AN: In this story, I have taken the liberty of switching a few things around in canon. Part of the dialogue in this chapter is also taken from the episode, Seeing Red.
Riley had found the eggs in an abandoned warehouse across town. A type of demon Buffy had never heard of was harvesting and planning to use them for some kind of world domination plot. The demon was now in the Finn's custody and that had been the extent of the conversation. Before he had hopped into his helicopter, as though he hadn't just turned her world upside down, again, he had looked at her, eyes and voice full of condescension and told her it was best this way, how things had gone with Spike. She wished she could voice just how wrong everything had gone, but she wasn't certain herself yet. Instead, she told him it was none of his business as Spike was hers to deal with. It wasn't eloquent or quite harsh enough, but he got the point.
Buffy wasn't sure if she should tell Spike about this, how wrong they had been and that Riley would no longer be an issue. She didn't want to keep bringing it up, particularly because he refused to talk about it, or to her, at all. It was something he and Xander shared in common, the shunning of Buffy, until three days later when Xander came stomping into the house, a suspicious smirk on his face, declaring that he was going to be helpful after all, by restoring Spike's crypt. The gesture turned out to be a plot to get Spike out of her house as fast as possible, but he refused to look at her when he offered it, though she didn't miss the surreptitious glances he kept making between her and Spike. In his case, Spike didn't utter a single word, and Buffy wondered what he had planned for his future.
For the most part, the vampire stuck to the basement, even though Dawn had made it clear that he had full reign of the house. Buffy wasn't sure how much more she could do in her efforts to make amends when he was resisting every single one of her peace offerings. She stored a variety of bloods in her fridge, including some that had fallen off the truck from the hospital; bought him the finest sheets of silk that he was accustomed to back in his crypt; allowed him to choose what to watch on TV; invited him out to patrol; and visited him every morning before work and every afternoon when she returned home. They were a long way's off from any kind of normalcy or forgiveness, considering that she had pretty much beaten the soul into him before having been the catalyst that tore his home apart, but she was trying. Wanted to try harder, at the least, and she wished he would be more amenable to that.
Conversation between them always went the same. She'd make a show of turning the knob to the basement and walking down the stairs so he knew she was coming. One of his favorite past times was listening to the CD player Dawn lent him, so she was careful not to sneak up on him. Buffy would stand on the edge of the last step, attempting eye contact and waiting for some kind of invitation that never came.
"Hi Spike."
"Slayer."
"I'm heading to work, is there anything you need before I go?" or "I'm heading off to patrol, any chance you want to join?"
"No, thanks. 'M fine."
"Are you sure?"
He'd look at her, a slight tilt to his head as though he was annoyed.
"Suit yourself."
Buffy would hesitate for two breaths, waiting to see if he might stop her, then when he didn't, she would walk back up the stairs and shut the door.
What worried her the most was his refusal to patrol. It didn't even have to be with her, but she kept waiting for his antsy-ness and the urge to kill something to strike, but as far as she knew, it never did. He had never been good at the sneakiness, so she didn't think he was doing it behind her back. Whether his adamancy was due to his stubborn shunning of Buffy or that the soul had somehow stifled those urges, she wasn't sure. It wasn't like he would answer if she asked.
And wasn't that the worst of it? She had finally opened up to the idea of talking to him, a vampire who, for so long, would not shut up around her about feelings and ideals, and now she wanted to talk, to know and to help, and he refused. Sure, it was her fault, but she was trying. Despite her bruised ego, Buffy would not give up on trying to make amends. She hadn't hated the vampire he was without a soul and she suspected she would tolerate the vampire with a soul that much more, if how Dawn, Tara, and Willow talked about him now was any indication. She even saw Anya make her way out of the basement, traces of laughter left over on her lips as she waved to Buffy and walked out without a word.
That night, Buffy came home earlier than usual after a hell of a day, which was saying a lot considering she lived on the mouth of hell. The house was empty, save for Spike, though she didn't bother to check quite yet. She wasn't sure her temperament could handle another rejection. Work had been chaotic and she had been reprimanded by her supervisor multiple times that day for instances she didn't deserve and then on patrol, a simple fledgling vamp had almost bested her and taken her out with her own stake. In the end, she had managed to knock it out of his hands and dust him, but the cost of it was a major bruise covering her lower body.
Before she faced Spike, Buffy decided to take advantage of a sister and friend-less house and take a long, hot bath. As the water filled the tub and steamed up the bathroom, Buffy rummaged around in her room for her robe. Leaving the door open slightly to allow some of the steam to filter out in order to breathe, Buffy reached down to feel the temperature of the water. Behind her, she heard movement and whipped around to find Spike standing in the doorway, looking alarmed, confused, and apologetic.
"Spike-"
"I- Buf- I'm sorry, I didn't-"
"What are you doing?" She didn't mean for her voice to sound so harsh and she flinched.
"Heard someone come in and- Thought it might be- But then you didn't come down, so-"
"Oh. I- I just needed- Well-" She pointed towards the tub, hoping that would offer enough of an explanation, but at the blank expression, she sighed. "It's been a long day and none of the girls were home, so I thought I'd take advantage."
"Right then," he coughed. "I'll leave you to it." Spike turned to leave.
The warmth of the steam was filling her chest, her head light, and her body sore. Suddenly desperate, she took a step forward.
"Wait-"
He looked back at her.
"I- I've had a bad day."
A raise of an eyebrow.
"A fledgling almost took me out. And work was a bust."
That earned her a hint of a smirk, so she took another step forward.
"A-And," she cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, Spike, I'm so so sorry and I don't know what to do."
"It's fine, Slay-"
"It's not fine. You keep doing these things, trying to help, and I just- I keep tearing them apart and I- There's something wrong with me, Spike. Ever since I came back I-"
"Please don't."
"No, I have to- I have to say this. It's not an excuse. What happened to me, to be treating you this way, but I- I just didn't know- Don't know how to handle any of this anymore. What we had, what we did, it, so much of it was handled just so terribly, but there was good too, and I know you tried, but I just kept pushing you and-"
"It was wild and passionate and dangerous. Burned and consumed us, yeah?"
She could just look at him, both of their eyes rimmed red. She nodded.
"It'll be over soon, Slayer. You'll persevere, always do. Time, Pet. You need time. You don't need to hide anymore. Just let them in and they can help put you back together."
"Spike-"
"Feel it, Buffy. Feel the pain, the anger and sorrow, the harshness of this reality, everything that's happened, the betrayal and the exhaust of it all. Because in the end, all that's left will be exactly what it is that makes you, you, Slayer." He paused, finally finding her eyes and marking her with them. His voice a whisper, she still heard it loud and clear, "Love."
Before she could think or react, he strode away from her. After a moment, she heard the door to the basement click. Turning off the faucet, Buffy stepped into the tub, laid down, and sobbed.
Despite everything that had happened, how she had treated him these past few months, particularly in the past few weeks, Spike wanted his slayer whole again. He knew it was her when she came through the door, he always knew when it was her. He also knew none of the other birds were home, had gone out for dinner together. They'd invited him, but Buffy wasn't home yet and he didn't feel right about it. Wasn't up for going out anyways. Instead, he stayed in the basement, pacing and worrying over the cause of most of his afflictions. He was funny that way, he knew. But he had noticed a shift in the slayer's attitude lately. Noticed how much she was trying. He still refused her, had to for his own sanity, but observed every little nuance of hers, and so of course he realized. She was sorry and overwhelmed and all those feelings she had been bottling up, usually taking out on him through sex or fighting, no longer had an outlet and so he knew she was ready to burst. He just hoped it led to healthier and happier things.
He had waited a bit for her to come downstairs to see him as she usually did, preparing to play it cold and nonchalant. It never took her long to visit him and since he knew none of the others was home, Spike suspected something different was up. Curiosity had gotten a leg up on him, so when he went upstairs and saw the steam billowing from the bathroom, he couldn't help but be drawn to it. Of course he had said too much. Yet, he knew she still wanted more. He meant every word of it though, that she'd be okay soon, because he was still determined to make it that way. Once Buffy was whole again, she could get closure, and so then could he, and then he would leave. It wasn't exactly what he wanted, but it would be best for them that way. The soul helped him see that.
Spike wasn't sure what would be the catalyst for this life-altering shift back into place, but he could feel something looming. There was a 'calm before the storm' feeling surrounding the place and Spike had lived long enough to recognize the signs. He just hoped the lot of them would realize it and face it together, like they had done so many times in the past, rather than let it rip them apart further.
It took everything he knew about restraint to walk away from her when she was crying, but part of healing, he was realizing himself, was the ability to grieve by your lonesome. Before she could forgive and fall in love again with her friends and family, Buffy needed to make amends with herself, with her existence. That meant embracing the failures and the flaws as much as accepting the strengths. Rather than trying to convince her to be someone else, to do different things like he had pre-soul and like her friends were doing to her, Spike knew now that he needed to help her find herself again. That meant space. But there was progress and soon that would spell relief.
For the first time in a long time, he fell into a soothing sleep.
