbled and stopped their jaunt, turning toward her.
“Do what?”
“Make those glib jokes.”
“Spike, it’s how I deal with it. If I didn’t laugh, I’d cry.”
“Maybe by laughing when you should be crying, you’re making things worse.”
“What’s wrong with you? You’re all,” she waved a hand in front of him as if assessing him, “tense.”
Running a hand through his hair, Spike let out a frustrated sigh and then threw up his arms off her questioning look. “I don’t know how to be!”
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know how to be with you. I mean…here I am with all these feelings and here you are…here, and I don’t know how to act. I don’t know if I make things hard for you or easy or anything and—”
Pressing a finger to his lips, Buffy stopped his rant. “Just be you, Spike,” she whispered. “Just be you. That’s what I need you to be.”
Taking her finger from his lips, Spike swooped in and crashed his lips to hers. He felt a rush of tears come at the knowledge that this was Buffy he was kissing, finally. This was where he wanted to be and needed to be all this time. Despite how many things were jumbled around them, the planets aligned themselves in this moment and everything felt right.
“You taste like honey,” he murmured, nibbling on her bottom lip before devouring her mouth again. She was pliable in his arms, her arms wrapped around his neck, and he was lifting her up, trying to get her even closer to him. When his tongue dipped in her mouth, she moaned and held him tighter, and the sound elicited a moan from him as well. “God, I love you,” he whispered.
“Mmm…Spike,” she panted, starting to pull away.
“No, not yet,” he pleaded and plundered her mouth once more. God only knew the next time he’d be given such a gift and he was going to partake of it for as long as he could.
Chapter Thirty
Spike held Buffy up against him, not willing to release her for any reason. He was lost in the sensation of finally being able to kiss her and hold her like any normal man in love with his girl would do. Anything outside their bubble mattered not to him.
“Spike,” she gasped, breaking their kiss and burying her face in his throat. She was breathing heavy and for that matter, so was he. Breathing had ceased to matter; all that had mattered was kissing her. Her breath on his neck was only adding onto his excitement. His entire body was breaking out in goose bumps.
“Please, Buffy, don’t tell me you regret that,” he begged her. “Please tell me you didn’t--”
“I didn’t. I don’t,” she whispered.
He held her tighter. “Thank you, thank you,” he chanted, pressing ardent kisses in her hair.
“You’ve literally swept me off my feet,” she laughed nervously.
Peering down, he found the tips of her toes just barely brushing the ground. He smiled and kissed her forehead. “Light as a feather, you are.”
She snorted. “Impossible.”
“It’s not,” he defended.
“I love you,” she said fondly and Spike trembled at the words.
“I love you,” he rasped, “Love you so bleedin’ much, Buffy. I feel like my heart is gonna burst from it, feel like I can’t breathe sometimes for how much I love you.”
“Spike,” she gasped.
“What, baby?” he murmured, stroking a hand under her jacket, rubbing her side, feeling her warmth.
“You’re going to make me cry!”
“How’s that?”
“Because you…no one has ever…and I need you, Spike. I need you to love me.”
“Oh, Buffy, baby, I’m right here and I love you with everything that I am.”
She pulled her head back so she could look up at him, “You know I love you back, right?”
“I know,” he whispered and kissed her again, tasting her salt on his tongue.
“Spike, I need to tell you something…” she trailed off when they’d broken apart. He let her touch Earth fully, but did not let her go. Instead, he pulled her to a nearby bench and pulled her to sit next to him. He wanted her on his lap, but he was harder than nails and didn’t want to scare her or shoot off in his pants.
“Talk to me, luv, tell me what’s on your mind,” he urged, squeezing her hand.
She chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully, staring at the ground. “I had a dream last night.”
“Oh?” So did I, funny that.
“I dreamt we were uh…you know…doing it.”
“You are blushing at least twenty shades of red,” he teased and caressed her cheek with the back of one hand. “I can’t believe it. I never thought you shied away from just blurting anything out.”
She nudged him with her elbow and he used the opportunity to pull her closer against him, wrapping an arm around her, and pressing a kiss into her hair once more.
“Was I doing something particularly saucy?” he asked huskily.
She laughed, “You’re disgusting.”
“Do you like it?”
“Kind of, yeah.”
He laughed, “Thought you might. So, tell me about this dream.”
“Well…that’s kind of where the fun ends. I don’t mean to throw a cold bucket of water on this shiny happy moment, but my Mom showed up at the end.”
He froze slightly and then forced himself to relax. “Oh?” he prompted as casually as possible. The last thing he wanted to do was make her think it was wrong, or that he was disturbed by it.
“Yeah, she was in the doorway when we were done and I called out to her and then the door slammed. I wanted to tell you because…I just wanted to tell you that I’m trying. I really am. I…” her voice trembled and Spike pulled her near on his lap and kissed her temple.
“You can tell me anything. Breathe, baby, breathe, okay?” he encouraged her gently.
“I’m trying to…get past it. It doesn’t feel wrong to love you in my heart. It’s just my head that gets all screwy and I think too much and I feel too much…People tend to think I don’t feel anything, that I have no emotion, but that’s not true. I feel like I feel everything, and all at once, and that’s what fucks me up. I keep it all inside and then I just explode.”
“I know you feel, sweetheart. I know you do. I’ve been on the receiving end of that big heart of yours and God, I know you feel. I don’t want you to keep it in anymore, okay? I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me about anything, Buffy--”
“Some of it is about you!” she exclaimed. “I can’t tell you all that.”
“Why not?” he asked, pouting slightly.
Looking up at him, she giggled and kissed him. “So adorable,” she murmured, sweeping her tongue along his bottom lip.
“Adorable, eh?” he growled and nipped at her lips.
Resting her head on his chest, she sighed. “What’s it like for you?”
“What do you mean?”
“With my mom and me…what’s it like for you?”
Dr. Giles knew what he was talking about was the only thing Spike could think. Buffy was opening the door for him to reveal the exact nature of his feelings for her, what she meant to him and how it was different from her mother. He just hoped that she was in fact prepared to hear it. He was uncertain how to tread here; Dr. Giles had been all for honesty yet, Spike was hesitant. Would she feel offended for her mother to learn that what he felt for her was so much more?
“It’s…precarious,” he said after some time.
She looked up at him curiously, “How?”
Thinking sod it all, Spike swept her legs up and then pulled her onto his lap. She studied him, her head cocked to the side. “Well?” she prompted.
“I’m thinking, woman.”
“Is that what I smell burning?”
He poked her, “Smart ass.”
She smiled cheekily, “Intelligent rear end.”
He grinned and then heaved a sigh, turning serious. “The way I love you and the way I loved your mom is different, Buffy.”
“I would hope so or that would really fuck with my head. And that particular worry already has.”
“It’s not that I didn’t love your mom.”
“I know. You married her after all,” she said quietly, looking down.
“But…your mom…she gave me something I needed at the time.”
She looked back up at him. “What was that?”
“At the time I’d met your mom, I had just lost my parents. I didn’t know what I was doing with my life, just kind of waffling about. When I met Joyce, she gave me some direction, she gave me some guidance, and she gave some unconditional love that I needed.”
“She was like a mom for you,” Buffy stated.
He should have known his girl was smart enough to pick up on that. Nodding slowly, he agreed, “Yes.”
“And me? Cause,” she started to giggle, “I know it’s not my nurturing ways.”
“I just finished telling you that you have a big heart.”
“Yeah, that may be so, but I’m not like her. I’m not open and giving like her. I reserve all that until I feel you’re really worthy.”
“Thank you.” And he pecked her nose.
“For what?” she asked incredulously.
“I must be worthy.”
She smiled, “You are.”
“Buffy, with your mom, I was yes, nurtured. Taken care of. Coddled, some would say. With you, I’m a man standing on my own two feet, asking the big questions, and finding out who I am and what I want. You challenge me. You make me want more for myself; you don’t let me get too big for my britches--”
“Who says that?” she teased.
“I do. I’m being serious here, imp.”
“Sorry. You know how I am. I make jokes when I feel nervous. Continue.”
“What’s to be nervous about?”
“I’m not used to someone singing me praises. You know, that isn’t my mom. I never thought I’d be responsible for all that you say I’m responsible for.”
“For making me want to be a better man?”
“Yeah,” she breathed. “Man, that’s huge.”
“Nothing you can’t handle, or haven’t handled so far.”
She smiled. “You have a lot of faith in me.”
He nodded, “I do. I wish you had more in yourself.”
“What a coincidence, so do I.”
He laughed and nuzzled her neck. “I was afraid to tell you.”
“Tell me…?”
“How I loved you and your mother differently. Buffy…”
“Yeah?”
“I have something to tell you, too.”
“You mean you didn’t just say it?”
“Not all of it,” he said softly.
“What is it?”
“I dreamt of you last night too.”
She sat up straight and stared straight ahead. “We…?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“You started to cry.”
“Jesus, what did you do to me?” she demanded, looking at him.
He couldn’t help but laugh at that, and then poked her. “Serious time.”
Nodding she gestured for him to continue.
“You were crying after we finished and I was about to ask you what was wrong when Joyce appeared by the bed and said ‘Now look at what you did!’”
Her eyes widened. “Then what?”
“I was going to tell her that I was sorry--”
“F-for cheating on her?”
“No! Have you been listening to me at all? I was going to tell her that I was sorry that I hurt her, but I loved you.”
“Spike?” Buffy whispered mournfully.
“Yes, my love?” he asked, afraid she’d recoil from him now. Reaching up, he twined her hair in his fingers and pulled her head down until her forehead was against his.
“Do you think she’s angry with us?” she asked in a small voice.
He hadn’t braced himself for that question, and he should have. He knew she’d been struggling with the same issues as him. So, was he honest with her at this point and admit he worried about the same? Or did he tell her that no, he didn’t think Joyce was angry with them?
About now would be a great time for some Divine Intervention…
Thirty one- Thirty two by Brat
Chapter Thirty-one
Spike decided the best he could do for Buffy was go for honesty. “I don’t know, Buffy, I don’t know if she is.”
“You weren’t supposed to say that,” she pouted.
“What do you want me to say?”
“Lie. Tell me she’s not angry with us. Tell me she’s happy for us.”
“I want her to be, but I don’t know that. I can’t know that. But, Buffy…either way, we have our lives to live now.”
She pulled her head back. “Do you really feel that way? Or do you think you should feel that way?”
He stared at her.
“You forget I know you, Spike. You forget that I know you have a guilt streak in you to rival mine. And you forget that I,” she tapped his chest, right over his heart, “know your heart.”
He took a ragged breath, shaking his head. “So, my girl is perceptive, eh?”
“Always have been. So?”
“I have had my reservations, yes--”
“I knew it!”
“But, Buffy, if I took up with anyone after your mother, there would have been some guilt attached.”
Her eyes fell to her lap, “But since it’s her daughter…”
“Look at me,” he demanded, something inside him snapping. There was no way he was going to give up the bliss he’d felt from kissing her and holding her; no way he was going to give up the sheer bliss he felt at just loving her over a few uncertainties.
She looked up at him.
“I love you, dammit, and I’m not going to be stopping anytime soon and I don’t want to. Nothing has ever felt so right in all my life and I am not going to let it go – not going to let you go. You are my girl. That’s it. That’s the end of the story. We will work the rest of it out, but I am not going to give something up that makes me a better man, that makes me stronger, and gives me a reason to get out of bed in the morning because of some guilt and dreams. I’m staying by your side, Buffy, and that’s it. You’re gonna have to use a crowbar to get me away from you, you understand me?”
She visibly shivered, “Wow.”
“What?”
“That was hot.”
He smiled, “It was?”
She nodded adamantly. “And that helped, believe it or not. It’s just not going to be the end for me and my guilt. You understand?”
He heaved a sigh, “Yeah, I know. I feel it too, Buffy, I do. But . . . I have to move on. I can’t help the fact that I fell in love with you. You’re it for me, that’s all my heart knows, and you’re all it wants. I can’t help that, and God help me, I don’t want to.” Bringing her to him, he kissed her hungrily, reveling in the feel of her body pressing against his. Tangling his hands in her hair, he angled her head and deepened their kiss, dipping his tongue in her mouth, and tasting her sweetness.
“Ahem.”
They both froze and their eyes popped open and locked on one another. Buffy ducked her head and Spike peered over her shoulder. He grinned. “Well, hello there, Bea!”
“Time’s up,” Bea said matter-of-factly. “Buffy’s got lunch.”
Spike sighed, “All right. Can you give us a minute? I’ll walk her in.”
Bea rolled her eyes and trudged off.
Buffy sighed and looked up at him apologetically. “Sorry.”
“What’re you sorry for?” he asked gently.
“For being here.”
He shook his head, “Don’t you apologize for that. You felt you needed help and you got it. Buffy, I love you, so of course I want what’s best for you.”
Now she smiled softly. “Thank you.” Her smile spread, “I love you, too.”
Groaning, Spike smothered her in another kiss and reluctantly broke away when his baser needs started to get a hold of him. “Come on, now luv; let’s get you some food, all right?”
Nodding, looking as reluctant as he felt, Buffy slid off his lap and just raised a brow at the visible erection he was sporting.
“What did you expect?” he grumbled and she laughed.
********
January 14, 2006
Dear Joyce,
I miss you. I really do. I miss our talks, I miss your guidance. I miss your hugs and I miss your laughter.
I don’t think I ever told you what a wonderful woman I thought you were. I don’t think I ever thanked you for all the things you did for me, and all the things you gave me that I so desperately needed. You helped me in so many ways that gave me the start I needed in my life.
I wanted to discuss Buffy with you. She’s a great girl, Joyce. You did well with her. I wish I could say the same for Hank, but as far as I’m concerned, what you did and what Buffy did out of sheer tenacity, made her into the lovable person she is today.
And I love her Joyce. I love her so much. I know you didn’t think we’d ever get along much less fall for each other, but we have. You are ever present in our minds. The guilt we feel; the worry we have over you and what you think follows us.
But I want to move on Joyce, and I want to help Buffy do the same. I know that how you feel on the matter could go either way – you might bless us, you might hate us. You might have been responsible for pushing us together, or you might be responsible for the obstacles threatening to pull us apart.
Whatever it is that you feel, I want to tell you that I love your daughter very much and I’m going to take good care of her. The last thing I want is for her to suffer any more pain and I am going to be there with her every step of the way as she heals. You’d be so proud of her Joyce; she’s doing so well and trying so hard. She doesn’t quit, she just keeps going, keeps fighting.
I know ultimately you do want us to both be happy, so all I’m asking for here is for you to understand on the off chance that you don’t. It’s not disgusting, it can’t be. What I feel is real and true, I know it. It doesn’t mean that I never loved you, because I did and a part of me always will, it just means that I’m ready to move on – to move on from being a widower, and move on to the next phase of my life. I want that next phase to be with Buffy by my side. I hope that you can understand that. Your understanding would mean so much to her and I.
Thank you for all you’ve done for me –
Goodbye, Joyce –
Spike.
With a blue balloon in hand that he’d gathered from a nearby party store, Spike tied the letter to the string of it, and let it all go from a park bench in Boston Common. He smiled, feeling peace wash over him when it started to snow.
Chapter Thirty two
“I think I’m getting ready to go, Giles,” Buffy said to Giles a week later at the beginning of their session.
“Oh?”
Buffy nodded, fiddling with the hem of her shirt as she sat in his comfy black patient chair. “I am not done with getting some help, because well, I still feel I need it, but I think I am ready to leave being in a facility.”
Giles nodded slowly.
“Could you say something? I’m really nervous about this decision.”
“Why?”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Because I don’t know if I should go or not!”
“Well, part of being able to leave acquiring is your ability to make such decisions. If you’ve already started to feel that you’re ready to leave, albeit with a reference from me to see someone, then you already must feel that you’re ready to go. Plus, if I didn’t think you could make it outside of here, I’d tell you.”
“I’m afraid,” she whispered.
“Why?”
“Cause it’s safe here. It’s like time out of time. I’m in the world, and yet I’m not. I get to see Spike, but when I feel as though my emotions are going to carry me away, I have a session or our times up. There’s a certain level of safety attached to it that I don’t have out there. Plus… I really like talking with you, Giles. I trust you and I’m afraid to talk with someone new.”
“Buffy, out there doesn’t have to be so different from in here.”
“So, I don’t have to work and do anything but hide out in my room out there?”
He gave her a look, “Funny.”
“You’re gonna miss me, Giles. Admit it.”
“Buffy, out there, when you feel you need to take a step back from Spike, you take that step back. Something tells me he will be quite receptive to your needs.”
“He is,” Buffy agreed, nodding.
“Life can often be overwhelming even for the most well-adjusted. It’s okay to say ‘I need a break’ and to take care of yourself. The one thing I’ve been telling you that you need to do most is to be kind to yourself. You haven’t been for a very long time and you’re not going to heal if you’re not kinder to yourself. The others will come later.”
“And when I am happy, then others benefit from a happy Buffy.”
Giles smiled, chuckling, “Exactly.”
“I haven’t told Spike yet about my decision to move out.”
“When the time is right, you will, Buffy. You might not realize it, but you’re an intuitive girl and you’re good at reading others. Spike, from the little I’ve spoken with him, seems to be the same way – and he’s particularly in tune with you. I think if you explain your side, he’ll receive it well.”
“Do you think he’d receive it well if I told him I just don’t feel comfortable being in that house with him?”
Giles laughed nervously, “Well, I think it’s a topic you should broach with him if you feel that strongly about it.”
“Do you think that’s me running away?”
“No. I think that’s you wanting a fresh start.”
“Can I tell you a little secret, Giles?”
Giles smiled, “I think you know you can, Buffy.”
Nibbling her bottom lip, she scrunched her brows together thoughtfully. “I’m thinking it’s a little…gross…okay, not gross, but a little…ewwww to know that when the day comes that we consummate our relationship,” now her entire face scrunched up, “he slept with my mom!”
Giles burst out laughing, “Oh, Buffy, I think that’s entirely normal and natural and nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Is that something I can tell him?”
“Well, you might want to proceed with caution on that one. I don’t think referring to it as ‘ewwwww’ will help.”
Buffy laughed airily. “Yeah,” she mused, “Probably not.”
“Can I tell you a secret?” Giles asked, grinning, and his eyes twinkling.
Buffy broke into a wide smile. “Of course!”
“I’m going to miss you as well.”
********
Buffy swept the room again with her eyes and chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully.
“Buffy, luv, I think you have everything,” Spike assured her, holding her suitcase.
She looked up at him and nodded, feeling the onslaught of tears begin to come. Now that she’d made the decision to go, she was feeling a little overwhelmed. After her talk with Giles, she’d felt good about it, and now that it was happening, not so much.
Her knuckles turned white from clutching the duffel bag in front of her tightly. She turned from him, trying to not let Spike onto the fact that the tears were dripping down her cheeks.
“Buffy, look at me,” Spike ordered softly.
She shook her head.
“Luv, please, look at me.”
Wiping quickly at her tears, she looked at him. “Happy?”
“No, because you clearly aren’t. Buffy, what is it?”
“I just…I’m leaving here. I’m afraid. Maybe I’m not ready yet; maybe I need some more time.”
Dropping her suitcase, Spike held out his hand, “Come here.”
Reaching out her hand, she grasped his and dropped her bag, allowing him to pull her into a hug.
“Love, you’re ready to leave. You can do this, and I’m going to be there every step of the way to make sure you can. You have made tremendous steps here, and you are stronger than you realize, Buffy. I know the world can be a scary place, and in here you feel safe because you don’t have to deal with it, but you have to eventually.”
She nodded mutely, afraid that if she spoke, she would openly sob.
“It’s going to be all right,” Spike whispered, stroking her back gently. “It will be. I have faith in you.”
She nodded again, burying her face in his throat. They stood that way for a long time and when Buffy felt she had a handle on her emotions, she took a few deep breaths, disengaged from Spike and nodded. “I’m ready.”
When she saw Giles, however, she lost it. When she saw him waiting by the door, waiting to see her off, Buffy burst into tears and threw herself in his arms. “Thank you,” she murmured, “and I’m scared.”
“Don’t be,” Giles said softly, “You’re ready. And if you need me, you ring me, all right?”
Buffy nodded and pulled back, wiping at her eyes.
“You have my number still, right?” Giles asked, handing her some tissues.
She nodded.
“And you have the list of referrals I gave you?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Let me know as soon as you make an appointment, all right?”
“I will.”
“Buffy, you’re going to be fine. One step, one day, one moment at a time. Don’t try for running, just try at walking. And when that becomes hard, crawl. Okay?”
Biting her lip to keep from crying again, Buffy nodded.
“Buffy?” Spike asked hesitantly.
Looking over her shoulder at him and then to Giles, she said, “Bye Giles, thank you.”
Giles smiled, “Not good bye. I’ll talk with you soon.”
Giving him one last quick hug, Buffy whispered, “Soon,” and hurried off.
“You all right?” Spike asked, full of concern and worry when she came up to him.
“I am,” she said bravely and held her breath as they stepped outside the facility. “Hello world,” she muttered, “I’m ba-ack.”
********
Their flight wasn’t until the morning, and so after bringing her things to the hotel, Spike took Buffy out for dinner. He felt odd, he felt on edge. It was very much how he felt while she’d been in the facility – he didn’t know how to be. He’d figured that would dissipate once she’d left, but seeing her sad eyes and her reaction to leaving, he was afraid the wrong move would send her back.
“I’m not going to crumble, Spike,” she told him as they walked back to the hotel slowly, hand in hand. It was crisp out, but not unbearable and light snow was dropping from the sky.
“What?”
She smiled knowingly, “You’re worried I’m going to fall apart. You don’t know how to be with me again, I can tell.”
Spike let out a heavy sigh, a sigh so heavy one would think he’d been holding his breath all this time. He felt as though perhaps he had been. “I don’t want to make it worse. I know you’re feeling sad and scared about leaving, and I don’t want to do anything that’s going to send you back there.”
“Spike,” she said, stopping, and making him look at her. “You weren’t responsible for putting me in there in the first place. You know that right?”
He nodded slowly.
“Cause you weren’t responsible for that, and it’s important that you know that. I went there because things were too overwhelming for me at the time. All those years of stress just came pouring over like the last drop in a full sink, and I felt I couldn’t deal properly. You weren’t what sent me there. I told you before, I need you to be you or it’ll just make being out in the world that much worse.”
Spike nodded, feeling a rush of emotion come over him like a tidal wave and he pulled her into a bear hug, peppering kisses in her hair. “What do you want to do now, hmm?”
“I want to take a bath and watch some of those old movies I saw were playing tonight. Do you want to join me? With the movie watching, I mean.”
“Of course,” Spike told her huskily and kissed her quickly. “Let’s go.”
********
Feeling thoroughly refreshed and relaxed from her bath, Buffy sauntered out into the hotel bedroom to find Spike sitting in a highly uncomfortable looking chair next to the enormous bed in the center of the room.
She furrowed her brow and looked at him. “What are you doing?”
Clearing his throat, Spike sat up in the chair, his back straight. “Watching TV.”
“Isn’t that chair uncomfortable?”
He stared at her long and hard, “Well, I thought you could take the bed,” he said slowly and uncertainly.
Looking from the bed to him, Buffy shook her head, “That’s a whole lotta bed for just one person.” Crawling up the bed, she propped herself up against the headboard. Gesturing to the wide space next to her she said, “See? All that room.” She patted the spot next to her. “Come share it with me.”
He stared at her, blinking.
She patted the spot again and slowly, Spike stood and crawled onto the bed with her. Immediately, Buffy snuggled up to him, resting her head on his shoulder and wrapping an arm across his middle. “There, that’s better, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” he rasped and wrapped his arms around her tightly, kissing the top of her head.
She smiled contentedly. “Got the remote?”
Reaching over onto the bedside table, Spike produced the remote for the TV. Sighing happily, Buffy suggested, “Why don’t you see what’s on?”
Thirty three - Thirty four by Brat
Chapter Thirty three
“I just love old movies, don’t you?” Buffy said wistfully, burrowing under the covers with Spike. They lay side by side facing one another, hands entwined between them.
Spike shrugged, “They’re all right, I guess.”
Buffy rolled her eyes, “Mostly chick flicks, right?”
Spike grinned, “Yeah. But some of them aren’t bad.”
“But Gene Kelly and Judy Garland singing and dancing is not your thing, right?”
“Not really.”
“You know what I love about old movies?”
“Tell me,” he urged.
“How simple things seemed then. How easy and romantic. I mean, these days getting a good romantic comedy that isn’t filled with sex and some form of cheating is a rarity. They’re hard to come by. But back then, it was wholesome and pure; they made you really believe that those things could happen.”
Spike kissed the back of her hand, “They can happen, love. They have, don’t you think?”
Buffy smiled. “Yeah. We’re more like ‘One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest’ though.”
Spike laughed and tugged her closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I love you.”
Snuggling into him, Buffy murmured, “I love you, too.” She looked up at him inquiringly, “Could I get a real kiss now instead of just these pecks cause--”
His mouth covered hers in an instant and Buffy melted into it, into him. This was perfect. This was what she wanted right now, just this. No stress, no worries, no fears and no guilt. She also didn’t want the looming question of “When will we do it?” She just wanted to spend some time with him, love him, and not worry about all that other stuff. That stuff only complicated things, made things layered and more difficult. But kisses and hugs and affectionate phrases and handholding –that’s what she wanted. The simple things – that’s what she needed.
Spike was the first one to break away, panting into her neck. She could feel his erection against her stomach and decided that while it excited her, she wasn’t ready to do anything about it, so she kept quiet.
“Tired, love?” he asked after a minute, pulling slightly away from her.
She nodded, “I am, it’s been a long day.”
“How about we get some sleep, okay? Tomorrow is another big day.”
Yawning on cue, Buffy nodded, “Okay.”
Rolling slightly, Spike flicked off the light and snuggled back under the covers facing her. She smiled shyly at him and propped her head on his chest. “I love you, Spike,” she whispered.
“I love you, too,” he whispered back, wrapping an arm around her.
Shutting her eyes, Buffy prayed that being back in Sunnydale, and that being back in her mother’s house, would go well the following day. Just the thought of it filled her with uneasiness and she wasn’t quite sure yet how to broach that topic with Spike.
********
The plane ride was exhausting and all Spike wanted to do was get home and get an exhausted Buffy in bed. She was more than a little grumpy – observed by the few times she’d snapped at him or made a sarcastic comment.
He did make a mental note however; that her mood had started to shift the closer they got to California. And now, in a cab on their way to the house, she was downright sullen, staring out the window, having barely said a word to him.
“Buffy.”
“What?”
“You all right?”
“Yup.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Whatever.”
“Buffy.”
“What”
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
At that point, he’d had enough too and sat back with disgruntled sigh. “Fine.” If she wasn’t willing to talk, there was nothing he could do to force her. She could be a downright stubborn bint when she wanted to be and now was no exception.
Once they’d arrived home, she was out of the cab in a flash and heading toward the house as if she had something that just couldn’t wait to do inside.
Quickly paying the fare, Spike went after her, carrying his things inside with some difficulty. He found her standing in the living room, quietly, just staring off into space.
He said nothing, but merely watched her as she moved from the living room, to the study, to the kitchen and the dining room and then finally up the stairs, all the while following her, but quietly, not trying to draw attention to it.
Finally, she stood in the doorway of his bedroom, staring inside the room.
“I was afraid to come back here,” she said finally. “Before, when I left, things were felt, but not said and out in the open. Now they are, and it feels different here.” She turned to look at him. “I can’t share your bed.”
“Wh-what are you saying?”
She turned, facing him. “It might seem as though I’m running away, but I’m not, I’m really not. Giles said it was me wanting a fresh start and I really want to go with that. I can’t be here, Spike. I can’t be here with you. I need to leave this place. I feel her here now more than I did before and it’s not…okay, maybe it is partly due to guilt, but mostly, it’s just everything that this place represents for me now. This was where I grew up. This was where I had a loving father. This was also where they split and I then I split, and I don’t want to think of it as my being weak, being unable to live here, but I simply can’t. If I’m going to move on, then I need to put it all to rest.” Swallowing hard, she shook her head and rubbed her temples. “I know I’ve been an awful traveling companion, but the closer we got, the more afraid I became. I mean – who wants to leave their home, right? But I have to.”
Tears were starting to fall and Spike wanted to go to her, but also wanted to give her a chance to get what she needed to get out, out.
“The closer we got, the more I started to think of this house and what it means to me. Rather, what it meant to me then and what it means to me now. Once upon a time in this house, I was a little girl with a family. It’s not the case anymore though. Now it’s a place where I was happy once upon a time, but then I lost my father, and my mother, and now all I feel and see is reminders of it.” She broke off, brushing tears away. “Good days and bad days, Giles said I’d have them. I’m sorry, Spike.”
That was all it took for Spike to lunge at her and gather her in his arms. “Don’t be sorry,” he whispered. “I get it, I understand.”
“Do you?”
“I was thinking I had to leave too.”
She pulled back, “You were?”
“It didn’t seem right to stay here. Felt wrong somehow. Just seemed here, there was too much between us. I want a fresh start too, Buffy. I want to be in a place where we can start new.”
“Spike, do you think it’s wise that we move in together?”
He froze. “You—you don’t want to live with me?”
“I – I had planned on moving out, but I—I hadn’t planned on doing it with you. I mean I didn’t know that you were planning--”
“You already knew you were going to move out?” he asked quietly.
“Well, I’d talked about it with Giles. I was going to tell you--”
“When?”
“When it was the right time.”
“Anytime would have been a good time, Buffy.”
“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings!”
“Well you already did anyway!”
“I thought you’d understand,” she said looking down.
“I—” Growling, he threw his arms up. “I’m tired of being fucking understanding! I don’t want to be understanding here. You fucking took off to Hawaii with that goddamn ponce, then you don’t come home but you leave for Boston and end up in a fucking mental hospital and I’ve been understanding. I’ve been what you needed me to be, but you know what? I need something here too and telling me you’re leaving me is not it!”
“Well, finally, the truth comes out,” Buffy said, crossing her arms across her chest. “Maybe I should push your buttons more often, maybe that’s the only way I can get a little honesty out of you.”
“I have been nothing but honest with you,” Spike said through clenched teeth.
“You know I don’t want the sugar coated version. If you’re going to give it to me, give it to me raw. It’s obviously what you’ve been really thinking. I’m so fucking sorry that losing my fucking mind inconvenienced you, I’ll make sure to time it so that it doesn’t coincide with your schedule!”
“That’s not how I meant it!”
“So, what? I’m supposed to move in with you because I dated Angel? Because I didn’t come home right away? I thought you were off fucking Fred all that time, did you know that? Did you know that I was trying to get a handle on my feelings for you because I didn’t want to have them? That I thought I was sick and I thought you’d think I was too? So Fuck you!”
Storming off, Buffy made it to her bedroom door before Spike grabbed her arm and hurled her to face him. “You think you were alone in thinking you were sick for loving me? I thought I was sick for loving you! I thought it was wrong – do you know the guilt I’ve had? Do you know how I felt I should have been locked up too? And how the bloody hell did you think I felt knowing you were fucking Angel?”
“Let go of me!” She shouted back and yanked her arm back. Stomping into her room, she slammed her door shut and locked it.
“Buffy, luv, let me in.” Just like that, he sounded calm. She was ready to spit nails still and he was calm – how the freaking hell did that happen?
“No!” she retaliated forcefully.
“Buffy, please, luv, just let me in and we can talk. Look, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I yelled at you like that.”
“Just go away, Spike, please,” she said, fighting off tears. Fumbling in her purse that she still had on, she dug for Giles’ number and her phone.
“Buffy, please,” he was begging now and she just couldn’t take it. Heading for her closet, Buffy opened it, stepped inside, turned the light on overhead and sat down on the floor and dialed her trusty therapist.
Chapter Thirty-four
Buffy fell asleep in the closet. After she’d rung Giles, she’d lain back on a pile of clothes and shut her eyes to relax and gather the courage to exit her bedroom and see Spike. Well, apparently, she’d fallen asleep. She’d kicked her closet door open during the night and sun was currently streaming in her bedroom. When a ray hit her eyes, she groaned and shut the door. With some maneuvering she rolled to her side and curled in a ball.
Then, she started to laugh maniacally. I’m hiding in a closet. I called my therapist in a closet. I slept in a closet.
“Giles?” she greeted him, shaking, when she’d rang the night before.
“Buffy, what’s going on? You don’t sound right.”
“Let me see…can you hear this?” she held the phone out the door to see if he could hear Spike pleading with her to let the door open.
Putting the phone back to her ear and closing the door she said, “Well?”
“Buffy, what happened?”
“We had a blow-out. I told him I didn’t want to live here anymore and he told me that he didn’t want to either, and that we’d get a place together where we could start new and all that crap, and it just unraveled from there.”
“How so?”
She launched into what was said and by the time she was finished, she was crying again. “Should I come back, Giles? Should I come back there? Maybe I’m not ready to be here, yet. I’m in a fucking closet. How is that normal?”
“Buffy, take a deep breath and relax.”
“I want to come back, can I come back?” she was pleading as hard as Spike now.
“Buffy, this is a bump in the road.”
“No, this is more like a pothole that blows out your tire.”
“Breathe, Buffy.”
“I am!”
“Not well. Do it with me.”
He led her through some calm breathing and soon, she felt calmer than she had.
“Buffy, listen to me. Here, the same problems are still there. Here, you’re just not facing them head on like you are now. It’s all right. Don’t give up when a challenge comes your way like this. You did the right thing by stepping away from the situation. Now that you’re in a calmer place, think about what you want to say to Spike to try and make him understand where you’re coming from. You tell him that you don’t want to yell, you tell him you want to talk calmly with no shouting, and you stay firm with that. If he yells, you stay calm and tell him that you are not going to yell and you are not going to be snippy with him. You cannot control him, but you can control you and how you react.”
“Okay,” Buffy murmured, bringing her legs up to her chest and dropping her forehead to her drawn up knees. “Do I have to go out there and see him now? I really don’t want to.”
“If you don’t want to discuss it tonight, then don’t. But you should let him know you will discuss it at some point.”
“Okay.”
“Buffy, your reasons are your reasons, you can’t make him understand it, you can’t make him like it, but that doesn’t mean you have to feel guilty for feeling as you do, and that doesn’t mean you have to do as he wants because of that guilt you feel.”
“Things were going so well, Giles,” she whimpered slightly.
“It’s an adjustment period for both of you right now. He’s under stress and you’re under stress. Cut yourself some slack.”
“I’m trying. I just can’t help but feel I shouldn’t have told him like that.”
“Stop beating yourself up. You told him when the subject was brought up and that is fine. Buffy, you just left here yesterday. Remember – crawl before you walk, walk before you run. You’re trying to run here and you need to just walk.”
“I think I’m trying to do hurdles here, never mind just running.”
Giles chuckled, “Why don’t you get some sleep, all right? Tell Spike you’re going to bed and that you’ll talk with him in the morning.”
“Everything looks better in the morning.”
Everything looks better in the morning when you hadn’t slept in your closet, Buffy thought as she stretched her legs out. What the hell have I become that this is how I deal with things? I get mad at my mom, I run to Boston, I get upset over having feelings for Spike, and I stay in Hawaii and then trek off to Boston to face my father. He shuns me and I check myself in the loony bin. Spike freaks on me and I hide in my closet. . . I can hear Giles now, telling me to not beat myself up for this.
It was hard not to though when looking at the pattern. Shades of gray, she reasoned. There were shades of gray here. It wasn’t all black and white. All right, I need to get out of this closet.
Crawling out carefully, Buffy stretched her arms over her head, grimacing when several bones in her body cracked. Feeling a slight cramp in her legs and a crink in her neck and lower back, she entered her bathroom and started a warm shower. This was what she needed. Once she was cleansed, she would go find Spike and try to be calm about things. She just hoped he wasn’t in a foul mood.
********
Spike jerked awake, the sound of the shower jarring him from sleep. He blinked and rubbed his eyes as he gazed across the hallway, staring at Buffy’s closed door. He’d fallen asleep sitting up in the hallway, waiting for Buffy to leave her room.
He sighed heavily and climbed to his feet. He was stiff and achy, cold and hungry. In short, he was in a rather foul mood. Heading toward the bathroom, he decided to take props from Buffy and take a nice warm shower, maybe after that, he’d feel a bit better and ready to have a chat with her about the night before.
All right, so going off the way I did when she’d just got home was probably not wise. She didn’t need that. I knew she’d been tense the closer we got to California. I knew she was having a hard time with coming back. And as per usual, she wouldn’t talk to me about it. Spike rubbed his scalp harder at the thought of Buffy closing off from him again. But I can’t expect her to talk to me all the time about stuff. Some things she does need to work out on her own without me coddling her. And she did talk to me after about what was bothering her, but…goddammit, I don’t want to be without her now!
Rinsing himself from his shower and stepping out, briskly drying himself, Spike felt a bit better. Physically anyway. We’ll chat it out, come to a decision together, and I won’t yell at her like that again. I’ll listen to her side, and she’ll listen to my side. Maybe I can convince her to move in with me…but I have to find a way to be okay with it if she chooses not to.
Throwing on his clothes quickly, Spike made his way out of his bedroom and down the stairs, noting that Buffy’s door was now open. Coming into the kitchen he found her opening a yogurt.
She looked up at him, timidly. That’s not my girl, Spike thought sadly. My girl is not timid.
“Hi,” she said cautiously.
“Hi, luv. How are you this morning?”
She nodded, swallowing hard. “I’m all right. How are you?”
“Buffy…I’m sorry for yelling at you like that.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner about my plans. I didn’t know when a good time was. I kept putting it off because I was afraid that you were going to react like that.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“You got some things out,” she said shrugging, “obviously you needed to.”
“I didn’t want to do that to you.”
“I just went in my closet and called Giles.”
“You went in your closet?” he sputtered, flabbergasted.
She nodded, “Yep. I find it reflective. It’s my own little nut hut.”
In spite of himself, he laughed. “Oh, Buffy.”
“Look, I do want to talk about this with you, but I’m friggen starving here. Can we talk after we eat, please?”
Spike nodded. “Sure, pet, we can do that.”
Thirty-five - Thirty six by Brat
Chapter Thirty-five
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Buffy apologized again after breakfast. The both of them had eaten outside on the porch in silence. Spike had made toast for himself and shared a bit with Buffy when she’d finished her skimpy yogurt.
He studied her from the cushioned chair he was settled in. “I know you are.”
She nodded and turned from his gaze. “How come you never told me all of that?”
“What?”
She gave him a look. “About Angel and all that stuff you said last night.”
“Well, just like you, I didn’t know when a good time was. Besides, seemed kind of a moot point since you’d already broken up with him.”
Buffy heaved a deep breath, “I hadn’t realized how all that stuff affected you, Spike. I mean I didn’t know what you were going through.”
“How could you? I couldn’t tell you then, now could I?”
“No, I suppose not,” she murmured, looking down at her hands.
“So, maybe we’ve both made some mistakes in how we’ve handled the situation.”
“I didn’t know I was making you so crazy,” she said softly, looking up at him. “I wasn’t trying to.” Her bottom lip trembled and Spike felt like a git. The last thing he wanted was to make her cry. Shooting up from his chair, he was before her in an instant, kneeling at her feet. Reaching up, he cradled her face in his hands. “Don’t cry, luv, you don’t know what it does to me when you cry.”
“I can’t help it,” she said, letting the tears fall. “I spent a long time trying to not cry, and now it’s all I seem to do. I think my tear ducts were backed up or something. They’re making up for lost time.”
Spike chuckled softly and gazed at her searchingly. “Baby, why don’t you live with me, hmmm? Being with one another like this is how it all began.”
“Do you think I won’t want to be with you if I don’t live with you?”
He fell silent, just watching her. He hadn’t thought of it that way before, and now, it sort of made sense. Subconsciously perhaps he had been thinking that.
“And you lived with my Mom for five years,” she continued, “Don’t you want to live alone for a while?”
“No, I don’t.”
She studied him carefully. “Why?”
He ignored the question. “What about you? You lived alone all this time. Do you really want to do that again?”
“Yes and no. Yes, because I know I’m not ready to live with you, Spike. It would be too couple-y, and that means some pressure--”
“I pressure you now?” Spike asked, irritated, and stood.
“No!” she stood and faced him, letting out an exaggerated and aggravated sigh. “You don’t pressure me, but the whole idea of living with you while trying to muddle through all this,” she waved her hand back and forth between them, “is just too much right now. Don’t you think it’s too much?”
“No, I don’t,” he muttered. “I love you, ergo; I want to be with you.”
“You are with me! Just because I don’t think we should live together, it doesn’t mean we aren’t together. Jesus!” Throwing up her arms, Buffy walked away from him to the other side of the porch and leaned against the railing, bottom against the wood rail. Crossing her arms across her chest, she stared at him. “This isn’t about me, Spike. You’re afraid to be alone.”
“Don’t turn this around on me!” he barked.
She bolted up straight. “I’m not going to yell. You want to talk, we’ll talk, but I’m not yelling!”
“You already are!”
Heaving a sigh, she turned her head for a minute and then looked back to him. “I’m stopping,” she said calmly.
“I’m not afraid to--” Punching a fist in the air he shook his head and turned from her. “Bloody hell. Fine, all right, I’m afraid to live alone.”
“Because you were with my mom for so long, right?”
He looked over his shoulder at her, “Yeah, that’s it. I lived with her, then you. I fell for you and the idea of being alone again…I mean, I survived all right while you were gone, but I was mostly going out of my bleedin’ mind.”
“It’s not going to be the same, Spike. It’s not like we’ll really be apart. I’ll come see you; you’ll come see me…”
“Then why don’t we just live together?”
“Because it’s not what we need to do. It won’t help us survive; it won’t get us through all the stuff we need to get through. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be difficult. And honestly, now that I know that you’re just afraid to be alone, I think you have to do it to prove to yourself that you can.”
“That goddamn journey you’ve been blathering on about?” Spike drawled, scratching the back of his head.
Buffy giggled. “Yeah. That goddamn journey. You’re not alone in being afraid,” she said softly, making her way over to him. Standing before him, she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him. “I’m afraid too.”
Winding his arms around her, Spike buried his face in her neck. “I never should have admitted I was afraid to be alone. That was a mistake.”
Buffy giggled. “You’re terrible.”
“Buffy, I know that you don’t always have to tell me stuff, but some things, I wish you would.”
“I know,” she looked up at him. “I know I’m internal. I keep things inside until I’m about ready to blow. I’m not used to sharing, Spike. It’s not going to be an overnight thing with me, and I’m guessing it’s not with you, either…?”
He smiled sheepishly. “No, it’s not. I was…I was trying to keep it together for you!”
“That’s sweet, but I told you before your feelings don’t cease to exist just because I’m . . . whatever I am.” Laughing nervously, she moved out of his arms. “I’m sorry that I made things so hard. I didn’t know what you were going through.”
Pulling her back against him and wrapping his arms around her, Spike whispered in her ear. “Stop, kitten, don’t beat yourself up here. We agreed we both made some mistakes, had some miscommunication and neither of us dealt with things well.
Spinning in his arm, she beseeched him, “Just like you want me to tell you, I need you to tell me. Cause last night was not fun and I don’t want us blowing up at each other like that.”
“I will try.”
“And so will I.”
Pressing his forehead to hers, he murmured. “I still don’t want to be without you.”
“You’re not,” she whispered. “You won’t be. I don’t love half-assed, Spike. At least, I don’t think I do. I’ve never really been in love before, never knew what it meant to be in love, how it felt…you’re my first. You’re mine and you’re going to stay mine.”
“Till the end of the world,” Spike told her huskily, shaking in her arms, just before devouring her lips with his.
********
Later, as Spike and Buffy were unpacking and cleaning a bit, Buffy flipped on the radio and immediately shouted for him. Coming into the bedroom to see what was so exciting, Spike found himself on the receiving end of a concert for one.
Turning to him with a giddy grin, Buffy pointed at him and sang along to the song on the radio.
"Listen, baby
Ain't no mountain high
Ain't no valley low
Ain't no river wide enough, baby.
If you need me, call me
No matter where you are
No matter how far
Just call my name
I'll be there in a hurry
You don't have to worry."
Spike rolled his eyes, but couldn't help the smile that bloomed on his face. Grabbing him, Buffy wrapped herself around him and swayed to the music with him as she sang.
"'Cause baby,
There ain't no mountain high enough
Ain't no valley low enough
Ain't no river wide enough
To keep me from getting to you
Remember the day
I set you free
I told you
You could always count on me
From that day on I made a vow
I'll be there when you want me
Some way, some how."
It was then that Spike welled up in tears. He hid them from her by burying his face in her neck as she finished out the song.
"'Cause baby,
There ain't no mountain high enough
Ain't no valley low enough
Ain't no river wide enough
To keep me from getting to you
No wind, no rain
My love is alive
Way down in my heart
Although we are miles apart
If you ever need a helping hand
I'll be there on the double
As fast as I can
Don't you know that
There ain't no mountain high enough
Ain't no valley low enough
Ain't no river wide enough
To keep me from getting to you
Don't you know that
There ain't no mountain high enough
Ain't no valley low enough
Ain't no river wide enough..."
"Spike?" she prompted quietly once the song was over.
He shook in her arms and cried quietly.
"Baby..." she murmured, stroking his back. “I didn't mean to make you cry! I was trying to make you feel better, let you now how I felt and that I'm still here no matter what...Spike..."
The next thing Buffy knew she was on her bed with Spike kissing her with incredible passion and fire; fire that threatened to engulf them both into flames. And when his hand crept under her shirt, and he cupped her breast in the palm of his hand, Buffy felt a stirring in her center at the same time abject fear took hold.
Oh boy, she thought.
Chapter Thirty six
His mouth, Buffy decided, was magic. It made all thought leave her mind and turned her into a puddle of goo in a matter of seconds. With his mouth and his passion, he could go on the road and seduce women everywhere.
Well, really, if she compiled a list it would be his stunning smile, the adorable look he got when he was caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing, his tight ass, his laugh, his deep voice, his ability to make her feel like the only woman in the world, his embrace, how he made her feel protected and cherished, his wit, his intelligence – all of those things combined served to make Spike the perfect man. No wonder her mother –
Like a cold bucket of ice had been dumped on her, Buffy pushed at Spike who took her pushing to mean she needed to breathe and started leaving nibbling kisses down her neck instead.
“Spike--” she gasped, her nipples tightening and hardening under not only his expert hands that went along with his expert mouth, but from the sensation of feeling his erection rubbing oh-so-perfectly against her core.
He wasn’t listening, or, if he was, he wasn’t answering.
“Spike, please, you have to stop.”
That did it. He froze, lifted his head up slowly to look at her and removed his hands from under her shirt.
She looked at the worry and confusion on his face and felt guilty – not to mention stupid. Of all the things to think of, she thought of her mother at a time like this?
Was it completely off base for her to think of how the man hovering above her had slept with her mom? For five years. She had to assume they had a healthy sex life, and the idea of sleeping with the man that slept with her mother, was more than a little unnerving. It was…creepy, and well, kind of gross. And yet not. On the other end of the grossness factor was an incredibly hot man that was in love with her, and with whom she was in love with.
And so begins the circles my thoughts will now take. Round and round and round… This should be fun. As if I didn’t have enough in my head. Well, this wasn’t exactly old, but I didn’t think sex was yet a…thing.
“Buffy?”
“I’m sorry. I—I can’t. I’m not ready.”
He rolled off her completely, lying on his back with a hand across his face. “’M sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“I am, just the same.”
“What um, what happened there, killer?” she asked, trying to lighten the sudden heavy mood.
He chuckled nervously. “You, singing to me--”
“Man, that Marvin Gaye is good.”
“—and…and you leaving me.”
“I’m not leaving you!” Buffy exclaimed, throwing her arms up, frustrated.
“Kitten, I can’t help it. I’m scared. We covered this remember? I like having you here with me. I like just having you with me. I like coming home after a long day and being alone with you.”
“Spike, I work with you. You’re spending those long days with me.”
Rolling onto his side, he gathered her in his arms and nuzzled her neck. “You move me, sweetheart, singing to me like that. No one’s ever sung to me before and with such enthusiasm.”
Buffy giggled, “Well, that’s just ‘cause I’m a gigantic dork. I figured from one dork to another…”
“Hey!” and he swatted her bottom.
“Oooh… you’re getting frisky!” Buffy laughed.
Toppling her, Spike leaned in and kissed her hungrily. “There’s more where that came from,” he told her huskily.
“Spike, I…it’s not that I don’t want to,” she whispered. “But I’m not ready.”
With a sigh and a nod, he collapsed against her, resting his head on her breast. “But you do want me?”
“How could I not?”
He popped his head up and grinned, “Thanks.”
Buffy giggled, and wove her fingers through his hair, playing with his unruly curls. “I just feel like we’ve been through a lot already and in many ways still getting to know each other. I just got back from being locked up and--”
In a flash he was off her, and pacing. “Christ. I’m such a cad.”
“Cad?”
“Yes, I’m a cad,” Spike continued on. “I shouldn’t have pushed you like that.”
“Spike, you didn’t push me. I asked you to stop, you stopped.” Sitting up and then standing, she took his hand and squeezed it. “I just want to be with you without the complications right now and sex creates complications…don’t you think?”
He nodded mutely and tugged her in for a hug. Propping his chin on top of her head, he whispered. “We’ll take our time.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ve got an idea. How about I take you out, hmm? Go out for dinner, maybe a movie too, if you want.”
“Like a date?”
Leaning back, he put his finger under her chin, making her look at him. “Not like a date. An actual date.”
Buffy smiled, “I’d like that.”
********
Later that evening, Buffy and Spike sat in a nearby pizza joint, sharing a super greasy cheese pizza and giggling like teenagers.
“Pet, I could have taken you somewhere a little nicer, you know,” he informed her as she took a gigantic cheesy bite.
“Yeah, I know,” she said once she’d swallowed, “but I love this place and I was craving greasy pizza. I love it when the pizza’s so greasy the cheese just slides off. Did you want something else?”
“No, this is perfect for me,” he said fondly, gazing at her adoringly.
“Spike?”
“Yes, love?”
“How did you get the nickname, Spike?”
Nearly choking on his pizza, and his face going red from it, Spike gulped down some Coke. “Why do you want to know that?”
“Oh, I don’t know…maybe because I don’t get it. I mean, I’m used to it and never thought to ask before, but now I want to know. Why?”
“It’s a little dirty.”
“Should I cover my virgin ears?” Buffy whispered and leaned in closer.
Spike grinned. “If you cover your ears, you won’t hear how I got the nickname,” he whispered back.
“Good point. So, how?”
“Why are we whispering?”
“Because it’s fun. Tell me.”
“I had this girlfriend in college…”
Buffy forced herself to not visibly cringe. “Yeah?”
“And she was kind of a nutter. Okay, I’m not whispering anymore. Anyway, she was more than a little tapped and quite kinky. Well, one night at a party, she dragged me in a bedroom and pretty much attacked me and was screaming ‘Spike me! Spike me!’ My friends heard her and started calling me ‘Spike’ to tease me – why are you scowling?”
“Why am I what? Maybe you should have really whispered that.”
“No dodging, luv. You were scowling.”
Buffy shrugged nonchalantly and started collecting their trash. “What time is the movie?”
A look of awe passed over his face. “You’re jealous.”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Please, William.”
“You are!”
“I am not,” she grumbled and slid out of the booth, heading for the trash with Spike hot on her heels. “I’m just thinking I should call you William from now on.”
Spinning her around, he smiled down at her, “It’s okay to be jealous, kitten. It actually makes me feel rather good. Do you know how much I wanted to club Angel with his arm after I ripped it off him?”
Buffy giggled. “I do now.” She pouted, “I don’t do jealousy well.”
Leaning in, Spike stole a kiss. “You have nothing to be jealous about, love. You’re my girl for …forever.”
“Really? Forever’s a really long time. You sure you want to be saddled with me for that long?”
Kissing her again, he whispered, “More than sure, sweetheart, more than sure.”
“Come on Romeo, these people didn’t pay for a show with dinner.” Tugging him outside, Buffy pulled him to the car.
“Why would you think I wouldn’t want to spend forever with you, luv?”
“Cause it’s…forever. I mean, I’m not expert, but forever is…forever, ya know?”
Opening the door for her, Spike pecked her lips quickly before she slid in. “I’m not a chronic dater, Buffy.”
Waiting until he had slid in on his side and buckled in, Buffy turned into him slightly. “Can I ask a somewhat touchy question?”
“Sure.”
“If my mom hadn’t… you know…would you have stayed married to her?”
Spike took his hand from the ignition and looked at her. “Probably.”
“Probably? That doesn’t sound like you’re sure.”
He sighed, “Buffy, my life with your mom was content. Like I told you before, she took care of me and I was fine that way.”
“I sense a but here.”
He nodded, “But…I was starting to feel restless. Since your mom took care of things, took care of me, I never needed to ask for much, or ask about much. I had a job, a house, a wife – and in some circles, I had a kid too. According to the American Dream, I had it all.”
“But you’re not American.”
“No, I’m not.”
“So, you were feeling less content?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
“Are you upset by that?”
“No,” she said honestly, shaking her head. “You wouldn’t have cheated on her would you?”
Spike looked down at his hands. “No.”
“What is it?”
“Do you ever wonder?” he whispered.
“Wonder what?”
“Wonder what would have happened if you hadn’t left, if you’d stuck around.”
“You mean--?”
He nodded, looking at her shamefully. “I can’t help but think of it sometimes. I think I – I mean I know I--” he shook his head, looking away from her. “I’m awful. You think I’m awful, don’t you?”
Unbuckling, Buffy slid over to him and wrapped an arm across his middle, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Spike, no. I don’t think you’re awful. I wondered the same thing, I just felt awful myself for thinking it, but…but this thing we have…”
He turned to her, “You feel it too, don’t you?” he asked softly. “This thing that binds us together.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I feel it too. But I know you couldn’t have done that to her, and I couldn’t have either.”
He nodded and pulled her onto his lap. “That’s right. We wouldn’t have.”
“It just wasn’t time for us, right?”
“No, it wasn’t time for us then. Now it is though, now it is,” and he kissed her softly, and yet fervently.
Wrapping her arms around him, Buffy buried her face in his neck. “I want to apologize in advance.”
“For?”
“For not being very good at relationships.” Teasingly, she added, “I know I seem oh-so worldly and experienced, but I’m not. I’ve had few boyfriends, none of them having worked out. I’m…I’m kind of a freak when it comes to relationships.”
“What do you mean?”
“They said I was too independent, and yet, I really wasn’t. Or at least it wasn’t that way for me. Inside I wanted to cling to them and never let go and the more I felt that way, the more I pulled back. And it wasn’t that any of them were any real great prizes either. They really weren’t, but they wanted me and that’s all I knew.
I was always so alone and so tired of being that way and when some guy was there sweet talking me and showering me with affection, I sucked it up. My Dad didn’t think I was anything special, but someone did. So very Freudian. Some guy did. Inevitably, I’d start to lose myself in them and I couldn’t lose myself so I pulled back from them and they didn’t like that. They didn’t know how much inside I wanted to wrap around them like a vine, and I couldn’t tell them. My Dad knew how much I wanted to be part of his life and he shoved me out. For a long time I thought he saw something ugly inside of me, something that made him tire of me, something that made him disgusted with me, and so in my warped mind I reasoned that those guys would find the same thing inside me, and I couldn’t bear for another rejection.”
“Oh, kitten,” Spike said hoarsely, “There is nothing ugly about you. You’re so beautiful – inside and out.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s true.”
“One of the things I love so much about you Spike is that I’m free with you. I can tell you that you’re not allowed to like anyone more than me, and that I need you and …and it doesn’t scare you. You let me be me. And while it might scare me, I can’t stop from wanting to be with you and loving you, and you don’t run from me. Or at least, you haven’t yet.”
“I never will,” he whispered. “Look at me, kitten.”
Gulping, Buffy peered at him through the dusky light.
“For forever, Buffy,” he told her firmly. “You’re my girl for forever. It wasn’t our time then, but it is now and I’m not ever gonna let you go, okay?”
Buffy nodded. “Okay.”
Thirty seven - Thirty eight by Brat
Chapter Thirty seven
After a movie in which Spike and Buffy sat and enjoyed not so much the movie, but one another with the occasional squeeze of a hand, an innocent touch here and there, and a whisper to make the other giggle, they retreated home.
The pair was exhausted. Both of them having spent the night before in incredibly uncomfortable conditions and having spent most of their day talking about heavy topics, they were wiped.
“It’s so exhausting talking about your feelings,” Buffy said, yawning as she and Spike walked hand in hand up to the house.
“Well, when you hold onto something for quite a while and then you get to release it finally, it takes a lot out of you.”
“I remember. When I was at the facility, after I started therapy with Giles, I slept hard.”
Pulling her in the house and locking the door behind him, Spike grabbed her in his arms and hugged her. “When are you going to call about setting up an appointment with one of the referrals he gave you?”
Buffy closed her eyes and burrowed her head in his chest. “Tomorrow, I think. I feel a little out of it still with only coming back yesterday, ya know?”
“I know. I have to get back to the gallery tomorrow, and I’m not really looking forward to finding out what happened while I was gone.”
“Sorry.”
”Don’t apologize, kitten. You come before everything and anything else.”
She smiled into him, pressing a kiss to his chest. “I like that. I love you.”
“I love you too Buffy, so, so much.”
“I’ll come in with you tomorrow,” she said and looked up at him. “I recall someone telling me once I was being ‘irresponsible’. Do you think if I’m on my best behaviour tomorrow, my boss will let me work again for a while?”
Spike grinned, opened his mouth to speak, and then frowned. “What do you mean for ‘a while’?”
“Well, we talked about it not being a permanent thing before, Spike.”
His hold tightened. “You don’t like it?”
“I do like it, but you gave it to me as a favour.”
He shook his head. “If you want a permanent position there, Buffy, you have it.”
“Can I think about it? I don’t want to completely follow in my mother’s footsteps.”
“What else would you like to do?”
She shrugged, “Not sure yet. One day, one step at a time.” Yawning again, she smiled and buried her face back in his chest.
“How about we take some steps upstairs and get some sleep?”
Nodding, she allowed him to lead her up the stairs. They split at the top, he going to his bathroom and she going to hers to get ready.
Changing into shorts and a tank, Buffy washed her face and snuggled into bed, waiting for Spike to come in.
When he did, in nothing but black sweat pants, he sat by her on the bed and stroked some hair from her face. “Good night, kitten.”
It was Buffy’s turn to frown. “Where are you going?”
“What do you mean where am I going? I’m going to bed.”
“With me in here, right?”
“You want me to stay in here with you?”
“I’m not staying in there with you.” No way, now how, am I sleeping in the bed you shared with my mother. “I have all this bed…”
“All right, what my girl wants, my girl gets.” Crawling into her bed, Spike reached for her just as she snuggled up to him. “If you lived with me, this could be the way we fall asleep every night--”
“Good night, Spike.”
Spike chuckled, “Wench.”
“Persistent pain in the ass.”
“Stubborn bitch.”
“Well, you got me there.”
********
January 25, 2006
I know it’s most likely terrible and incredibly selfish of me, but my goal is to make Buffy want to live with me. I want to make things so wonderful and right with us that she decides to stay.
I can’t help but shake the feeling that I’m going to lose her if she moves out. I feel like I’m reliving her taking off with Angel on vacation all over again – and look what happened when she went away. Sure she lost the ponce, but then she got it in her head to see her father and then I get the phone call that she’s checked herself into a mental health facility.
How am I not supposed to worry here?
The kicker of it is: I was the one that told her to go away with him.
I just…I can’t describe it. I don’t trust any of this. I feel like if I don’t hold onto her, I’m going to lose her and I can’t let that happen. I feel at any moment she’s going to slip through my fingers and it’s driving me insane.
She tells me she loves me, I can feel that she does, and that she’s right there with me, but…I can’t explain it. I don’t understand it, all I know is how I feel and I feel desperate.
She thinks I need to do this, well, like her, I have done the living alone thing. I did it before Joyce came along and my parents died. I know how to do it, and for that matter, so does she – so then why does she want to do this alone when I’m right here? She doesn’t have to be alone here. I won’t pressure her into anything, we could even get a two bedroom and make like roommates. I’m willing to compromise. More than willing, even.
I need to come up with some sort of plan. The only thing I got so far is showering her with my love. And God, I love her so damn much.
Please, don’t take her from me.
********
Getting back into life was not an easy task as Buffy was finding out. There were certain things required of a person to make it through after having gone through a spell of being unable to deal with those same simple tasks. It took tenacity, strength, and a good sense of humour. It took being kind to oneself, a concept still alien in her mind.
It was funny, she thought the daily routine was supposed to be the easiest one to get back to, but it wasn’t. It was a little scary. She’d been living in time out of time, almost in another world where there were different rules to abide by, and now she felt as though she was embarking on a different path, one in which the rules were not clear just yet.
She wanted to jump into the fray of getting her life back and yet she felt like a child about to attempt swimming for the first time. Her feet were at the edge, the water was licking her toes, but she wasn’t sure just yet how to proceed. She knew she had to, but it was all just a little more than daunting.
It didn’t help that that morning while Spike had been showering she’d gone looking for her journal and found the unsent letter to her father. She’d put it off, for what, she wasn’t sure. Possibly because despite how angry she was with him, he was still her father and he was her father that had cancer. No matter how hurt she was by him, she still didn’t want to hurt him. Even if he did deserve it.
With thoughts of getting back into routine, of finding an apartment, calling a new therapist and sending that damn letter, Buffy was feeling a bit out of sorts. And Spike was not helping matters.
He was asking her how she was every five minutes. When she left the room, he followed, when she was talking to one of his assistants about how to hang a decorative curtain on the wall to make a dramatic and romantic look, he was right there to help her. She was about ready to tell him to stop being up her ass when he was called on for some inventory problem and he left her in peace. Buffy knew he meant well, but having him breathing down her neck was making her feel more than just a little claustrophobic. She decided to use that time to leave the gallery for a while and make those phone calls to a few of the therapists Giles had referred her to.
Sitting on a bench in the shade outside the public library around the corner, Buffy called and left some messages for the therapists, making a mental inventory of the way they sounded on the answering machine, and making a bet on who was going to call first when her eye was caught by a guy unloading flowers from the back of a truck across the street.
She smiled at the sight. Flowers. She loved flowers. She loved walking into a florists shop and seeing the displays, loved seeing them at work, putting those displays together. It always seemed like such a peaceful sort of thing to do. Creative and relaxing.
She watched the guy unload the flowers and in her head she was mentally arranging flowers in her mind, thinking of what flowers would look really good together, when soon he was gone and she saw a big sign in the corner of the shop that said “Help Wanted”.
Giles had told her once to just let things be and not to force them. He said that when you didn’t fight against the tide that was when answers came and messages arrived to help you on your next step. So, while sitting on a bench watching the world go by and pondering that next step, that step came to her.
How could she pass it up? So, with determined steps Buffy entered the heavenly scented shop and asked the red head behind the counter for an application.
Chapter Thirty-eight
“What brought you in?” the red head asked cheerfully as she handed Buffy the application for “The Secret Garden”.
Buffy blushed and smiled sheepishly. “I love flowers. Who doesn’t right? I’ve always been interested in working in a florists shop, being surrounded by such beauty and creating a whole arrangement of beauty for someone else. It just seems so peaceful and fun to me.”
“It is,” the girl beamed, “It really is. I mean not to say that it can’t be stressful at times, but that’s every job. Sometimes you get that desperate customer that is looking for that one specific thing that we don’t have and they’re in a rush and ugh, it can be a pain,” she wrinkled her nose in the most adorable manner before continuing, “Some are ever so thankful when you’re willing to work with them on what they want, and the delight and gratitude they have for the help you’re willing to give makes up for that initial grumpiness.”
“Well, there are bad seeds here and there, but the nice ones more than make up for it, I’m sure,” Buffy agreed.
“Oh, definitely! I mean, I don’t want to sound like some kind of nut, but I really do love this shop and my job. Sure it can be crazy, but a good kind of crazy.”
“Makes the time fly, and gets you out with people. Do you almost become like a bartender, hearing the stories behind the beer, so to speak?”
“Yes! It’s amazing. Men especially when they’re on their way to grovel.” The girl laughed, “They look for advice to go along with their gifts. Some I can tell are going to be all right, and others, not so much.”
Buffy laughed, “Oh, I can imagine. That must be fun.”
Extending her hand, the sparkling green eyed girl introduced herself, “I’m Willow Rosenberg.”
“Elizabeth Summers, but everyone calls me Buffy,” Buffy said, returning the handshake.
Coming around the counter that held a register, a few cards, stuffed animals, and a few arrangements, Willow gestured around the store. “Would you like me to show you around?”
Buffy nodded eagerly, “I’d like that.”
The shop itself was of medium size, with several coolers along the wall for the roses and other flowers that Buffy had yet to learn about. She was really hoping her lack of experience didn’t hinder her from acquiring the position and so she opted not to say she had no idea what some of the flowers were – not until she was asked.
The walls were green with a stencil of vines in a lighter green haphazardly strewn about – it gave a calming and curious affect, her eyes couldn’t help but try and follow the pattern and where they led. The music in the background was classical and on low, creating a sort of otherworldly feel to the place.
Willow explained that the arrangements were sectioned off by event: funeral, new baby, get well, anniversary, etc. That way, when a customer came in for a specific reason, she could show them the arrangements made specifically for that occasion. However, Willow explained, nothing was set in stone and certainly some arrangements were sold that held one intent, but were given for another intent altogether.
“I try to replace what I sold, certainly not always the same kind of arrangement, but I do write down what I put together because there are repeat customers that look for specific arrangements,” she explained.
“Are you online?” Buffy asked, fingering a freesia petal.
Willow sighed, “Sadly, no. I just don’t have the time to do it. I’m internet savvy to a point, but not that internet savvy. Are you?”
“Kind of,” Buffy shrugged. “I mean, I know all you’d have to do is take photos with a digital camera of the arrangements, make them look pretty on a page, and you’re good to go.”
“Maybe between the two of us, that would be something we could work on.”
Buffy stared at her. “What?”
Willow smiled. “Do you want the job?”
Buffy beamed and tried to contain herself from jumping up and down and clapping her hands in excitement. “Oh, yes, yes, I do!” Okay, so perhaps that was just as bad. The jumping up and down and clapping just would have been a bonus.
“Great, when can you start?”
There was that cold bucket of ice water again, raining on her parade. Spike. She was going to have to tell Spike and she knew he wasn’t going to be happy about it, even if he did say “If” she wanted a permanent position at the gallery it was hers. But, she really, really, really wanted this. Between living at her mother’s house, being with Spike, and working at the gallery, she felt as though she didn’t have anything that was hers. It was all her mother’s.
“Well, I have to give my notice to my other job…” Buffy explained. “And I think I should warn you now that I don’t have any experience in this sort of thing. Just the ideas I have in my head.”
Willow shook her head. “Buffy, what you lack in experience, you more than make up for in enthusiasm. If you’re willing to learn, I’m willing to teach.”
“I’m more than willing to learn.”
“Great. So, I’m looking for full time here, is that possible? I open at nine and I close at five, Monday through Friday. I open on the weekends, too, but I’m only open until two then. You wouldn’t be working every day, but you’d clear forty hours.”
“I definitely need that.”
“We’ll talk pay later, but can you do it?”
“I can. I just have to give my notice to my other job.”
“Where are you working now?”
“Summers Gallery.”
Willow’s eyes widened. “Really? I used to make arrangements for the woman that owned it all time when she had a showing. So sad, she was such a nice lady.”
“She was my mother,” Buffy said quietly.
Willow gasped. “Oh, God, Buffy, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right, really.”
“And the man who runs it now?”
“Uh, Spike, he’s um, my mother’s husband.”
“That poor man. They really worked well together. Every time I went in there, they were always laughing and smiling together.”
It was at that point that Buffy decided she was going to keep mum about her relationship with Spike. It didn’t help hearing how happy her mom and Spike were together. Now, not only did she have that guilt – minimal as it was now—but now she had jealousy. She was jealous of her mother now and her mother was dead. How fucked up was that? And besides, what would Willow think? Would she think she was sick? Would she be disgusted to learn that she was dating her dead mother’s husband?
Buffy was once again reminded of the safe bubble she’d been in at the facility where only Giles knew of her feelings for Spike and encouraged her relationship with him. He had admitted it was unconventional, and that some would not accept it as natural, but then Buffy hadn’t been concerned about others at the time, she had been grappling with it on her own. Now though, now she was worried about others and the thought filled her with guilt. Spike would be hurt if he knew…or did he have the same problem and just kept it quiet?
“Are you sure you want to leave there?” Willow asked, knitting her brows together in concern.
“Yeah, you know I need something of my own,” Buffy told her, jamming her hands in her pockets. “Spike doesn’t really need me; he only gave me the job to help me out.”
“I see. I can understand not wanting to be there like that. Memories and all.”
“Yeah, memories,” Buffy murmured, really wanting to get off this train of talking about her mom and Spike.
“So, two weeks? Is that long enough?”
Buffy cleared her throat before straightening and responding. “Sure, yeah, um, maybe even one, I’ll let you know.”
Willow grinned. “Great. Take my card with you and call me as soon as you work it out with your…stepfather?”
Buffy laughed nervously, if not a little maniacally. “Yeah, stepfather. Eight years difference between us and he’s my stepfather, weird, right?”
“Well at least he’s a cool stepfather then,” Willow offered hopefully.
“Oh, that he is.” Especially when his tongue is down my throat. Buffy shook her head. “All right, then. Thank you so very much Willow, you won’t be disappointed.
Willow grinned. “I don’t think I will be at all. See you soon, Buffy.”
Her new boss walked her out and Buffy took great delight in watching Willow take the Help Wanted sign down. She had a new job and it was all her own. She couldn’t wait.
********
Outside the gallery, Buffy heaved a tremendous sigh before going in. Not only was she giving her notice – and that sounded so much better than quitting – but she had also been gone for almost two hours. Spike was going to be livid.
Entering, the assistant Richard, looked at her and shook his head nodding toward the back. “He’s freaking out.”
“Oh?”
“He’s been wondering where--”
“Buffy!”
She turned toward Spike who was barreling over to her and she started to speak when he engulfed her in his arms. “Where were you? I was worried sick!”
“Spike--”
“You said you were going out for a bit, but you’ve been gone almost two hours now.” Smoothing her hair from her face, he leaned in and kissed her quickly, desperately. “Where did you go, hmmm?”
“I—I went to a shop,” she said, feeling slightly disoriented.
“You went shopping?” he knit his brows together. “I tried calling you.”
“I didn’t hear it.”
“Come here.” Taking her hand, Spike led her to the back of the gallery away from Richards inquiring eyes. “What’s wrong? Why did you go shopping?”
“I didn’t go shopping; I was in a florist’s shop.” And she pulled away from him, trying to get some breathing room. “Applying.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” heaving a sigh, she blurted out her news. “I have a new job. I’m giving my two weeks notice.”
Thirty nine - Forty by Brat
Chapter Thirty-nine
Spike couldn’t breathe because, well, Buffy had pretty much just punched him in the gut with that declaration. “What?” he managed to get out through is lack of air, the question coming out in a gust of air.
“I saw that they were hiring while I was sitting on a bench across the street and I figured why not? I mean, I’d always wanted to do something like that and—“
“You’re leaving me?”
She stared at him with a completely befuddled look. “I’m not leaving you. I’m just going to work someplace else. Right around the corner in fact.” Smiling brightly, she wound her arms around his very tense body. “I can come see you anytime I need my Spike fix.”
Threading his fingers through her hair, he brought her face up to his. “And what if I need my Buffy fix?”
“Then you come see me. See? It’s simple!”
“Maybe you could still come here every now and then and work with me?”
“It’s a full time position, Spike, so I don’t think--”
“You have no experience in flowers, how did you get it.”
Buffy frowned and pulled back from his arms. “Gee, thanks.”
“I didn’t mean it like that, and you know it,” he said sternly. “I just meant that most shops require experience and knowledge in flowers.”
“Well, Willow said she’d be willing to teach me. It’s her shop; she’s not going to be leaving me alone to answer questions I don’t have the answers to. I know that I’m going to be helping her get her shop online as job one. And hey, if she wants me to learn more, she could always send me to class. Isn’t that a tax write off for her or something?”
“I don’t know. You get nauseous when you smell perfume, how are you going to work with flowers all day?”
“They don’t bother me,” she said tightly. “Look, I realize you didn’t want me to go, but I think it’s a good thing here. I mean, I live in my mother’s house, I date her husband, I work in her gallery – I need something of mine.”
“Not sure how I feel about being lumped into all that, Buffy. I’m not just your mother’s husband; don’t know if I wish to be categorized as such.”
“I know you’re not just my mother’s husband, you’re right, that did sound bad, but…I just feel like ever since she died, I’ve been trying to hold onto a piece of her and I lost myself somewhere in there by doing that.”
“Do you…do you lose yourself with me?” Cause I lose myself with you, kitten, and I’m not seeing how it’s a wholly bad thing.
She flashed him a beaming smile that made his heart skip a beat and turned him into a puddle of mush in no time flat. “Only in the best possible way!” and she threw herself in his arms. “How about I come and help when you have an opening? How’s that sound?”
He nodded slowly. “Sure.” His throat clogged with emotion that he was trying desperately to suppress and he held her tighter to him. “Don’t leave me, kitten, ever, okay?”
“I’m not leaving you, Spike. I’m not. I won’t.”
“You can’t? You can’t because you need me too?”
“That’s right. I can’t because I need you too.” Looking up at him, she smoothed one hand down the side of his face. “Don’t look sad, Spike. This is a good thing. Please, don’t be sad. What can I do to make you not sad?”
Pressing his lips fervently against hers and pushing his pelvis against her, letting her feel his hardening member, he whispered, “Let me make love to you. Let me touch you and love you. I want to be inside you, kitten. Want to worship you, make you wet for me--”
She pushed from him, “Spike, stop! We’re at work, Richard’s in the next room, this is not the time to – and we already talked about this!”
What the fuck is wrong with me? he scolded himself, hanging his head. “I know, you’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Are you okay? You’re not yourself.”
“I’m fine, kitten. Just having a hard time myself getting back into the swing of things.”
“Okay, well, I suppose we should get back to work then?”
“Yeah, let’s get back to work, luv.” Get a hold of yourself you stupid git! You’re scarin’ her. With that sobering thought, Spike kept his hands to himself for the rest of the day.
********
Later that evening, the couple was on the porch having some dinner and discussing work when a female voice rang out, “Hello! Anyone here?”
Spike stood immediately, “Fred, we’re out here!”
“She just walks in our house?” Buffy asked, brow rising.
“Well, she probably tried the doorbell—Hey, Fred! How are you?” And he got up to give the woman a hug.
“I figured I’d swing by and see if you were home yet, I hope I’m not intruding,” Fred apologized and Buffy rolled her eyes. She knew the woman was only a friend and all that, but she still couldn’t help the jealousy that rose within her. Fred had been marked as something else for a while and though things were different now, and Fred, from what Buffy had gathered from talking to Spike, didn’t want anything with him, Buffy still couldn’t help the lingering jealousy she felt where the brunette was concerned.
“Hi, Buffy, how are you?” Fred asked.
Buffy turned finally to look at her. “I’m well, thanks.”
“Have you eaten? We have plenty if you’re hungry,” Spike offered, ever the gentleman.
“No, no, I just came from a dinner out with a colleague of mine. Really, I just stopped in to see if you were back yet. I hadn’t heard from you in a while and was concerned.”
All right, so what exactly has he told her? Buffy wondered.
“We’re good. Things are going smoothly, right, Buffy?”
Buffy nodded slowly, “Yup. Smooth.” If you don’t count you’re being up my ass and being all weird today as smooth. Oh yes, and if you don’t count my inability to consummate my relationship with my boyfriend because I think of my mother, and if you also don’t count the fact that I hid my relationship with Spike today, then yeah, things are peachy keen in the Land of Denial.
Feeling very suddenly very much that she needed to step away, Buffy got up and grabbed her plate. “I think I’m gonna for a walk, let you two catch up.”
“Buffy, you don’t have to--” Spike started.
“Nah, I feel the need to move. Get some exercise. Nice seeing you again, Fred.” Walking into the house and after placing her dishes in the sink, Buffy started for the door when a hand clasped around her wrist.
“Buffy, luv, you all right?”
“Spike I’m fine. Just want to be alone for a few, all right?” Kissing him quickly she promised, “I’ll be back in a bit, okay?”
“Buffy, I love you,” he called after her as she finally made it to the door.
“I love you too!”
********
“So, you want to tell me how you really are?” Fred said as soon as Spike joined her back on the porch.
Wiping a hand across his brow, he shook his head. “What do you mean?”
“You’re tense. For that matter so is Buffy. What’s going on?”
“It’s just been a trying day, that’s all,” Spike said on a sigh as sat back down in his chair. “She’s leaving me.”
“What do you mean?” Fred asked, concerned, and sat down in the chair Buffy had been in.
“She’s gotten a new job, Fred. She wants to move out. She’s leaving me.”
“Spike, just because she’s gotten a new job and is moving out does not mean she’s leaving you.”
“It sure as hell feels like it!” Spike exclaimed jumping up. “Look, with all due respect, Fred, you don’t know Buffy and you don’t know our relationship. You don’t know the crap we’ve been going through--”
“I do know what you’ve been going through. I was the one you called to talk to, remember?”
“You’re not in this relationship with us, you don’t know her. Not like I do. You don’t see what I see, you don’t feel what I feel, and I feel her pulling from me.”
“I feel that she will pull away from you if you don’t give her some breathing room,” Fred said quietly.
“I’ve done nothing but let her breathe! I let her breathe all the way to Hawaii and Boston. I let her breathe in a mental health facility -- I’ve done nothing but let her breathe.”
“Spike, you need to calm down. You’re not thinking clearly here. You’re misinterpreting her actions here--”
“Fred,” Spike began frankly, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you should leave.”
“What?” she looked up at him, stunned.
“I think you should go right now, I’m sorry.”
“Spike--”
“You can see yourself out, right?” Spike said, not even bothering to look at her as he headed in the house and up to his room.
“Oh, it’s going to get worse before it gets better,” Fred muttered as she let herself out, thinking she was going to give it a few days and perhaps contact Buffy next time instead of Spike.
********
By the time Buffy returned from her walk, she was exhausted. It had been full day. Letting herself in the house, she promptly yawned. “Spike?” she called out.
Straining to hear, she made out the sound of a shower running. Yawning again as she trudged up the stairs, Buffy entered her bedroom and quickly changed into her pajama’s and washed her face. Crawling into bed, she flicked on her TV and nestled under the covers, feeling her eyelids begin to drop already.
“Luv?”
Eyes closed, Buffy hummed and turned over, finding herself engulfed in a pair of strong arms. “Mmmm…Spike,” she murmured, keeping her eyes closed. She must have dozed off for a bit, the TV was on still, but on low. With her eyes closed, she could see the flashes of light from it.
“You smell good,” she said sleepily, burrowing closer to him.
“How was your walk?”
“Good. How was Fred?”
“All right.”
“Remind me tomorrow to ask you more about that.”
Spike chuckled softly, “All right…Buffy?”
“Hmmm?”
“Do you want me to sleep in here with you?”
“Sure, yes, I’d like that.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“How much, tell me how much,” he whispered, his lips grazing her forehead.
“I love you from the depths of the ocean to the height of the sun.” Finally, she popped her eyes open and looked up at him. “How much do you love me?”
He smiled tenderly. “I love you to infinity and beyond.”
“Awww, thanks Buzz Lightyear.”
Spike laughed and nuzzled her lips with his. “I love you more than I could ever put into words, Buffy. You’re my entire world.”
Wrapping an arm around him, Buffy shut her eyes once more. “Sleep now, Spikey, okay?”
“Okay, luv.”
Buffy fell asleep peacefully, unaware of the fears raging inside of Spike who held all the pretense of a man keeping himself together.
Chapter Forty
Buffy awoke slowly, someone’s lips on her neck causing her to shiver. Spike…Mmmmm… her groggy mind registered. Wrapping her arms around him, she arched her neck ever so slightly, giving him further access.
He shifted slightly so that he was lying between her legs and Buffy was still half asleep and too lost in the sensation of feeling him stoking the fire in her so perfectly, that she gave herself over to it.
“Mmm…Spike,” she murmured and sought his lips with hers.
He devoured her mouth with his, and she felt as though he was going to swallow her whole. His erection pressed against her center as he kissed her, and another shiver ran through her.
“Spike.” Breaking the kiss, she gasped for air and opened her eyes to find him staring at her with such intensity, she felt even more breathless – not to mention speechless.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he whispered and slid his hands under her thighs to get her to comply.
“Spike--” she started to protest.
“Sshh…” he whispered, smothering her in a kiss. His hands pushed her shirt up, exposing her breasts to his heated gaze. “God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered. “My angel…”
Bending his head, he suckled at one nipple and flicked his thumb across the other. “My girl tastes so good…”
I’m not ready for this, she thought frantically. He feels so good, but I’m not ready for this. Why is he doing this? He knows I’m not ready. With that thought in mind, Buffy pushed at him forcefully.
“Stop,” she ordered loudly and pushed and pushed until he was off her. Scrambling off the bed and standing a good distance away, she stared down at him. “What are you doing?”
“You liked it,” he told her, running a hand through his hair. “You liked how I made you feel. You weren’t complaining.”
“You didn’t give me the chance! I was barely awake. Spike,” she shook her head, “It did feel good, all right, but…I didn’t think you’d cross boundaries like that when you know I’m not ready--”
Letting out a roar of frustration, Spike bounded off the bed. “Is it so wrong of me to want to make love to you? What’s so wrong about that, huh?”
“What is this, fucking high school? Are you pressuring me to have sex with you? Jesus Christ!” Throwing her arms up in the air, Buffy bounded off, frustrated. What was with him? He wasn’t acting like himself; he was acting like a possessive freak. He had moments of such calm and rationality and then moments like this, he was off his rocker. It was those moments that made her want to be nowhere near him until Sane Spike came back out to play.
Halfway down the stairs, she heard an inhuman roar and froze. That came from him?
“Don’t run away from me every single fucking time we have a goddamned disagreement!” he shouted.
The anger emanating from him as she stared at him standing at the top of the stairs frightened her. Not much scared her, but he was scaring her right at that very moment, which is what made her bound down the stairs as fast as her feet would carry her.
She wasn’t really thinking that clearly, not even sure where she was running to, just that she found herself in flight or fight, and her body was fleeing. That is not my Spike, she kept thinking. Scurrying into the kitchen she could hear him coming after her and she fumbled with the sliding glass door when his hand slapped on it, causing it to vibrate from the force.
She froze; her entire body stiffening before she started to tremble.
“Buffy,” he said softly. “Luv, look at me.”
Tears came to her eyes and she shook her head. “You’re scaring me.”
“I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t be afraid of me. I would never hurt you, you know that right? I would never hurt you…”
She turned slowly and looked up at him, finding his eyes shining with tears. “Spike--”
Sliding to his knees, he wrapped his arms around her middle and held her tight. “Please forgive me, baby. I didn’t mean to scare you. I would never hurt you, luv, never. Please, Buffy, forgive me…”
She felt lost. The man on his knees before her was falling apart and she didn’t know what to do for him. What was going on? What made him snap like that? That couldn’t have been all about sex. She knew sex was important to a guy, but to act like that? And Spike was no abuser or rapist, either.
“Spike, please get up, please,” she begged him.
“I’m so sorry…” he whimpered.
If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em, she thought as she slid to the floor with him, taking him in her arms. “Spike…baby. Look at me.”
He looked at her, his face a mask of regret, tears flowing freely down his cheeks.
Wiping at his tears and cooing over him sweetly, Buffy cupped her face in his hands. “Spike, what’s going on? What happened up there? Tell me…Maybe we shouldn’t sleep together anymore.”
“No, no, don’t say that.”
“I’m sorry I’m not ready, I – I just--” and now she started to sob.
“Buffy, please, Buffy…don’t cry,” he begged. “Please…you’re killing me.”
“I just want everything to be okay, and I keep messing up with you and I don’t know what to do…”
“You’re not messing up with me, you’re not. I messed up, I did. I was out of line. I shouldn’t have done that and I’m so incredibly sorry. Buffy…”
She kissed him fervently, feeling desperate to make things right. It was her sickness; it was her fault, not his. They slept in the same bed, they loved each other, and it was because of some stupid hang up that she wouldn’t have sex with him. He didn’t understand it and she didn’t know how to tell him, so really, whose fault was it? Hers. All hers.
Keeping her lips glued to his, she shoved a hand down his sweatpants and fondled his half hard cock, eliciting a groan from him. She was stroking it to life, feeling its smoothness and the sticky precum from his weeping tip.
“I’ll have sex with you,” she told him breathlessly, breaking the kiss and meeting his lustful gaze. “I will.”
His eyes fluttered shut and she jumped when she felt his hand clamp over arm tightly. She stopped what she was doing and looked up at him questioningly.
“No,” he said hoarsely. “I don’t want you that way. I want you only when you want me back.”
“I do!” she insisted.
He shook his head and tugged on her arm, encouraging her to release his deflating cock. She did so and slowly extracted her hand from inside his pants, feeling the impact of what she’d almost just done.
Buffy collapsed into tears and Spike sat down on the floor, brought her on his lap and held her there, letting her cry to her hearts content.
********
He felt like the biggest asshole on the planet. Holding Buffy on his lap, his back pressed up against a knobby chair, Spike felt a torrent of guilt flood him for what he’d made her do, what he’d forced her to.
This wasn’t him, he knew that. He had never and would never have done something like that. He’d never pushed a woman to have sex with him, and it never occurred to him to do so and yet, he had pushed Buffy. She didn’t need it, not now, not when she was doing so well.
If he could just be inside her, if he could make love to her, fill her with his seed, caress and love her entire body, then by that act he would mark her as his. Then she’d never leave him; she would belong to him.
That’s going to make her run from you, you stupid git, he scolded himself. That’s not showing her bliss, that’s showing her hell. You have got to get yourself together her or you will lose her. The thought made him tremble and he held her tighter.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered near her ear, “I’m so sorry, Buffy. Please, sweetheart, please forgive me. I won’t ever do that again, I won’t, I—“
“Spike?” she asked, sounding drained and weary.
“Yes?”
She shifted against him, pushing herself back and looking up at him. “I’m going back to bed.” All the life seemed to have drained from her, her eyes were red and puffy and she looked drawn and tired.
“Okay, luv.”
“Alone.”
“I understand, sweetheart—“
“I’m not going in today.”
“That’s fine.”
She nodded and climbed off his lap, shuffling out of the kitchen. Spike stared after her, feeling lost. He’d hurt her, and from the looks of it, he’d nearly broke her. When he heard the floorboards creak from her bedroom, Spike broke down and cried. I have to make this better, I have to make this right. But how?
********
After the morning’s drama, the only thing Buffy wanted to do was hibernate. Dealing with work and with Spike, whom she knew would be hovering like a hawk and constantly apologizing all day, was just not something she felt she could deal with.
January-something-or-other
This morning was just what I needed. Just when I was doing so well, too. Things had started looking up, I was feeling confident. Why is it that I seem to be in a perpetual state of ‘take two steps forward and now take three back’?
Granted, this morning was not entirely my fault. Maybe I should have stopped him sooner; maybe I shouldn’t have yelled at him like I did, maybe I should not have had him sleep in here –
Maybe I need to shut the fuck up and stop making excuses for him turning into Scary Man this morning.
Something is not right with him and I don’t know how to fix it. I tell him I love him, I tell him I want to be with him, I’m right here with him, right there feeling all the love I have for him, needing him -- and yet it’s not enough. Is it really the sex? Is that what it all comes down to? How could that be? That’s not like him, and I’d like to think I know him rather well…
I just don’t know what to do.
Shutting her journal, Buffy picked up her phone and dialed Giles only to get his voicemail. Feeling defeated, Buffy sank into the bed, tossed the covers over her head and contemplated in the safety of her beloved bed and bedroom what she was going to do next.
*******
Spike’s mind was not on work. In fact, he’d had no attention span at all to do much of anything except stare off into space and worry about Buffy, think about what he’d done and how he was going to make this one better.
The only small conclusion he came to was to stop hassling her about her new job and let her do what she needed to do in that respect. Grudgingly, he was even thinking that letting her move out might help as well…but that was very grudgingly.
When he deemed himself completely useless, he went home, leaving Richard in care of the gallery for the rest of the day. He felt tired, as tired as Buffy had looked after their morning debacle.
He contemplated getting her flowers as a means of apologizing, but it was not Buffy’s style to forgive because a gift was proffered. He could just see the look on her beautiful face if he tried that: eye brow raised, mouth turned up in a smirk and her eyes saying ‘Yeah, that’ll work’.
Arriving home, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders, he trudged up the stairs to her bedroom. Her door was shut which stung him. She was shutting him out – and really, could he blame her?
“Buffy?” he said gently and pushed lightly on the door. It opened slowly and he found her sleeping, curled up half under the covers in the center of the bed, snoring lightly. Strewn on the floor were newspapers with random circles and a notepad on her nightstand. Creeping in, he peered down at the papers and felt a cold hand grip his heart when it registered what they were: Apartments.
Peering over at the notepad he found her scribbles:
6pm with Dr. Lorne on Jan. 31st
28 Taylor Street at noon tomorrow
40 Maple at one tomorrow
30 Main at three tomorrow
His eyes welling up with tears, Spike moved quickly and quietly out the room. She was desperate now, she was desperate to leave him and there was nothing he could do. Not now. Not when he’d so clearly fucked up. Sliding down the wall outside her room, Spike buried his face in his hands and sobbed for what felt like the hundredth time that day, feeling incredibly lost and incredibly alone.
Forty one - Forty two by Brat
Chapter Forty-one
Buffy woke slowly, feeling that groggy feeling of having slept most of the day away and having her sleep schedule slightly out of whack because of it.
It was dark out, she could tell from the darkness in her room, and a peak at her alarm clock told her it was eight. She must have been tired! She’d finally rested after apartment hunting and making an appointment with “Dr. Lorne”, at around four.
Yawning, she sat up and stretched, listening for Spike. The sounds of silence greeted her. Flicking her light on, she climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom, yawning all the way. After using the facilities, she turned on the water to wash her hands and face and caught sight of herself in the mirror.
“You look just a mess, Buffy Summers,” she told her reflection. Washing her face and attacking her hair with a brush, she decided it was time to eat when her stomach growled loudly. The last time she’d eaten was…last night. Yeah, food needed to be had.
Creeping out of her bedroom, she strained once again to listen for Spike. He had to be home by now. She was on the fence as to if she really wanted to see him at that point, but she did want to know that he was home all right and didn’t do anything stupid.
Since the light in the living room was on, she figured he had to be home and she made her way down the stairs, walking on tiptoes. He was passed out on the couch, the TV on low.
Buffy melted at the sight of him. He looked so peaceful, so much like a little boy— a troubled little boy. His legs were too long for the couch and so they fell slightly off. He looked slightly cramped in the position he was in, and it was a bit chilly in the house, all of which combined to make Buffy want to take care of him. Tiptoeing over, she grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and gently covered him with it.
He stirred slightly, nestling further back into the cushions. Sighing, she brushed some curls from his forehead.
“Buffy,” he murmured.
I’m here, Spike, she told him in her head. I just don’t know what to say or do. I love you and I want to help you, but I don’t know what’s going on inside your head…
Deciding to let him get the sleep he most likely needed as well, Buffy made her way quietly into the kitchen to make a sandwich.
She was just slapping her PBJ together when Spike came in the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. “Hey.”
She looked up at him, “Hey. How was your nap?”
“All right. What are you having?”
“PBJ. Want me to make you one?”
He blinked at her. “What are you doing?”
She stared at him, disoriented. “What do you mean what am I doing?”
“Why are you being nice to me after what I did?”
Buffy sighed heavily and grabbed two slices of bread from the bread bag to make him a sandwich. “How would you like me to be?”
“I saw the papers, luv. You’re leaving.”
“The papers? – Oh, well, you knew this already.”
“But I made it worse this morning. I made you want to leave me more.”
She froze, putting down the knife with the wad of peanut butter on it and looked up at him. “Is that what this is about? You think I’m leaving you?”
“Aren’t you?”
“How is getting my own place in any way leaving you, Spike? I’m not leaving you in the sense that matters. I love you. I don’t know how many times I have to say it; I don’t know how many ways I can show it…” she frowned. “Okay, in one way I’m not, but it’s not all about sex!”
“I know it’s not--”
“Then what the hell happened this morning?”
Spike growled and Buffy flinched. Unfortunately, he caught sight of it. “Buffy,” he gasped, “Love, I’m so sorry--”
“I know you are. Just…Spike, what’s happening with you? I feel like ever since we got back to Sunnydale, you’ve been unravelling at the seams and it’s like I tell you I love you a million times and you just don’t believe me! Do I have to have sex with you for you to believe me? I shouldn’t have to do that, that’s not what this is about, not what we’re about. We have so much between us, that connection you talked to me about, we have that--”
“I know we do, I know,” he whispered, hanging his head in shame.
Coming over to him, she wrapped her arms around him. “Spike, please believe me, I’m not leaving you. I’m not moving out so that I can just end things, that’s not it. Please try to understand that.”
“Then why are you going?” he asked, his voice raspy with emotion.
“We went over this. Were you not listening to me then, and just hearing what you wanted to hear?”
He said nothing and she took that to mean yes.
“Spike, when I came back here, I was a mess and I needed someone to help me through what I was going through even if I didn’t know it at the time. The one that did was you. You were here for me, you were – and are – the person I trust the most. You’re my best friend, Spike, my best friend in the whole world and I do need you more than you realize. Do you think I just talk out of my ass when I tell you that?”
“No,” he murmured.
“I leaned on you for a long time.”
“We leaned on each other.”
“We did, you’re right. So much so that you told me to go away with Angel.”
“And I’ve regretted it every day since.”
Buffy shook her head, “That wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s. It was a long time coming.” Studying him, she asked softly. “Spike? Do you think maybe you need to see someone?”
His brow furrowed, “What do you mean?”
“I mean do you think you need to talk to someone like Giles or--”
“What are you saying?” he demanded, pulling away from her.
“There’s no shame in it, you know,” she said defensively. “You don’t have to make it sound as if it’s a horrible thing to need someone to talk to.”
“I don’t need someone to talk to, I need you!” Spike exclaimed.
“You have me! Do you honestly think if I have sex with you that’s going to obliterate whatever it is that’s going on with you? Do you think that if we fuck I’m not going to still move out?”
Spike looked away, his silence yet again giving Buffy her answer.
“Well it’s not going to change anything,” she very nearly spat. “And at this point, I don’t think it’s going to help anything, either. Whatever you’re putting between us isn’t going to be made better by having sex, Spike. That’s not how it works.”
“And moving out is going to help us?”
“Is living together helping? It's like I'm here, and yet I'm not. Anytime I make a move that doesn't directly involve you, you're right there, right up my ass. You were right before when you said that we were too lenient on one another and it's not me to be that way. I need to have a life too, and so do you Spike, so do you. It doesn't mean that I love you any less--”
"All right, fine, I fucking get it!" he shouted and stalked out of the kitchen. Buffy stood there, stunned. A minute later, the front door slammed shut.
“And he gets on me for taking off when there’s an issue,” Buffy muttered and finished making that second sandwich. Placing them on a paper plate, she went to the living room and plopped down on the spot Spike had vacated; hoping this night wasn’t going to be a repeat of Thanksgiving. Picking up her sandwich, she frowned and set it down. “Great, now I’m not hungry anymore.”
Chapter Forty-two
January 29, 2006
Who’s a hypocrite? I am I am!
I tell Spike he needs to be open with me about what he’s feeling, I tell him there are no issues and what do I do? I keep my issues to myself and make my issues his issues.
How do I tell him that sleeping with him is not something I’m ready for yet because of my mother…it’s just…weird? I don’t want to hurt him by telling him that and it’s not like he can take back five years of fucking my mother.
And you know…I’m jealous. I’m jealous of her. I’m jealous that he was with her. What if she was better than me? Okay, that’s gross. Who wants to think of their parents having sex? And yet how can I not think of it? It’s not like he was with some nameless chick before me, he was with my mother. He was inside her body, the body that I was born out of, and he wants to be inside me now?
I am so over thinking this aren’t I? I am. I know I am. How can he not? Well, it is different for him. I mean that level of ‘gross’ isn’t there. He just thinks of it as ‘Joyce was my wife so I slept with her’ and ‘I love Buffy and I want to sleep with her.’
That whole my being Joyce’s daughter doesn’t have the same play for him as it does for me.
Maybe this is all a matter of not thinking and just doing?
Spike stared at her sleeping form on the couch. When he came in from at first just driving home and then ending up Joyce’s gravesite, he found Buffy fast asleep on the couch, notebook clutched in hand. Must be her journal. She had fallen asleep sitting up, her head thrown back, her sleek neck displayed and begging to be nuzzled.
Except she doesn’t want you to touch her, he reminded himself.
He stood there just watching her the way he had just stood and gazed at Joyce’s grave. He took her in, studied her, and pondered her.
Seeing Joyce’s grave he caused him to meditate on the concept of endings and beginnings, of dying and of how fragile life was – and how sudden. You go along, living life and you never think something will come around and disrupt it because things like that happen to other people, never to you. So it’s always a blow, it’s always “so sudden”.
The old adage of “when one door closes another door opens” rang true, he was finding out. There had been many endings and beginnings since Joyce had died for both he and Buffy and it was because of those endings that Spike couldn’t help but worry about more of them coming up.
Despite reassurances to the contrary.
But, he’d thought as he sat before his late wife’s grave, If I spend my time waiting for it, I’ll miss out on what I have. He decided to take that as a message that he needed to ease up his hold on Buffy, even if the fear resided in him still. In time, he’d have to let it go, and hopefully in time, he would be able to.
Sitting down next to Buffy on the couch, he leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Buffy.”
Her head shot up, nearly hitting him, and she blurted out, “Spike.”
“Well, at least I was forefront on your mind then,” he drawled.
Shaking her head and rubbing her eyes, she looked over at him. “You always are.”
“Am I?”
She nodded, yawning. “Yes. Where’d you go?”
“I went for a spin. Visited your Mum.”
She tensed. “Oh?”
“I had a lot on my mind. Just ended up there, didn’t plan on it.”
“How’d it go? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, look can I say a few things?”
“Of course.”
“No interrupting okay?”
Nodding, she gestured for him to go ahead.
He stood, facing her, and nodded, “Right then. Look, I’m sorry for what I did, for how I kind of well, forced myself on you like that.”
“You didn’t--”
“I did. And then I scared you.”
“Spike, you apologized for this.”
“Buffy, pet, I love you, but shut up.”
Clamping her mouth shut, she mimed zipping her lip and nodded.
“I have been feeling a little … scared. I attribute it to the fact that I’m so used to having you here, coupled with what happened when I wasn’t there with you, and just life and its suddenness that I feel like I won’t be able to protect you and keep us, as a couple, safe.”
She shook her head.
“I know, I know. You tell me that we are safe. That you love me, that we’re together, but I just can’t shake the feeling that I have.”
Buffy raised her hand.
Biting back a grin, Spike said, “Yes?”
“Is it a ‘waiting for the other shoe to drop’ kind of thing?”
“I think so yes.”
“I traumatized you. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, Buffy.”
“I am though. Must be that Catholic upbringing coming out in me.”
He laughed then, easing the tension in the room and sat down next to her, taking her hands in his. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for that. You can’t help how you feel, and you were in a bad place. It’s not like you could have controlled that.”
“I know, but…you asked me to come home and I didn’t.”
“Pet, we’ve both made some bad moves due to guilt and uncertainty and fear. Maybe we need to stop dwelling on those times so we can move forward. Which means I need to let go of you moving out and not dwelling on what could happen based on the past, but what will happen.”
Buffy nodded, eagerly agreeing. “Yes.”
“And that your getting a new job does not mean you don’t want me, but just something for you.”
She smiled, “This is what I’ve been saying!”
“And that when you’re ready to make love, we’ll make love.”
She squeezed his hand. “Soon,” she whispered. I hope, she thought.
“Right. So, can I come with you tomorrow to check out those new places? Or do you want to do it on your own?”
“I want you to come with me, definitely. And then maybe we could see about how to go about putting the house up for sale?”
“Yes,” Spike nodded, “Yes, we could do that. It’s time.”
Forty three - forty four by Brat
Chapter Forty-three
February 7, 2006
How much can a man unravel before the world sees it? Can a storm be raging inside him that threatens to bring him and those around him to their knees and be virtually undectable?
I am falling apart. I am a mess and no one can see it. Not my precious girl who tells me every day that she loves me and yet fails to see that I am in shreds inside.
It wasn’t that I had lied to her when I said I was going to be supportive of her moving out, finding a job and all that rot. I had felt positive at that point in time, felt I was doing the right thing.
Logically, I see it was the right thing to do, but I don’t feel it. I don’t want it, and yet today, I am helping her move into the apartment I helped pick out for her. I have sent her off to start a job that is not with me and every time she is so excited about her day and what she did, I feel it’s a punch to my gut. Will one day she tell me she doesn’t want me anymore? That she’s all set now and doesn’t need me anymore? Will it matter that I need her? Will it matter that she’s the only woman that has completely possessed me and that I’d turn to ash if she left me?
I want to make love to her so bad. I can’t fucking sleep in the same bed with her anymore without having to whack off in the morning. And so now I retreat to my room oftentimes to sleep, laying there feeling I want to roar to the heavens my frustration and fears, but not being able to.
God, I want to be inside her. She says there’s more to a relationship than sex and she is absolutely right, there is, but to me it’s a further expression of what I already feel for her, how I already love and cherish her and I want to show it to her. I want to be part of her, and the only way I can be physically part of her is by being inside her. Why won’t she let me in? What is it?
Now she’ll just be further away from me by moving out. And she’s so excited about it, so excited with her plans and how she’ll make me dinner when I come over, how we’ll watch movies on the couch she bought for herself and how we can ‘bless’ her new home by having Thanksgiving there this year.
I DON’T WANT THIS TO FUCKING HAPPEN!!
Standing the middle of Buffy’s cozy, but bare, cream colored kitchen, Spike watched Buffy place glasses in a cabinet, watched how her lean body stretched, how her shirt rode up over her flat stomach and how her breasts rose with her.
In his minds eye, he walked over to her, spun her around and kissed her breathless. She wound herself around him, tasting of honey and the coconut lip gloss she wore. He hoisted her up on the counter and slid her pants down her legs. When her pants and panties were gone, he’d kneel before her and lave her honey pot with his tongue, coaxing her to cum for him –
“Spike? Are you hungry? Do you want to order a pizza? I’ll pay since you helped me move and all.”
He blinked at her and nodded dumbly, going for his phone. He watched how she bent over to grab some more glasses, her perfect rear end facing him. This time he imagined taking her from behind, watching her ass ripple with each thrust into her body –
“Hello? Who’s there?” an annoyed pizza man demanded into the phone.
Clearing his throat, Spike placed the order quickly, and hung up. With a sigh, Spike raked a hand through his hair and headed for her living room. He sat down on her new blue and green plaid couch, feeling he needed to get the fantasies out of his head before he did something about them.
He surveyed her apartment, noting how nice it really was. Perfect for just her. Upon entering was a dining area that spilled into a brand new kitchen. Off the kitchen was the bathroom and around the corner from that was a hallway and down that hallway was the living room on the right and further down on the left was her bedroom. With the money she’d had tucked away, she’d managed to buy some furniture at a good price and have it delivered before she moved in. She had been a busy bee all right.
“Spike?”
“Yeah?” he answered tightly.
Poking her head in, Buffy came in and settled down next to him, twisting her body so that her back was against the arm of the couch and her legs rest in his lap. “How much is the pizza?”
“Twelve bucks.”
“Okay. You all right, hmmm? You seem a little tense.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you averse to flowers?”
“What?” his mind was not on this conversation. In his mind, he was now between her legs, pumping himself inside her wet heat, feeling her surround him, hearing her tell him that she loved him.
“I want to make you an arrangement of flowers as a thank you.”
“For what?” he asked, a little more abruptly than he intended.
She smiled warmly at him, “For being you.”
His heart warmed and his body ached. He loved her so damn much and wanted her so damn bad. Pulling her to him so that she was on his lap, he kissed her hungrily. “I love you so much,” he whispered huskily.
“Mmmm…I love you too.”
His hands itched to slide under her shirt, to feel the breasts that were pressed against him, to use his mouth and make her peaks hard and aching for him.
“I need to use the bathroom,” he said, his tone strained. All but dumping her on the couch, he strode off to the bathroom to whack off for the second time that day.
********
“Hey, Buffy, I was wondering…” Willow began the following day at work as she watched Buffy snap a digital photo of a recent arrangement.
“Yeah?” Buffy asked, looking over the photo she’d just taken.
“Would you care to have dinner with me tonight?”
Buffy looked up from the camera and stared at Willow. “You want me to have dinner with you?”
Willow frowned slightly. “Yeah, I mean, if you want to. You certainly don’t have to, but see a friend of mine was supposed to go out with me tonight and now he has a date and it’s my birthday and I--”
Buffy’s eyes bugged and her jaw dropped. “Your friend blew you off on your birthday?”
Willow sighed heavily. “Well, he’s been wanting to date this girl for a long time, in fact, he’s asked her out repeatedly and she’s always turned him down. This time, of course, she says yes. What kind of friend would I be if I told him not to go?”
“Yeah, but what kind of friend is he to bag on you on your birthday?”
“I’ve known him since I was two, so really, it’s not that big of a deal.”
“Well, I am supposed to hang out with Spike – you know my stepfather?” Coward! “But let me call him and tell him I’ll see him after.”
“Buffy, I don’t want to tear you away from spending time with him--”
“Wills, really, it’s not a big deal. We’ll go out, have some dinner, maybe get a drink, and I’ll see him after, okay?”
Willow sighed and nodded. “You sure?” she asked sheepishly.
“I’m more than sure. Let me just call him quick okay?”
Willow smiled. “Sure, thanks Buffy.”
Smiling back, Buffy headed for the back room to make her call to Spike. Man, please let this go over well, she thought as the phone rang.
“Summers Gallery,” Spike answered on the second ring.
“Hey, it’s me.”
“Buffy, my love, I was just thinking about you. Do you want pasta or Chinese tonight?”
Shit. This is going to be bad isn’t it? Am I doing a bad thing here? We see each other every night, I got an invite out and I want to go—is that wrong of me?
“Spike, um, can I see you after dinner?”
Silence, then, “What do you mean?”
“Um, Willow kind of asked me if I’d go out to dinner with her. It’s her birthday tonight and she got blown off.”
“You could invite her over with us,” Spike suggested hopefully.
“Spike, she doesn’t know you…”
“Then this is a good chance for her to get to know me.”
“Spike…can I just come over after I go out with Willow? I don’t have any girlfriends, I’ve never really had many at all actually and I really like her and she’s my boss and--”
“Go, Buffy.”
He didn’t sound right. He sounded angry, which was not what she wanted to make him feel. More than anything, Buffy hated it when he was angry with her. Course, she hated it when anyone was angry with her, it made her fear that they’d be so angry with her they’d leave her.
“I’ll come over after,” she started.
“No, it’ll be late.”
“I could just come over to sleep,” she said hopefully.
“No, I think you should go home after, Buffy,” he said firmly. “Go out with Willow. Have a good time.”
He hung up then before she could get a word in and Buffy welled up in tears. She couldn’t do anything right by him, could she? It wasn’t like I was blowing him off, I was trying to do both. I see him every night…can’t he see this is a good thing? Having friends is a big thing for me. I don’t have any at all right now! Giles and Angel were the only one outside of Spike that I’d talked to since my Mom died and in Boston I barely had any friends. Sure I had the revolving door of boyfriends, but no girlfriends. I need a girlfriend. Okay, I’m not going to feel guilty about this, I’m not. I’ll just go over after and see Spike anyway.
Trying to fight the building guilt, Buffy made her way out to inform Willow she’d be accompanying her for dinner that evening.
********
Around the corner in Summers Gallery, Spike resisted the urge to fling the phone against the wall. And so my losing her begins. This is what I get for trying to be fucking supportive and understanding.
Chapter Forty-four
Buffy’s night out with Willow had not been as much as fun as she’d been hoping, and they had gone to a nice Italian restaurant too. Not the usual fanfare of quick meals, but a nice place that served a five course type of dinner. However, constantly in the back of her mind was Spike; what he was doing and how angry he was with her.
She longed to share with Willow about her problem with Spike, longed to tell someone that was not her therapist, but someone that was possibly her friend. This was what girlfriends did, didn’t they? They talked about stuff like this. They “dished”.
Except you haven’t even told Willow that Spike is your boyfriend because you’re afraid she’ll look down on you. I’m so horrible. How would Spike feel if he knew this? He’d be mortified, he’d be incredibly hurt! Which is why I’ve done so well at keeping him from coming around…
It was true. She beat him to the punch of going to see him so that he wouldn’t feel so inclined to see her, plus, she’d told him, she was a busy girl and didn’t want to “get in trouble” by having visitors yet. Respectfully, he’d kept his distance though she knew it bothered him.
What didn’t bother him these days? He was frightfully moody as of late and constantly in a daze. She was hoping that whatever it was, he’d talk with her about it when he was ready, but it was nearing “Go time” on drawing it out of him.
And there I am, being a hypocrite again.
“Do you have a boyfriend, Buffy?” Willow asked, sipping her Appletini.
“Uh, kind of--” Just fucking say it! “Not.”
Willow nodded, “Me either. Why do you think that is?”
“Why do I think you don’t or why do I think I don’t?”
“Why do you think you don’t?”
“Well, Willow, if I knew the answer to that one, I would most likely have a boyfriend then, wouldn’t I?”
Willow smiled and laughed. “I like you, Buffy. I think we’re going to be great friends, don’t you? I knew you were a kindred spirit the minute you asked me for an application.”
Buffy smiled, feeling uneasy. She wasn’t used to making friends so easily and it was making her slightly nervous. “Why don’t I get you another drink? On me.”
********
“Fred, hi, what are you doing here?” Spike greeted the brunette, a tad disoriented. He’d been about to eat the pizza he’d ordered when a knock came at the front door.
“I decided to take my chance on getting kicked out again,” Fred said, smiling slightly.
Spike looked down. “Yeah, about that…I’m sorry. I was out of line.”
“Apology accepted. What are you up to? Buffy here? I saw the ‘For Sale’ sign outside. You moving?”
“Yeah, uh, why don’t you come in? Hungry? I got pizza.”
“Sure, I’d love a slice actually.”
Following Spike into the kitchen where he handed her a paper plate, Fred asked again where Buffy was.
“She’s out with a friend,” Spike muttered.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, she got a new job, she has a new place to live and she’s made a new friend. Now, you going to tell me how I’m not losing her? Cause she’s pretty much doing all she can to be away from me, don’t you think?”
“At the risk of getting kicked out again, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that no; it doesn’t sound like you’re losing her for those reasons. It sounds like Buffy is trying to have a life. And I think instead of moping about it and obsessing over the fact that she’s trying to be independent, which in the long run will only make the both of you stronger, maybe you should get a life too.”
Spike stared at her, stunned. “What?”
“Spike,” Fred said gently, “What you’re going through is normal, and you don’t see it, but I figured it out with all that you’ve told me.”
“And just what is it that I’m going through, eh?”
“You lost your parents, you found Joyce, you lost Joyce, and you found Buffy.”
“Buffy came to me.”
“You found each other and depended on each other for quite some time. She needed you and it filled a void in you that needed to be needed. You also needed her and when she left for that spell and landed herself in the institution for suicidal thoughts, you thought you could have lost her too. Whether you realize it or not, you’re just reacting from a place where you’re afraid to lose one more person--”
“No shit, Fred!” Spike shouted. “Haven’t I been saying this all along?”
“Spike, you don’t see it, not really. You see that Buffy being independent means you’ll lose her, but you don’t see that it’s all related to the loss of your parents and to the loss of Joyce. Spike, did you ever properly grieve for them?”
Spike welled up in tears. “What are you trying to do?” he asked hoarsely.
“I’m trying to help you. I’m trying to help you and Buffy so you don’t lose her!”
“I don’t want your fucking help! I don’t need you analyzing me; you don’t know what’s going on!”
“Spike, please, listen--”
He shook his head. “I think you should go now.”
“You’re kicking me out, again?”
“Yes!”
Watching the man fall apart before her, watching how his shoulders wracked with sobs that he was trying to desperately keep inside, Fred shook her head. “No, I’m not going to leave you alone like this.”
“I don’t want you here!”
“That’s too bad; I’m not going to leave you like this,” Fred said sternly.
Spike stormed out of the room with a growl of frustration and Fred went to the fridge thinking, People always leave important phone numbers on a fridge, don’t they? Quickly perusing the magnets and papers attached to the fridge, Fred found what she was looking for, pulled out her cell, and dialed Buffy.
********
“I’m vibrating,” Buffy giggled and reached into her pocket to grab her cell. “Hello?”
“Buffy, it’s Fred.”
“Fred? Spike’s friend, Fred?” Buffy asked, thoroughly confused.
“Yes. Buffy, I’m here now at the house and I think you should come.”
“What’s wrong with him? What did you do?” Buffy asked, jumping up from the table and walking away to the bathroom hallway to hear Fred better.
“I, well, I’m afraid I said some things he found painful to hear. I thought you should know he’s in a bad way right now.”
“Where is he? What is he doing?” Buffy demanded.
“He’s in the bathroom I think. He’s rather upset.”
“I’m on my way. Try not to say anything else to upset him!” Slapping her phone shut, Buffy marched back to the table. “Wills, I gotta go.”
“What’s going on? Is everything all right?” Willow asked, concerned.
“It’s Spike, he’s not doing so well. I’m not sure what happened, but I gotta go.”
“Who was that on the phone?”
“A friend of his. Look, I’m sorry, I really am.”
“Buffy, no, its okay, I understand. You want a ride?”
Buffy sighed with relief, “That would be great, thank you.”
“No problem.”
The pair threw down their portion of their bill and headed out. Buffy couldn’t move fast enough. She was sure she could run home at that point and make it quicker than a car with all the sudden adrenaline coursing through her.
Please let him be all right… she thought, and immediately burst into tears just as Willow reached over and unlocked her door for her.
“Buffy!” Willow exclaimed, “I don’t – what is it? Is it your mother? Is he having a real hard time?”
“I-It’s not t-that. I don’t know what it is right now,” Buffy managed through tears.
“Do you have any idea at all?”
Buffy nodded, her tone mournful, “Yeah, me moving out and getting a new job.”
Willow looked startled. “He’s… forgive me for saying this, but – isn’t that quite dependant of him? I mean I realize he just lost your mom, but--”
“Willow, he’s my boyfriend,” Buffy blurted out. “I didn’t want to tell you ‘cause I didn’t know how you’d take it and I didn’t think I could handle it if you thought it was gross or something, but…” Taking a deep breath and not looking at Willow at all, Buffy continued with her spiel. “But we’re together. We have been for a little while now and it’s not…gross. It’s not sick and twisted like you might think. We didn’t even know each other for a very long time, and when I came back home to bury my mother I had no place to go and no one to care for me and Spike took me in and did all that, and he’s been there right along. We’ve been there for each other actually and I know you might think it’s sick and wrong, but he’s a good man and we went through a lot of stuff with feeling guilt because of my mom and--”
“Buffy, stop right there.”
Buffy stopped her incredibly long tirade with a snap of her jaw and kept staring straight ahead, afraid to see the look on Willow’s face.
“Buffy, I’m gay.”
Okay, that was not what she expected. Turning slowly to Willow she said, “What?”
Willow heaved a sigh and stared straight ahead, “I’m gay, Buffy, and some might say that’s sick and twisted. In fact many, like my parents, have. It’s given me some perspective on how to view things in a not so judgmental light when you yourself have been judged harshly.”
“So, you’re not gonna fire me? You don’t think it’s sick?”
Willow blew air through her teeth. “Well, it’s a little unconventional, I’ll give you that. And no, I’m not going to fire you. What you do in your personal life has no bearing on what you do for me professionally.”
“Yeah, I know. I do love him very much and loving him isn’t sick to me. Though the things I’ve done and not done point to that and …he hasn’t been himself for a while and I don’t think I’ve helped.”
“Like getting a job of your own and your own place? That doesn’t sound so bad to me; you need to do those things for yourself, don’t you?”
“Yeah, it doesn’t end there…And I’d be more than willing to share except I kind of want to get to him right now….”
Willow shook her head. “Of course, sorry! Off we go.”
*********
When Buffy climbed out of the car and Willow had wished her luck, Buffy found Fred sitting on the porch, waiting for her.
“Where is he?” Buffy demanded.
“Upstairs, lying down. Buffy, could we talk before you see him?”
“Can I see him first?”
“Not sure that’s a good idea. He’s not in the right frame of mind to have you tell him you’re coming to talk with me. He doesn’t even know I called you.”
Buffy sighed and nodded. “What the hell happened? What did you say to him?”
“I told him some things he didn’t want to hear.”
“Like?”
“Buffy, has he expressed any concern over your leaving him as of late?”
Buffy stared at her, “Yes. He has. He was pretty bad for a little bit, kind of…possessive and constantly up my ass…why?”
“Buffy, he’s got it in his head that you’re going to leave him, and that you already are. He’s got the symptoms of separation anxiety here, but it goes beyond that. He lost his parents, he lost Joyce, and then he felt as though he were going to lose you once upon a time.”
Buffy welled up in tears and nodded.
“Don’t feel guilty for that, Buffy, please. That won’t help.”
“What do you expect me to do?” Buffy exclaimed. “How can I not feel guilty for that?”
“You were going through your own thing--”
“Yeah, and because of my thing, he’s going through his.”
“Buffy, this isn’t a problem that can’t be fixed. Subconsciously, he doesn’t even see it happening. He thinks you’re leaving when you’re clearly not and sees any independence on your part as you’re having one foot out the door in regards to your relationship. He takes your independence as a personal slight against him. Buffy, he needs help. I told him these things tonight and he reacted badly, buy maybe if it came from you—“
“No go, Doc. I tried to tell him he might need to see someone when he freaked about…” Buffy shook her head, frustrated. “He freaked about my not having sex with him, and he got a little scary and when he calmed he felt horrible and…” Again, Buffy started to cry. “I don’t what to do, Fred. Should I move back? Should I quit my job? I don’t know what to do for him.” She had never felt so helpless and so incredibly useless at the same time. How did you help someone with their problem when you were part of that problem?
“You absolutely cannot move back or quit your job. That is not what he needs, that will make it worse, as silly as that sounds. Get him help, Buffy. I’m too close to the situation so I won’t be any help, but you’ve got to get him some help.”
“How?”
“Try telling him you’ll go with him. Buffy,” Fred began on a sigh, “I’m afraid of what’ll happen if he doesn’t see someone and get over this.”
“I’ll do what I can. Can I…can I call you if I need to?”
“Of course,” Fred said and stood. Digging into her purse she handed Buffy a business card. “Anytime, ok?”
“Thanks, Fred. I know I was kind of harsh with you, but…I was a little jealous.”
Fred smiled warmly. “Buffy, he’s always been yours and I’ve always known it.”
“Thanks.”
“Call me soon, okay?”
“Will do.”
********
Nervous, Buffy ascended the stairs slowly to Spike’s room. Her heart was racing and her legs were shaky. It wasn’t that she was afraid of him so much as afraid for him. What kind of state would he be in? Would she be able to help? Was her presence going to make him worse? I should have asked Fred that…
Pushing slightly on the door to his bedroom, she found the room engulfed in darkness. Slightly, from the light of street lamps, she could make out his form on the bed.
“Go away, Fred.”
“It’s not Fred.”
Quietly, his voice whimpered, “Buffy?”
“It’s me. I’m here.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I told you I would come,” she said lightly, figuring maybe now was not the time to mention Fred calling her.
“Did you have fun?”
Creeping in, Buffy came round the bed and climbed in next to him, brushing the side of his face with her fingertips lightly. “I did. How are you?”
“Fine,” he said sullenly.
“You don’t sound fine,” she returned lightly.
“Did you see Fred on your way in or did she shove off?”
“I saw her briefly. What’s up?”
“Nothing. Told you, I’m fine.” And he rolled over, turning his back on her.
Pushing herself forward, Buffy wrapped her arms around him and kissed the area between his shoulder blades. “I love you, you know.”
He said nothing.
“I do. Even if you don’t believe me, I do. I love you more than anything in the world and I need you more than you know, Spike, I do--”
“Buffy, please,” he whispered and she could tell from the shaking of his shoulders that he was crying.
“I’m here,” she whispered, “I’m here.” And she continued to whisper to him until the both of them were fast asleep.
Forty-five - forty six by Brat
Chapter Forty-five
They’d shifted in the night and when Buffy awoke, she found Spike’s head on her breasts, using them as pillows and her arms wrapped around him. So very maternal. So very –
Like mom, yes, she conceded, But me now. I’ve never considered myself as the maternal type, but I guess for the right person, I do have it in me. I won’t coddle him like Mom though, not in the same way. I want to help him get past whatever is ailing him, but I don’t want to make it so it doesn’t exist. That’s been done already.
Shifting slightly, trying not to disturb him, she ended up disturbing him anyway when she felt his grip tighten on her.
“Buffy?” he sounded small, like a little boy.
“Yes?”
“Did last night really happen or did I dream it?”
“What do you think you dreamt?”
He looked up at her, his expression sad and hopeful, “The whole thing. Well, except for you coming to see me.”
Smiling gently at him, she pushed some curls from his forehead and bent her head to kiss his forehead softly. “I’m afraid it happened.”
He rolled off her then, sprawling on his back and staring up at the ceiling. “You’re going to make me see somebody, aren’t you? You think something’s wrong with me like Fred does, don’t you?”
“Honey, I don’t think anything’s wrong with you,” she told him and moved so that she lay on her side, propping her elbow up and resting her head in the palm of her hand. “I think you’re just overwhelmed and might need someone to talk to about it. How do you feel this morning? Calmer?”
He shook his head slowly. “Not really. I feel like…I feel like everyday I’m a live wire about to go off. I have all this…anxiety. I don’t know how to let it go.”
“Is there any time where you don’t feel anxious?”
He turned his head and gazed at her, his eyes full of wonder and adoration. “Used to be the only thing that could calm me was you.”
That made her want to cry and she forced the tears back. “Not anymore?”
He shook his head, “Not even when you’re with me. I feel everyday that I’m one step closer to losing you. That you’re slipping through my fingers and I don’t know how to stop it.”
“You’re not going to lose me. You haven’t and you won’t.” Sitting up and spinning so she was facing him and sitting cross-legged, she asked, “You ever see Friends?”
“The television show?”
She nodded.
“Some, not a lot,” he answered, looking at her as if she were nuts. “Why?”
“Well, there was this episode of Friends where Ross was lamenting on never having Rachel. You do know the story of Ross and Rachel at least?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Okay, so Ross was going on and on about how he felt he was never going to be with Rachel because at that particular point in time Rachel hated him--”
“Buffy, this is supposed to somehow relate to us? Cause so far you’re bumming me out.”
Giggling, she swatted him on the leg. “Just listen.”
“All right, listening. Continue.”
“Okay, so while he’s saying all this Phoebe tells him that it’s all going to work out because Rachel is his lobster.”
Spike stared at her blankly. “Are you telling me we’re lobsters now? You’re my lobster? I’m your lobster, what?”
Buffy giggled again, “You’re my lobster and I’m your lobster. She told Ross that lobsters mate for life and when they’re in the tanks together they find their other half and join claws, walking around the lobster tank together.”
“Until someone comes along with a craving for lobster and separates the pair of them.”
“Wow, thanks Debbie Downer for completely spoiling my analogy here.”
Spike smiled slowly, “Sorry.”
“What I’m trying to say you big pain in the ass, is that you’re my mate. For lack of a better word. You’re it. If you want, I could make you those cool letters like in those E-bay commercials that just says “It”, so you know you’re it.”
He burst out laughing then and reached for her. Taking the hint, Buffy lay back down and snuggled into his side. “Does any of that sound like something you could remember? See, if I got you the letters then you could have proof of it even when I’m not right here in the flesh.” Pressing a kiss to his chest, she whispered. “I’m not going anywhere. You have me for forever, remember? I thought about it you know, that forever thing and I have to say, I’m diggin’ it. I know I was leery at first, but if there’s anyone I want to spend forever with, it’s you. I don’t like many people because, well, most people suck, but I like you, a lot. A real lot. And I want to stay with you. You make this world bearable to me.”
“Buffy, stop,” Spike whispered. “I don’t want to start crying like a sodding Nancy boy.”
“You’re not a Nancy boy for crying, you’re human. It helps. It might not seem like it at first, but it does. Trust me. You’re talking to someone that sobbed when she couldn’t tie her shoelaces in Boston.”
“Really?”
“Yup. And I hate to cry, too. For the longest time I thought I was never going to stop and that it wasn’t helping anything really, it was just making it worse, but you know, the way I see it now, every tear you shed is a release. You’re letting go of whatever’s blocked inside you and though it seems like it’s not helping, it’s a step closer to getting it out. You know what a cool word is?”
“What?”
“Catharsis. And the definition is even cooler: Purging of emotion. Say it with me, it just rolls off your tongue.” She nudged him in the ribs. “Come on, say it with me.”
“Catharsis,” they said at the same time and then broke into giggles.
“Pet,” he said after they’d calmed, “Can I think about the therapist idea for a bit? Let me get back to you on that?”
“Sure,” and she nodded resolutely thinking, If you have one more bad episode there will be no more ‘thinking’.
********
Buffy had been ready and willing to call Willow and tell her she was going to spend the day with Spike, but surprisingly, he was the one that was firm about going in. “I gave Richard the day off and we have an opening in two weeks. Besides, I don’t want to sit around and think all day, Buffy. I need to keep busy.”
“All right, sounds fair enough. You want to get a coffee and a muffin and walk me to work?”
He readily agreed and after they each had quick showers, and thankfully Buffy had some clothes still at the house, they set out on their way.
Spike parked his car in the parking garage down the street from both the gallery and flower shop and the pair headed for the café hand in hand.
They were coming up to the café when the door swung open and Angel walked out. Buffy grimaced and Spike tensed. She was hoping he would continue on as though he hadn’t seen them, but no such luck. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at them, a smirk forming.
“Well, well, well,” he drawled by way of greeting and zoned in on their joined hands. “What do we have here?”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Just keep going Angel. I have my heart set on a chocolate chip muffin and you’re ruining my appetite.”
“Kind of like seeing you two together has ruined mine, you mean?” Angel retorted. “You know, you two really are disgusting.”
“Shut up, Angel,” Buffy snapped.
“Oh,” Angel mock whimpered and placed a hand over his heart. “You wound me. So, the mother fucker is now fucking you? Interesting.” Angel sneered at Spike. “She’s like a wildcat isn’t she? Tell me, she anything like your wife— you know, her Mom?”
Buffy’s jaw dropped and in the time it took for her jaw to drop was ample enough time for Spike to let go of her hand and lunge at Angel, punching him square in the jaw and sending him to the ground.
“Spike!” Buffy yelled and she felt as though she were saying it in slow motion while she watched Spike pummel Angel into the ground. A crowd was forming around them and all Buffy could think to do was nearly jump on Spike’s back.
“Spike, please, stop, please!” she begged him. Angel was no longer shouting at him and she was thinking his silence was bad; very, very bad. “Spike, please!” and she managed to get a good enough grip on him and pull him back somewhat off Angel. His body tensed under her grip and he flew off Angel, sending her to the ground on her bottom in the process.
She looked at Angel who was moaning slightly, his face bloody and…and broken. He looked broken. Shit. He’s going to sue Spike isn’t he? Buffy thought and slowly looked up at Spike who stood there, his shirt bloody as well as his fists. Buffy gulped and stood on shaky legs. “Spike?” she whispered.
“Dude, are you all right?” Someone was asking Angel, but Buffy’s focus was on Spike who was shaking like a leaf.
“Spike,” she said again, “Come on, baby, let’s go okay? Let’s go.” Tugging on his arm, she pulled him away from the crowd and to the gallery where she took the keys from his pocket and dragged him inside. Leading him by the hand to the bathroom, she pushed him to sit on the toilet and he did so, still shell-shocked. “Spike,” she started calmly. “I’m not giving you the chance to think about it anymore, okay? You need help, and you’re going to get it.”
He looked up at her with wide eyes filled with tears and nodded.
Chapter Forty-six
It was painful to know the exact origin of where someone’s mind was at and not be able to do anything about it. Her fear of abandonment had caused her to shove people away so that she could leave first, and wouldn’t be ratted out as ‘clingy’. Spike’s fear of abandonment had him holding tighter and tighter still. Behavior like that would make some run, and behavior like that had made her run, but no more. She loved this man, her Spike, more than she’d ever loved anyone or anything and the notion of abandoning him when he needed her – or just someone the most, was inconceivable to her. It was a veritable hell to be trapped in one’s own mind and feel that no one was there to reach out to and understand, or at least show the pretense of it. Understanding was key, empathy was imperative, listening and patience was a must. Buffy knew all too well, and for that alone, she could not and would not leave him to bear it alone.
“Spike,” she began gently as she drove to the house, “Do you want to come and stay with me for a few days at my place? Maybe a change of scenery would be good.”
He nodded, staring out the window, his hands in his lap.
“I’ll help you pack some stuff, all right? Do you want me to call Richard and tell him you’ll be out for a few days?”
“I can’t abandon my responsibilities, Buffy,” he said quietly, and slightly annoyed.
“Then we’ll play it by ear. Spike, you have to take care of yourself first.”
“I don’t know how,” he said honestly with a touch of despondency.
“I’m not that great at it either, but I’ve learned a few things about it so perhaps I could teach you some new tactics and maybe we could learn a few together.”
‘How is it that I suddenly feel like a child?”
“Am I making you feel like one?” Great, now you’re the one doing the smothering. Brilliant.
“Well, kind of, yeah.”
“I don’t mean to.”
“I know you don’t. Buffy, I just…I just need…I don’t know what I need. I feel like I can’t shut off my brain.”
“You know what helps with that?”
“What?”
“Sleep.”
Spike smiled gently. “Does it now?”
“Yup,” Buffy said, nodding.
“What if I can’t shut my mind off long enough to sleep?”
“Then I’ll tell you a story so inane you’ll have no choice but to nod off.”
Spike laughed, “Like what?”
“Goldilocks and the Three Bears.”
Grinning, Spike fingered one of her locks. “Well, you are my Goldilocks.”
Taking his hand, Buffy squeezed it. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“And it’s going to be okay. I promise.”
Sighing, Spike stared out the window once more. “Yeah, it’s gonna be okay.” He didn’t sound convinced.
********
When they arrived at her apartment, he seemed disoriented and unsure, so she swept him off to the bedroom where she helped him put his clothes away and then set up his toothbrush in her bathroom.
“See? Like a second home,” she grinned.
Nodding mutely, he made his way to her bedroom and sat down. Holding up a hand, he stared at scraped up knuckles. “That’s from his face,” he murmured.
Sitting down next to him, Buffy took his hand in hers so he wouldn’t look at it and rested his head on her shoulder. “Try not to think about it.”
“I just—I just snapped.”
“I know.”
“What makes a person snap like that, Buffy?”
“Stress.”
“That can’t just be stress. I can do fucking aromatherapy and all that holistic shit for stress, that was more than stress.”
“It was months, possibly years of things pent up inside you that just snapped. Hey, at least it wasn’t crying, right? I know how you’re not a fan of that.”
He chuckled weakly and moved to lie down on the bed. “He’s gonna do something about that, isn’t he?”
“What do you mean?” Buffy asked, lying down next to him, spooning up against his back.
“You know what I mean, Buffy. You don’t have to sugar coat everything for me.”
“I’m going to take care of it,” she said resolutely.
“How?”
“Not sure yet, but I will. I can be quite evil when I want to be, you know.”
“Tell me again why you dated him?”
“I was smarter than him, he found me fascinating. Through him, I found myself fascinating.”
“You didn’t have to go far for that. I was right there.”
“You find me fascinating?”
“How can I not?” he murmured and turned to face her. He smiled. “I love you.”
“And I you, which is why I’m going to take care of it.”
Yawning, Spike nodded. “Yeah, we’ll discuss that later.”
“Sleep now. Rest,” she murmured and flicked some curls from his forehead, trailing her hand down his face in a comforting manner.
He nodded and shut his eyes while Buffy pulled the covers up around them and soon gave into sleep herself.
********
“Hey Fred,” Buffy said a couple hours later while Spike still slept. She’d woken up and though she was all as snug as a bug in a rug with Spike in her bed, the events of earlier had filtered in and disrupted her rest. It was time for damage control, and the person she figured she could start with was his cousin and Spike’s friend.
“Hey, Buffy, how are you?”
“Um, well, I need your help,” Buffy said smoothly, biting her lip and pacing in her living room, trying to be as quiet as possible.
“Sure, what is it?”
“You haven’t heard from Angel today by any chance, have you?”
“No,” Fred answered slowly. “Should I have?”
“Well, no, not necessarily, but um, there was an incident today…” Buffy launched into the morning fiasco with Angel and when Fred made not a peep on the other end, Buffy had to ask of she was still there.
“Oh my God,” Fred whispered finally.
“Yeah, suffice it to say he’s agreed to see someone. But, he’s worried and I’m worried about what Angel will do. Spike …he nearly broke him and I’m just concerned now--”
“I’ll talk to him,” Fred said quickly. “Not to condone what Spike did, because I am against violence in any manner like that, but Angel was way out of line.”
“Yeah, pretty much. I’m not sure how this is going to send him spinning, but I don’t want him to have to worry about that on top of everything else.”
“I understand, and I feel the same way. I will talk with Angel. Sometimes family has a way of working magic.”
“That’s what I’m counting on.”
“How are you holding up?”
“Oh, I’m all right,” Buffy said hesitantly, sitting down on her couch, and effectively stopping her pacing.
“That didn’t sound convincing.”
“How I’m doing all depends on how he’s doing, I guess. He’s sleeping right now, so I’m good. We’ll see how it goes when he wakes up.” She laughed nervously. “Does that sound awful?”
“No, it sounds about right. It’s when you start to feel overwhelmed that I worry.”
“I think I’m too focused to be overwhelmed if that makes any sense.”
“It does. Just remember that to effectively help him, you need to be taking care of yourself as well.”
“I know--”
“Buffy?” Spike called from the bedroom.
“The prince awakes. I gotta go, Fred.”
“All right. I’ll call you when I’ve spoken with Angel.”
“Thanks, Fred.”
“You’re welcome. Do you need me to make a list of referrals for Spike?”
“No, I think I got that one covered, but thanks. Bye, Fred.”
“Bye Buffy.”
Switching off her phone, Buffy put on a smile and nearly bounced into the bedroom, finding Spike sitting up, frowning slightly.
“Hey, how was your nap?”
He looked up at her, “Buffy, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Does it bother you knowing that I slept with you mother?”
Forty-seven- Forty eight by Brat
Chapter Forty-seven
Buffy stared at him for a minute. “What?” she asked finally as if she hadn’t heard him.
He stared back, studying her. “Does it bother you that I had sex with your mother while I was married to her?” he asked bluntly. She had a feeling he was humouring her by repeating the question.
She shook her head and went to her jewellery box, hunting for a hair tie. “What kind of question is that?”
“You’re avoiding.”
“I’m not avoiding!” she exclaimed and hastily tied her hair up, turning to face him. “I just don’t understand where that question came from.”
“You forget that I know you pretty damn well, Buffy. When you’re lying you either get defensive and won’t look me in the eye or you look at me straight in the eye.”
“So, what? I look at you or I don’t look at you. I must lie all the time then.”
“Don’t make this about something else. You damn well know what I mean. Just answer the damn question!”
“Yes, okay!” She exclaimed throwing up her arms in frustration. “Yes, it bothers me. Every time I think of having sex with you all I think about is how you had sex with the woman who bore me. For Christ’s sake, how can you not think about how the woman you want to fuck is the daughter of the woman you fucking married! You were inside her body and now you want to be inside mine! Is that what you fucking wanted to hear?”
“Yes! At least it’s the goddamn truth,” Spike spat, crawling out of bed hastily. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”
She said nothing, waiting for him to continue.
“You have felt this way the whole damn time and made excuses right and left when this was what it came down to. Did you lie to me when you said you wanted me? Did you just tell me what I wanted to hear?”
“No,” she said softly, looking down. “I do want you.”
“But I slept with your mother and I’m used goods.”
“It’s not…no, that’s not it. It’s not that you’re used, I’m sure you slept with plenty before her, it’s just…her. Imagine taking up with someone your parent was with. Just think about your parents having sex for a second…it’s… it’s just…”
“Gross?”
“For lack of a better word, yes,” she agreed softly.
“What better word could there be?” he demanded. “It’s gross. So the idea of having sex with me, whom you claim to love, is gross. That’s great Buffy, thanks, thanks a lot.” And he charged past her out of the room.
Following him, she started fuming when he grabbed his shoes to and sat down to put them on. Marching over to him she yanked them out of his hands.
“No,” she said firmly. “You always tell me not to run away, well I’m not going to let you do it too!”
“Tell me why I want to stay here? Tell me I want to be here with you when I just disgust you?”
“You don’t disgust me! God, I just…you asked the question and now you don’t like the answer so you’re running.” Throwing the shoes at his feet, she threw her arms up. “Go. Just fucking go if you want to go.”
Stalking off, Buffy went to her bedroom and slammed her door, crying the whole way tears of frustration. Frustrated that he asked, frustrated that she was made to tell him, frustrated that she just couldn’t get over it already and frustrated that she too seemed incapable of having a reasonable discussion. That’s what happened when backed into a corner, she came out with fists flying and not always thinking.
Taking deep breaths and wiping furiously at her tears, Buffy tried her best to regain control. She hadn’t heard the door slam just yet so she wagered he was still out there, upset as well. He doesn’t need this right now, she thought and got up.
Opening the door, she found him standing there before her and she jumped slightly.
He looked regretful and sad. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head and flung herself in his arms, “No, don’t be sorry. It’s my fault. I just didn’t want to tell you. I wanted to get over it and I was trying and please don’t take the blame, Spike.”
“I …I wish I’d met you first,” he whispered hoarsely.
The pain and rawness in that statement sent Buffy reeling. She kissed him, kissed him urgently, trying to show him …show him what she wasn’t sure.
He moaned into the kiss, his hands skimming just inside her shirt. “Let me please,” he whispered, “let me try and make it better.”
Buffy nodded, wanting so bad to be over it, wanting so bad to make him feel better.
Kissing her hungrily, Spike walked her backwards to the bed and tumbled back onto it with her. Trailing kisses to her neck, he nuzzled there and murmured, “Gonna make you feel so good, pet.”
Did he say those things to her? she wondered and tried shoving the thought – and image – from her mind as he wormed his hands under shirt, pushing it up and over her head.
He gazed down at her white lacy bra and growled softly before bending his head to kiss the tops of her breasts reverently. Shutting her eyes, Buffy let out a soft moan and thought, Yes, this is the way to just get over it.
Reaching behind her back, he quickly unclasped her bra and sent it flying to the side and wasted no time in suckling at one breast while palming the other, hardening her nipple with his expert hands.
Did he do this with her? her traitorous mind asked and she shoved it back by spinning them so that she was on top. He looked up at her as if he meant to devour her and she grinned, feeling a spark of female pride. Whipping off his t-shirt, she drank in his sculpted torso and leaned down to kiss her way down his chest starting at his nipples. When her mouth closed over one, he bucked his hips slightly and groaned.
Did she do this?
Doubling her efforts, Buffy trailed kisses down his torso and when she reached his jeans, she took her time unbuttoning them, enjoying watching him watch her with such desire and want.
Standing, Buffy yanked down and off his pants, dropping them with great pomp and circumstance on the floor while meeting his eyes. “Now I’m gonna make you feel so good,” she purred and straddled his calves.
Taking his weeping cock in her hands, Buffy stroked him, spreading his pre-cum around the head. Before she dipped her head to his cock, she had an image of her mother doing this for him and she bit back the sob that formed. I can do this, she thought and took him in her mouth.
Bobbing her head up and down his shaft, Buffy hummed, wanting to enhance his pleasure.
“Buffy…” he murmured and she felt his hands in her hair, brushing it aside. He sat up a bit, leaning on his elbows and he watched with avid attention as she ministered to him. Periodically his eyes would shut and he’d moan her name.
Swirling her tongue around the head, she tasted his essence and hummed as she engulfed him once more in her mouth.
“Christ, Buffy…” he gasped and in a flash she was on her back and he was hovering above her. “So bloody perfect,” he whispered and she thought, Better than her?
When his hand slid inside her pants and panties and his finger made contact with her pussy, just gliding up the slit and sweeping her clit, Buffy hissed, “Oh God.”
“Does that feel good, hmm?”
“Yes,” she said breathlessly and then moaned when he sunk that finger inside her.
“So wet for me, kitten. So very wet,” he purred and bent his head to suckle once more at her breasts.
Tunnelling her fingers through his hair, Buffy sighed dreamily and stared up at the ceiling. Did he do that to her? Biting her lip until she nearly drew blood, Buffy screamed in her mind, Shut up, shut up, shut up!
“Got to taste you,” he muttered and pulled off her pants and her panties. Spreading her legs, Spike gazed down at her, drinking her in, and the look on his face nearly made her weep. No one had ever looked at her with such reverence before. He made her feel as though she were a Goddess.
“You’re so beautiful, Buffy,” told her, meeting her eyes, showing her the truth in that statement with those eyes that gazed at her so admiringly. “I love you so much, sweetheart. You don’t even know how much I love you…”
He dove between her legs, gathering her nectar on his tongue and swirling her clit with his tongue. Her legs trembled and her fingers once again found his hair.
He beat a rhythm on her clit before sucking it into his mouth and Buffy squirmed. “Yes…ooooh…Spike…”
“Does my girl like it when I taste her?”
“Hmmhmmmm…” Did she like it? Did you do this same thing to her? And she leaned up on her elbows, to burn the image of him between her legs in her mind.
Simultaneously sinking a finger inside her and nibbling on her clit, it was no wonder that Buffy exploded, seeing spots behind her eyes. “Yes!” she yelled. “Spike!”
He hummed, drinking her, and nearly making her cum again. “Look at me,” he demanded when he was hovering above her.
She looked up at him, her eyes fluttering and he smiled. “I love you.”
“I love you,” she told him and felt his cockhead brushing her slit. He looked down at her questioningly and she nodded.
He slid in slowly and she was sure she could feel every vein and ridge of his long and thick cock inside her. “Oh God,” she gasped.
“Heaven,” he nearly whimpered and pulled back slowly before gliding back in. He thrust slowly, gaining momentum before he started moving faster within her.
He was inside her. He did this to her. He loved her like this long before you. Just as her second orgasm approached, so did her tears. Grabbing him, she kissed him, hoping to stave them off and soon, she was coming around him, trembling both from her orgasm and her tears.
“Buffy.” He pulled back to look at her, having felt the wetness on his skin. Happy tears? He hoped. Her walls were milking him, begging him to cum and he did so, roaring her name while she looked away from him, her eyes shut tight.
Just like my dream, he thought and collapsed against her. “Buffy…what?”
She curled herself around him and sobbed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Her tears induced his own. “What is it, baby?”
“Her…”
Not knowing what to do, Spike held her, feeling once again, he’d gone too far.
Chapter Forty-eight
Buffy wasn’t crying. Not anymore. She was just quiet in his arms, head buried in the crook between his neck and shoulder, her breath fanning across his neck, ruffling the curls there. Rolling slightly so that he slid out of her and so that they lay on their side, Spike felt at a loss as to what to do.
“Do you want me to go?” he whispered, praying that wasn’t what she wanted.
Her hold on him tightened. “No.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded, “Can you just hold me?”
“Of course.”
He held her for so long in the quiet sanctuary in the room without a word spoken that Spike thought she’d fallen asleep. When he started to shift away, her grip tightened once more.
“Where are you going?”
“Just to the bathroom, luv. You want anything while I’m up?”
She shook her head and released her hold so he could move. Just as he crawled out of bed, Buffy scooted under the covers and looked at him, her eyes tired, her face drawn. “Can you get me a water? I think I want some water.”
He nodded, “Sure pet.”
The actions and the talk were mundane, but the emotions were all over. She had weariness about her, but he knew her well enough to know that her mind was churning. So was his for that matter.
Using the facilities and then shuffling to the kitchen for her water, Spike wasn’t sure if he should bring it all up, or just wait for her lead. The good news was that she wasn’t kicking him out, and that each time he’d tried to ease out of her grasp, she’d held onto him. In fact, she’d asked him to hold her. That had to mean something. Right?
Pouring water into a glass from the tap, Spike’s mind shuffled to their earlier conversation in which she’d asked him to put himself in her shoes. Okay, so say my Mum died and my Da took up with a woman and then later, I took up with that woman. Let’s say that woman was Buffy. Immediately, his nose wrinkled. Okay, so that once removed thing really works.
“Spike?”
“I’m coming, sweetheart.”
Shutting off the tap, he padded back to the bedroom, and placed her glass on the night table next to her before going to the drawer she’d put his things in and taking out a pair of sweats to wear.
Climbing back into bed just as she was putting her glass back down, he waited for her next move.
“I’m going to use the bathroom now,” she murmured and climbed out of bed, naked as the day she was born. Watching her walk to the bathroom was an exercise in restraint; she was a gorgeous woman and he loved her, ergo, he wanted her. Even in the face of what they were currently facing. He couldn’t help it. He was a man reacting to the woman he loved without reason.
When she came back, she was wearing a t-shirt and panties. Climbing back into the bed, she faced his way. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, staring at his chest.
“Buffy, please don’t apologize. I feel bad enough.”
Her gaze flew up to his. “Why?”
“I forced you.”
“You didn’t force me. I could have stopped you at any time.”
“You didn’t want it. So, why didn’t you?”
“Because I wanted to show you that I do want you. I want to be over it and I thought if I just went for it, I’d get over it.”
“Instead, it made it worse.”
“I just couldn’t help thinking… ‘Did he say those things to her? Did he do those same things to her? Did he feel the same with her--”
“Now hold on just a goddamn minute.”
She clamped her mouth shut at his forceful tone.
Grabbing her into his arms, he held her close. “The way I made love to you is different than how I …with your mother. You’re two different woman and Buffy; you’re the one I’m in love with now.”
“You loved her at one time--”
“And I loved her differently then too. Buffy, I never loved her the way I love you.”
“Was she better?”
“Buffy--”
“Don’t answer that, I don’t want to know.”
“Good, cause that’s not something that you need to hear.”
“Why? Was she better?”
“Buffy, that’s not how I meant it. I meant that knowing how your mother was in bed with me is not something you need to know. That’s not helping you get past that it’s gross.”
She burst into tears. “I don’t think you’re gross! I’m just fucked in the head for thinking it! It’s not you, it’s me.”
“Buffy, luv, you know…I was thinking while I was getting your water and I was thinking of what you said earlier about if the situation was different. If it was you with my Da, I’d feel the same way.”
“You would?”
“Yes.”
“And how would you go about getting over it?”
“Time. Patience. Knowing that I’m not the same man, that I’m me and you love me more than anything in the world. And knowing that you’d be patient and understanding with me.”
She nodded, looking up at him. “I would be.”
“Buffy, making love was the first step. Perhaps we should have gone slower, a few sessions of heavy petting, but when have we ever half assed something?”
She laughed, slightly nervously. “We never have. We either jump in all the way, or not at all.”
“Never a dull moment,” Spike chuckled, feeling some of the tension starting to melt.
“Do you think we have an unhealthy relationship?”
“What relationship isn’t somewhat dysfunctional and unhealthy? Do you think there are all these people out there in the world having these perfect relationships? No. Nothing is ever truly perfect Buffy. Every relationship has its ups and downs, and every relationship has one person that doesn’t communicate at all, or communicates too much, and then there are those in between moments that we all look for. We’ve had our ups, don’t you think, love?”
She nodded. “I like to think so.”
“We’ve been through a lot in a short amount of time. We’ve actually come a long way from that pair of misfits that couldn’t stand one another.”
“You never want to sleep with me again, do you? Who wants to sleep with the girl that cries and thinks of her mom while having sex? And here I was worried you’d be thinking of her and I was!”
Spike couldn’t help but laugh. “Buffy, it’s not something that isn’t surmountable, and it’s not something that has to be sorted out right away. And for the record? I was thinking of you the whole time. Thinking how gorgeous you are, how perfect, and how much I love you. It was you, sweetheart, all you.”
“Before you were freaking out when I told you and now you’re all with the calm, what’s up with that?”
“It was my turn to give you some peace of mind, and I’m telling you, that picturing you with my Dad really did the trick.”
“I always tried to tell you about that theory of—“
“Once removed,” they said at the same time and laughed.
“We share, that’s how I see it,” Spike told her once they’d quieted. “Our relationship can be dysfunctional, our relationship can be unhealthy, but it’s ours. You’re mine, Buffy and I told you once and I’ll tell you again: I’m never letting you go.”
“Never,” she whispered and snuggled into his embrace. “I love you.”
Forty-nine - Fifty by Brat
Chapter Forty-nine
I got my head but my head is unraveling
Cant keep control, can't keep track of where it's traveling
I got my heart but my heart's no good
You're the only one that's understood
Buffy lay on her couch in the living room, listening to an old Nine Inch Nails CD, and staring up at the ceiling. It was late, about 2 am, but she just hadn’t been able to get back to sleep and didn’t want to wake Spike with her constant tossing and turning.
I come along but I don't know where you're taking me
I shouldn't go but you're wrenching dragging shaking me
Turn off the sun pull the stars from the sky
The more I give to you the more I die
And I want you
You are the perfect drug
the perfect drug
the perfect drug
the perfect drug
“Buffy, what are you doing?”
Looking over the back of the couch over at Spike, she smiled and waved. “Couldn’t sleep. Want to join me here?”
He shrugged, raking a hand through his riot of curls and laid down on the opposite end of the couch, tucking his legs toward the back of the couch, hers resting in the front.
He was silent for a minute. “Why couldn’t you sleep?”
“I woke up and couldn’t shut off my brain.”
“What were you thinking about?”
“What do you think?”
You make me hard when I’m all soft inside
I see the truth when I’m all stupid-eyed
The arrow goes straight through my heart
Without you everything just falls apart
“Buffy, what the hell are you listening to?”
“Our new song,” she said and giggled.
My blood just wants to say hello to you
My fear is warm to get inside of you
My soul is so afraid to realize
how every little bit is left of me
Take me with you
Without you everything just falls apart
It's not as much fun to pick up the pieces
You are the perfect drug
the perfect drug
the perfect drug
the perfect drug
“Some day I’d like to have a real song with you. Not one from Nine Inch Nails and not I’m Going Slightly Mad from Queen,” Spike told her, grumbling slightly.
“Come on, why be traditional? Nothing about us is.”
“This is true,” he said huskily and sat up, moving to lie down next to her, his back pressed against the back of the couch and enfolding her in his arms.
Snuggling into his embrace, Buffy sighed as the song started up again.
“And you have it on repeat. Nice,” he muttered.
“You’re my drug. My perfect drug,” she cooed, giving him an Eskimo kiss.
“Do you feel better about things, sweetheart?”
“I guess. I just feel kind of contemplative.”
“And what are you contemplating?”
“Everything and nothing all at once,” she declared.
“So your mind was racing with nothing definitive.”
“Right. There’s stuff going on in there, just can’t pinpoint them right now.”
“I see,” he said, nodding.
“Spike?”
“Yes?”
“You weren’t thinking of her at all?”
“No, Buffy,” he told her gently. “I wasn’t. My focus was all on you. All I was thinking was how I loved you and wanted to show you how much.”
“The things I did…did she do them?”
“Buffy, how is that going to help you get past this?”
“Maybe if I knew…knowledge is power and all that crap.”
“Yeah, and too much knowledge can make a person go crazy.”
“Is that why all the incredibly gifted people are completely tapped?” she mused.
“Yes.”
“Wow. I never knew you and I were among the incredibly gifted.”
Shaking his head, Spike pinched her bottom and she squealed before bursting into laugher. “Come on, that was funny!”
He shook his head again and kissed her softly. “Buffy, the things we do in bed together, it will always be different because it’s you and I. People all over the world engage in the same activities and it’s different for everyone because it all depends on whom they’re with and how they feel about that person. Okay, yes, your mom went down on me--”
Buffy recoiled from him, nearly falling off the couch in the process, her nose wrinkling.
“You asked,” he reminded her. “You wanted to know. You still want to know?”
“Yeah, I’m all set…for now,” snuggling back into him, she whispered, “Just, I’m gonna need you to reassure me okay? Cause it’s not just going to go away.”
“I know.”
Silence, then. “Spike?”
“Hmmm?”
“Did you mean it when you said you’d get help?”
“What’s wrong? You don’t want to be the only one in therapy?”
She giggled, “No. I don’t. I have this image in my head of our future.”
“Oh?”
“Yup. Let me paint this picture for you. It starts with a cozy padded cell for two…”
Without you everything just falls apart
It's not as much fun to pick up the pieces
You are the perfect drug
the perfect drug
the perfect drug
the perfect drug
********
“So, um, how is he after…all that?” Willow asked hesitantly the following morning while Buffy set about updating their website.
She looked over her shoulder at her new friend and then turned in the swivel chair to face her. “He was shaken up. Understandably so. He didn’t even realize I don’t think, what he did, or how bad.”
“And how bad was it exactly?” Willow asked, wincing slightly.
“Angel was pretty wrecked,” Buffy said, not really wanting to elaborate too much. The last thing she wanted was for Willow to think Spike was some kind of monster. “It’s a bunch of things that just made him snap. He’s not a violent man, he’s really not and what Angel said was just--”
“Utterly out of line in my opinion!” Willow said adamantly, her eyes wide. “He had no right to say that at all. It was crude and just …wrong.”
Buffy smiled, thankful that Willow said that, thought that, and voiced it. “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me. Just stating fact.”
“I know, but just the same.”
“So, I guess that means you wouldn’t be able to go out for a drink with me tonight? Cause I really had fun the other night and was thinking we should do something like that again.”
Buffy beamed. “I had fun too. I’ve never a real girlfriend before. I’ve always been kind of a loner and the only friends I’ve really had, have been men.”
Willow shrugged and sighed. “I’ve had Xander. He’s…well, he’s kind of a girl.”
Buffy laughed. “Oh, I so want to meet him now!”
Willow snapped her fingers, “You know what? How about we go out? You, me, Spike and Xander? It won’t be a date for me and Xander, but it’d be fun to go out, don’t you think?”
“You know what, Wills? I really like that idea. Let me call Spike.”
********
Squeezing Spike’s hand, Buffy looked up at him and grinned. “We’re gonna have fun, right?” she asked as they headed into The Bronze, the local bar and club.
“Buffy, will you stop asking me that? Yes, we will.”
“Well, you seem hesitant.”
“I just feel a little weird about Willow knowing I beat the piss out of Angel yesterday.”
“Spike, don’t worry about it,” Buffy said, stopping and facing him. “This was her idea. If she thought you were going to take everyone out I don’t think she would have suggested we all go out. Her friend Xander is coming too.”
“And they’re just friends?”
“Right. I’m thinking he’s a guy, you’re a guy…cha-ching. Friend for you!”
Spike laughed and shook his head at her. Bending down, he kissed her quickly. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Love me?”
“Well, yeah. I already do that,” he said, smiling tenderly at her. Brushing some hair from her face, he leaned in once more to kiss her. “And I’ll never stop.”
“Me either,” she whispered.
Someone clearing their throat loudly had Spike and Buffy turning to find Willow and a shaggy haired guy standing there, waiting sheepishly for them to take notice.
“Uh, hi, guys!” Buffy chirped. “Wills, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend Spike…”
********
Buffy couldn’t help but be in good spirits. The night had so far been a success. Spike and Xander (Harris)– who was indeed part man, part boy and part girl, just as Willow said – had gone off to play a few rounds of pool while she and Willow talked, drank a little and danced.
Things were going swimmingly and she felt free. There was something to be said for being cooped up with your issues and then being out in public with them. At times, being around people was a help in keeping the dark cloud at bay. Other times, it was too much work, but this was not, thankfully, one of those times. And, from looking at Spike who was now laughing at something Xander said, this was not one of his times either.
“They’re getting along well, huh?” Willow asked. “Xander likes him, I can tell. He won’t play pool with someone he doesn’t like.”
“Good, I’m glad. And I think Spike likes him as well, he’s been laughing a lot. Always a good sign.”
“You love him a lot, don’t you, Buffy?”
Buffy nodded, blushing slightly. “I do. He’s my guy.”
“Is he the first guy you’ve ever…?”
“Been in love with? Yes. I thought I was before, but now that I’m in love with Spike, I know it wasn’t really love then. I never wanted to do things for them the way I want to do them for Spike.”
“Wow,” Willow gushed. “I want that.”
Buffy smiled, “You’ll have it, Wills. But, we’re not going to get you to get it by sitting here. Let’s shake our tail feather, see who we can reel in for ya.”
“But won’t they think I’m with you?”
Buffy shrugged and grinned, “Maybe. But, hey, have you ever noticed that when you’re with someone that’s when everyone starts coming out of the woodwork?”
Willow smiled slowly and broadly. “Let’s go.”
********
Spike’s eyes fell on Buffy gyrating to the music blaring in the club and his blood rushed immediately to that certain part of his anatomy that made his pants just a tad too tight.
Fuck me, she’s hot.
“Spike? Earth to Spike? Do you want to play another round?” Xander asked, waving a hand in front of Spike’s face.
Spike grinned, not taking his eyes off Buffy. “Not now, mate. Got a girl to see about.” And he prowled over, stalking his prey.
He knew the minute she noticed him coming for she smirked slightly and made a big show of not looking at him, instead turning so that he got a view of her ass in those skin tight jeans she insisted on wearing.
Ignoring all else but his girl, Spike came up behind her and groaned when she pushed her rump back into him, brushing right against his erection. Placing his hands on her hips, he pulled her closer and she stood straighter.
Bending slightly, Spike purred in her ear, “Do you know how fucking hot you are, Buffy?”
“Am I?” she asked softly, a slight smirk on her face as she looked over her shoulder at him.
Moving her hair from her neck, he nuzzled it softly before biting down on her lobe, smiling when he heard her moan. “I’m hard for you right now.”
She froze slightly and he snaked a hand across her waist and rested it on her belly. “Only you,” he whispered in her ear. “Only you have made me this crazy. Only you have made me want so bad I feel like I’m going to explode.”
Spinning, Buffy looked up at him with lust in her eyes. “We can’t have you exploding, now can we?” she said just before leaning up and crashing her lips to his.
Chapter Fifty
"God, why don't you two just get a room!"
"Suck face!"
The taunts from those around them made Buffy pull back, though Spike seemed oblivious and then quite uncaring of them when he finally did take notice. Leading her from the dance floor, leaving a bewildered Willow and Xander, he led her to a dark and empty hallway. "Care to leave, pet?"
She gulped. "What?"
He tossed her one of his patented puppy dog looks. "Care to leave and have some alone time?"
"Now?"
He nodded, pressing his forehead against hers and trailing a finger down her bare arm, causing goose bumps to form in its wake.
"I-I don't know..."
"Maybe I could give you some incentive," he whispered huskily and captured her lips in a searing kiss. Pulling her to him so that she was pressed to the lenght of his body, Buffy could feel every single part of him, so close were they. He was hard.
"For me?" she whispered, "That for me?" she asked, rubbbing herself against him.
"Always for you."
"Tell me you love me."
"I love you," he nearly growled in his lusty haze.
"Tell me you want only me."
"I only want you. Forever and ever and ever...In point of fact..." And his hand brushed across the smooth expanse of her exposed belly, her shirt having ridden up slightly in the kafuffle of their passionate kisses. Then, it dipped into the waistband of her jeans.
“Spike,” she gasped her admonishment, knowing full well what his devious mind had come up with.
“Trust me,” he whispered against her lips. “Do you trust me?”
She nodded adamantly, feeling turned on by the chance maybe; just maybe they’d be caught doing something in the dingy, dark hallway.
“Talk to me,” she begged on a murmur.
“You are my sun,” he said huskily and unbuttoned the front of her jeans. “You are my North Star…”
“Mmmm…so poetic,” she mumbled, smiling dreamily and letting her head fall back on the wall behind her.
“You are my beacon, my savior, my angel,” he muttered against her lips, nipping them lightly and easing his hand inside her panties. With one long finger he traced her nether lips, making her moan and quiver in his arms. “Look at me,” he demanded.
Her eyes fluttered open and she lifted her head to look at him. His blue eyes burned indigo into hers.
“Focus on me,” he told her. “Just me, Buffy.”
She nodded in her haze and then promptly disobeyed he order when he stroked his finger inside her, caressing her nubbin.
“Look at me,” he ordered.
Her eyes flew open once more and she forced herself to focus on him.
“You are everything to me,” he told her and sunk a finger inside her causing her cry out. “You are my world, Princess.”
“Yes, yes,” she gasped as he pumped her with his finger, making contact with her clit on every push and pull.
“You’re in my gut, my throat...” he shut his eyes briefly. “I’m drowning in you, Buffy,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. “I want everything with you…I want to live inside you, be your breath, your heart, your bloody reason for living because you’re mine, and no one, no one has ever been that for me…”
“Oh, God,” she muttered and kissed him hungrily, feeling she could swallow him whole with her need of him. He was drugging her, making her mind bend and break, air was leaving her lungs, her heart was expanding, her nerves were alive and haywire…
“You are my heart,” he whispered raggedly, pumping her harder, “my reason for living…You undo me, Buffy, you undo me…all I can see is you, all I can feel is you… all I want is you…”
“Spike!” she screamed softly and bit down on his shoulder to quiet herself, bursts of light exploding behind her eyes like a prism of colors. Her wall hugged his fingers as she came, squeezing him inside her, spasming around him, trying to indeed allow him to live inside her.
Taking her teeth off him, she breathed his name and her head lolled on his shoulder, too heavy to hold up suddenly.
Easing his hand out of her panties and jeans, he brought his finger to his lips and licked them clean.
“Interesting,” she murmured watching him in a haze.
He grinned at her. “Want a taste?”
She shrugged, “Sure,” and she brought his head down to hers, kissing him softly, tasting her muskiness.
“God, I love you,” he panted when they broke apart, drawing her up and closer so that he could wind his arms around her, and in essence, hold her up.
Buffy sighed, her breath coming out in a gust of air. “Wow.”
“I’ll say,” he chuckled lightly.
“Do you…I mean are you…?”
“That was all about you, Buffy.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why? Hasn’t anyone ever made it all about you?”
“No,” she answered bluntly, snorting slightly at the suggestion.
“Then it’s like I’m your first, innit?”
“In a perfect world,” she muttered.
“No, Buffy,” he said imploringly, making her look at him. He gazed at her searchingly, pleading with her with his eyes. “This is a first. For both of us. This is new for me too, nothing before this has ever meant this much to me. Nothing…no one…no one has stirred in me the things you stir in me, no one has made me feel the things you make me feel. With you, I’m a man, a child, a boy…I’m all those things and you’re still here. I’m not a boy playing at being a man, I’m not lost; I’m found.” Winding her hair around his hand, he pressed her forehead to his. “You can’t ever leave me, you understand me? I’d be bloody lost; I wouldn’t know what to do.”
Tears seeped into her eyes and she nodded, “I won’t. I won’t leave you.”
“Why are you crying?” he asked, concerned.
“You – you make me tremble inside,” she answered, shivering.
“Am I scaring you?”
She shook her head, “No, not really, just—just the whole intensity of it. It moves me, it shakes me and…and it makes me cry.”
He kissed her sweetly and then just held her to him while she cried softly in his arms, cooing to her, loving her with his words and gentle strokes of hand, trying to anchor her back to the Earth.
On a trembling sigh, she was back, her eyes dry, and her feet planted firmly on the ground. “Can we go home now, Spike?”
“Yes, sweetheart, we can go home now.”
*********
Xander and Willow had turned twenty shades of red by the time they’d gotten back to them and while Spike didn’t seem to care much, Buffy found it hard to look at them in the face. So, she too, turned twenty shades of red.
Giving Willow and Xander a quick wave, her eyes not meeting theirs, Buffy followed Spike out of the club. Once outside, she had to giggle.
“What’s so funny, kitten?” he asked as they made their way to the car.
“Oh, just that I think Xander and Willow knew something went on.”
Tucking his tongue behind his teeth, Spike grinned and Buffy swooned at the sight. She stared at him, feeling her panties having gone wet once more.
“Pet?”
“I like that look,” she drawled, smiling dreamily.
“Then I’ll make sure to do it more often.”
“I think I’ll write you a poem,” she declared once they were on their way to her apartment.
“Oh?”
She nodded, “I’ll write an ode to your inherent sexiness.”
“You’re great for my ego.”
“Only fair. You’re fantastic for mine!”
********
I'm talking, I'm talking
I believe in the power of love
I'm singing, I'm singing
I believe that you can rescue me
Slipping into bed where she was all soft and warm, Spike tucked her into his side as he lay on his back, her stereo humming softly in the corner.
“What are we listening to? Madonna?”
She nodded and pressed a kiss to his bare chest. “Our new song.”
With you I'm not a little girl, with you I'm not a man
When all the hurt inside of me comes out, you understand
You see that I'm ferocious, you see that I am weak
You see that I am silly, and pretentious and a freak
But I don't feel too strange for you
Don't know exactly what you do
I think when love is pure you try
To understand the reasons why
And I prefer this mystery
It cancels out my misery
And gives me hope that there could be
A person that loves me
“Slowly, but surely, we are getting to the perfect song for us,” Spike murmured, thinking this was definitely better than Nine inch Nails.
“I wasn’t thinking of her,” Buffy whispered.
Rescue me
Your love has given me hope
Rescue me
I'm drowning, baby throw out your rope
Spike tensed slightly. “You weren’t?”
“No,” she shook her head, her hair brushing his skin and causing goose bumps to form.
“Good.”
“But that was your plan wasn’t it?”
“Yes, but I meant what I said.”
With you I'm not a fascist, can't play you like a toy
And when I need to dominate, you're not my little boy
You see that I am hungry for a life of understanding
And you forgive my angry little heart when she's demanding
You bring me to my knees while I'm scratching out the eyes
Of a world I want to conquer, and deliver, and despise
And right while I am kneeling there
I suddenly begin to care
And understand that there could be
A person that loves me
Rescue me
Your love has given me hope
Rescue me
I'm drowning, baby throw out your rope
“You really want to live inside me?”
“If I could.”
“That’s the kind of love you read about in romance novels, the real intense ones, not the bodice ripper ones.”
Spike chuckled, “Well, what they write about has to come from somewhere doesn’t it?”
“Spike?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think there’s one person for everyone that drives them completely nuts? Like…desperate and crazy and that have to have feeling?”
“What do you think?” he drawled.
Love is understanding
It's hard to believe life can be so demanding
I'm sending out an S.O.S.
Stop me from drowning baby I'll do the rest
Rescue me
Your love has given me hope
Rescue me
I'm drowning, baby throw out your rope
Love is understanding
It's hard to believe life can be so demanding
I'm sending out an S.O.S.
Rescue me, rescue me
Turning in his embrace, Buffy bent her knee and draped it over his legs, resting her head on his chest. “It’s the same for me. You know I’ve never been in love before, right?”
“I think I knew that.”
“You’re the first.”
“Told you…and the last.”
“And the last,” she echoed in agreement and yawned.
“Rest, kitten,” Spike murmured, stroking her back.
“Tomorrow I’ll talk to Lorne about your setting up an appointment with someone okay?”
Spike sighed. “Think I still need it? We’ve been good.”
“And when its time for you to go back to the house and I stay here?”
Silence.
“I know you’re pouting,” she scolded him.
“All right, all right. Talk to him then.”
“Spike, I just want you to feel better. You feel good now, but it’s because you’re with me in my bed…as conceited as that sounds, but you’re not living here--”
“I get it, Buffy,” he snapped.
Sitting up slightly, she looked up at him. “Don’t be mad.”
He softened immediately. “I’m sorry. I’m just scared is all.”
“Don’t be,” she whispered and kissed him quickly before laying back down. “I’m right here and I won’t let anything happen to you. Maybe you could call Giles and talk with him? You guys seemed to get on well.”
“He can’t be my therapist from all the way in Boston, Buffy.”
“Well, no, but you feel comfortable talking with him about that sort of thing. He can let you know what to expect. I spoke with him before I saw Lorne and he was a great help.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Ok, but you’re still going.”
Gathering her closer, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Go to sleep, brat.”
“Love you,” she said on a yawn.
“Love you too, kitten.”
It's not my business to decide
How good you are for me
How valuable you are
And what the world can see
Only that you try to understand me
And have the courage to love me for me
I believe
I believe that you can rescue me
Rescue me,
Your love has given me hope
Rescue me
I'm drowning, baby throw out your rope
Fifty one - Fifty two by Brat
Chapter Fifty-one
“So, let me get this straight,” Lorne began after Buffy had relayed the events of the past week to him, “Spike beat Angel up and now he’s shacking up with you for the time being?”
Buffy nodded, staring at her kind and helpful therapist, thinking she was about to hear something that wasn’t so kind, but might be helpful eventually. Instant Gratification Girl wanted helpful now, not helpful later.
“Buffy, I gotta tell you, while I understand why you took him in like that, I don’t think it’s a good idea to continue with.”
Buffy felt crestfallen, even though she knew he was going to say it. “But, Lorne, he was a mess.”
“I get that, I understand it, but him living with you is defeating the whole process here. The goal is to stand on your own two feet, it was what you wanted to do when you came in here, right?”
“Right,” she answered softly and slowly.
“And we’d discussed how Spike was too dependent on you and quite possessive, right?”
“Right.”
“Well, Buffy, I hate to say it, but him essentially living with you now is not helping the matter. It’s just prolonging it.”
“Lorne, the man was wrecked. He beat Angel to a bloody fucking pulp. He didn’t even realize how bad he’d done it until after the fact – what was I supposed to do? Say ‘Well, that blows, but suck it up and I’ll catch you later’? You forget that I love this man.”
“No, Buffy, I didn’t expect you to say that to him, in fact I think you handled it well, but now the time has clearly past for him to be there. In his mind, he thinks you’re living together now.”
“It’s only been a week,” Buffy mumbled. “Okay, so he asked me to pick up milk for us this morning, and he hasn’t been home to listen to the messages, but…why did I just share that?”
“Maybe because it’s bothering you and you don’t want to admit it.”
“I hate you,” she pouted.
Lorne smiled gently, his kind, warm brown eyes crinkling in the corner. “I know you do, cupcake. Just like you hated Giles, right?”
“Yes,” she said petulantly. “All right, so it’s going on two weeks and it is like we’re living together and sometimes I feel …smothered, but you know what? I’m just as guilty of it.”
“I know, which is why I’m encouraging you to have him go home now. He’s hiding and so are you. Both of you hide in one another.”
“Sometimes I don’t know where he ends and I begin,” Buffy admitted.
“Did you have a better sense of that when you were living alone?”
“Sometimes. I spent most of my time worrying about how he was doing and if he was upset with me.”
“You said he’s agreed to see someone. Has he made the call?”
“No.”
“How about I set up the appointment?” Lorne offered. “I have a fabulous doctor he could see right in this very building, though I will have to insist on separate times for the both of you.”
“Lorne…”
“Buffy, he needs to do this not only for himself, but for you as well.”
“I know, I just don’t like to push him so much, he gets all testy.”
“Of course he gets testy, he doesn’t want to go.”
“We had sex,” Buffy blurted out, wanting to change the subject to anything else at that point. Instantly, she turned flaming red.
“Oh,” Lorne said smoothly, not missing a bit, “How do you feel about that?”
“I cried. I thought about my mom and compared myself to her the entire time. Kept having visuals of them doing it and…” she shuddered. “He’s trying to make it better, he is. And when he assures me only a half million times, I don’t think about it. Until later of course. So, when am I going to be over that?”
“Buffy, there’s no timetable on this sort of thing. It’s normal for you to think of your mother during sexual activity with Spike. He was her husband, and even though you weren’t around to see them, you know they didn’t like a nun and a monk.”
Buffy wrinkled her nose. “Are you trying to help here?”
“I am, believe it or not, by putting to rest your fears that you are somehow abnormal for feeling and thinking as you do. The silver lining is that when you feel more secure with Spike and your relationship with him, you will be able to move past it. Right now, things are still haywire and all over the place, and when things become precarious between you two, both of you lean on one another that much more thereby making things more unstable and precarious.”
“So, what you’re saying is, I need to get him to go back to the house and he needs to talk to someone?”
“In a roundabout way, yes. Buffy, I’m not telling you this to be a hard ass here. I’m telling you this because I see the co-dependency you have for one another and relationships like that are not healthy. I want to help you and Spike to have a strong relationship and last. From what Giles told me about the two of you, he thought you were great for one another, and I have no doubt of that, but right now you’re both holding one another back, not thriving.”
“I want to thrive, but I don’t want to hurt him,” Buffy nearly whimpered.
“Just as you need reassurance from him that he loves you, he’s going to need reassurance as well, but it is not your job to put him back together. You can help, but you can’t do it for him.”
“Why do I have to be the heavy?”
“Because right now, you’re the only one he listens to.”
If that, Buffy thought dryly.
********
Coming home from her session that night, Buffy felt charged. She felt ready to tell Spike that perhaps he should consider going home and at least checking his messages, hoping that would be all she needed to say to have him get the hint. If not, then she’d resort to telling him that if her landlord found out she had someone with her 24/7, he’d start charging her more rent.
So, okay, maybe she wasn’t as charged as she should be.
Entering her apartment, the scent of food hit her and her mouth watered. She’d sure miss having him cook, that was for sure.
“Honey, I’m home!” she called out as she entered, dropping her purse by the door.
Spike came bounding out of the bedroom, grinning. He’d apparently just showered since his hair was wet and he was in his sweats. He looked so adorable and happy to see her that for a minute she considered not saying a thing and just lying to Lorne.
That won’t solve a thing.
“Hey, kitten, how was your session?”
“Good, it was good,” she nodded and met him halfway, wrapping her arms around him. “He offered to set up an appointment with you.”
“Oh?” he said, noncommittal.
“Yup, with someone in his office. I said you’d call…”
“Did you now?’
“Yup…cause you will…right?”
Pulling out of her arms, Spike nodded toward the kitchen. “I made dinner. Put a chicken in with some vegetables.”
“Spike,” she sighed, “You promised.”
“Buffy, I know I did, I’m just going at my own pace here.”
“That’s a load of crap and you know it. You just keep putting it off hoping that I won’t keep reminding you and ‘forget’ about it. Well, guess what? I’m about to turn into a nag.”
Sighing heavily, he waved his hand at her. “All right, all right.”
“I mean it, Spike. If you don’t, I’m calling Lorne and having him make the appointment. And then I will drag you in if I have to. I don’t want to be a pain in the ass--”
“It’s your bloody calling isn’t it?” he snapped.
Buffy rounded on him, glaring. “Oh, hell no. Do I need to remind you how I have been there for you every time you’ve fallen apart in the past few weeks?”
“Buffy, you don’t need to make it sound like that. I’m not ‘falling apart’.”
“Yeah, because you’re technically living with me. We’ve been over this.”
He stared at her.
“I think it’s time you went home, Spike. You’re avoiding, and for that matter, so am I.”
“You’re kicking me out?”
“You actually don’t live here, I do. I let you stay here because you needed someone there--”
“You, Buffy, I needed you there.”
“And I’ve been here. But now it’s like you’re moving in. That was not the intent behind asking you to come here. I--” She never got to finish because Spike stormed off, heading toward the bedroom.
From the sound of it, he was packing. Coming into her bedroom, Buffy watched him hastily pack his things, dutifully ignoring her.
“Spike, its not that I don’t like having you here, but you can’t hide here from your problems. They’re still there,” she said calmly, trying to reason with him. It seemed every time a serious conversation happened, tempers flared much too easily. It was tiresome.
“Well me and my problems will be out of your hair in a minute,” he snapped and tied up his shoes.
“Spike, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, but this isn’t healthy for us--”
“Tell me why I want to see a shrink when they obviously fill your head with all this crap, huh?” he demanded, jumping up from the bed.
“It’s not crap and you know it, and if you’re going to stand there and make me feel like a piece of shit because I happen to need to see someone and actually do benefit from it, then you can see yourself out.”
Without a word, he grabbed his things and stormed out of the bedroom, and then out of her apartment.
Buffy stood there, contemplating going after him to work it out. She made a step toward the door and then stopped herself. She shook her head. “No. It’s not going to help. It’s not going to do anything; we’ll just end up where we we’ve been again. He wants to be mad, then fine. Maybe he just needs to be mad instead of me running after him all the time.”
With her legs shaking, Buffy sat down on the bed and listed once more the reasons why she should not go after him until she was pretty sure that he was long gone by then anyway.
Chapter Fifty-two
Spike was fuming by the time he got home. He slammed into the house, throwing his keys at least in the direction of the dining room table, and let out a roar to end all roars. The house shook from it practically.
Storming up the stairs, he threw his duffel bag in his room, taking out his alarm clock, journal and pen, sending them skittering across the room.
“She tells me I run from my fucking problems, but she kicked me out!” he hollered at his bedroom. “Bloody stubborn bint. I’m tired of the push and pull, the constant fucking push and pull. ‘Come here, Spike’ ‘Go away Spike’. I can’t ever win. She wants me, she doesn’t want me – I can’t do anything right! She wants to be independent; she wants to do all these things on her own. For fucks sake she lived alone for five years and now she wants to go back to that?”
And you lived with someone for five years, you were a husband for all that time – don’t you want some time to get your shit together? his mind warred with him.
Spike let out another roar of frustration and ran down the stairs, heading for the liquor cabinet. There was one way to shut his brain off. Good ol’ Jack never got him riled up, good ol’ Jack always wanted him – in fact, Jack beckoned him. So, Spike paid Jack a visit.
********
Buffy stared at the calendar. Two days. Two long days since Spike had stormed out her apartment, two days since she’d seen him smile and heard his voice.
“Buffy, just go see him,” Willow said, clipping some rose stems to place in a vase.
“No,” Buffy said stubbornly, shaking her head. “I always run after him and try to make amends with him. I’m not doing it. He wants to be a big baby and give me the cold shoulder; well he can go right on ahead and do that.”
Willow gave her a look that told her perhaps she was making a mistake, but Buffy refused to cave. She had to be strong in this. The same argument over and over was getting tiresome. It was wearing trying to be everything he needed her to be at the sacrifice of herself. She wanted to be there for him, and yet she wanted to have a little breathing room too, but when she gave an inch, he took a mile and then demanded more.
“You know,” Willow said thoughtfully, frowning slightly, “Maybe this break is a good thing.”
Buffy perked up, “You think so?”
“I do. I mean maybe it will give him the impetus to seek some help. He’s at least given you some space, right?”
“Right, but it’s just made me worry how he’s doing.”
“So, call him and find out at least that.”
“No. Cause somehow, I’ll get sucked in again. I’ll go to him and try to ‘fix’ him, and then I won’t push the issue and he’ll depend on me again and I’ll feel suffocated again and then we’ll argue again and--”
“And he’s coming in the store.”
Buffy jumped up from her stool behind the cash wrap just as Spike entered the shop. He stopped just inside, taking off his sunglasses and staring at her.
“Hi,” she said finally, smoothing her shirt.
“Hi.” He sounded hoarse she noted, and he looked bedraggled too.
He stepped forward, “Can I talk to you?”
She nodded and looked at Willow who just nodded. “You can come in back,” Buffy told him. “Follow me.”
He did so and once in the backroom surrounded by a desk, ribbons, vases, clips and foam for the fake flower arrangements, Buffy turned and faced him.
Immediately, he took her in his arms. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too. What have you been doing?”
“Nothing of importance.”
“Drinking? You look like hell?”
He froze in her arms. “How did you know?”
“You forget I know you,” she told him and pulled out of his arms. “Have you been working at all?”
“Not much.”
Sighing, Buffy stepped away from him. “So...what are you going to do?”
“Well, I’ve gone on my bender and now I’m done.”
“Did it help whatever you needed to get out of your system?”
“It did what I needed it to do,” he said stiffly and looked away from her. “I am an adult, Buffy, I am allowed to drink.”
“I don’t care if you drink, Spike, but don’t be irresponsible about it.”
“As usual, I can do nothing right,” he muttered.
“You do plenty right, so don’t give me that crap. Don’t turn this on me, don’t make this my issue.”
“I’m not making anything your issues; you make all your issues mine!”
“I do not! – All right, look, this isn’t helping anything. I’m so tired of having the same fucking argument, Spike.”
“Then we stop having the same argument. It’s quite simple, really.”
She nodded, “You’re right, it is. So, let me put it in a way that might penetrate. You either call someone and get some help, or we’re over.”
She was lying of course, and she knew it. She could no more give him up than he could give her up, but there had to be something that got through his thick skull, there had to be something that made him do it, and she was hoping that maybe it was her really leaving, and not the imaginary leaving he thought she’d do that would make him do it. She just hoped he didn’t call her bluff.
He stared at her. “What?”
Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she said again, “Call and make an appointment and actually follow through, or we’re over.”
He shook his head, “You don’t mean that.”
“Try me,” she answered softly.
Smirking he stepped forward and tugged her into his arms, his blue eyes boring into her. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do.”
Bending his head he nipped at her lips, sliding his tongue along the seam, begging for entrance. “No, you don’t. You love me.” And he slid his hands to her bottom and pulled her roughly against him.
She pushed at him, gathering her senses. “I do love you which is why I want you to get help. So, either do it, or get out.”
They stared at each other for a long time, Spike’s expression blank and devoid of emotion. Buffy stood her ground, refusing to back down.
Finally, he let out a resolute sigh. “Fine,” he said, “Give me the number and I’ll call Lorne’s office and make an appointment.”
She stared at him a bit longer, studying him. “Call him here. Right here with me.”
He nodded, letting out another sigh. “Fine.”
Handing him the cordless that was in the back, Buffy recited the number from memory and listened as Spike talked to the receptionist and set up a meeting with a Tara McClay. Clicking the phone off, he looked up at her. “Happy?”
He wasn’t, she knew that much, but she didn’t care. It was done, and he was going to go – that was for damn sure. Lunging at him, she wrapped herself around him like a second skin and kissed him soundly.
“Very.”
Fifty-three- Fifty Four by Brat
Chapter Fifty-three
Spike’s appointment was in less than twenty-four hours and he was not looking forward to it. In fact, he felt very much like blowing it off, digging in his heels, and saying he wasn’t going to be made to do anything he didn’t want to do. Childish, yes, but he didn’t care. He’d been forced into it, served some sort of false ultimatum that he knew she didn’t mean, though there had been resoluteness in her eyes that he hadn’t wanted to fight too much against. Pushing Buffy was akin to taunting a Bull: she only took so much before she charged.
Since he’d made that sodding appointment last week, things had been strained and while both of them acknowledged their own feelings on the matter to themselves, they didn’t bother to share. Like a sickness though, it didn’t mean they stayed away from one another, not entirely anyway, even if the time would have been better spent in separate corners.
They didn’t touch one another, kisses were intermittent and scarce, it was more the knowledge and security of the other being there physically, and not so much having to really be there in every sense of the word. He got the sense from Buffy that she was trying to make things all right, while things for him were far from all right and while he wanted to rail at her, something held him back. That resoluteness, that fear of maybe she meant it.
Buffy was not the sort to just live with things being miserable for too long and Spike supposed it was due to the fact that she had lived with things being miserable for so long in the past, that she wasn’t willing to do it any longer. That had to mean something in regards to her therapy, but like a stubborn child, Spike wasn’t about to admit that.
So, it was the night before his appointment and they’d had a silent dinner at the house, mumbling a few words back and forth which were supposed to somehow constitute a conversation, and Spike could tell that Buffy was about to blow when she threw her napkin down on the table and stalked to the sink with her plate, roughly rinsing it off before shoving it in the dishwasher.
“All right,” she said turning to him, “Give it to me. Lay it on me. Do it.”
He looked up from his plate and blinked. “What?” he said stupidly, knowing full well what she meant, but opting to make it difficult.
“I know you’re angry with me and have been for a week now, so I’m giving you the opportunity to just lay it on me. Tell me why you’re pissed, I want to know.”
“Well, how about we start with how you served me an ultimatum to make an appointment.”
“Nothing else was working,” she said simply.
“Maybe because I don’t fucking need help,” he snapped.
“Yes, you do, you’re just too goddamn thickheaded to see it.”
“What is it that I need help with, huh?” he nearly shouted and bolted up from the table, throwing his napkin down.
“The fact that you never dealt with losing your parents because you had my mother there to pick up the pieces and play mommy for you. And then you lost my mother and I came along and now you’ve transferred all of that to me, making me the mommy in this relationship.”
He stared at her aghast. His expression was one of abject disbelief, but the feelings she stirred with those words stabbed him. The mention of his parents, his loss of Joyce, and then the idea that Buffy thought she was no more than a mother to him – it was all too much.
“And when you thought you were going to lose me too, you held on so tight. Too tight. So tight I can’t breathe sometimes and it’s my doing too, it’s my need for you that doesn’t allow too much room between us – just a little, but not enough.”
“You put more than enough room between us, Buffy,” he told her, annoyed.
“No, not really, because when you need me, when you’re angry with me, or upset, or anything, I come running to fix it. You did it for me once upon a time.”
“You never let me get that close. I have been nothing but open wide for you and you are still closed off to me.”
“I am not!” she exclaimed, frustrated, throwing up her arms. “You just choose to see it that way because I am not making your life, my life. And yet, we have done that, haven’t we? Made our lives so intertwined that sometimes I don’t know where mine begins and yours ends.”
“We love each other, Buffy, how is that so wrong?”
“Because it’s too much! It’s co-dependant and I don’t want to feel that I have to ask you before I go out with Willow, or ask you before I decide to spend a night alone because sometimes I need a night alone and I don’t want to have to constantly worry that you’re upset with me or angry with me and I’m making you miserable—“
“Then don’t! Then fucking don’t. You’ve never had a problem doing what you want anyway, you somehow always seem to and I never get a say at all in any of it. You want to trek off to Boston, so you go! I begged you to come back home, but you went and look what happened to you when you did!”
“That wasn’t your problem to fix, and it wasn’t a problem you created, Spike. That was mine!”
“Wasn’t part of the reason you left was to avoid me? That makes it my problem too!”
“No, it doesn’t! It’s not all about you, Spike, some things are mine.”
“And somehow they end up being mine just the same, don’t they Buffy. You didn’t discuss moving out with me, you just told me it was going to happen and why, but you never gave me any say in it. You never discussed taking off to Boston with me, you just told me you were going and went. You never told me any of what you were feeling,” he broke off, hoarsely, a sob tearing at his throat. “You just avoided me. You have this whole other life you want, but I thought the whole point of being a couple was to make a life together. You pull me in and then you push me back. You say you love me and you want me, and then you’re pushing me away from you – how do you think that makes me feel?”
“I’m sorry,” she told him through her own tears that were falling freely; “I didn’t realize I was doing that. I’m sorry.”
“Tell me what you want from me, Buffy, tell me who you want me to do and I’ll do it, just give me some direction here.”
“I just want you to be you. I want you to be happy. I want you to…see.” She shook her head, wiping at her eyes. But he’ll never see as long as you’re still there.
The confident man he’d been once upon a time was no longer. He was crumbling before her very eyes and had been for a while. His identity was so wrapped up in hers and he’d been doing so well before…Perhaps he’d been strong then for her? When she needed him, he was everything that she needed and once she’d gotten stronger, he became weaker. He needs to be needed, and if he doesn’t feel that I need him, then he falls apart. But how many times can I show it and say it until he believes that I do need him? I keep saying it, I keep trying to show him, and it’s not going anywhere, just the same crap over and over and over and over…so what do I do? How do I help make him stronger? My presence isn’t a help, it’s a hindrance, so maybe I need to take myself out of the equation…
“I think we should go on a break,” she declared.
He froze. “What?”
“I think we should go on a break, just for a little while, just to clear our heads and think--”
“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “Absolutely not.”
“Just listen to me--”
“No, Buffy. I told you once and I’ll tell you again until it sinks in that thick head of yours: I’m never letting you go.”
“I’m not letting you go either; I’m just saying I think we need some breathing room.”
“I fucking said no!”
“Too fucking bad! You want me to talk things out with you, but you don’t even want to listen to what I have to say. It’s the same goddamn thing with you – you think I’m saying one thing and thinking the other, you don’t trust me, you don’t have any faith in me or in us and I’m fucking sick of it! You promised to call someone and it wasn’t until I had to give you that ultimatum that you did it. You twist my words and make me the heavy all the fucking time instead of taking responsibility for your own actions. I’m tired of everything being my fault; I’m tired of trying to cater to your wants and needs – what about mine? Do I cease to exist because you’re afraid I’m going to leave you? You want everything that’s me to be tied up in you and it doesn’t work that way. Our relationship that you covet so damn much can’t survive if you’re sucking the fucking life out of me!”
“Then go if that’s what you want to do so bad! Leave! Get out!” Spike shouted at her at the top of his lungs.
Clamping her mouth shut, Buffy walked out of the room on shaky legs, grabbed her purse from the sofa in the living room, and let herself out the door.
Spike stood stock still in the kitchen, staring at the place Buffy had just vacated. When he heard the door shut, he felt paralyzed. That didn’t just happen did it? Did we just…did I just…?
When it finally hit him what had just taken place and that Buffy was gone, Spike ran to the front door and flung it open. “Buffy!”
“That’s okay,” he muttered, “I’ll just go to the apartment and see her. We can work this out.”
Fifteen minutes later though, Buffy was not at her apartment and the neighbors were threatening to call the cops if he insisted on pounding and shouting for her any more. Calling her had done nothing, she’d shut her phone off.
Taking himself home, Spike felt at a loss. He felt helpless and lost, not a feeling that settled well with him. It was the same feeling he’d had when his parents died, when Joyce died, when Buffy left and -- Fuck me.
He sat back and did the whole ‘once removed’ thing, he looked at the whole thing as if he were an outside observer of his own life and God, he felt as though he had been an observer in his own life, being a possessive lunatic and just acting, not really thinking, not really seeing anything beyond what he felt. Buffy hadn’t left him, she was right there the entire time comforting him, reassuring him, talking with him, trying to help, and he just took and took and took and when she stopped, he saw it as a sign of her wanting to go.
And how can I blame her for snapping tonight? She was right when I was at her apartment last week; I had been thinking that now we’d just move in together. That I’d sell the house and just move in and Christ, it’s like I don’t have any control over myself. Look what I did to Angel. Okay, so he did deserve to at least be hit, but I pummeled the guy and if Buffy hadn’t stopped me... He shivered at the thought.
Spike fought back the urge to go back out to find her. It was torment to have this hanging there between them, to not know if he’d really done it this time, and if she would be back or if she was really well sick of him. Putting his head in his hands, Spike had himself a good, solid cry.
********
“Buffy, are you going to be all right?” Willow asked, handing Buffy a box of tissues.
Buffy nodded through her tears, “I’ll be fine. I just don’t know what to do. Should I go see him or stay away? Should I have left? Did I do the right thing?”
Willow sat down next to her friend on her couch and hugged her. “Yes, Buffy, you did the right thing. Some time apart is just what you need and you know he would have gone looking for you had you went to your apartment. You did the right thing, and sometimes doing the right thing is not always the easy thing.”
“Wills, could you call him later for me? Just to make sure he’s all right?”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?”
Sniffling, Buffy pondered that. “Okay, you’re right. I’m gonna call Fred, maybe she can do it.”
“Is there anything I can get you in the meantime?”
“Uh, yeah…got any valium?”
Chapter Fifty-four
Sitting in the waiting room of the therapy center, Life Wellness, Spike’s leg bounced up and down with nervous energy. He was going through with it; he was going to see Dr. McClay. He wasn’t entirely convinced that since a sort of enlightenment had hit last night that this wasn’t something he couldn’t work through on his own, however, enlightenment had hit when he’d pummeled Angel and he’d still carried on as if nothing had happened. Rather, as he’d found out last night when Fred called to see how he was (and he was sure Buffy had something to do with that), Buffy had picked up that mess for him. She’d taken him in, away from the situation, and gave him a reprieve from reality. That was a mistake. He’d used that opportunity to try and worm his way in and then gotten angry and hurt when she’d told him he had to go home.
Okay, so maybe she needed to be better at making boundaries, but he shouldn’t have to rely on her to do that. He should have known. Boundaries between them were so skewed though; Spike had to agree with her: he didn’t know where she began and he ended. While half of him didn’t see the bad, the other half knew that wasn’t right and not necessarily conducive to a healthy relationship.
If they even had a relationship at this point.
When Fred had called last night, she hadn’t said that Buffy had put her up to calling, but Spike liked to think that he was so in tune with his girl that he was correct in his assumption that she had. Especially when Fred had disclosed how Buffy had asked her to talk to Angel about not pressing charges. He’d asked how that had gone over, and Fred just said that she knew a few things about him that she could use as leverage and Angel knew it, and feared it. Spike didn’t question further, but merely thanked her and made a mental note to thank Buffy.
“William?”
Spike’s head shot up and he found a dirty blond with kind blue eyes and small smile looking directly at him. She was dressed in corduroy pants and some kind of ruffled maroon blouse and black flats. She was short, and didn’t look scary at all.
He stood. “Here.”
Her smile grew and she waved him toward her and through the door she was holding open. “Come on.”
Holding his breath, he followed her down a narrow hallway to another door that she opened and gestured for him to enter. Coming inside, he found two loveseats, a coffee table, a desk and a swivel chair.
“Wherever you want,” she told him.
He sat down one the loveseats on the far end of the room, exhaling finally, and she took the across from him. Crossing her legs, she grabbed a notebook. “How are you today, William?”
“Can you call me Spike?” he asked.
“Nickname?”
“Yes.”
“I see. Sure, I can call you that. As long as you call me Tara. So, how are you today, Spike?”
He nodded. “I’m a little worried.”
“Why?”
“Well, I’m worried because I think I just lost my girlfriend last night and I’m nervous about being here. I’ve never done this before.”
“Well, I commend you for coming. Life is hard at times, and sometimes it helps to have someone to talk to and get things out with someone that you don’t know and know isn’t going to judge you. People often have the misconception that it’s a sign of weakness to come and seek help, but that’s not the case at all. It takes great strength to come and want to tackle the issues at hand head on.”
Spike nodded slowly. “My girlfriend comes here. She sees Lorne.”
Tara smiled, “Ah, yes, he’s a wonderful doctor. She’s in good hands.”
“Is she?”
“You doubt it?”
“Sometimes I think he fills her head with things that makes her stray from me rather than work with me.”
Tara cocked her head to the side. “Oh?”
“She doesn’t agree, of course.”
“Hmmm…Why don’t we start with you right now? Tell me a little bit about yourself.”
“Where shall I begin?”
“How about you start with your family.”
“Well, I don’t have any family. Buffy, my girlfriend, she’s my family.”
“You had to have family at one time.”
“Yes, that’s true, I did,” he said, nodding.
“Let’s start there then.”
Taking a deep breath, Spike launched into his story.
*********
“Buffy, just come out with me tonight,” Willow urged. “Just for dinner and then you can go see Spike or you can go home if you want.”
Straightening the new note cards she’d just gotten in, Buffy chewed her bottom lip. “I hate the way things were left with us.”
“I know, but Buffy, maybe it’s not so bad that you got that break you wanted. You did want it, didn’t you?”
“Well, I mean…yeah.”
“That sounded convincing.”
“Well…” Buffy shrugged. “I wanted it because I thought maybe it’d be good for us. For him.”
“And for you, right?”
“Yeah,” Buffy sighed, “For me too.”
“Then give yourself and him the breathing room.”
“I hope he went to therapy today,” Buffy murmured and grabbed a pink “Get Well” note card. She stared at it and then sighed and reached for a “Thinking of you” note card. “Maybe I’ll just put a note in his mailbox, let him know I’m, you know, thinking of him.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?”
Buffy nearly growled. “Yes! It’s just a note, that’s it. I’m not going to personally hand it to him. You’re going to drive me by and I’m going to give it to him. That’s it. The end of the story. Whatever problems Spike and I have, I still love him. I’m not going to ignore his existence.”
“And if he sees this as a way to insinuate himself back to the way things were?”
“Look, Wills, I understand what you’re trying to say, and I understand what you’re trying to do and all, but I’m not going to blow him off completely.” She smirked in good humor, “That’s not the way I roll.”
Willow giggled. “So, what’s the note going to say?”
“Not sure yet. I’m sure inspiration will hit though,” she said confidently and set about filling the note cards once more.
********
Heading to the mailbox after having arrived home from his session, Spike felt drained. Exhausted really. Buffy had mentioned the exhaustion she’d felt after she’d started seeing Giles, but he hadn’t realized just how draining it could be. And all they’d done was talk about his history—his parents, Joyce, and then Buffy. He hadn’t gotten to the nitty-gritty much, though Tara had advised him that perhaps letting a day or two pass before contacting Buffy would be a good idea. He didn’t necessarily want to do that, but there was something about the magic of seeing a therapist – he felt he should do as advised, and would.
Opening the mailbox, he found a small baby blue envelope sitting on the top of the other mail with Buffy’s scrawl that simply said: Spike.
With trembling hands, he pulled it out and opened the card. A note card was inside that said “Thinking of You” across the top.
I hope everything is all right. I hope therapy went well. I will be out tonight with Willow, but you can call if you need to talk.
Love you,
Buffy
Spike smiled, feeling some weight lift off his shoulders. Tucking the note in his pocket, Spike grabbed the rest of his mail and headed for the house. He was going to make some dinner, maybe watch a movie, and head off to bed early. And, he was going to work on not calling Buffy. Perhaps though, he’d write her a note back.
Fifty five - Fifty six by Brat
Chapter Fifty-five
Dear Buffy,
Therapy went well and I can do without the ‘I told you so!’ thank you very much. The jury is still out as it was only my first session, but we’ll see what happens. The good thing is I’m a bit more open to it than I was.
I think you were right in our needing a break. I do miss you, though. Do you miss me? Or are you happy to finally be rid of me for a bit?
Do you think in a few days we could get together and talk about what this break exactly entails?
I love you,
Spike
********
Dear Spike,
Of course I miss you. Silly man for asking me that. I never want to be ‘rid’ of you. I think yes, in a few days, we should get together. You know I can’t go that long without seeing my favorite person in the whole wide world.
I’m glad therapy went well. You were in my thoughts the entire time. And I will refrain from the ‘I told you so!’ for at least a month in. Have to make sure it gels first before I get the ‘I told you so!’ from you. *Cheeky grin*
I’m really digging this note thing. Are you?
Love you,
Buffy
********
Dear Buffy,
You make me laugh. I really am ‘digging’ this note thing. It’s giving us our space and allowing us to still talk.
I love you, baby, I do. You’re my girl and I’m sorry that things got so skewed between us. I can see things a little clearer now and when I do that ‘once removed’ thing you’re so fond of, I can see where I put a lot on you. I made you fix me and when you didn’t want to fix me, I took it to mean you didn’t love me anymore. I’m sorry for that; I know you love me. You’ve put yourself aside to take care of me and I took advantage of that.
I will try to be better about that.
Guess what? I’m going out with Xander tonight. Imagine that, Spike’s got a friend. Did you have something to do with that? I know you had something to do with Fred calling me and she told me about Angel. Thank you, sweetheart.
Love you always,
Spike
********
Dear Spike,
You’re gonna make me cry! Spike, I love you too. I always have and I always will. Please don’t take all the blame for the dysfunction that happened between us. Remember how messy I was for quite some time. I couldn’t have been that much fun to deal with. I know I wasn’t. And I still feel bad for how I trekked off to Boston and committed myself. You had to put a lot aside to take care of me; it only makes sense that there were needs you had to tend to as well. I’m only sorry that I couldn’t have opened up more back then. I am trying now, just as you are, so this time, it’s like we’re doing it together.
I had nothing to do with Xander calling you and I plead the Fifth on Fred!
Behave yourself with Xander, mister! Perhaps the four of us could go out again soon? I do miss you and I love you.
Buffy
********
Dear Buffy,
Yeah, see, now you’re making me cry. Don’t you dare ever tell anyone that I am such an incredible nancy-boy, all right?
Sweetheart, please don’t apologize for Boston and please don’t apologize for committing yourself. I see now what tremendous strength it took to do that. It took me how long to finally seek help? It took all of my might to go that day, so I see now that it’s not as easy as strolling in and laying it out there on the table. It takes work.
It’s not like you could have put a timetable on when you’d need someone to help you just as I couldn’t have put a timetable on it for myself.
I do feel that this time we are working on things together and heading toward a common goal instead of against each other.
You do realize that pleading the Fifth just means you’re guilty, right? And please, do set up a time for us to all get together. It’s been almost a week now sweetheart and I want to see my girl.
I miss you,
Spike
*********
Dear Spike,
Perhaps part of what we need to do is stop apologizing for everything that we’ve done that we think had to do with messing up the other? We constantly go back and forth with the apologizing and perhaps we just need to put that shit behind us and focus on the now. I think in fact someone said that once before…
I am so proud of you for going to therapy. I didn’t think you were going to go through with it, but I am so glad you did. My mom told me once that the path of least resistance is not always the best path to take. She said that taking the hardest path might be difficult; the rewards from it were well worth it even if it doesn’t seem like it while you’re on it. Therapy is not always easy, but pushing through is imperative as I have found out.
And change, well, that’s never easy is it? I’m looking for some coasting now. I’ve been pushing up this hill and I’m thinking once I get over it, its smooth sailing for at least a little while. Do you feel that way too?
As for any admittance of guilt…I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.
Hugs and kisses,
Buffy
********
Dear Buffy,
Yes, I do feel that after this there is some coasting on the horizon. Can we be really cheesy and hold hands while we coast?
I believe it was me that said we shouldn’t keep apologizing…see; now you start to listen. Brat.
Your mom was a wise woman and you know what, Buffy? So are you. You are wise in your own right and I don’t think I’ve ever told you that.
I know you think, or at least thought – don’t know if you do anymore – that I transferred what I had with Joyce to you, and I can see where you thought that, but Buffy, you have to believe me, that’s not the case.
You are the first woman I have ever truly loved with all my heart and all my soul. You consume me like no other and it’s so overwhelming to me, the depth and the breadth of my love for you…
I simply never had it before, not like this. I just knew that when I fell for you, I could never let you go. The idea of losing that filled me with dread. It still does, but I am working on not letting it become my entire life. I’m doing well, don’t you think?
Sweetheart, please, let me see you soon.
Spike
********
Dear Spike
You are doing well. I’m so very proud of you and I love you so very much.
Did you know we missed Valentine’s Day? By like two weeks. We really are nuts. Don’t yell at me for that! *Grin*
You made me cry again in your last letter and I think I’d do well to tell you to your face what you mean to me. Meet us at the Bronze at 8.
Can’t wait to see you,
Buffy
Smiling broadly with abject joy, Spike rushed up to the bathroom after reading his letter from Buffy to get ready to see his girl.
Chapter Fifty-six
“Um, you’re not going to mind too much if I jump him as soon as I see him will you?” Buffy asked Willow as they sat at a table near the door for prime jumping space. Her eyes were glued to the door; it’d been just over a week and Buffy was crawling out of her skin to see Spike.
Willow giggled, “No, I wouldn’t blame you at all. Even though you know you didn’t have to come out with us to see him. You could have done it alone.”
“Yeah, I know, but I thought maybe it’d be awkward after not seeing each other for over a week. I wanted to make it comfortable.”
“I think the letter idea was a great one. I can already see a change in you,” Willow observed, looking toward the bar to see if Xander was making progress.
“You can?” Buffy asked, smiling.
“Yup,” Willow said nodding. “The circles under your eyes have faded; you have been much more chipper and more at peace. I see it, do you?”
“I feel it. I don’t feel so insecure about everything. Knowing he’s in a good place helps me be in a good place. And having some distance has given me some perspective on things, and reading his letters are so beautiful…I feel like my mommy issues with respect to him are fading faster and faster.”
“That man loves you, Buffy. It’s all about you, not her. A cruel as that may sound. I said it before, and I’ll say it again. I want that love you both have.”
Buffy patted her friend’s hand. “You will.” And then Spike entered the club in faded jeans, a blue t-shirt, and a short leather jacket. His hair a riot of curls, just as she liked it. Buffy gasped, “God, he’s fucking gorgeous. Be right back,” she licked her lips, “Or not.”
********
Spike entered The Bronze a bundle full of nervous energy. He was going to see his girl and he couldn’t wait. He hadn’t laid eyes on her in a week, only laid eyes on the letters she placed in his mailbox for him every night, and on her door to her apartment when he dropped letters off for her on her doorstep in the morning.
He’d avoided going to the gallery, not even allowing himself a peek, knowing that with one peek, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.
If he’d been asked, or told two weeks ago, that they’d spend over a week apart and their relationship would be fine, he wouldn’t have believed it and most likely would have suffered a panic attack at the thought. Now though, now he could see where the time apart and limited correspondence had been a help. Writing as they had had shown him how strong their relationship really was – they were able to communicate, and communicate well. They had conversations in their letters, they were open in them, and Spike’s fears were dissolving, his sense of self returning.
Looking up, he saw her coming toward him and his breath hitched. He stared, completely transfixed as she came toward him. Her golden hair tumbled in waves around her shoulders, her makeup was light and yet defined, making her gorgeous green eyes pop, her lips were glossed and begging to be kissed, and the tight hip hugger jeans that flared at the bottom and that ruffly and lacy red top she wore, made him think of only getting his hands on her.
He lurched forward, and within seconds she was before him, intoxicating him with her scent. They reached for each other at the time and their lips met in a passionate kiss that made the world dissolve around them.
“Oh, I missed you!” she exclaimed when they broke to breathe and she pressed her face in his neck.
Sex, something that had happened once and had then been reduced to heavy petting, was something that was on the forefront of Spike’s mind at the moment. He didn’t want to push her, but he wanted to be inside her and make their reunion complete. What could he say? He was a physical guy and worshipping Buffy with his body was something that was imperative as part of being her lover.
“Can we get out of here?” Buffy whispered in his ear. “I want to be alone with you. Is that all right? Or do you want to--”
That was all the impetus he needed and with a tug on her hand, Spike was leading her, practically dragging her, out of the club.
Once outside, he turned and pushed her against the brick wall, attacking her lips with his own, his hands resting on her hips and jutting his hips forward, he let her feel exactly what she was doing to him.
She hummed in her throat and kissed him harder. “Spike, we have to go…”
He nodded and yanked her away from the wall, grinning when he heard her giggle.
How they made it home in one piece, Spike wasn’t sure. He hadn’t exactly ‘obeyed the rules of the road’ in his haste to get home and make love to his girl. And knowing she wanted it too made it all the sweeter.
Pulling her into the house, he spun to her at the same time she lunged at him and he caught her in his arms just as her legs scissored around her waist, her lips pressing against his hungrily. He moved them to the living room, not wanting the ‘wig factor’ of being in his bedroom where he slept with Joyce be an issue at the present moment.
He just wanted her, wanted to love her thoroughly.
Placing her down gently on the couch, he groaned when she clawed at him as he tried to stand to remove some clothing. Her desire for him was increasing his lust more and more.
“Kitten, clothes…need them off…” he muttered and pulled the hem of her shirt up.
She helped him lift her shirt up and over her head and then she reciprocated with his own, her green eyes dark with ardor.
“Christ, I want you so fucking much,” he muttered and set about taking off her shoes while he kneeled before her.
Sitting up, she kissed him, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck, a move that always drove him wild. “I want you too,” she whispered in his ear and bit down on his lobe.
“Missed you so much,” he breathed, tossing her shoes aside working the snap his jeans, pushing her back to do so.
“I missed you too,” she murmured, “But…good, yeah?”
He nodded and tugged her jeans down and off, leaving her in black lace panties. Growling, he ripped them off of her and she squealed.
She started to sit up and he pushed her gently back down, shaking his head. “No, kitten, want to taste you.”
Gulping, she nodded and lay back, spreading her legs for him. His mouth was watering as he spread her pretty pink lips with his fingers, drinking in how soft and enticing she looked. And wet. His girl was glistening for him already.
Bending down, he licked up her slit, gathering her juices on his tongue and she quivered beneath him. He hummed, swirling his tongue around her nubbin and her fingers dug into his curls. Sticking a finger in his mouth to wet it, he slid it inside her slowly while tonguing her clit.
Her fingers tightened in his hair and when he began to pump her with his finger, she trembled and gasped and when he used his teeth and bit down gently, she screamed and came.
He lapped at her, drinking her, as she came down and when she moaned, he looked up at her. Moving her hands from his hair to his shoulders, she urged him forward. “Spike, I want you…”
“You have me. All of me.”
She nodded, her eyes filling with love, “And you have me. All of me.”
He kissed her and her hands found his buttons on his jeans and she unfastened them quickly, pushing his jeans down over his hips and grasping his erection in her hand. “Can I…?” she asked, letting the question hang in the air as she looked up at him in question.
“Inside you?” he muttered and nodded.
“No…I want to taste you.”
His eyes widened and a shiver rippled through him.
“You have to lie back now,” she ordered and pushed at him, standing in all her nude glory before him. Unable to help himself, he pressed a kiss to her flat belly reverently.
“William, please.”
The use of his real name had him shifting to the couch and kicking off his jeans and shoes. He stared at her, transfixed, watching her every move. Kneeling before him, her own eyes on his, she smirked and grasped his cock in her hands, flicking her tongue over his weeping head. She smiled and closed her eyes and made a sound in the back of her throat that nearly had him cumming right then.
His hands found purchase in her golden locks, needing to anchor himself to something while her mouth worked over him, suckling him in, drawing him out and sucking on his head…he wasn’t going to last long.
She brought him to the edge and back again, deep throating him every once in a while and he fought back the jealousy he felt at that – others, like Angel, had been privy to that skill.
When he was brought to the edge once more, he whispered her name and she looked up at him, mouth over his mushroom head. “Buffy, stop. Want to be inside you.” Speech was difficult, and he was amazed he was able to get that much out.
She nodded and made as sucking noise as she took her mouth of his cock, causing him to groan.
The couch was wide enough that when she lay down on it, he could straddle her. Teasing her with his weeping cock, she looked up at him with a look that said “Get on with it!”
Chuckling, he slid in slowly, wanting to feel every ripple of her flesh around him. “I love you so much,” he gasped when he was sheathed deep inside her.
Wrapping her arms about his middle she lifted her head and nipped at his lips. “I love you too.”
They started a steady rhythm, the ebb and flow of their bodies moving in synchronicity. Each thrust, she met, each draw, she followed. Their hands didn’t stop touching one another and their whispered words spoke of their unending love and adoration.
Burying his face in her neck, Spike fended off tears, feeling a wholeness of being engulf him, and it was all because of the slip of a girl in his arms that he currently loved with his body.
“You are everything to me,” he whispered against her soft skin.
“That makes us even then,” she whispered back and lifted his head so she could kiss him.
His movements accelerated and he knew his orgasm was imminent. Angling himself slightly, he pushed harder, deeper and faster and she let out a breathless “Oh!”
Flicking her clit and then rubbing it with the pads of his thumbs, he demanded huskily for her to cum. He was determined to hold off until she did.
And then she did.
“Buffy!” he roared and spilled himself inside her, bathing her with his seed. Collapsing against her, he drew her close in his arms, nestling her there.
Mewling, she snuggled closer and pressed a kiss to his chest waiting for his breathing to return to normal.
Chapter Fifty-seven
Once they’d come down from their high, they got up on shaky legs and pulled out the couch to lie on, a move that had Spike questioning why they didn’t do that in the first place, but he doubted in his haste to make love to her, he would have been able to take just a minute to pull the damn thing out. Pulling a soft maroon throw on the both of them, Spike spooned up behind Buffy and held her in his arms, nuzzling her neck and making her giggle.
“Spike?”
“Hmmm?”
“Do you think we should go up to your bedroom?”
“After we just pulled out the couch? Is that what you want to do?”
“Not really, but I thought maybe it’d show a sign of…you know, healthiness if we did.”
“Well, way I look at it, pet, is it’s the same if your parents were alive and you had sex in their bed.”
Buffy wrinkled her nose, “Gross. Thanks for that image.”
“So, don’t you think it’s the same if we went upstairs? Even if things are different…still.”
“Right,” Buffy agreed, nodding, “Still.”
“And when I move, I’ll get a brand new bed. And when you sleep over and we’ll nestle in together and christen it with us.”
She hummed in her throat, “Hmmm…I like that. Have you had more nibbles?”
“I have. And it looks like one is going to make an offer soon.”
“Are you excited about that? Or sad?”
“Excited. I’m ready to start fresh and new someplace else.”
“You are?”
He pinched her arm, “Try not to sound so shocked.”
“Well, Spike, I am.”
“I know, I don’t blame you,” he said on a sigh and rolled onto his back, propping a hand under his head. Rolling over, Buffy rested her head on his chest.
“Did I insult you?” she asked carefully.
“No, not at all. I’m not going to lie and tell you that things aren’t still wonky in my head, they are. However, I do feel that I’m working toward something instead of against something. That makes all the difference. The need to get back to feeling like myself again, and figuring out what the exactly entails has become important to me. I haven’t felt like me in a very long time and one thing I’m trying to do is take a step back, take a deep breath, and look at the issue at hand in a calmer way. Not always easy with my temper and my incessant ability to jump to conclusions, but I’m trying.”
“That’s all any of us can do,” Buffy murmured, pressing a kiss to his chest. “I still have those days when things just seem so overwhelming all of a sudden and I have to realize that not everything has to be taken care of at once, and some things are best done one step at a time. I never got how important that concept was before.”
“I hear that,” Spike muttered, drawing her up and kissing her softly. He gazed up at her, cupping the back of her head. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she whispered and bent down, kissing him. “And I did miss you.”
“The other thing I’m trying? I’m trying to trust a little more. Which means actually believing you when you tell me you love me.”
“Well, you should, cause it’s true. You know, for a long time I thought it had to do with my Mom. I thought it was because of her that we bonded and connected and that it was just a case of ‘two people in the work place’, but that’s not it at all. It was because of her that we met, but not the reasons why we fell in love. At least not for me.”
“Not for me either. Haven’t I been trying to tell you this all along? Buffy, if I’d met you first…I feel guilty for saying it, like I’m saying Joyce didn’t mean anything to me, she did, but…”
“I know, William,” Buffy whispered and kissed him softly, reassuringly.
“Buffy, did you…were you thinking of her when we made love?”
She shook her head, dropping back down beside him. “My focus was on you and nothing else.”
“Good.”
“But thanks for reminding me of it now.”
“I’m sorry, I--”
“I’m kidding,” she murmured. “Well, sort of. But see, I’m doing this thing where I trust you, too. I know you love me.”
“Only you.”
“Yup, only me. Forever, right?”
“Forever and ever.”
“What did you do all week?” she asked, tracing patterns with her fingers on his stomach.
“I caught up with work after having slacked off in a major way. I think Richard was annoyed with me. I had let work slide and needing a focus on something else aside from what was happening in my head, I threw myself into it.”
“I get that. How many times have you seen Tara now?”
“Twice.”
“And?”
“I like her. I don’t know that I necessarily like dredging up all these painful things.”
“But does it help to get it out? To tell someone about them?”
“Yeah, it does. I just don’t know that I like remembering things.”
“Like what? If you don’t mind my asking.”
“Like about my parents and how I miss them.”
Wrapping her arm across his middle, Buffy hugged him as best she could. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s just not easy to remember and think of how much I miss them…”
Looking up, Buffy found falling from his eyes and she shimmied up, wrapping her arm around him and kissing his tears away. “I know, baby, I know.”
“They were really great people, you know? Really great,” he said on a sob.
“I know they were. They made you, didn’t they?”
“Buffy, Christ,” he gasped and turned so that he could envelope her in his arms.
Buffy held onto him, stroking his back softly and letting him cry in her arms. “Do you have any pictures of them?”
“I do.”
“Can I see them?”
“You want to see them?”
“Of course I do.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.”
He let out a trembling sigh, burying his face in her neck. “There were so many times I wanted to come and see you, kitten. I had to fight back the urge to do it.”
“Same for me, but it was a good thing, right? I mean…it helped to think clearer, didn’t it?”
“I will grudgingly admit, yes. I wrote a lot in my journal which helped too.”
“Me too. Spike, I just…I want to be with you, baby, but I don’t want it to be like it was again. I don’t want to slide back into disarray and it’d be so easy to do right now…”
“I know,” he nodded against her, “I know how easy it’d be to just fall back into how we were and I know how enticing it would be to just lose myself in you again, but…but I know I can’t do that.”
“So, maybe we could try something new huh? Like…dating? Spending some time out with our friends? How’d it go with Xander by the way?”
“It was fun. I had a good time. Getting out and not being stuck in my own was a refreshing change of pace.”
“Tell me about it, I know how that feels all too well! You feel trapped inside yourself and like you can’t breathe and you don’t even want to go out and deal with anyone, but then you do and you feel so much better that you had.”
“That dark cloud gets fended off for a little while.”
“Exactly. See? We are nuts together.”
Spike grinned and pinched her, pulling back slightly to look at her. “Can we leave the rest of the heavy for tomorrow, pet? Just for tonight, and I promise just for tonight.”
Buffy smiled warily, “All right.”
“I’m serious, you can bring all this up again tomorrow and I will not pitch a fit.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she muttered and shrieked when Spike swatted her behind. Smiling broadly, she looked up at him. “I like that! Can you do it again?”
Spike’s gaze darkened lustfully. “Kinky side to you pet, huh?”
She nodded adamantly. “Yup. Want to explore it?”
Rolling her onto her back, Spike nodded. “You bet I do.”
Spike insisted that if he was going to share pictures of his parents and childhood pictures of himself, then she had to do the same. Buffy warned him of the chance that the both of them could end up slobbering together, but Spike was insistent.
She dug up a photo album that was less of her parents and more of her, a worn, pink album that said “Baby Girl” across the front and Spike dug out a shiny, navy blue album.
“Good to know stereotypes are alive and well,” Buffy muttered comparing the albums. “My girl will so wear blue.”
Spike grinned, “I’ll remember that. And our boy will wear pink?”
“Yes!”
Spike laughed and the pair of them stretched out on his bed, lying on their bellies. Neither one bothered to delve into what was just said and the implication that if they were to have kids, it would be with one another. It was a given in both their minds, and Buffy’s only worry was whether or not she’d made a good mother. She knew Spike would make a wonderful father, but she wasn’t sure she would make a good mom, or even if she
wanted to be a mom.
But, that was the sort of thing that didn’t need to be sorted out right away. There were still other things to be sorted out first, all the rest would fall into place later.
“You first, pet.”
She looked at him, “Why me?”
“Because I want to see what you looked like in nappies,” he answered, grinning.
Rolling her eyes, Buffy obliged and opened the album, wincing at the first one of her in the tub. Spike cooed and giggled, pressing a kiss to her flaming cheeks. They flipped through the album slowly, and some photo’s prompted childhood stories Buffy held in her memory and she shared them, loving how he seemed to actually want to know her stories.
When they came across a professional photo of her parents sitting next to one another on their old couch and her on their lap, Buffy fell silent.
“You okay, luv?”
“Yeah, just…just hard to think that once upon a time, things were different. In that picture right there, none of us know what’s going to happen in the future. We’re ignorant to it. I wish I could know what’s going to happen in the future so I could prepare for it, I hate when something happens and it just knocks you on your ass and you think ‘Damn, I wish I could have seen that coming.’”
“We all wish that, kitten. And unless you get struck with a sudden case of ESP, we’ll never know.”
“It sucks.”
“Life sucks.”
“I love how you’re so negative with me,” she cooed and flopped onto her back, gazing up at him adoringly. “That’s one of the many things I love about you. You don’t bullshit me.”
He shrugged, “What’s the point? You just see through the ruse anyway,” and he leaned over and kissed her softly. “Baby, did you ever send your father that letter?”
Buffy wrinkled her nose. “No.”
“Are you going to?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” she began sighing heavily, “The man’s got cancer and he shoved me out of his life. He won’t read it and I thought I could play a game with myself where I convinced myself he would. Then I thought that if he really did, he might even reply and I just think at this point, it’d be another setback if he didn’t do any of the above and the not knowing would kill me. I’m thinking I’ll burn it instead.”
“Burn it?”
“I read about burning things in one of my Wiccan books. It’s supposed to be a great release.”
“If you want, I’ll do it with you.”
“Nah, I think that’s something I have to do on my own.”
Spike nodded, “I get that. You know what one of the most difficult things in life is?”
“What?”
“Grasping the idea that there are some questions that will never be answered, and some problems that will never be solved. You might never know about your dad and we’ll never know how Joyce feels about us.”
“Yeah, but I’m finally getting over that.”
Spike nodded, “I think I started to get over that when my whole other bag of issues came up.”
Buffy giggled and then rolled back over onto her belly and reached for his album. “Introduce me to your parents, William.”
His parents were first on the page, a picture of them together and Spike explained it was just before they had him, and that the picture had been taken from the chest up so that his mother didn’t have to show her big belly. His mom had medium length, honey blond hair and a warm smile. She had blue eyes, round cheeks and a long nose. All in all, she was pretty and kind looking. His father was a few inches taller than his mom, with salt and pepper hair, big piercing blue eyes, definitive cheekbones and a wide smile.
“This is Anne and William Pratt,” Spike said gesturing to the photo. “Mum, Dad, this is Buffy. The love of my life.”
Buffy blushed once more and smiled down at the kind looking people that Spike had lost and she would never get to meet. It made her sad to think of.
“Thank you for making him who he is,” she murmured, trailing her fingers on the edge of the picture. “You look like a mix of both of them. And I never knew you were a Junior.”
Spike chuckled, though she could see his eyes shimmering with tears. “Yeah, I don’t tell many about that.”
“Show me more, William,” Buffy encouraged and this time it was Spike’s turn to delve into stories of his childhood. Tears glittered in his eyes and a few times he got choked up, but it was good for him, Buffy realized. He needed to do this.
“Did my mom ever do this with you?”
“What? Go through my photo album with me?”
“Yeah.”
“No, I never wanted to. It was still too raw and fresh. Not that it isn’t now, but not as bad, you know?”
“Did you try to forget?”
“Yes, and as you can tell, it didn’t work so well.”
“Thank you for showing me. For trusting me enough to show me.”
His whole expression softened into one of abject adoration. “Of course, Buffy,” he gushed, “You’re everything to me, of course I trust you.”
Smiling tenderly, Buffy kissed him softly and they continued with the sharing.
“I wish I could have known you then,” Buffy told him once they’d shut the albums and rolled to their backs, staring up at the ceiling with hands entwined. “To see you be a little troublemaker, intent on driving your parents crazy.”
Spike chuckled, “You might not have liked me.”
“I don’t know about that. In high school, you could have gotten me liquor.”
“Seems that you and I could have gotten into trouble together.”
“If now could be any measure for how it could have been, most definitely.”
Silence fell and the pair just lie there for a while enjoying the silence and company. Spike was the first to break the silence by saying her name tentatively.
“Yeah?” she answered.
“What happens now?”
“What do you mean?”
Rolling to his side, he propped his head up and looked down at her. “What happens with us now?”
“What do you want to happen?” she asked, looking up at him.
He gave her a look. “We know what I want to happen.”
“Right. Well, we agreed that we didn’t want to slide back into what we were doing either, right?”
“Right. So, maybe we could just take it slow. I don’t necessarily want to go another week without seeing you, but maybe going out with our friends more, alone or together and no sleepovers?”
“Did that just come from your mouth? Color me shocked!” Buffy teased.
Spike chuckled, “Well, I think when you’re here with me, I get lost in the idea that you’re going to stay.”
“I am staying. Haven’t we been over this?”
“I mean in the full sense of the word, as in move in with me.”
“Oh.”
“And I know what that all stems from, what it means now and I know that it’s not right.”
“Well, I mean in the future we’ll live together, but right now--”
“But right now is not the right time.”
“Right.”
“If we lived together, it would just be leaning on you and yeah, it’d be easy to slide into that, but I know I can’t.”
“Right.”
“So as a mark of my being committed to recovery, I am saying that no sleepovers for a while.”
“Okay,” Buffy said nodding resolutely.
“You know, you could sound a little bummed about that or something.”
Buffy laughed and wrapped her arms around him, bringing him down for a kiss. “I know this is benefiting us in the long run Spike and while I do love sleeping in your arms, I also want you to be healthy and happy. I will do whatever that takes because that is more important to me than anything. And why is that most important? Because I love you.”
“So do you mind showing me how much right about now?” Spike asked, waggling his eyebrows and leering at her.
Pulling him down, Buffy kissed him hotly. “You want it? You got it.”
Author's Notes:
I have decided to open the reviews back to letting anonymous reviewers post. After much thought on the matter I decided I was not going to let ignorance prevail and paint me in a corner. That is not who I am. There are non member reviews that I look forward to, such as MidnightGirl, Brunettepet, Dirktavian and various others, many of whom are friends on my LJ. I am not going to be bullied; I am not going to be made to cower. Only constructive criticism is allowed and if I find it rude and just downright mean, then I will simply delete it when I get back from the life that I have that ignorant others apparently do not have. And I will delete without giving a reason. If the ignorant and pathetic few feel they need to flood me with their drivel, then by all means, do so. Show everyone how sad you are, how pathetic, how simple. I do not see the sport of putting down others for their hard work; I do not see the sport in bashing said work. If you’re not sure what it means to be constructive, then read some others who review and find out what they’re doing to not get deleted. I’m not going to hold your hand through the process. You live in this world, and in this society. Figure it out. I am not in the business of pleasing everyone when I write. I write from life: what I have seen, what I have experienced, what I wonder about. I do not endorse a way of life; I simply describe one with many different points of view. Those familiar with my work know this. I love the characters I create, I do not consider them “bad” or “evil”, and I do not make them a “bitch” or an “asshole” for sport. I write in the hope that others can take something with them, I want to provoke thought, and provoke discussion. However, I will NOT become a punching bag for those with something to prove or for those who simply delight in putting others down. If you don’t like what I have to say (and I have been told many times that my work can be hard to get through) then move on.
March 21, 2006
It’s been a while since I wrote in this puppy and it feels good to actually do so. Especially since I can see it’s killing Spike wondering about what I’m writing. He’s pretending to munch on the roasted peanuts, but his eyes keep drifting.
I just yelled at him for straying eyes. He glared at me and I laughed.
The mark up of good days far outweigh the bad, journal.
I should have known that Spike would throw himself into therapy and getting well as diligently as he does everything else. For someone that was so averse to it, he has certainly thrived. Not to say there haven’t been bad days, there have been, but as I said, the good has far outweighed the bad. I’m actually quite jealous. He has done better than I have in a short period of time, but as Lorne said, everyone is different.
The house was sold last week after a grueling month of offers and counteroffers and Spike’s broker calling constantly. But, finally, it was done and now he moves into a huge ass apartment next week that one day he hopes I’ll share with him. I haven’t said so yet, but I will.
We’ve done well the past month. We’ve come far, and it seems only fitting that I should be penning this as we touch down in Logan Airport in Boston. It seems odd in a way that today is the first day of Spring. Today the earth awakens, a rebirth occurs. But whose? When my mother died it was fall, nearly Samhain (Halloween) and the Earth was dying, preparing for a loss of sun. And now…now my father is dead and it’s Spring. “Buffy, baby, we’re here,” Spike said gently touching her arm.
“I know,” she replied absently and smiled weakly at him.
“Feel better that you wrote?”
She nodded, shoving her journal in her industrial sized purse. “I do. Sort of. I feel like I have more inside me, more to say.”
“There will be time.”
Buffy nodded, contemplating that. Was there time? Would there be time? Time, she was learning, was fleeting. It went by so fast or so slow, depending. She was learning that how you spent that time was all that mattered. Did you spend it in misery and hate, or did you spend it in joy and love? Did you fight for yourself and others, or did you just lie down and die, alone?
“God,” she muttered to Spike as they filed out of the plane, “I hate my thoughts sometimes. I hate this whole dying business. I hate how it makes you think.”
“Where are we meeting Judith again?”
“We’re not. I don’t want to be there. Can we just check in to our hotel instead? We have time.”
“Sure, luv. Do you want to see Giles after?”
“Thinking I might need to commit myself again?” Buffy asked, only slightly teasing as they made their way to baggage claim.
“Well, since we’re in town and it is the day of your father’s funeral…”
“Yeah, I guess I could. I should call.”
“I’ll call. Just focus on our luggage.”
Buffy watched him walk away, whipping out his cell and she had to smile softly. That was Spike all over, worried about her till the end. She had to say though, she was faring well. Not knowing how to feel did that. She felt numb, but not the kind of numb she felt when Joyce died. It was more shock at this point and the feeling that once her father was buried, she would have no choice but to bury other things with him.
Patting her pocket, she felt for the letter she’d written the night before and sighed with relief on feeling it still there. Yes, lots of things to bury with him.
********The cemetery had a mix of grass and melting snow, which caused mud. Buffy’s boots sunk into the mud as she listened to the priest say a few words over his casket. Every so often she would lift her boots up, one at a time and took pleasure in the suctioning sound of them being draw up from the wet dirt. Her stepsisters would giggle through their moderately shed tears each time and Judith would give them and then Buffy a stern look. Spike seemed oblivious, lost in his own thoughts as he watched the proceedings, and Buffy clutched the letter she would drop in the ground with her father.
When Judith had called to tell her that her father was dead, Buffy had frozen and gone silent. Spike had been there and when she didn’t even answer him, he had snatched the phone from her to talk with whoever “the blazing hell got her so upset”.
Buffy remembered the thought that went through her head at that moment.
It’s over.Apparently his cancer was worse than anticipated and in other places that seemed to spread rapidly. It was as if the second he found out he had it, it grew and took on a life of its own. It
had a life of its own.
Cruel and sudden death.
“Ashes to ashes…dust to dust…” the priest said.
And then came the obligatory pouring of Earth on his coffin. Buffy sat down in her chair behind her and waited. She didn’t need or want an audience for this. Instead she watched the people file out, watched some cry, some somberly just walk away.
“Will you come to the house?” Judith asked as she led Eveline and Madeline away.
“I might,” Buffy replied, not really wanting to. Unsure if she should or even could.
Spike squeezed her hand as he sat quietly beside her and she smiled at him gratefully.
“Well, if you do, I have some things you might want,” Judith continued.
Buffy nodded and stared down at her father’s mahogany casket with gold trim. Even in death he was in style.
“Do you want to go there?” Spike asked her once Judith was out of earshot, sloshing through the mud and yelling at Eveline for stomping.
“No,” Buffy replied, shaking her head, “I don’t want to.”
“You sure?”
“For now, yes.” And she stood then, drawing her letter out of her pocket and standing before the hole.
“What’s that then, pet?”
“A letter to him. I wrote it last night.”
“Do you want me to give you some privacy?”
“No. I want you to stay and hold my hand.” Now the tears were coming and her voice was trembling with the fight to keep them at bay. “Will you?”
“Of course,” Spike whispered and stood, clasping his hand in hers as she held the letter open with her other hand.
Taking a deep breath, she began.
“Dear Dad,
I love you even if you don’t want me to. In some ways I will always be your little girl.
I forgive you, even if you aren’t sorry and didn’t ask for forgiveness, or think that you did anything to be sorry for.
I wish you peace.
Love, Buffy.”
The tears came as soon as she dropped the letter in with him. Not a lot written, but it was all she really needed to say. There was no reason to say anything hateful or mean. Spike pulled her into a hug and let her sob her heart out as much as she needed, which was a lot. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, him holding her, but when she pulled her boots from the mud, it took some work and the suctioning noise was louder than before.
“I’m ready to see Giles now,” she said, looking up at Spike.
Spike smiled gently and pushed some hair from her face. “Come on luv. Let’s get a cab and call him, eh? Have a drink and catch up with an old friend…”
Author's Notes:
thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone for their support of me and this story. It means a great deal to me, you don't even know how much! :)
Spike and Buffy met Giles an hour later at a restaurant called
St. Patrick’s. Very fitting for Boston, Buffy had noted to Spike as they entered. Her eyes rested on Giles as soon as they entered and immediately she welled up in tears.
“Giles!” she exclaimed, and ran to him just as he stood from a long booth of others waiting for a table. He opened his arms to her and Buffy threw herself in them, hugging him tight.
Spike was chuckling behind her. “I think she missed you, Giles.”
“Oh, my dear girl, I missed you as well.”
“You did?” Buffy nearly whimpered, sounding like a little girl.
“I did. How are you?”
Pulling out of Giles’ arms, she looked up at him. “I’m okay.”
“Really all right or just saying you’re all right?”
“I think I’m really all right. Just a little sad, but not as much as I thought I’d be.”
“Do you think that’s good or bad?”
“Are we actually going to have a session right here in the middle of the restaurant?” Buffy asked, putting her hands on her hips. “Do you have your notebook? Want me to use a booth as a chaise lounge?”
Giles laughed just as the hostess announced their table was ready.
Settling in at their table, tucked in a corner away from others, the three played catch up of the past few months as they drank, ordered and ate.
“You two seem to be doing quite well,” Giles remarked as he sipped his Pinot Grigio and studied Spike and Buffy, looking as though as he were appraising them.
Buffy blushed and Spike smiled, squeezing her hand under the table. “Well, Rupes, it was a little dicey there for a while, but we’re working hard.”
“Just as long as you keep in mind and in sight the goal which is love one another.”
Buffy nodded, smiling shyly. “Giles, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, Buffy, you know you can ask me anything.”
“Do you think he heard me? Do you think he knows? My dad I mean.”
Giles expression turned solemn as he nodded, “Yes, Buffy, I think he knows. And I’m sure wherever he is, he is in fact sorry, even if he couldn’t say it while he was alive.”
Buffy nodded slowly, “Thank you,” she said softly.
The mood lightened once more and soon the three were carrying on as old friends do.
*********“That was nice, wasn’t it?” Buffy asked Spike later as she slid in bed and watched him fold up his clothes and place them neatly in his suitcase. Her eyes drifted to her own clothes that she’d just tossed at least in the general direction of her suitcase, but had never managed to put in.
“You mean seeing Giles?”
“No, I mean, burying my father,” she retorted dryly, flipping channels on the TV. “Yes, seeing Giles.”
“No need to get cheeky, luv.”
“But that’s what you love about me,” she said and smiled sweetly.
Spike shook his head and chuckled, making his way over to the bed and discarding his sweats. Blushing, Buffy turned back to the TV.
“One of many reasons, sweetheart. You blushing?”
She giggled, “Yes. You’re naked!”
“So mature, luv.”
That made her laugh harder, “
Very mature.”
Grabbing her into a kiss and pulling her under him, Spike succeeded in making all laughter leave her. Well, sort of.
Smiling sweetly up at him, she wrapped her legs around his waist and played with the hair at the nape of his neck, watching his eyes glitter as he looked down at her.
“Spike?”
Buffy?”
“Would it be terribly cliché of me if I asked you to make love to me tonight?”
“Why would that be cliché?”
“Because you know…the night after a funeral and all that rot.”
“So you just want to use my body to make you feel alive?” Spike teased, pinching her gently.
She giggled, “Sort of. Just to confirm I’m alive. That you’re here, that I’m here and that this time being here isn’t
entirelybad. I feel like some …for lack of a better word, demons have been put to rest by our being here together. Do you know what I mean?”
“I do, kitten, I do,” he murmured and descended to kiss her.
Moaning into the kiss, Buffy was delightfully aware that he was hard, and for that, she was wet. She hoped he wouldn’t mind foregoing the foreplay.
Moving her legs down, she pushed at him, “Off, I need my shorts off,” she muttered and he helped her discard them and her panties.”
Dipping his fingers into her core, Spike groaned. “Oh, pet, already so wet for me.”
She nodded, “Yes,” she gasped. “Please, just… just need you inside.”
“Lay back, kitten,” he ordered hoarsely.
Spreading her legs for him, Buffy opened her arms, welcoming him into her embrace. He sank his body down to hers and sank himself inside her.
They moved together, slow and sensually, murmuring to one another, staring soulfully into one another’s eyes and touching each other with soft, loving caresses. Buffy’s orgasm took her by surprise and she arched her back, gasping Spike’s name. Hers triggered his and he buried his face in her neck, biting down softly on the flesh there as he came inside her.
“I love you,” Buffy purred, winding her arms about him.
“I love you too, Buffy,” Spike murmured, dotting her face with kisses.
“Spike?”
“Yes, my love?”
“You know I’ll move in with you one day, right?”
“I know.”
“And you know that I love you, right?”
“I know,” he said, nodding.
“I think I want to see Judith tomorrow after all. Can we?”
“Anything you want, luv.”
“You’re so good to me,” she cooed, stroking his back.
“Just give as good as I get.”
“Awww…you’re so full of crap, but I love it anyway.”
Buffy’s shriek of laughter reverberated off the walls as Spike set about tickling her.
*******“Buffy, you came!” Judith greeted her stepdaughter, surprised.
Buffy nodded, smiling gently and holding Spike’s hand. “I came.”
“How are you dear?”
“I’m all right,” she said, shrugging. “You?”
“I’m…” Judith sighed, looking sad, “I’m muddling through.”
“Do you need anything Judith; is there anything I can do to help?”
“Come in for one,” Judith replied waving them in.
Once inside, Buffy noted that the apartment hadn’t changed much except for the appearance of boxes and trash bags stacked in a far, out of the way corner. She knew all too well what that meant.
Her eyes flickered to Judith who was looking up at Spike expectantly.
Shaking her head, Buffy gestured to him, “Judith, this is my boyfriend, Spike.”
Spike held out his hand, shaking her stepmother’s hand. “You can call me William. Spike is just a nickname.”
“Sorry, honey,” Buffy apologized.
“Um, well, Spike, do you mind if I snatch Buffy for a minute?” Judith asked, “I have something to give her that she might want and want to do it alone. Do you mind? I’ll put on the TV for you.”
Spike nodded, looking down at Buffy for clearance. Buffy nodded at him and gave him a peck on the cheek before following Judith down the hall to what she remembered was her father and Judith’s bedroom.
Holding her breath she stepped inside, the scent of his cologne wafting up to greet her. Biting her bottom lip, she stood in the doorway, feeling still that she was not allowed where he was.
“Come in, Buffy,” Judith ordered gently, gesturing to the bed. “Sit. Please.”
Nodding, Buffy made her way over and sat on the corner of their beige comforter and watched Judith extract a photo album from the top shelf of their shared Armoire.
Sitting down next to Buffy, Judith placed the light blue album on her lap and opened it. On the front, covering the first set of pictures was a not scrawled in her father’s handwriting that simply said
I’m sorry, Buffy.
Immediately, Buffy burst into tears.
Wrapping her arms about her, Judith hugged her as best she could and let her cry. “I found it one night, on a particularly bad night. He asked me to give it to you only if I thought you could handle it. He was sorry, Buffy, he was. He knew what he did was wrong, but he was too proud to admit it.”
“All this time, I thought he hated me,” Buffy sobbed.
“No, Buffy. I knew he loved you all along, but your father was too stubborn and too proud to admit he could be wrong. I think he wanted you to hate him so he could punish himself for his shortcomings.”
“That makes no sense!”
“That was your father in a nutshell.”
“I told him yesterday that I forgave him, I told him I loved him.”
Judith squeezed her tighter. “And I’m sure he is at peace now.”
Buffy looked up at her. “Do you think so? Do you think I helped that?”
Judith nodded, smiling softly. “I am most certain that you are what he needed to pass on peacefully.”
Sobbing harder, with genuine relief, Buffy clutched her photo album to her chest and let go of it all, this time for good.
Author's Notes:
I can't even begin to say how sad I am that this one is done. I will miss it immensely. It was hard work, but it was work I enjoyed. I grew quite attached to this Buffy and Spike and it does make me sad to see this one go. I want to extend a great big thank you to everyone that has supported this story and me on this journey. Thank you so much. Even if I didn't speak to you directly, please do not think I didn't appreciate you. :)
Twenty months later, November 2008“Spike! I can’t do this!” Buffy hollered from the kitchen of their new apartment—well, what had started out as
his apartment and six months prior had become theirs.
“Stir in some flour and keep stirring until it gets thick!” Spike hollered back from their bedroom.
“I’ve been stirring for five minutes and it’s not turning to gravy. It’s just brown water.”
Coming into the kitchen seconds later, Spike peered over the pan Buffy was trying to make gravy in and failing horribly. “Oh. What did you do?”
“What did
I do? I did what you asked me to do! How is this my fault?”
“I’m not blaming you--”
“You just asked me what I did. That leads me to believe I did something wrong!”
“Pet, calm down.”
“I’m calm!” It was confirmed how calm she was a minute later when she burst into tears. “I can’t do this! I can’t make Thanksgiving dinner, not even a practice one.”
“Buffy, baby, just add a bit more flour, like this and….” He whisked fast as she watched. “Wa-la! It’s thickening. You just didn’t add enough. Get some salt…pepper…okay, that’s good, sweetheart.”
Her sobs turned to sniffles and soon the pair were working alongside one another, making a practice Thanksgiving dinner. Buffy had gotten it in her head after she and Spike had moved in together that they were going to host Thanksgiving dinner that year. Giles had been invited first thing and he was making the trip with his fiancée, Jenny, in just two weeks. It was also Buffy’s idea to make a practice dinner. The key to be able to make it without Spike hovering to help, only to later take over when Buffy literally threw in the towel.
“I am so not Betty Crocker,” Buffy muttered.
“Sweetheart, it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I wanted to do it all on my own so that I could impress Giles and Jenny and Willow and Xander and Lorne if he comes, and well,
you.”
He looked over at her and smiled, “You wanted to impress me, kitten?”
She nodded, pouting, her bottom lip protruding as she watched him petulantly. “I wanted to, you know, be better at the whole cooking thing.”
“Kitten, I knew you couldn’t cook when I fell in love with you. I knew what I signed up for when we moved in together.”
“You mean you knew that if you wanted to eat something besides Dinty Moore beef stew and pasta, you were gonna have to cook.”
“Well, you can do toast.”
She swatted him playfully, “I cannot. I always burn it. I know my culinary skills leave a lot to be desired, but I’m trying.”
“And I admire you for it. You want something; you go after it with gumption. Don’t you know how much I admire you for that?”
She looked up at him wide-eyed. “You do?”
Spike nodded and lifted a spoon with some gravy on it. “I do. Taste?”
Buffy wrinkled her nose. “I can’t just taste gravy without meat or mashed potatoes to go with it.”
Spike chuckled and pulled oven door down. “Turkey is looking good. Did you baste it a bit earlier?”
“I did.”
“Good girl.”
Buffy giggled and when Spike shut the door and turned to her, she lunged at him, winding her arms around him and dotting his face with exuberant kisses. “I love you, I love you, I love you…”
He grinned at her attention and wrapped his arms around her, basking in her love. “I love you, too sweetheart.”
“Looks like you’re going to have to help me after all,” she told him.
“Well, luv, I like to think your adventure in the kitchen is a metaphor for our life together.”
She looked up at him quizzically. “Oh?”
“You want to do it alone, yeah?”
“Yes,” she nodded, agreeing.
“And I still want to help, but knowing how important it is for you to try it alone, I back off. And then when it gets to be too much, you call me and I come help.”
Buffy smiled, “And in the end we end up working side by side like now?”
Spike smiled broadly. “Exactly.”
“I like that. Thank God one of us can do this, otherwise we’d starve.”
“Well, there’s always take out.”
Buffy giggled and then looked up at him solemnly. “You know you’re my rock, right?”
Spike nodded and pecked the tip of her nose. “I know. You’re mine as well.”
“If I’m your rock, then you’ve got serious issues,” Buffy commented dryly.
Spike shook his head, “Nah. Hey, you know who I talked to the other day?”
She frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t know, who? It couldn’t have been Tara; you stopped seeing her months ago. Xander? But you just saw him last night. I don’t know, who?”
“Your mom.”
Buffy pulled back slightly. “What? Spike…do you need to see Tara again?”
Spike chuckled. “Listen to me, imp.”
“Okay, listening.”
“I had to chat some things over with her so I went to see her.”
“Oh? What’s up?”
“I wanted to ask her permission, since I couldn’t ask your Dad’s him being in Boston and all, plus I kind of felt that I had to tell her and talk with her about it since you know she was my first wife and it just felt like the right thing to do--”
“Spike?”
“Sorry.” Heaving a deep breath, he gazed down at her and Buffy felt her insides melt at the look he gave her. No matter how “old” their relationship was she knew she’d never get tired of the way he would look at her: as if she were a Goddess put on Earth just for him. Pushing some hair from her face, he kissed her softly before continuing.
“I asked her for her permission to ask you to marry me,” he told her softly.
Buffy hadn’t been expecting that and she thought it was a good thing he was holding onto her, because that had just made her limbs turn to jelly. “Y-you wh-what?”
Pressing his forehead to hers, he whispered, “I told her I wanted to marry you, wanted to make you my wife. I think she was okay with it. The wind blew after I asked; I decided to take that as my answer. Buffy, luv, I love you more than life itself. You are my world.” His eyes bore into hers soulfully. “Please, Buffy, marry me. Be my wife and make me the happiest man in the world.”
Buffy hadn’t realized she was crying until Spike kindly wiped a tear from her cheek. She nodded, unable to find her voice.
“Luv, say it, please, I need to hear the words.”
“Yes, yes, a thousand, million times yes.”
Letting out a whoop of joy, and crying himself now, Spike lifted her from the ground and swung her around. “Oh, sweetheart, I love you so goddamned much!”
Buffy giggled holding onto him tightly. When she was on her feet once more with Spike this time peppering
her face with kisses, Buffy grinned. “You know, this came at a perfect time.”
“What do you mean?” Spike murmured, nuzzling her neck.
“I was going to tell you on Thanksgiving when we were alone…”
“What?”
“I’m pregnant.”
Spike’s eyes widened and he stared down at her his mouth gaping open.
She laughed at his expression. “Well, we haven’t been
that careful and when I got sick last month and was on those antibiotics...yeah, they kind of screwed up the pill. I missed my period two weeks ago and took a test, then went to the doctor to confirm it…”
Spike placed a shaking hand on her belly, looking at her stomach reverently. “You’re carrying my baby?”
Leaning in, Buffy kissed the spot next to his ear and whispered, “Yes.”
Whooping yet again, Spike swooped her up in his arms and carried her to their bedroom where he lay her down. “You should be off your feet, not slaving in a hot kitchen.”
“Doesn’t that go against the stereotype? Aren’t I supposed to be barefoot and pregnant in one of those unfashionable sundresses that look like Rainbow Brite threw up on it?”
Spike gave her a look. “Not my girl. She’s going to be pampered, taken care of.”
“Spike, I’m not an invalid, really, I can do things still. Including cooking. Though my cooking could kill us all. What are you doing fishing in that drawer?”
Turning, Spike produced a little black box, smiling.
“Oh.”
Lying down next to her, Spike opened the box presenting her with an aquamarine ring. The ring Buffy had ogled in a catalogue she’d received from a Wiccan shop months ago. She remembered telling Spike she did not want a traditional diamond for her engagement, she wanted
that ring, that simple ring nestled among a silver band.
“You remembered,” she whispered, staring at it.
“I did,” Spike said and pulled the ring out. Extending her hand, Spike slid the ring on and kissed it. “I love you kitten.” He looked up at her, in that awe-filled expression she loved so much. “You’re amazing.”
More tears, tears of joy, slid from her eyes and she shook her head. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she brought him closer, kissing him softly. “You are.”
“And we’ll be together for how long?” Spike asked softly.
Without even having to think about it, Buffy replied, “Forever. We’ll be together forever.”
The End
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.