She had spent the week with Angel. He was leaving to go to another set and though the week had been full of laughter and grand evenings out, Buffy was feeling restless. She had kissed Angel good-bye three hours ago and the feeling doubled.
Buffy roamed around the house. It was white and stone. There was a huge fireplace that dominated the living room. Buffy sat at the fireplace and looked in the cavern where the cinders would have sat, if Angel wasn't so anal retentive about cleanliness. She could have stood up in the fireplace. Sometimes when the fire was burning on the balmy California nights, Buffy found that she couldn't get warm. She wanted to crawl into the fireplace and see if that would alter her temperature.
Angel was always there though. He was her sentry to keep her away from the fire. She wouldn't be consumed as he read Sartre because he was there. He had been there from the time she was a naive teen until now. He had always kept her from going to far. Some of her contemporaries had fallen into things too far; they had all gone too far away from the posh life that they had been born to.
Buffy had never gone to far. She had always been safe from t he fire.
Until she had found something in a smoky loud room of a bar. She had found a fire that could consume her.
She pulled herself away from the fireplace. She backed away and ran to the bedroom. She closed the door and leaned against it. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
She looked at the bedroom with the large high bed that always made her feel insignificant when Angel was gone. It was just too big.
And she knew that it wasn't hers.
Buffy changed into her pajamas. She put on the blue flannel pants, a tank top, and a sweatshirt. The night was warm, but she couldn't stop shivering. It was cold.
Buffy sat in the bed for a while, but sleep wouldn't come. She wasn't comfortable, she wasn't safe. Angel wasn't here to guard her from the empty feeling that always surrounded her lately.
With a sigh Buffy got up and stared out of the window at the full moon. She wished she had gone out with Cordelia, but she was too tired of smiling. She didn't want to risk being with him.
She looked down at her yard and for a minute she thought she was seeing things.
He was standing there under a tree in her yard. His black duster was billowing and he was smoking a cigarette. He was just standing there looking up at her.
She smiled as she watched her apparition. The moonlight softened his features and made his eyes were dark. She leaned into the window and looked down at him
Then she realized that she would never fantasize that he had a huge swollen hand.
Suddenly she shot upright and pulled her sweatshirt tighter. He waved and turned to leave. With a speed that would have impressed a cheetah she sprinted from her room to the front door.
"Stalking me now," she yelled to the retreating figure.
He stopped and turned around. He held both hands out to his side.
"Of course," he spat out, "You're such a charmer, and I wanted to catch you in your knickers."
"I called the cops," she said her chin high, "You better leave."
He snickered and came closer to her.
"You called the cops?" He raised an eyebrow, "And you had time to call the cops when? In the four seconds it took you to get downstairs?"
"We have a button," she said matching his arrogant smile, "You press, and instant cops."
"Course you do."
"I do."
"Sure James Bond," he started to walk away.
"Wait," she said.
"What?" he said turning around.
"Why were you under my tree?"
"I wanted to say good-bye and once here I realized that I don't relish the thought of running into your poofter."
"You were just in the neighborhood and you decided to stop by?" she said sarcastically.
"Actually I was," he said ginning at her, "Devon took us to a party two houses up."
"Good-bye?" she said weakly, registering what he was saying.
He looked down at her, "Yeah goodbye princess. I'm going to go on tour with the band tomorrow night and as much fun as our illicit affair is, I really don't want to be your little piece on the side once you're married. A man has his pride."
Buffy snorted, but he just looked at her. She felt as if she was being drunk in, she felt as if he was trying to remember her.
That made her feel immensely sad.
He nodded and the spell was broke, "So then, good-bye."
He turned and the cold seeped in.
"Wait," she said again and it sounded like a plea.
"What," he sighed, turning around. He knew he was going to regret this, "Don't like being on the receiving end of leaving? Look I'm going to go I'm tired of waiting for you to suss out why you keep coming round."
"You're the one who showed up under my tree," Buffy pointed out.
"And you're the one who finds me irresistible and keeps calling me back. Make up your mind. I'm tired of being jerked."
"Right, I'll be your piece on the side while you go screw groupies next week. I think not."
She prepared herself for a sharp retort. Instead he came closer shaking his head, he stopped in front of her.
"I have enough groupies, if I wanted one of them I could. I'm here because of you."
Buffy gave him a disbelieving look.
"You want proof. I'd marry you tonight."
He cupped her face so she couldn't look away.
"I'd grab my Bassist and his girl and I'd let you call your sis and the Whelp. I'd find a plane and get us all to Vegas."
He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
"I'd stand up in front of Elvis and our best mates and promise only you."
He pulled away angrily as if she had the capacity to say anything. She swore that she once inhabited her body, but now she was too shocked. No one ever said anything like that to her before.
""Hell, I know this kid who could write you up a pre-nump that would mean that I couldn't touch a tube of toothpaste that was yours, never mind your bloody fortune."
Buffy watched him almost pace as he pulled out a cigarette, "I don't care that you're supposed to marry the king of brood in a month. But the thought of you being his when I get back is bloody miserable. You know why? Because I can't stop thinking of you. You were dancing there so alive and you made me feel something. I never thought that I would feel anything again and I will be damned if I just let you waltz away."
"You hardly know me," Buffy whispered, holding her years with Angel as a meaning of love. Love is time and love is being with someone forever.
He stopped. He took a drag. He exhaled. He threw the cigarette away.
"Love isn't brains," he said as if it was the only true thing in the world, "Love is heart and love is what you feel. There is no logic and it isn't always happy. Love is the feeling when you look in someone else's eyes."
He stood before her and put his hand on her heart.
"What do you feel here."
She looked at him with luminous green eyes. She couldn't answer.
He pulled his hands away and put them in his pockets, "I know what I feel. I feel like I'm a going crazy. I feel like if I'm not touching you I'm cold and dead inside."
Buffy's lip began to quiver and Spike rocked on his heels.
"You want to hear the nancy boy words? I bet Angel tells you all those sweet things that you want to hear. He tells you that look nice. He tells you you're perfect and graceful and charming. He looks at you like you're a doll. Well you're not any of those. You're too skinny, you're vain, you are completely self absorbed, and you have stupid hair."
Buffy opened her mouth and her hands went up to hair. She wasn't expecting that.
Spike looked down and sighed.
"Do you really want me to say it."
She looked up with the only bit of self-respect she still had, "Don't do me any favors."
And then he was kissing her. His hands were touching her and burning her where ever the felt. Buffy grabbed him by the back of his head so he couldn't pull away. This wasn't right but, Buffy pulled herself closer to him. Wherever he wasn't touching her felt numb and cold.
Buffy kissed him until she should have died from lack of oxygen. He pulled away slightly and rested his forehead on hers. His lips were barely away.
"I love you Buffy and you'd make me the happiest man in the world if you'd marry me."
Buffy stayed in that moment. She kept her eyes closed and the still of the night surrounded them.
After too much time passed he pulled away and laughed, "And now I'm going to go and drink away the fact that I was such a poncy nancy boy."
He didn't look at her he strode away.
"Yes," she whispered.
He stopped. She had said it too softly for him to actually hear it. She looked at his back. His shoulders were taut and he turned around slowly.
"What?"
Buffy tried to smile, but she was too terrified of what she was doing.
"No one ever waited until I answered. My dad, Angel, Cordy, they all just tell me where I am supposed to go and what I am supposed to do."
He growled, "I'm not taking you without you wanting it. I'm not wanting to be something that you regret."
She bit her lip, "You do know you have horrible timing."
He rolled his eyes, "Can you bloody well tell me no? I have some serious drinking to do."
She walked to him and titled her head. She smiled and her lip trembled, "Did you change your mind."
"What is your answer," he asked hoarsely.
She smiled at him, "Yes."
