Disclaimer: The characters aren't ours, we're just borrowing them for the
summer. Also, the song lirics that are quoted here? I have no clue who
sings them, but they seemed approapriate. If anyone knows the name of the
singer, please tell us so that we can put a proper disclaimer. Also,
whoever tells us will be mentioned in an up coming chapter.
Summary: Spike returns to Sunnydale, needing forgiveness and friendship.
Weither or not he recieves either of them remains to be seen... ==THREE
AUTHOR COLLABORATION==
Setting: Training Room, in the back of the Magic Box. Other locations later.
Characters: Buffy/Spike (Possibly other characters later.)
Pairing: Buffy/Spike
Author's Note 1, Tigerwolf: This story was written as an RPG between Tequila Sunrise, MissKitieFantastico, and myself, that is why it says actors/authors below. It will definitely have up coming chapters. Think of this as a pathetic attempt by the me to expound on my story What I Wanted, which so many people said needed more of a middle. Sunrise and MissKitie may have author's notes later. Author's Notes2: Hi again. Still me. I just wanted to add that I know that Spike was in Africa for a soul all along. But neither Sunrise, nor myself knew that when we started this. So the story is written the way that it is for that reason. I really don't need anymore reviews telling me that Spike wanted a soul all along. Three out of the five reviews on ff.net for this story were just people telling me that. It's annoying. Thank you.
Title: The Heart Of The Matter Actors/Authors: MissKitieFantastico as Willow, Tequila Sunrise as Buffy, Tigerwolf as Spike
I've been trying to get down, To the heart of the matter, But my flesh is so weak, And the ashes all scatter, But I think it's about, Forgiveness, forgiveness, Even if, even if, You don't love me, anymore.
He had been back for less than a day. And the first place he'd gone was the magick shop.
Spike was still feeling pretty bad, due to the whole "soul" fiasco. He was sitting on a pile of boards in the back room of the newly repaired Magic Box, doing the one thing that he had sworn never to do: brood. Then the door opened...
Buffy walked in, hoping to replace the magic texts Giles had asked she borrow, and slip back to the training room with as little contact with anyone as possible.
Walking in, she closed the door behind her, leaned against it in relief. Something tickled at the back of her neck. Turning, she saw who sat in the corner of the room. Her stomach rolled, and she controlled herself by sheer will. Her face was pale, and she tried to steady her voice.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Her hand went to the back of her pants, a stake stuck there by habit. Her eyes welled against her will and she bit the tears back fiercely. "Answer me."
Spike looked up at Buffy's verbal assult. "Resting," he answered quietly. He hadn't told Buffy about his soul, yet, in fact, he hadn't seen her in more than four months. And the last time he'd seen her, it hadn't gone so well. At the memory of what he'd almost done, he felt a fresh wave of nausea.
"Resting from what? Did you try to rape someone else?!"
It was quite obvious now that there was indeed something wrong with Spike, his pale skin turned a light shade of green, and he turned around and vomited in the corner.
Now, Buffy felt a little sorry for her hasty comments. She walked over to Spike, unsure if a hand on his shoulder would be a good idea or not.... Her hand jerked toward his shoulder, touched it briefly, barely the space of a second, then pulled it back. Her eyes darted back and forth nervously. What the hell was going on??
She wrapped her arms around herself, and waited for him to regain a sitting position. She had done thinking over the last four months. A lot of it. They had both been wrong. Lots and lots of wrong. And then he was gone. ... She hadn't let Xander kill him. At the time she had wondered why. Now she knew.
Sitting down on a mat a few feet away from him, she said quietly, more gently, "Why are you here?" Her eyes on his, she took the stake from her pocket, and set it between them. Wetting her lips, she shoved it closer to him. Out of her arms reach.
Spike, doing his best to seem calm, despite the fact that he'd just puked his guts out all over the floor, managed to get back into a sitting position, on the mat, this time. He glanced at the stake on the floor between them, it's signifigance not escaping him. It was a gesture of faith.
"Why am I here?", he asked quietly. It was almost like he was unable to raise his voice. But, with all the times that he'd thrown up recently, maybe he actually couldn't speak any louder. "I came back to see you. To... try to explain."
Buffy started to protest, to fall back into her old ways of insulting him, but something stopped her. He looked so... broken. As if something had taken his body, for this wasn't the cocky Spike that she'd known for so long. This Spike was quiet, contemplative, and he was doing a very good impression of a whipped puppy. He'd even flinched when she'd glared at him, that wasn't normal. So, she decided to let him try to explain, even though she knew that nothing he said would make up for what he'd done, she decided to give him a chance. One chance. "Ok," she said, matching his quite tone. "Let's start with where you've been for the last four months."
"Africa, then, more recently, on a cargo ship."
"What!", she yelped, forgetting momentarily to speak quietly. But she remembered when Spike flinched again at her loudness. "Sorry. What were you doing in Africa?"
"Getting back something I'd lost, a long time ago. It was hard, and I had to fight this git with flaming fists. Don't chuckle, Slayer. I'm not kidding." There was a bit of the old Spike returning to his tone, now. "Anyway, I passed the test, and this demon Shaman gave me what I'd gone there for." He skipped a beat. "I really can't hurt you now, Buffy."
"What, did this guy reprogram your chip?"
"No. Actually, the chip doesn't work at all, now. Before you have a fit, let me tell you what the Shaman did do." He reached forward, taking Buffy's hands in his like he had done the night she had returned from the dead. And he'd known the number of days she'd been gone. Just like she had been counting the days since he'd left. 157. Ten more days than she'd been dead. And, she noticed that it didn't bother her that he was touching her, cause there was something different about him...
"So, what did he do, then?"
Spike leaned forward, keeping his blue eyes locked on hers. "Buffy," he said, his voice one of total seriousness. "The Shaman gave me a gift. One that I can never lose, I don't have a clause on this."
"Spike, what are you talking about?"
"Slayer, don't you feel it? The Shaman restored my soul."
Anger was fading so quickly. And behind that, well, that wasn't somewhere that Buffy dealt well with. She knew that.
She stared at their hands, over his still unbeating heart. She had sensed it. Not totally grasped what was different, just that something... something was not the same with her ex-lover. God. Ex-lover. That had taken some getting used to thinking.
Then... "Soul?" She scurried back a bit, her butt skidding six inches before she realized what she was doing. Running. The chosen did not run.
"Yeah, luv-Buffy. A soul."
"You... went to Africa... to get a *soul*?"
"Well... No... Not... actually. Technically." His clouded blue eyes met hers. "I was sick. So sick a' being your lap dog. Your bitch. You broke me. I wanted to- needed to- thought I wanted to kill you. So I went about it the only way I knew how. I fought. And fought long and hard. I told the bloke. Chip out. Give that bi- girl what she deserves."
Her hand slid away from his chest, to her lap, and his fell, too. He stared at the jagged scar that refused to heal across three knuckles. "And I fought. And I won. So... He said... The demon said he'd restore me. To how I was... I was so elated. I'd be who I truly was. Who I wanted to be. He gave me a soul. He was right to."
Buffy was stung deeper than she thought possible. "Yay for the demon soul- giver, Spike. Bet he ruined your chance at one good day."
He looked at her, pained. "I was as hurt as you are now. Maybe more. Maybe less. But... I'm glad. I can really..." He stopped. "Can we just not talk now? Can I just- I just want-" His hand reached out, almost stroking her hair, but not quite. "May I touch you?"
Buffy drew back a little. "Spike, I'm not ready to-"
"Not like that... I just... want to touch you. Please Buffy." His eyes pleaded more eloquently than his voice.
And Buffy slowly tilted her head and rested it in his hand.
Spike let out a sigh as he felt Buffy lean into his waiting hand. It had been so long, too long. He'd almost forgotten how warm she was, how alive. He felt tears well up in his eyes, but he managed to fight them back, for the moment. God, he'd missed her so much. His life, well, unlife, wasn't the same without her in it. He gently stroked her face with the pad of his thumb, as if trying to memorize her features with his touch.
Buffy's eyes drifted closed, and she allowed herself to feel, for a moment, at least, how much she had actually missed him. She was a little startled when his hand moved away, and, when she opened her eyes, she almost couldn't believe it.
Spike was turned with his back slightly to her, his shoulders shaking. He'd lost his internal battle with the tears that had threatened him from the moment she'd entered the room. And he kept muttering three words over and over..
"I'm so sorry..."
Buffy laid her hands on his quaking shoulders.
"You hurt me." She felt his chest heave with deep un-necessary breaths. "But I hurt you too." She bit her bottom lip. "I probably hurt you first..."
She slid her hands lower, wrapped her arms around him, and laid her head on his back. His scent had changed. Somehow.... Somehow it was deeper... The brandy, the cigarettes were still there... But there was.... almost like the beach. Like sand had been ingrained into his trademark scent, too. And it suited him now. Tempered the fire of his eyes. Of his heart. It didn't... didn't smother it. "I don't know what... What's gonna happen... Or why you're back... " Buffy swallowed. "One hundred fifty seven."
His shoulders had stopped shaking, but his breathing always unnecessary, but so.... automatic, was still eratic. "What?"
"You were gone."
They both knew it cost her to say. But she thought. it told, too. Let him know where she stood.
Her hands stroked up and down over his stomach. Not. enticingly. Just touch. Just a connection. "So much has changed. You have so much to catch up on. And I'm not going to fall into your arms, Spike, if that's why you're even here. But. I." She bit her lip, nudged her head into his back. "You still mix me up inside. Please don't cry, Spike. I'm sorry, too."
Spike leaned into her touch, trying to stop the tears, he was beginning to feel just a little bit better. After a moment, he pulled away, although he didn't really want to. Her touch was so gentle, caring. That was something he really needed right then. He turned back around, his blue eyes still reddened by the tears.
"So," he muttered, rather embarrassed. "Guess you finally get to see the Big Bad break down, eh? The other Scoobies have already seen it."
"When?", Buffy asked, tentively rubbing small circles on his back. He was pushing against her hand, almost like a cat. She smiled slightly at the mental image. "I find it hard to believe that you'd ever allow them to see you cry." The statement was meant as a gentle jibe, and it came out as such, but she didn't expect this to cause another quiet sob from the vampire. "Hey, I was kidding.."
"I know," he said. "It was just... it was when you... died." That last word came out in an extremely quiet whisper. Buffy wouldn't have even heard it, if it weren't for her Slayer hearing.
"Oh..", Buffy said, likewise quiet. "Sorry. I didn't mean to..."
"S'ok, Slayer," Spike said with a sniff. "I'm just a little emotional today, aparently." He stiffened his back a little, a subtle hint for Buffy to remove her hand from his back, she took it, placing her hands in her lap.
"So," Spike began again. "I've told you what happened to me while I was away. Now it's you're turn to tell me what I missed."
Buffy took a deep breath, where to begin?
She exhaled deeply, considering. "After... After you..." She wetted her lips again. When had she gotten into that habit? "Left. After you left. Things went downhill. Ummm... Warren and the 2 Nerds tried to take over. I kinda... I stopped them." She felt tears rising to the fore. "Warren escaped, and came back. He... He shot me."
Spike's face slowly took on a cold rage. "Where is he?"
Buffy shook her head. "A second bullet went by me. And into-" She let the tears fall, because they were for someone she loved. "Into Tara." She took Spike's hand. "She's.. She'd... She died, Spike. Willow went on a binge. Dark dark magics. Very bad. There was... almost an apocolypse."
"How did you stop it?"
"Actually...."
Twenty minutes later, after the whole tale had been told, they sat in a companionable silence. Finally, Spike spoke up.
"The watcher's back?"
Buffy nodded. "Looking after Willow."
"Luv, I'm so sorry I wasn't here..."
"So am I. But we wouldn't have been much good to eachother. And we couldn't have stopped it. Only Xander."
Spike shook his head ruefully. "The whelp. Who'd have thought it?"
She leveled a gaze at him. "Me. Dawn patrols with me, now."
"Platelet?? Buffy! She's a little girl-"
"She slayed demons by my side. Ready to fight till the end. It's hard to take, but she's a young woman. Well on her way to being great."
He nodded sagely. "I guessed as much. Does she- Does she hate me now?"
Buffy gazed at him, weighing her words. "Immensly hurt. She's angry with you. But it's because she loves you. She and Clem are friends now." She looked at him shyly. "I had him keep your crypt." Spike grinned. "Thanks, Slayer. That was nice of you."
"Yeah, well, he was doing it anyway, but I made sure he didn't leave, or touch any of your stuff."
"What was left of it, you mean," Spike said, and then instantly regretted it. He hadn't meant to bring up the night they'd broken up. But Buffy either didn't notice the accidental reference, or chose to ignore it.
"Well, the upstairs stuff, anyway."
Spike grinned even wider. "Yeah," he chuckled. "I always was fond of my telly."
Buffy let out a small laugh in response, and stood up. "Would you like to see the others?"
Spike swallowed and rose to his feet. "Guess so. I'm a little more worried about weather or not they want to see me. Somehow, this soul makes the opinions of others seem really important."
Buffy gave him a reassuring smile, and offered her hand to him. He took it and allowed her to lead him to the door, whatever the other scoobies said, at least he had her.
TBC...
Hey, all! This is Tequila Sunrise! Um... WE KNOW that he went for a soul straight off, ok? I, personally didn't, because I was quite caught up in the genuine terror in his eyes, and the care-chested-ness of it all. K? Ok. And! If we get ANY notes about said soul, I will note you back, asking you oh-so-politely to PLEASE pay the SLIGHTEST bit of attention to author's notes. I'm just kidding, y'all, but seriously, we know. And we're GLAD you know! But we know, too. So go share the wealth with the other, less fortunate ignorant Buffy fans. (btw, ignorant-adj. lacking knowledge or comprehension of the thing specified. Webster's Collegiate Dictionary) NOT STUPID! NO ONE WHO LIKES BUFFY CAN BE STUPID! That said, have a great day! And please keep reading. We should have about one or two chapters up every day or so.
Always. Tequila Sunrise
Setting: Training Room, in the back of the Magic Box. Other locations later.
Characters: Buffy/Spike (Possibly other characters later.)
Pairing: Buffy/Spike
Author's Note 1, Tigerwolf: This story was written as an RPG between Tequila Sunrise, MissKitieFantastico, and myself, that is why it says actors/authors below. It will definitely have up coming chapters. Think of this as a pathetic attempt by the me to expound on my story What I Wanted, which so many people said needed more of a middle. Sunrise and MissKitie may have author's notes later. Author's Notes2: Hi again. Still me. I just wanted to add that I know that Spike was in Africa for a soul all along. But neither Sunrise, nor myself knew that when we started this. So the story is written the way that it is for that reason. I really don't need anymore reviews telling me that Spike wanted a soul all along. Three out of the five reviews on ff.net for this story were just people telling me that. It's annoying. Thank you.
Title: The Heart Of The Matter Actors/Authors: MissKitieFantastico as Willow, Tequila Sunrise as Buffy, Tigerwolf as Spike
I've been trying to get down, To the heart of the matter, But my flesh is so weak, And the ashes all scatter, But I think it's about, Forgiveness, forgiveness, Even if, even if, You don't love me, anymore.
He had been back for less than a day. And the first place he'd gone was the magick shop.
Spike was still feeling pretty bad, due to the whole "soul" fiasco. He was sitting on a pile of boards in the back room of the newly repaired Magic Box, doing the one thing that he had sworn never to do: brood. Then the door opened...
Buffy walked in, hoping to replace the magic texts Giles had asked she borrow, and slip back to the training room with as little contact with anyone as possible.
Walking in, she closed the door behind her, leaned against it in relief. Something tickled at the back of her neck. Turning, she saw who sat in the corner of the room. Her stomach rolled, and she controlled herself by sheer will. Her face was pale, and she tried to steady her voice.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Her hand went to the back of her pants, a stake stuck there by habit. Her eyes welled against her will and she bit the tears back fiercely. "Answer me."
Spike looked up at Buffy's verbal assult. "Resting," he answered quietly. He hadn't told Buffy about his soul, yet, in fact, he hadn't seen her in more than four months. And the last time he'd seen her, it hadn't gone so well. At the memory of what he'd almost done, he felt a fresh wave of nausea.
"Resting from what? Did you try to rape someone else?!"
It was quite obvious now that there was indeed something wrong with Spike, his pale skin turned a light shade of green, and he turned around and vomited in the corner.
Now, Buffy felt a little sorry for her hasty comments. She walked over to Spike, unsure if a hand on his shoulder would be a good idea or not.... Her hand jerked toward his shoulder, touched it briefly, barely the space of a second, then pulled it back. Her eyes darted back and forth nervously. What the hell was going on??
She wrapped her arms around herself, and waited for him to regain a sitting position. She had done thinking over the last four months. A lot of it. They had both been wrong. Lots and lots of wrong. And then he was gone. ... She hadn't let Xander kill him. At the time she had wondered why. Now she knew.
Sitting down on a mat a few feet away from him, she said quietly, more gently, "Why are you here?" Her eyes on his, she took the stake from her pocket, and set it between them. Wetting her lips, she shoved it closer to him. Out of her arms reach.
Spike, doing his best to seem calm, despite the fact that he'd just puked his guts out all over the floor, managed to get back into a sitting position, on the mat, this time. He glanced at the stake on the floor between them, it's signifigance not escaping him. It was a gesture of faith.
"Why am I here?", he asked quietly. It was almost like he was unable to raise his voice. But, with all the times that he'd thrown up recently, maybe he actually couldn't speak any louder. "I came back to see you. To... try to explain."
Buffy started to protest, to fall back into her old ways of insulting him, but something stopped her. He looked so... broken. As if something had taken his body, for this wasn't the cocky Spike that she'd known for so long. This Spike was quiet, contemplative, and he was doing a very good impression of a whipped puppy. He'd even flinched when she'd glared at him, that wasn't normal. So, she decided to let him try to explain, even though she knew that nothing he said would make up for what he'd done, she decided to give him a chance. One chance. "Ok," she said, matching his quite tone. "Let's start with where you've been for the last four months."
"Africa, then, more recently, on a cargo ship."
"What!", she yelped, forgetting momentarily to speak quietly. But she remembered when Spike flinched again at her loudness. "Sorry. What were you doing in Africa?"
"Getting back something I'd lost, a long time ago. It was hard, and I had to fight this git with flaming fists. Don't chuckle, Slayer. I'm not kidding." There was a bit of the old Spike returning to his tone, now. "Anyway, I passed the test, and this demon Shaman gave me what I'd gone there for." He skipped a beat. "I really can't hurt you now, Buffy."
"What, did this guy reprogram your chip?"
"No. Actually, the chip doesn't work at all, now. Before you have a fit, let me tell you what the Shaman did do." He reached forward, taking Buffy's hands in his like he had done the night she had returned from the dead. And he'd known the number of days she'd been gone. Just like she had been counting the days since he'd left. 157. Ten more days than she'd been dead. And, she noticed that it didn't bother her that he was touching her, cause there was something different about him...
"So, what did he do, then?"
Spike leaned forward, keeping his blue eyes locked on hers. "Buffy," he said, his voice one of total seriousness. "The Shaman gave me a gift. One that I can never lose, I don't have a clause on this."
"Spike, what are you talking about?"
"Slayer, don't you feel it? The Shaman restored my soul."
Anger was fading so quickly. And behind that, well, that wasn't somewhere that Buffy dealt well with. She knew that.
She stared at their hands, over his still unbeating heart. She had sensed it. Not totally grasped what was different, just that something... something was not the same with her ex-lover. God. Ex-lover. That had taken some getting used to thinking.
Then... "Soul?" She scurried back a bit, her butt skidding six inches before she realized what she was doing. Running. The chosen did not run.
"Yeah, luv-Buffy. A soul."
"You... went to Africa... to get a *soul*?"
"Well... No... Not... actually. Technically." His clouded blue eyes met hers. "I was sick. So sick a' being your lap dog. Your bitch. You broke me. I wanted to- needed to- thought I wanted to kill you. So I went about it the only way I knew how. I fought. And fought long and hard. I told the bloke. Chip out. Give that bi- girl what she deserves."
Her hand slid away from his chest, to her lap, and his fell, too. He stared at the jagged scar that refused to heal across three knuckles. "And I fought. And I won. So... He said... The demon said he'd restore me. To how I was... I was so elated. I'd be who I truly was. Who I wanted to be. He gave me a soul. He was right to."
Buffy was stung deeper than she thought possible. "Yay for the demon soul- giver, Spike. Bet he ruined your chance at one good day."
He looked at her, pained. "I was as hurt as you are now. Maybe more. Maybe less. But... I'm glad. I can really..." He stopped. "Can we just not talk now? Can I just- I just want-" His hand reached out, almost stroking her hair, but not quite. "May I touch you?"
Buffy drew back a little. "Spike, I'm not ready to-"
"Not like that... I just... want to touch you. Please Buffy." His eyes pleaded more eloquently than his voice.
And Buffy slowly tilted her head and rested it in his hand.
Spike let out a sigh as he felt Buffy lean into his waiting hand. It had been so long, too long. He'd almost forgotten how warm she was, how alive. He felt tears well up in his eyes, but he managed to fight them back, for the moment. God, he'd missed her so much. His life, well, unlife, wasn't the same without her in it. He gently stroked her face with the pad of his thumb, as if trying to memorize her features with his touch.
Buffy's eyes drifted closed, and she allowed herself to feel, for a moment, at least, how much she had actually missed him. She was a little startled when his hand moved away, and, when she opened her eyes, she almost couldn't believe it.
Spike was turned with his back slightly to her, his shoulders shaking. He'd lost his internal battle with the tears that had threatened him from the moment she'd entered the room. And he kept muttering three words over and over..
"I'm so sorry..."
Buffy laid her hands on his quaking shoulders.
"You hurt me." She felt his chest heave with deep un-necessary breaths. "But I hurt you too." She bit her bottom lip. "I probably hurt you first..."
She slid her hands lower, wrapped her arms around him, and laid her head on his back. His scent had changed. Somehow.... Somehow it was deeper... The brandy, the cigarettes were still there... But there was.... almost like the beach. Like sand had been ingrained into his trademark scent, too. And it suited him now. Tempered the fire of his eyes. Of his heart. It didn't... didn't smother it. "I don't know what... What's gonna happen... Or why you're back... " Buffy swallowed. "One hundred fifty seven."
His shoulders had stopped shaking, but his breathing always unnecessary, but so.... automatic, was still eratic. "What?"
"You were gone."
They both knew it cost her to say. But she thought. it told, too. Let him know where she stood.
Her hands stroked up and down over his stomach. Not. enticingly. Just touch. Just a connection. "So much has changed. You have so much to catch up on. And I'm not going to fall into your arms, Spike, if that's why you're even here. But. I." She bit her lip, nudged her head into his back. "You still mix me up inside. Please don't cry, Spike. I'm sorry, too."
Spike leaned into her touch, trying to stop the tears, he was beginning to feel just a little bit better. After a moment, he pulled away, although he didn't really want to. Her touch was so gentle, caring. That was something he really needed right then. He turned back around, his blue eyes still reddened by the tears.
"So," he muttered, rather embarrassed. "Guess you finally get to see the Big Bad break down, eh? The other Scoobies have already seen it."
"When?", Buffy asked, tentively rubbing small circles on his back. He was pushing against her hand, almost like a cat. She smiled slightly at the mental image. "I find it hard to believe that you'd ever allow them to see you cry." The statement was meant as a gentle jibe, and it came out as such, but she didn't expect this to cause another quiet sob from the vampire. "Hey, I was kidding.."
"I know," he said. "It was just... it was when you... died." That last word came out in an extremely quiet whisper. Buffy wouldn't have even heard it, if it weren't for her Slayer hearing.
"Oh..", Buffy said, likewise quiet. "Sorry. I didn't mean to..."
"S'ok, Slayer," Spike said with a sniff. "I'm just a little emotional today, aparently." He stiffened his back a little, a subtle hint for Buffy to remove her hand from his back, she took it, placing her hands in her lap.
"So," Spike began again. "I've told you what happened to me while I was away. Now it's you're turn to tell me what I missed."
Buffy took a deep breath, where to begin?
She exhaled deeply, considering. "After... After you..." She wetted her lips again. When had she gotten into that habit? "Left. After you left. Things went downhill. Ummm... Warren and the 2 Nerds tried to take over. I kinda... I stopped them." She felt tears rising to the fore. "Warren escaped, and came back. He... He shot me."
Spike's face slowly took on a cold rage. "Where is he?"
Buffy shook her head. "A second bullet went by me. And into-" She let the tears fall, because they were for someone she loved. "Into Tara." She took Spike's hand. "She's.. She'd... She died, Spike. Willow went on a binge. Dark dark magics. Very bad. There was... almost an apocolypse."
"How did you stop it?"
"Actually...."
Twenty minutes later, after the whole tale had been told, they sat in a companionable silence. Finally, Spike spoke up.
"The watcher's back?"
Buffy nodded. "Looking after Willow."
"Luv, I'm so sorry I wasn't here..."
"So am I. But we wouldn't have been much good to eachother. And we couldn't have stopped it. Only Xander."
Spike shook his head ruefully. "The whelp. Who'd have thought it?"
She leveled a gaze at him. "Me. Dawn patrols with me, now."
"Platelet?? Buffy! She's a little girl-"
"She slayed demons by my side. Ready to fight till the end. It's hard to take, but she's a young woman. Well on her way to being great."
He nodded sagely. "I guessed as much. Does she- Does she hate me now?"
Buffy gazed at him, weighing her words. "Immensly hurt. She's angry with you. But it's because she loves you. She and Clem are friends now." She looked at him shyly. "I had him keep your crypt." Spike grinned. "Thanks, Slayer. That was nice of you."
"Yeah, well, he was doing it anyway, but I made sure he didn't leave, or touch any of your stuff."
"What was left of it, you mean," Spike said, and then instantly regretted it. He hadn't meant to bring up the night they'd broken up. But Buffy either didn't notice the accidental reference, or chose to ignore it.
"Well, the upstairs stuff, anyway."
Spike grinned even wider. "Yeah," he chuckled. "I always was fond of my telly."
Buffy let out a small laugh in response, and stood up. "Would you like to see the others?"
Spike swallowed and rose to his feet. "Guess so. I'm a little more worried about weather or not they want to see me. Somehow, this soul makes the opinions of others seem really important."
Buffy gave him a reassuring smile, and offered her hand to him. He took it and allowed her to lead him to the door, whatever the other scoobies said, at least he had her.
TBC...
Hey, all! This is Tequila Sunrise! Um... WE KNOW that he went for a soul straight off, ok? I, personally didn't, because I was quite caught up in the genuine terror in his eyes, and the care-chested-ness of it all. K? Ok. And! If we get ANY notes about said soul, I will note you back, asking you oh-so-politely to PLEASE pay the SLIGHTEST bit of attention to author's notes. I'm just kidding, y'all, but seriously, we know. And we're GLAD you know! But we know, too. So go share the wealth with the other, less fortunate ignorant Buffy fans. (btw, ignorant-adj. lacking knowledge or comprehension of the thing specified. Webster's Collegiate Dictionary) NOT STUPID! NO ONE WHO LIKES BUFFY CAN BE STUPID! That said, have a great day! And please keep reading. We should have about one or two chapters up every day or so.
Always. Tequila Sunrise
