The Next, New Step
Pairing: B/S
Rating: PG, I guess
Spoilers: As You Were
Summary: Buffy makes some long overdue amends. This is my version of the last scene between Spike and Buffy.
Disclaimer: All are property of Joss, Mutant Enemy, et al. If they belonged to me, there'd never, EVER have been a Riley.
Thanks: to Gillian and Cat for being my first betas and encouraging me!
Feedback: This is my first fic and I would love to know what you think! Love it? Hate it? Should I start writing part 2? Please please tell me! SeraphKD@aol.com
~~~~~~~~~~~
"BLOODY HELL!"
She could see him, leaping in defense, spinning at her intrusion as she stormed into his crypt in her usual fashion, his eyes sparking blue and gold as he tried to figure out whether she was here for Spike-bashing or Spike-shagging.
This time, she was here to do neither, and that wasn't the usually standard response she got from him. What he did do was infinitely worse.
"What now?" Not seductive, or angry, or even inquisitive; just matter-of- fact. He didn't stand, didn't even turn to face her. Just sat in his chair, his back to her, holding a cigarette but not smoking it. Idly she wondered how long it would be before the ash crumbled under the increasing weight of the column, scattering into the dusty weave of the carpet beneath him.
She'd never seen him this hopeless. Spike was always moving, vibrant, full of life --well, unlife. Even anger would be better than this… despondence. And that she had created it tore at her.
Buffy sighed and shuffled her feet a bit, her body full of tension. After Riley's departure, she'd done some serious soul searching, walking through Sunnydale to clear her head. Her feet had unerringly carried her here, to Spike's crypt, and when she found herself at the door, she knew she had some things to set straight. It didn't mean her stomach wasn't alive with a major case of slayer-strength butterflies. Okay, Buffy. Make or break time.
"I'm… not here to… I don't…" Ooh, Conversation Girl. She wanted so badly to turn and run, not stopping till she reached somewhere, anywhere that he wasn't. But she needed to do this, and she wasn't going to run this time. She inhaled deeply and tried again, venturing a step further as she slowly let out the breath she'd been holding. "I came to say I'm sorry. About before. I know that we hurt… that I hurt you, and I didn't… I'm sorry."
He shrugged lifelessly. "S'alright, love. Just another day at the office." That voice. It wasn't like him to be so devoid of emotion.
"No," she shook her head slowly, "no, it's not alright." At this he stood, turning towards her; he was preparing himself to say something, though she had no idea what that something might be. She raised her hand, flattening her palm. "Just… just hear me, okay? I need to say this." She could see the struggle in his eyes, his feet already in motion towards her. "Please, Spike." At her plea he stopped dead in his tracks, and after an eternity, nodded slowly, returning to the chair he'd been sitting in, angling it towards her. His eyes were wary, his arms folded protectively across his chest, and she immediately recognized his defensive posture. Not that she could blame him.
She moved to sit on the bench and made herself relatively comfortable, sure that it was going to be a long night; but she wasn't leaving until she finished taking care of business. "I need to… I owe you an apology, Spike. Even though I should kick your ass for those disgusting eggs" – she could see his mouth open before her sentence was even finished – "I'm not going to. I don't even want the story. Riley's coming back… made me stop and face some things I really didn't want to, or ever even plan on facing. It stirred up a lot of feelings I thought I'd lost; feelings I'd buried so deeply that I'd forgotten they were even there. And seeing him, now, with all that's happened -- I'm not sure I was ready for it. But, ready or not, I have to deal with it. In another five years or so I'll probably be happy he showed up," she allowed herself to chuckle slightly.
Seeing that Spike looked about ready to stake himself rather than hear her talk about Captain Cardboard – a name she secretly found perfect for Riley now -- she continued. "Looking back at how I was with him, at how we were… I never loved him. I never even tried to fool myself into thinking that I was. Angel left so that I could live, so that I could try to have a normal life with someone who would be able to make me happy, to give me everything I deserve." She snorted bitterly at the memory of Angel's departure. "I thought that Riley was as close as I could get to normal, and I knew he felt more for me than I did for him. I thought it might be enough. I was so over being alone, Spike. I was sick of being left in the dust, either for my own good" she spat the word "or because… because I wasn't wanted." Buffy paused, and she saw from his pained expression that he knew she was talking about Parker, and remembering his stinging barbs to her. "With Riley, I thought, 'Now I have one that is so stable, and adores me so much, he'd never leave.' That was the love he had for me… not real love, but adoration. And there was a comfort in that, in knowing he'd be there."
Pausing for a moment, she glanced at him. Spike was behaving exceptionally well, she noted; he hadn't interrupted her once, and had even managed not to gag reflexively when she mentioned his estranged grandsire. He was as patient as a man like Spike could be, across from where she rested on the bench, listening to her story. His eyes averted from hers, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. Although he had relaxed considerably, he was still tense. He was still waiting, Buffy realized, waiting for the other shoe to fall. For her to kick him out of her life, as she had tried to do so often in the past.
"When I saw what Riley was doing at that vamp nest, that he had left my bed to go to them, and then when he tried to turn it around on me… it cut right into my deepest insecurities about myself, the ones I buried after Angel. And that was it. He left, like Angel, and I forced myself to accept that I'd never really be happy, that I never could be. That because I wasn't enough, they left for something more. That because I was the Slayer, maybe I was never meant to be." Buffy's voice suddenly sounded very small in the dank crypt, and she shrunk into herself just a little bit. Spike, meanwhile, was still silent but just itching to have his say; he was squirming in his seat and pressing his lips together, and the sight made her smile inwardly.
That wasn't so bad, was it, Buffy? She sighed, and drew a deep breath, straightening her spine. Pride is a tough pill to swallow. She just hoped she wouldn't choke on it.
"To bring a very, very long story to its point – all of my convictions about my independence and my never ending bad luck with guys – that's all kind of out the window, now." She raised her hazel eyes to meet his blue ones, and was suddenly mesmerized by their surprised depths. "I've been… I've treated you terribly, Spike. God, I've been awful. Queen bitch. I honestly don't know how, or why, you put up with all of my attitude. And though you deserved some of it" – she couldn't help but insert a little snicker – "you definitely didn't deserve all of it and I'm sorry. You've proven your loyalty to me, and more importantly, to Dawn, so many times that it shouldn't be in question. She's really protective of you, you know." Buffy smiled slightly, and she saw Spike's mouth turn up and his eyes soften at the mention of her sister, his "Nibblet."
She looked him straight in the eye. "I don't know what's happened here, with us. Since I… came back… I've been sort of on auto-pilot. It's like there's this wall between me and the rest of the world, and no matter what anyone does it's always there. I can't even connect with Dawn much anymore. But you… you make me feel something, even if I don't know exactly what it is. Something that scares me, and sometimes overwhelms me. And it's been hard, really hard, for me to resolve that with the demon than I know is inside of you, and the soul that isn't. I've spent my entire near-adult life fighting creatures like you. Everything you are is against everything I am; we should be absolute enemies." Her gaze softened. "But… we're not. We match. We have some kind of… something, and try as I might to ignore it or will it away, it's still there. I've fought it for so long, I think the river's been renamed after me." She saw him smile. Definitely of the good…so far.
"I'm tired, Spike. I'm tired of fighting you, and myself. I know that we've been doing this kind of backwards… okay, really backwards… and we've hurt each other and made mistakes, and I know that I definitely haven't proven anything to you that should make you trust me, or even want me anymore, but…" Buffy was babbling and she knew it. She glanced down and then returned her eyes to his, inhaled deeply for about the hundredth time that night, and went for broke. "…I want to try this again. With you. I'm not promising that it'll be easy, and we so have some issues to work through, but I think it's worth the fight. I was wrong, before, about happiness. I think I could be; I think we could be. So, I guess I'm asking for you to forgive me, and for another chance, to start over."
She rose and moved to him, where he sat motionless on the chair. His eyes rose to hers, and she saw a swirling maelstrom of feelings behind a thin sheen of moisture. "I've thrown a lot at you. Just… take some time. Think about it." She bent and pressed a warm, firm kiss to his cool forehead, her hand coming to rest tenderly at the base of his neck, and then turned, slowly walking to the door of the crypt.
Her hand had almost reached the knob when his voice reached her ears, raspy from silence and thick with emotion.
"Buffy."
She pivoted, and smiled gently. "When you make a decision, you know where I'll be." She stepped out into the pale light of the rising sun, closing the door softly behind her.
Spike remained absolutely still, reeling from the weight of her confession and her words. He brought two fingers to his forehead, where his skin still tingled from the first real affection she'd ever shown him. An awed whisper found its way from his throat into the quiet crypt.
"Bloody hell."
Pairing: B/S
Rating: PG, I guess
Spoilers: As You Were
Summary: Buffy makes some long overdue amends. This is my version of the last scene between Spike and Buffy.
Disclaimer: All are property of Joss, Mutant Enemy, et al. If they belonged to me, there'd never, EVER have been a Riley.
Thanks: to Gillian and Cat for being my first betas and encouraging me!
Feedback: This is my first fic and I would love to know what you think! Love it? Hate it? Should I start writing part 2? Please please tell me! SeraphKD@aol.com
~~~~~~~~~~~
"BLOODY HELL!"
She could see him, leaping in defense, spinning at her intrusion as she stormed into his crypt in her usual fashion, his eyes sparking blue and gold as he tried to figure out whether she was here for Spike-bashing or Spike-shagging.
This time, she was here to do neither, and that wasn't the usually standard response she got from him. What he did do was infinitely worse.
"What now?" Not seductive, or angry, or even inquisitive; just matter-of- fact. He didn't stand, didn't even turn to face her. Just sat in his chair, his back to her, holding a cigarette but not smoking it. Idly she wondered how long it would be before the ash crumbled under the increasing weight of the column, scattering into the dusty weave of the carpet beneath him.
She'd never seen him this hopeless. Spike was always moving, vibrant, full of life --well, unlife. Even anger would be better than this… despondence. And that she had created it tore at her.
Buffy sighed and shuffled her feet a bit, her body full of tension. After Riley's departure, she'd done some serious soul searching, walking through Sunnydale to clear her head. Her feet had unerringly carried her here, to Spike's crypt, and when she found herself at the door, she knew she had some things to set straight. It didn't mean her stomach wasn't alive with a major case of slayer-strength butterflies. Okay, Buffy. Make or break time.
"I'm… not here to… I don't…" Ooh, Conversation Girl. She wanted so badly to turn and run, not stopping till she reached somewhere, anywhere that he wasn't. But she needed to do this, and she wasn't going to run this time. She inhaled deeply and tried again, venturing a step further as she slowly let out the breath she'd been holding. "I came to say I'm sorry. About before. I know that we hurt… that I hurt you, and I didn't… I'm sorry."
He shrugged lifelessly. "S'alright, love. Just another day at the office." That voice. It wasn't like him to be so devoid of emotion.
"No," she shook her head slowly, "no, it's not alright." At this he stood, turning towards her; he was preparing himself to say something, though she had no idea what that something might be. She raised her hand, flattening her palm. "Just… just hear me, okay? I need to say this." She could see the struggle in his eyes, his feet already in motion towards her. "Please, Spike." At her plea he stopped dead in his tracks, and after an eternity, nodded slowly, returning to the chair he'd been sitting in, angling it towards her. His eyes were wary, his arms folded protectively across his chest, and she immediately recognized his defensive posture. Not that she could blame him.
She moved to sit on the bench and made herself relatively comfortable, sure that it was going to be a long night; but she wasn't leaving until she finished taking care of business. "I need to… I owe you an apology, Spike. Even though I should kick your ass for those disgusting eggs" – she could see his mouth open before her sentence was even finished – "I'm not going to. I don't even want the story. Riley's coming back… made me stop and face some things I really didn't want to, or ever even plan on facing. It stirred up a lot of feelings I thought I'd lost; feelings I'd buried so deeply that I'd forgotten they were even there. And seeing him, now, with all that's happened -- I'm not sure I was ready for it. But, ready or not, I have to deal with it. In another five years or so I'll probably be happy he showed up," she allowed herself to chuckle slightly.
Seeing that Spike looked about ready to stake himself rather than hear her talk about Captain Cardboard – a name she secretly found perfect for Riley now -- she continued. "Looking back at how I was with him, at how we were… I never loved him. I never even tried to fool myself into thinking that I was. Angel left so that I could live, so that I could try to have a normal life with someone who would be able to make me happy, to give me everything I deserve." She snorted bitterly at the memory of Angel's departure. "I thought that Riley was as close as I could get to normal, and I knew he felt more for me than I did for him. I thought it might be enough. I was so over being alone, Spike. I was sick of being left in the dust, either for my own good" she spat the word "or because… because I wasn't wanted." Buffy paused, and she saw from his pained expression that he knew she was talking about Parker, and remembering his stinging barbs to her. "With Riley, I thought, 'Now I have one that is so stable, and adores me so much, he'd never leave.' That was the love he had for me… not real love, but adoration. And there was a comfort in that, in knowing he'd be there."
Pausing for a moment, she glanced at him. Spike was behaving exceptionally well, she noted; he hadn't interrupted her once, and had even managed not to gag reflexively when she mentioned his estranged grandsire. He was as patient as a man like Spike could be, across from where she rested on the bench, listening to her story. His eyes averted from hers, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. Although he had relaxed considerably, he was still tense. He was still waiting, Buffy realized, waiting for the other shoe to fall. For her to kick him out of her life, as she had tried to do so often in the past.
"When I saw what Riley was doing at that vamp nest, that he had left my bed to go to them, and then when he tried to turn it around on me… it cut right into my deepest insecurities about myself, the ones I buried after Angel. And that was it. He left, like Angel, and I forced myself to accept that I'd never really be happy, that I never could be. That because I wasn't enough, they left for something more. That because I was the Slayer, maybe I was never meant to be." Buffy's voice suddenly sounded very small in the dank crypt, and she shrunk into herself just a little bit. Spike, meanwhile, was still silent but just itching to have his say; he was squirming in his seat and pressing his lips together, and the sight made her smile inwardly.
That wasn't so bad, was it, Buffy? She sighed, and drew a deep breath, straightening her spine. Pride is a tough pill to swallow. She just hoped she wouldn't choke on it.
"To bring a very, very long story to its point – all of my convictions about my independence and my never ending bad luck with guys – that's all kind of out the window, now." She raised her hazel eyes to meet his blue ones, and was suddenly mesmerized by their surprised depths. "I've been… I've treated you terribly, Spike. God, I've been awful. Queen bitch. I honestly don't know how, or why, you put up with all of my attitude. And though you deserved some of it" – she couldn't help but insert a little snicker – "you definitely didn't deserve all of it and I'm sorry. You've proven your loyalty to me, and more importantly, to Dawn, so many times that it shouldn't be in question. She's really protective of you, you know." Buffy smiled slightly, and she saw Spike's mouth turn up and his eyes soften at the mention of her sister, his "Nibblet."
She looked him straight in the eye. "I don't know what's happened here, with us. Since I… came back… I've been sort of on auto-pilot. It's like there's this wall between me and the rest of the world, and no matter what anyone does it's always there. I can't even connect with Dawn much anymore. But you… you make me feel something, even if I don't know exactly what it is. Something that scares me, and sometimes overwhelms me. And it's been hard, really hard, for me to resolve that with the demon than I know is inside of you, and the soul that isn't. I've spent my entire near-adult life fighting creatures like you. Everything you are is against everything I am; we should be absolute enemies." Her gaze softened. "But… we're not. We match. We have some kind of… something, and try as I might to ignore it or will it away, it's still there. I've fought it for so long, I think the river's been renamed after me." She saw him smile. Definitely of the good…so far.
"I'm tired, Spike. I'm tired of fighting you, and myself. I know that we've been doing this kind of backwards… okay, really backwards… and we've hurt each other and made mistakes, and I know that I definitely haven't proven anything to you that should make you trust me, or even want me anymore, but…" Buffy was babbling and she knew it. She glanced down and then returned her eyes to his, inhaled deeply for about the hundredth time that night, and went for broke. "…I want to try this again. With you. I'm not promising that it'll be easy, and we so have some issues to work through, but I think it's worth the fight. I was wrong, before, about happiness. I think I could be; I think we could be. So, I guess I'm asking for you to forgive me, and for another chance, to start over."
She rose and moved to him, where he sat motionless on the chair. His eyes rose to hers, and she saw a swirling maelstrom of feelings behind a thin sheen of moisture. "I've thrown a lot at you. Just… take some time. Think about it." She bent and pressed a warm, firm kiss to his cool forehead, her hand coming to rest tenderly at the base of his neck, and then turned, slowly walking to the door of the crypt.
Her hand had almost reached the knob when his voice reached her ears, raspy from silence and thick with emotion.
"Buffy."
She pivoted, and smiled gently. "When you make a decision, you know where I'll be." She stepped out into the pale light of the rising sun, closing the door softly behind her.
Spike remained absolutely still, reeling from the weight of her confession and her words. He brought two fingers to his forehead, where his skin still tingled from the first real affection she'd ever shown him. An awed whisper found its way from his throat into the quiet crypt.
"Bloody hell."