When Things Happen

By Jasmine Storm

A Buffy/Spike Story

From "Tabula Rasa" through "Wrecked."  It's not perfectly in time with the episodes, but I did my best to keep it as close as I could. 

This is my first attempt at a Buffy story, I hope that I did a good job.  Please, read and review and let me know what you think.  And if you want to comment, e-mail me directly at:

jsmnstrm@aol.com

Thanks

Jasmine

*          *          *

            Buffy sat in the Bronze, drinking up her third beer.  The weapon of choice of a certain neutered vampire she knew.  Stop it!  I don't want to think about him!  Besides, there was more on her mind than this.  Giles had left, he'd left her alone here.  Just like all the other men in her life.  Her father, Angel, Riley…  it was a continuing cycle that she didn't want to ever repeat again. 

            Sure, she had the Scoobies.  But that didn't mean a thing.  After all, they were just, well, kids.  They didn't know.  They didn't understand.  And even if they knew now, it didn't matter.  They couldn't comprehend what they had done.  There's no way. 

            They had come to her, talked to her about it, but she barely registered the conversations.  After all, it was just one more sign that they had pulled her from Heaven.  Pulled her from where she was supposed to be.  And it made her sick. 

            Her day of being 'memory-less' didn't leave her feeling too much better either.  Thinking she was Joan and some kind of super-hero was not something she wanted to think about again. 

            Even Tara left Willow.  The couple who she thought would always be together, are now separated.  And she didn't blame Tara at all.  After all, Willow had started it.  She'd done it to herself. 

            She took a large gulp off her beer, her eyes downward, not seeing the dark shadow standing over her table.  She brought her eyes up slowly, seeing Spike standing before her at the table. 

            He grabbed a chair and spun it around, staring at her across the table.  "Thought I'd find you here." 

            "Shouldn't you be laying low?  Isn't Teeth gonna be after his kittens?"  Buffy smirked at him. 

            "Don't care about that," he said, pulling a cigarette from his duster and lighting it.  "I'm a bit more concerned about you." 

            She glared up at him, running her fingers down the side of the glass.  "And what makes you think I need you to worry about me, Randy," she snidely said to him. 

            He glared at her, his eyes narrowing briefly.  "I was concerned about old bugger leaving." 

            "Giles, his name is Giles," Buffy said as she takes a long tug off her beer.  "And it's only natural." 

            "What is natural?"  Spike asked, scooting closer to her. 

            "His leaving.  It's a natural evolution," Buffy replied, convinced of her own correctness.  "Everyone leaves." 

            "Not everyone," Spike whispered, almost inaudibly. 

            "You don't know anything," she snapped at him.  She stood up from her chair to retrieve another beer. 

            Spike jumped up after her, grabbing her by the arm.  "I know more than you think, pet," he said, staring into her eyes. 

            Buffy's lip quivered, her eyes began to well with tears.  Spike pulled her to him, embracing her in the darkness of the Bronze.  He held her close, letting her cry in his arms. 

            She looked up into the vampire's blue eyes, and grabbed the back of his head.  She pulled him down into her, kissing him passionately.  Instantly, he returned the kiss, pulling her harder into him.  He slowly worked his way forwards, pressing Buffy into a pole, never stopping the kiss. 

            They stood there like that, kissing deeply, until they both lost total track of time and place.  Kissing until all her pain melted away. 

            After who knew how long, Buffy broke away from him, staring into his face.  A face filled with something that she didn't want to see.  Something that she didn't want to understand.  She jerked away from him, running out of the Bronze. 

            Spike stood there and watched her leave.  He instantly wanted to go after her, but he didn't.  Instead, he lit a cigarette, and walked to the bar, ordering a double shot of bourbon. 

*          *          *

            Buffy laid in her bed, her hair fanned out around her, her eyes shut, and her mind running amuck.  What was I thinking?  What was I doing?  I'm loosing what little grasp on reality I had left…  She snapped her eyes open and stared at the ceiling.  Sunlight poured into the room.  Morning had come.  Nothing in this world is even close to what Heaven is.  Nothing can even come close to that kind of beauty and peace. 

            Except one thing. 

            His lips on mine. 

            The touch of his hands on my flesh

            The feel of his body pressed against mine. 

            "Stop it!"  Buffy yelled at herself in the bedroom.  "I can't do this to myself!" 

            "Buffy?"  Dawn stuck her head into the bedroom, looking strangely at her big sister. 

            Buffy snapped her head toward the door.  "Yeah?"

            "Are you all right in here?"

            Buffy plastered a fake smile on her face.  "I'm fine.  Just muttering aloud.  That's all." 

            "Oh, okay," Dawn said.  "Well, if you need anything, Willow's downstairs, and I'm off to school.  I'll see you this afternoon."  She smiled and turned, heading out the door. 

            I need my brain reattached to my head!  I need a new soul, I need, I need, I need!  Buffy laid back down on the bed, her head swirling around, her mind running rampant.  I can't do this to myself.  I can't think about it.  It was only a kiss!  Nothing more.  She stood up from the bed, and mechanically got dressed.  She dressed not in a cute outfit, as her normal attire, but instead in a set of workout clothes, throwing her hair up into an unflattering bun. 

            She walked downstairs, seeing Willow setting at the dining room table, her head down, and the light that usually filled her eyes died away, and her posture looking defeated. 

            "Hey," Buffy said, her own voice sounding as gloomy as Willow looked. 

            "Hey," Willow replied.  She looked up at Buffy, her eyes swollen from hours and hours of crying. 

            "So, do you know what happened?"  Buffy asked her.  

            Willow looked back down at the table.  "I left the flowers by the fireplace.  I found the ashes of the whole bag left there.  I guess the fire sparked, setting it all on fire."  She sounded defeated, her voice almost clinical in describing what happened. 

            Buffy nodded at her.  "I'm going to work out." 

            "See ya," Willow muttered. 

            Buffy nodded to her, and headed toward the door, grabbing from the closet a bag of gear.  It was merely mechanical of her to grab it, even though the last thing she wanted to do was be the Slayer again today. 

            How she didn't want this anymore.  She died, for Christ's sake.  She wasn't supposed to be here.  She wasn't supposed to do this anymore.  Her time had been up.  Her ticked cashed.  She didn't need to be here.  She shouldn't be here. 

            Yet here was where she was.  In Sunnydale, and still the Slayer.  She didn't want to go to the Magic Shop.  The last thing she wanted was to see anymore Scoobies.  She walked until she didn't think she could walk anymore, to an old abandon warehouse on the edge of town. 

            Kicking in the door, she let herself into the dilapidated old building.  The dust and soot on the floor showed just how many people hadn't been there in ages, and that's what she wanted.  Time alone.  Far away from everyone.  She didn't want to be the Slayer.  She wanted to be back.  Back where she was before. 

            In his arms…

            "No, damnit! No! That's not where I want to be!"  She screamed at the room.  She dropped her bag and began her workout. 

            She began running the length of the warehouse, doing flips, jumps, kicks, anything to force her not to think about what was flying through her head. 

            He's dead.  I'm alive.  He's a Vamp, I'm the Slayer.  She landed several strong kicks into a pillar in the room, knocking most of the concrete loose.  I can't be with him.  She kicked again and again at the pillar. 

            Yet, you are just as dead as he is. 

            "I am not dead!"  She screamed out against the voices in her head.  "I'm not!" 

            For hours she ran like a crazy person, jumping, kicking, punching, and running.  She mostly ran.  Anything to make the words go away.