Sometimes it Hurts

Written: 11/19/98
Disclaimer: Yaddah yaddah. They don't belong to me. They belong to Joss. I've learnt to deal with my emotional scars, so should you.
Rating: R for violence, and language. NC-17 in later parts. Will be clearly labeled.
Spoilers: The promo for Lover's Walk, and any rumors surrounding that episode.
Summary: BSR (My *fourth* attempt at a Buffy/Spike piece. This is my 'vision' of Lover's Walk.) That's right, writing fic before I *even* see the episode. That's how inspirational tonight's promo was.
Author's Note: Forgive me if this sucks. I've had a bad case of writer's block and depression lately, and with the recent *horrible and disgusting* developments in BtVS, I'm not exactly in my right frame of mind. Whatever that was.
Death Watch: Why make you wait? Any fans of Willow and Xander, I'm sorry. They're both dying in this fic. Horribly.

**********************************************************************************
The slayer usually has the moves of a cat, but tonight she's in a hurry--breaking from a brisk stride into a full run. I follow her, being careful to melt back into the shadows whenever I feel her head is about to turn. It never does--she is so intent on her destination.
It would be so easy to just sneak up behind her and snap her neck, but I'm curious to where she's heading off to.
And as someone used to say...Good things happen to those who wait. Or something to that effect.

Bloody hell. We're *here.*
The mansion. Where Dru crossed the line, and Angelus tried to take over the world. This must be where she's hiding away Angel. Creative when it comes to fighting tactics, but tssk...her logic. Though I should be grateful, at least it'll make it that much easier to exterminate my sire now that I know where he is. But to make sure...

Buffy looked around once, twice. All clear. Nodding in satisfaction, the tiny girl scaled the short distance over the mansion gates, gracefully landing on her feet. Checking one more time for any followers, the slayer quickly ran inside.
After five minutes passed, Spike stepped from behind an ivy covered statue and silently followed.
*************************
Angel's back is turned to me when I walk in. He turns around and I see that he's been reading...it looks like one of those old dusty books Giles is so fond of.

"Buffy."
"Hey. What are you reading?"
Angel doesn't answer me right away, instead I can feel his eyes on me, studying me. Tentatively, his hand reaches out for me. He barely caresses my shoulder before he jerks his hand back.
"I'm sorry." He mutters before turning away. His voice is deeper, becomes hoarser.

"You shouldn't have come here."
"I just wanted to see how you were doing."
Even though you're generations older than I am, I still feel this urge to take care of you. Even though we both agreed we couldn't be anything, I still want...I don't know. I want too much.
But we both accepted that.

"I'm fine, Buffy. Thank you." He still won't turn to face me, and I'm really not in the mood to fight him.
So I stand there for a little longer, just drinking in the sight of him. The curve of his back, and the way his muscles clench when he's nervous...like now.

Why hasn't she left yet? I can smell her, the sweet fragrance of vanilla mixed with some other scents: her youth and vivacity linger in the air, sharp and almost tangible. If she only knew what it was like to stand away from her, and to not touch her, without remembering. Because I've begun to. And the first memory that always comes to mind is of her face, shiny with tears. Buffy crying. Because I hurt her. And in quick succession, the other memories follow maddeningly, until I'm surrounded with reminders of my guilt and her pain. Pain that should have never been there. The old Angel would have kissed away her tears and comforted her...but I'm not allowed that simple luxury anymore. For as much as I want to hold her until we both feel better, I know the truth. It's not the same between us. There isn't an 'us'.

"Buffy, you should go. Won't your mother be worried?"
"No, she won't be. She knows I patrol late tonight. Besides, you're going to have to try harder to get rid of me." Angel turned around at her outburst, his dark eyes flashing indignantly.
"I wasn't trying to get rid of you."
"Nice try, Denial Guy."
"Look, Buffy, you know you shouldn't be here. I can't be around you..." Angel trailed off, running a hand through his tousled brown hair. It bristled up in messy spikes. He stared at the ground.
"Are you afraid that I can't control myself, Angel? I *can*, and *will* control my raging hormones. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and maybe talk about what we're going to do." In a gentler tone, Buffy added, "I know it's hard...but now at least everyone knows you're back. And that you're on our side."
Angel laughed, the noise bitter and forced. "But do they trust me? I know for one, Xander wouldn't mind..."
Buffy cut him off, her fists clenched at her sides.
"I don't care about what Xander thinks. I trust you. Isn't that enough?" she pleaded, trying desperately to keep the tentative tears at bay. She wouldn't cry. Angel would feel guilty and they'd be in the same situation come, oh, a week from now. Angel must have sensed the sudden change in her tone, as he swiftly changed subjects. "How is everyone?"
Blinking, Buffy wondered at his change in direction before quickly replying, "Same old, same old. Xander and Cordy are all over each other, Willow and Oz are the picture of cuteness. Though", the slayer frowned thoughtfully, "Willow seems a little wiggy lately."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. I think she's been dabbling with witchcraft again. Tends to make a person moody. Or maybe it's just the fact that she agreed to go on a double date with Cordelia and Xander...and Oz, of course. They're going bowling, which is funny, because I don't think Cordy knows how to bowl...but I guess Xander'll teach her by tomorrow." Buffy rattled on, her eyes shining. Angel couldn't help but smile at Buffy's chatter. She seemed to have left her downcast mood as soon as she entered teenage gossip maven mode. Then her words sunk in, and his eyes widened.
"Willow's a witch?"
"Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that part? Willow's been practicing magic for awhile now. Made me promise not to snitch to Giles." Buffy smiled fondly at the memory of her best friend panicking at the thought of Giles clucking disappointedly at her.
"Anyone else practicing the black arts that I should be aware of?"
"Nope. Oh, Oz is a werewolf. You knew that, right?"
"I, uh, had a run in with him when he was in that form, yes."
Angel winced, any memory of Angelus' still grated his nerves.
"Oh! Well, that leaves pretty much everyone else in the normal mode...as normal as we can get, anyway." Buffy sat down, hugging her knees. She had missed talking to him, and to be talking about such well, non-weighty issues was a blessed relief. Shyly, Angel joined her on the floor, sitting a safe distance away. This was nice. And non-threatening. In a nutshell, what both of them needed. Angel folded his hands in his lap, and settled in for a long listening session as Buffy's look grew more animated.
*************************
Outside, Spike chuckled to himself grimly. So one of the Slayer's friends was a witch, eh? This would prove to be *very* interesting information, indeed. But which one was the spell caster? Pulling away from the vine infested wall, Spike lit up a cigarette. Willow. He vaguely remembered two girls, one a fair auburn slip of a girl, the other one taller and darkly colored. The brunette looked to be a screamer, and not much use, but the red head--Spike grasped at the information his brain slowly revealed to him. The fight in the church, when he was sure he had almost got Angel's death warrant, until the Slayer had barged in with her friends. While he had been fighting her, he had seen a flash of brilliant red hair attach itself to one of his fledglings. When he looked back three minutes later, the fledgling was gone. Red must have dispatched him. And Spike knew better than anyone else, it was always the innocent looking ones that were the most devious. Just look at Dru.

Looks like I'm paying a visit to one Willow...after all she did dust one of my servants, and good help is so hard to find these days. She should be punished. A feral grin stretched across Spike's pale face.
Tomorrow night, he would find her. She would help him bring Dru back, and then when the spell was done, he'd kill her and leave her for the Slayer to find. A calling card, of sorts.
No more hasty decisions for you, mate. You've got a plan, and tomorrow night, you've got a hostage.

END PART TWO