Spike's POV.
Spoilers up through ATS season Five episode 13.
Disclaimer: I own noone. Dang it! sob.
This piece was inspired by the song "Bathwater" by No Doubt. Thanks Guys!
Please feed me.
Enjoy!
Spike crushes his cigarette under his boot heel, and leans against the wall, knowing he should be moving, but doesn't quite care.
She's in there. With him.
No noise emanates from the closed door of the office, and Spike's level of frustration grows. She's been here, like, two hours, and hasn't sought him out yet.
Not that Captain forehead would let her out of his sight for long.
Sighing, he picks up the dead ciggy and throws the remnants in the trash. Harm would berated him no end for leaving trash on the floor. And he's so not in the mood for that.
He decides that the labratories are a much friendlier place for him right now, and heads quickly down the hall, away from Angel's office, away from her and her scent.
So Andrew must have told her. Told her he's alive. He hadn't been able to hear much of their conversation, but he had heard his name a few times, along with explatives and the occasional "why didn't you call me?"
Spike figures the slayers' giving the boss man the what for. Either that or they're discussing Spike for lack of other conversation. With her he's never quite sure.
"I love you."
"No, you don't, but thanks for saying it."
He knew he had been right. Oh, she had cared for him. In the end, he could see that. In her own way, she had kept him close to her heart. Not exactly what he wanted, but it was good enough.
And he had got to hold her one last time before the end. Before his supposed end.
And then bloody Lindsey, or 'Doyle' as he so cheekily had called himself, had gotten involved, and had used Spike as a means to an end. Had tried to use him in his futile effort to get some kind of revenge on Peaches. Had found that damn amulet and had brought Spike back from his 'eternal reward'.
Spike knew full well when Fred had told him the whole story, that the effort was a wasted one from the beginning. Angel was nothing if not thorough. And somehow he always found out who was wronging him.
And somehow that person was never heard from again. Usually.
Not in Spike's case of course. But what seemed extremely beyond weird lately, was the rapport he and Angel had begun building. Kind of like old times, without the killing and the sport.
Until she showed up, anyhow.
He had been sitting in Gunn's empty office, when Fred had come streaking into it, breathless and somewhat shaken.
"What's the hurry, love? Some new mystical granado gone poof again?" he had asked her, and had expected her to at least smile.
"She's here. Where's Angel, Spike? I need to find him."
"Who's here? Eve? What's going on, Fred?"
And then Spike had gone still, because he knew in his gut who was there. He could feel her too, same as Angel.
"Buffy. Buffy's here," he said, astounded, excited, and strangely afraid. Does she know about me? Did that ponce tell her?
"I know! So where's Angel?"
"He's right here," came the voice, and Fred and Spike whirled toward the door to see the aforementioned vamp leaning there.
"What's the problem, Fred?"
His voice trailed off, and his expression changed rapidly from one of pure boyish anticipation to one of indirect sadness.
"I'll be in my office," he said, and went there.
"Well, that was weird," Fred had said. "I hadn't told him anything yet, and he seems to know anyway. Dang! I never get to tell anyone anything exciting."
Spike had laughed mirthlessly, and stood up. "Well, it's exciting to me, love. If you'll excuse me, I'll be in my office." And he had walked out the door, trailing after Angel.
"Okay, Spike. I'll just…wait. Hey! You don't have an office," she had yelled after him.
Spike continues his trek toward the lifts, and his trek away from her. If I could just…see her, say something. Defend myself. I know Angel's doing a bang up job of that, he thinks sarcastically.
Screw it. He turns, and his black leather coat whirls around him like crow's wings as he trods softly back to his eavesdropping position outside of Angel's door.
He now hears a noise he really hadn't hoped to hear.
Muffled sobbing, and the deeper tone of Angel's voice, soothing her. And to Spike's vampire hearing, it also sounded like they were very close together.
Is that…kissing?
Damn it, Slayer. I need you too. I would have done anything just to see your face again. Hell, I would die a firey death again to just wash in your leftover bathwater. Or to be your second choice. Any choice. And if that's not love, I don't damn well know what is.
"Bollocks to this," he whispers to himself. "I have my pride. And she won't be witness to me abandoning it."
He walks toward the lifts again, this time sure he's not gonna turn back. She'll see him when she's ready. And until then, he'll make himself comfortable in the knowledge that he will be ready to receive her, in any condition. The second that bloody halfwit makes himself scarce, Spike will be there to pick up the pieces.
Maybe by then she'll realize that he's the one that deserves her.
Soulmates and eternal love be damned.
He walks on, his confident swagger back, and punches the button for the lift. In the meantime, he will make himself useful, and go find some helpless that need helping. He's kind of come to like the vigilante act.
Especially because it helps him hide the real truth- that inside he's still scared, still confused, and still unsure of his place.
He knows now what it must have been like for her to be suddenly back in the world, when she had been ready to move on.
He smiles when he recognizes this, enjoying the feeling of comraderie it gives him.
"She'll find me," he whispers as the lifts carry him down to the ground floor and the waiting helpless populace of Los Angeles.
"She'll find me. She will."
But in his heart of hearts, he doubts. And so he does the ony thing he can do now.
He helps. And hopes that that's enough for her.
Fin.