A/N Just a scene with Spike trying to make amends with Buffy after Crush. Takes place after Joyce's death but before The Gift. If you notice any mistakes, let me know and I will fix them. I wrote and edited the entire thing tonight so I am sure I missed something. Enjoy!
Buffy was having a truly spectacular night. For three hours she had patrolled, encountering nothing living or otherwise as she wandered from graveyard to graveyard. Then, just as she was about to head home for a hot shower and a long rest, three vampires had jumped her.
During the resulting battle, her new sweater had been ripped and one of the vampires had managed to make off with one of her shoes. Of all the random things that happened on the Hellmouth, this was undoubtedly the most dastardly, most hellish thing the powers above could have devised.
She was now treking home through the park, one socked foot slowly getting dirtier and dirtier, her mind full of different tortures she would inflict upon the vampire who had her shoe when she finally found him.
As she passed a wall of hedges, Buffy felt a chill run slowly up her spine. Turning, she raked her gaze across the deserted park, feeling as though someone was watching her.
The wind blew, rustling the leaves next to her and causing her senses to twing again.
"C'mon Buffy, there's nothing there." she murmured to herself, turning back and continuing towards Revello Drive and a brooding Dawn.
Even a month after the death of their mother, Dawn continued to act withdrawn, rarely talking to anyone in the Scooby Gang, least of all Buffy. A part of the Slayer, near where she hid what was left of her feelings for Angel, resented Dawn.
Buffy had stepped up considerably after Joyce's death, getting a job and quitting school
so she could take care of her sister. Dawn had repaid her kind acts by skipping classes and getting social services called once already.
She stopped dead, sickened by where her thoughts had gone. None of this was Dawn's fault, the girl was trying to cope the best she could, suffering such a tragedy so soon after finding out she was not even human.
I'm the one who's not coping, Buffy thought miserably.
Her house was nearly in sight, just around the corner, when she again heard the rustling of leaves. This time, the sound did not abate, even after the wind had died down.
Drawing a stake, Buffy held it close to her chest and listened as the rustling came closer and closer. She was not in the mood to deal with another vampire right now, not even if it was the one who had her shoe.
When the bush she was next to gave a quiver, she turned sharply, right fist cocked, and landed a devastating blow to the face of her opponent.
Flowers fell to the ground as the man she hit fell backwards onto the concrete sidewalk with an undignified gasp.
"Listen, no offense, but I am so not in the mood to deal with one of you - Spike!" Buffy exclaimed as she realized too late who her supposed attacker was.
The blonde vampire lay sprawled on the ground, blood pouring from both his nostrils.
"Bloody 'ell." he growled, using his leather sleeve to try and stem the flow from his nose, "Who werb you espectin?" he asked thickly, eyes watering reflexively from the pain.
"Not you." Buffy answered honestly, holding out her hand to help the vampire up.
Spike gripped her hand and allowed himself to be hoisted back to his feet, removing his sleeve from his nose. Though it was still bleeding, the pain had diminished to a dull throb.
"Sorry about your… well everything." Buffy said, gesturing to his bloodied jacket and shirt.
"It's fine." he said, not caring about the stained clothes.
Buffy realized how close they were standing, the closest since he had tried to say he loved her. Backing up, something crunched under her one shoe, making her look down.
Scattered across the sidewalk were flowers.
They were a nice selection of white lilies, though most of the stems were now broken. Realizing Spike must have been holding them when she hit him, she looked up sharply, unable to hide the accusation in her green eyes.
"Are these your flowers?" she asked acidly.
She was sure she had made her position clear last month outside the Bronze, there was absolutely no way she would ever love him.
"Yeah luv." Spike looked down, stooping to collect them and trying to ignore the anger he saw in her face, "Or they were before they got broken."
Buffy could not muster any sympathy, "Sorry." she responded tonelessly.
"Doesn't matter." Spike mumbled, straightening with his pathetic bundle. Catching sight of the suspicion still on her face, he continued, "And they weren't for ya so stop lookin' at me like that."
Buffy blinked, wishing she was not so easy to read. Trying to cover her bluster, she asked, more abrasively than she had anticipated, "Who are they for then?"
The vampire seemed to flinch at her harsh tone, blue eyes widening slightly before narrowing, "Jealous then?" he mocked.
He knew it was not the thing to say, that it would only aggravate her more, but his tongue had this terrible habit of moving faster than he could think.
"Spike…" Buffy said warningly, but he cut across her sharply.
"Joking pet. I was bringing them for the Niblet. Figured she's still upset about mum." he said, which of course was a dead lie.
It had taken him two hours to pick the flowers out, trying to find something that Buffy would not interpret as romantic. He had intended to present them to her at the end of her patrol in a peace offering of sorts. In the end, he had settled on the white lilies because of how delicate they seemed.
Now, cradled in his arms with stems broken and dirty from the ground, they were an abomination.
Not waiting for her reply to his lie, Spike threw the flowers back on the ground, pressing petals flat with the toe of his boot.
"My mistake it seems." he said moodily.
Buffy was surprised at his swinging moods, uncertain of what to make of it. True, she had accused him, but he was acting as if she had hurt him somehow.
Trying to salvage the situation, she said, "I really am sorry about the flowers. Maybe you could visit Dawn, she's probably still up."
Spike shook his head, drawing a cigarette from the pocket of his jacket, "Forget the whole thing." he muttered distractedly.
"No really," Buffy pressed, "She would love to see you."
"As much as you did?" he asked, wiping at the trickle of blood still falling from his nose.
Buffy flinched, taking a step back as if he had hit her. Her emotions were in turmoil and this was the absolute last thing she wanted to deal with. Later on, she would claim it was how tired the patrol had made her that prompted her response.
"I can't stand you." she whispered.
The reaction was immediate, unlit cigarette falling from slack lips and hitting the ground. His blue eyes, usually bright, seemed to die, the flame behind them snuffed out.
Buffy's own eyes widened, the implication behind her words hitting her in the gut. She reached out to the suddenly cold figure before her, "Spike…" she said, horrified.
He backed out of her reach, face unnaturally blank, "Didn't know that's how you felt. Thought maybe… I won't bother you again." he said monotonously.
"I didn't mean it. I'm sorry." she said softly as he continued retreating.
"Yeah well, that's the whole problem init? You never mean it but you keep bloody saying it." he said, spinning around and stalking away.
"Spike… Spike wait!" she called desperately after him, tears forming in her own eyes.
Out of everyone, he was the one who was unwavering. His loyalty to her and Dawn had protected them from Glory just as much as her friends.
Perhaps even more so, she thought, shuttering as she remembered the state he had been in after Glory had interrogated him.
Long after he had vanished from view, she continued to stand there amongst his broken flowers, wondering if he had finally broken him.
One Month Later
The next four weeks passed in a blur for Buffy. Even though Glory had not made a move, much of her time was still spent trying to discover all she could about the bitch. She had also made some progress with Dawn, the two were talking civilly again at least.
Yes, life was progressing better than she had ever expected. Yet there was something still missing, a hole that she could not fill. It took the form of a violent, leather wearing British vampire who somehow always knew better than she did.
She had not spoken to Spike since the mishap with the flower, shame making it impossible for her to approach him. Several times during patrol she had seen him but he was always quick to change direction when he noticed her.
It alarmed her how his absence did not seem to affect the others in the slightest. Some, like Giles and Xander, seemed happy the vampire no longer hung around them. Willow and Tara had only expressed polite interest about his disappearance from the group before forgetting the subject entirely.
Dawn alone seemed to miss him, she often questioned Buffy about whether or not she had run into him on patrol.
It made her head hurt to think these, the people Spike were closest to, did not even particularly care about him.
The sound of the phone ringing roused the Slayer from where she was, doing the dishes. Drying her hands quickly, she scooped up the phone and asked, "Hello?"
"Buffy?" the voice on the other end almost caused her to drop the receiver.
Composing herself, she asked, "Angel, how are you?"
In the last two years, she had hardly spoken to the dark haired vampire. They had needed space, time to exist without one another. Now, hearing his voice, she felt those emotions from two years ago threatening to break loose.
"I'm fine." an awkward pause, "How are you?"
"Good." she said, "Dawn and I having been doing better, everyone's doing better now."
"I'm glad, though this was not entirely a social call." Angel said.
Buffy laughed, "Why am I not surprised. Okay then, spill."
Angel swallowed audibly, asking hesitantly, "Buffy… well, is everything alright with Spike?"
Buffy felt her stomach lurch uncomfortably at the mention of the blonde vampire, "To be honest, I haven't seen him around much for awhile."
"Oh." Angel went silent.
"Angel?" Buffy prodded, "Is there something going on?"
He sighed, sounding infinitely weary, "I know he got that visit from Drusilla. I can't imagine it was pleasant for him."
"Why do you care? I don't remember you and Spike being friendly last time you met." she asked, curious.
"I… I can feel him." Angel said slowly.
"Feel him?" she asked uncomprehendingly.
"I'm his grandsire. I can pick up his… not his emotions but his energy I suppose." Angel fumbled, trying to explain.
"And what is his energy saying that has you so worried?" Buffy asked.
Angel seemed to struggle to put his explanation into words, "Usually, Spike is like a comet. He's all passion and power. But now… now I can't feel anything. It's like he's burned out."
"And you think his meeting with Drusilla did that?" Buffy felt like her insides were ice.
"It had to be something emotionally destructive. Why, did something else happen?" Angel asked.
"Well no… I mean maybe… God Angel, I did something terrible." Buffy whispered brokenly, "I… I told him I can't stand him. The look on his face… this is all my fault."
"It's not. Buffy listen to me. Spike gets obsessed, it's just his way. Right now, his obsession is you. Next week it will be something else." Angel said sternly.
"You didn't see him. It was scary." Buffy leaned against the wall, trying to ground herself.
"Thank you for the information Buffy but I have to go… I'll call again some time alright?" and the brunette hung up abruptly.
Buffy clutched the phone, head pounding. She did not want Spike's affection yet she wanted him here, needed him here.
"Buffy?" Dawn's voice came from the living room where the television was playing.
Hanging up the phone, she took a moment to compose herself before entering the room, "Yeah Dawnie?"
"Who called?" her sister asked, engrossed in the teen drama playing before her.
"Just work, they wanted to move some hours and were double checking with me." Buffy lied. She could not bear the anger Dawn would show if she shared the contents of the call.
"Hmmmm." the fourteen year old hummed, still focused resolutely on the television.
Watching her sister, Buffy turned her conversation with Angel over in her head. Making a decision, she withdrew to the kitchen and picked up the phone, dialing another number quickly.
"Hello, this is Willow." the voice of her closest friend answered excitedly.
"Hey Will, it's Buffy. Listen, I'm going to patrol tonight but I need someone to sit with Dawn. Could you do it?" Buffy said, trying to sound casual.
"Sure thing. Me and Tara will be there in twenty minutes." the red head promised.
By the time the two witches arrived, Buffy had worked herself into a state, nervous about what she was about to do.
"Willow, Tara, thank you so much for doing this on such short notice." she said, giving her friends hugs.
"No problem! We haven't had some special Dawnie time in a bit." Willow said happily, not seeming to notice how out of sorts Buffy was.
Tara did notice, if the odd look she was giving the other blonde was any indication.
Hoping to avoid any questions, she bid the two farewell and stepped out into the cooling night air.
Making her way purposefully towards one of Sunnydale's numerous cemeteries, Buffy kept herself strong.
That lasted until she was at the door of his crypt.
Her legs felt weak, only Spike every gave her this reaction. Steeling herself, she knocked on the door and stepped back.
From inside came a muffled crash, then heavy footsteps echoed before the door was pulled open enough for a rumpled, blonde head to peek out.
"What is it?" the vampire asked, eyes still heavy with sleep.
"Spike?" Buffy said uncertainly.
His eyes snapped open, the vampire jerking the door open further in surprise. He had not even noticed her scent…
"What's up?" he asked, "Some big fight about to happen?"
Buffy felt a stab of pain at his assumption, that she would only call on him when she needed something.
Though, that is the only time you are civil to him, a voice sneered in her head, her guilt doubling.
"Nothing is happen. Can I come in?" once again, she was covering her own awkwardness with a harsh tone.
Something flittered across the vampire's face, she thought it may have been humor, before he stepped back and opened the door fully.
Stepping in, Buffy looked around, taking in the rather dismal appearance of the crypt. While Spike was no house wife, he usually at least attempted to keep the place in decent condition. Now, dirty clothes littered the floor, including the bloody shirt from last month. Particles of dust floated in the air, thick and heavy, atoning to the fact the door was rarely opened.
Even the slab of stone he usually slept on was in poor condition, the ratty blanket atop it riddled with so many holes that it clearly no longer served a function.
"So," Spike closed the door and turned his attention to Buffy, "To what to I owe this pleasure."
She looked him over, taking in his appearance. The peroxide had washed from his hair and he had not bothered to replace it, darker roots showing through the tousled mess. His clothes were rumpled, jeans torn at the knees. Her eyes drifted to her face, settling on blue eyes.
They were still dark inside.
And in that moment, she knew she could not do it. She could not offer him false hope because, as much as she wanted those eyes to shine again, she was terrified of the repercussions.
"Dawn misses you." Buffy said quietly, "She wants to know why you don't visit."
Spike raised a scarred brow, "Didn't think you lot wanted me around." he said matter of factly.
Buffy sidestepped the question, "When I patrol at night, someone needs to watch her, keep her safe. The others are so busy during the day, I can't take up more of their time."
"So, you turn to me then? The one who can't say no to a word you say." Spike was still oddly calm.
"It's not like that!" Buffy protested.
"Then what is it like?" he asked, eyes calculating.
"She misses you…" Buffy tried again.
"Said that part already, luv." he remarked.
Finally her patience ran out, "What do you want then? For me to say I miss you too? Because this isn't about us. This is about Dawn. There are six people on this planet I trust with keeping her safe and you are one of them! Is that not enough?" Buffy yelled, using anger to keep her tears away.
She could read it in his face, it was not enough. Nothing she gave, short of herself, would ever be enough.
Surprisingly, Spike relented, shoulders slumping, "I'll watch her when you need me to, I've missed the little Bit as well."
"Thank you Spike." Buffy said, heading for the door, needing to leave.
As she reached it, he blocked the way with his forearm, suddenly very close.
"You asked me about the flowers." he said, his breath caressing her ear.
"What?" she asked breathlessly, head swimming from the proximity.
"Last month, you asked who the flowers were for." he prompted again.
"Yes." her voice sounded weak even to herself.
"And I said they were for Dawn, remember?" his voice had dropped an octave.
Buffy nodded, unable to speak.
"Well, I lied." and he was away from her, a cocky grin on his face.
"You… who were they for?" Buffy demanded, all sense of composure gone.
Spike smiled, a real grin that made his eyes sparkle just a bit, "I wonder, just why are you so curious about those soddin' flowers?"
Buffy could not answer, she stormed out the door and into the night in a whirlwind. Spike watched her leave, the smirk not fading. Closing the door, he laughed to himself.
"Damn her." he murmured, "God damn her to hell."
Yet despite his words, he slept soundly for the first time in four weeks.
And as Buffy stormed across the cemetery, headed home, she could not help but feel relieved that the light had returned to his eyes.