Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my new cocoa butter cream that smells beautiful! Joss Whedon owns everything Buffy.
Battlefield.
Chapter Seven: The Weight of My World.
It would be so nice if something made sense for a change. – Alice in Wonderland.
For the rest of the night, or morning should I say, I was too afraid to go to sleep. Seen as my Mom mirrored my feelings, I used the excuse of going downstairs to comfort her to Angel, who was wise enough to know that I was lying and I just didn't want to fall asleep so the nightmares could torture me. He didn't say anything, he just gave me a sympathetic look and a small kiss. When I went downstairs, I realised the sitting room was empty. However, the bright light shone from the kitchen and betrayed my Mom's whereabouts. I quietly made my way to the kitchen and slid through the small space where the door hadn't fully been closed.
Mom sat at the circular table, her smooth hands wrapped around a mug of steaming coffee. As soon as the floor creaked beneath the weight of my feet, her eyes darted up to the door in alarm, her whole body going rigid. Slowly she loosened up when she realised it was only me and leant back in her chair, throwing me a soft but tired smile.
'You ok, honey?' she asked.
I pulled out the kitchen chair opposite her and took a seat.
'Shouldn't I be asking you that?' I questioned.
Mom shrugged. She lifted the mug to her lips and took a sip. Smacking her lips together, she looked back at me as she lowered the mug.
'I already know I'm fine, it's you I'm worried about,' Mom said.
Her words were coated in strong motherly love.
'I'm fine, Mom, don't worry about me,' I replied.
Maybe it was because I looked away whilst saying it, or maybe it was a Mother's Intuition, but she knew I was lying before I could even complete my sentence.
'Sweetie, you're not alone. He hurt you on so many levels, in so many ways, that it's alright to be scared,' Mom whispered, reaching across the table and taking my hand in hers.
She rubbed her thumb gently in circular motions across the top of my hand. In some way it calmed me. When I was younger my Mom would rub the back of her finger up and down my nose repeatedly until I fell asleep. Mom said it was sometimes the only way she could get me to sleep. I guess she just had a magical touch that was able to soothe me unintentionally.
'I'm fine, Mom, really.'
I glanced up to see her giving me a disapproving look. I knew that a Mother could always tell when their child was lying, though I just couldn't open up about my past at the moment – I was too emotionally and physically drained to revisit that time.
'I need to be strong,' I whispered.
'Says who? Buffy, sometimes you need to be taken care of … the weight of the world is not on your shoulders,' replied Mom, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.
'You're right,' I replied, looking up into her eyes. 'The weight of the worldisn't on my shoulders, but the weight of my world is.'
Mom parted her lips to speak, although, before she was able to utter a single word, I cut across her.
'You, Angel, Evelyn, Willow and the gang … you all make up my world. Spike is going to get to me by getting to the people I love because he knows that you lot are my weakness. And there are no chances in hell that I am going to let that happen. I won't let it happen.'
I let out a deep breath that I didn't even know I was holding.
The corners of Mom's lips pulled up into a soft smile as she continued to search my face. She suddenly rose to her feet, walked to my side of the table, and pressed a kiss to my cheek.
'I'm going to bed now, honey. I love you,' she said, running her fingers through my hair.
I spun in my seat and watched as she sauntered out of kitchen, leaving me rather confused.
I didn't sleep.
Angel found me the next morning, sat up on the sofa with a blanket around my shoulders, nursing a mug of hot chocolate. It was how I had sat the full night after Mom went to bed, watching pathetic sitcoms and uninteresting documentaries, always sipping on a mug of hot chocolate. I had drunk so many cups of the soothing liquid that I had run out now.
The window was boarded up – courtesy of Angel and Faith, who had sneakily borrowed some wood from our next door neighbours shed. It wasn't safe enough with only the wood in place, especially when we had a seven month child in the house whose safety was the most important thing to me; however it was better than a smashed window that screamed for burglars to make a stop. Cordelia had promised me that by tomorrow night a new window would be fitted.
'Buffy, you better not have spent all night there,' said Angel, standing in front of the television.
'Nope, because technically we didn't come home from my Mother's until half three in the morning … so I've spent all morning here,' I replied.
I took the last sip of my hot chocolate, peering up at Angel from under my thick fringe of eyelashes. He merely shook his head and ran his hand over his face.
'I've called Cordelia and told her I won't be making it into work today,' Angel said, taking a seat besides me, 'she's taking the day off too.'
I nodded.
Angel sighed. 'Listen, Buffy, don't go mad … but police are coming round to do a sweep of the house.'
The empty mug slid from my hands, although Angel caught it swiftly, as I stared at him with wide eyes. He had to be joking. He wouldn't have rung police – we knew it was Spike who was behind everything, why did we need the police to come and confirm this as well? It was pointless.
'What?' I choked out.
'Cordelia told our Father about the window. You know my Dad is a lawyer, Buffy, and you know he loves his granddaughter … what else was there to expect?' Angel asked.
Angel's Father, Benjamin O'Conner, had rung the police? I knew he was a lawyer – he owned the most successful law firm in the whole of California, where Angel and Cordelia worked for him. I hadn't expected, out of all the people in our lives, that he would ring the police to ensure our safety, to ensure the safety of his beloved granddaughter. I guess that it made up for my Father being out of the picture.
'Cordelia already told him we know who it is, but he just wants the police to come search for some clues, fingerprints and that, and to just make sure the house is secure,' added Angel, taking my hand in his.
'The police won't find him, Angel, even if they find anything – he's sneaky. And the house is secure, we know that already! I mean, I'm grateful your Dad is so fond of us … but the police aren't going to help anything,' I sighed.
'Just let them do their job, love,' Angel pleaded.
I nodded slowly.
I would let them sweep for prints, check around our house, and would sit silently whilst they performed their tasks. But what was I supposed to do if they didn't find anything? What if Spike left nothing behind in his wake that would give the police some form of identity? Was I supposed to tell the police that I was aware of who was making our lives hell?
'What if they don't find anything? Should I tell that I know who it is?' I asked Angel.
Angel fell deep in thought for a moment, probably thinking his answer through wisely.
'Yes. Tell them that it's Spike behind this. Maybe they can catch him before he strikes again,' Angel answered, pushing a piece of stray hair behind my ear.
But if I told them about Spike, would I have to tell them about my past with him? I had faced this a long time ago; I didn't want to revisit it. In fact, somewhere inside of me, I just didn't want to tell the police at all. I didn't want them to look at me with pity and sympathy; I didn't want to be classed as a victim. I had left that chapter behind in my past; I had moved on, I didn't want to resurface it all. Angel must have been thinking along the same train of thought…
'You don't have to tell them about what happened in Michigan … not yet anyway. How about you wait until he's been caught first, huh? Then make a statement -'
'Yeah, I'll do that,' I agreed.
He pressed a kiss to my forehead. 'One day you'll be able to close the door on him forever.'
I would be looking forward to that day …
I watched through my bedroom window as Angel spoke to the two police men outside. After they had swept for fingerprints – and unsuccessfully found nothing – they had searched around the house, checking even the basement that we never used, before returning and declaring that our house was one of the safest they had ever inspected. I wanted to roll my eyes and remind them that once you had a baby … everything in sight could be potentially dangerous. And, even if the two policemen didn't understand, I was sure that their wives or girlfriends would.
Willow stood by my side, her shoulder almost bumping mine, as we saw one of the policemen clap Angel on the back.
Angel had rung Willow when I had been in the shower. He had asked her to come round as support for me whilst the police were here. Willow, being the good friend she was, had accepted the favour and arrived around ten minutes after the police had come. If Angel had told me previously that he was going to ask Willow to come round for support, I would have refused and commanded him to let my friend enjoy a peaceful day with her family, though, once the police had arrived, the uneasiness crept upon me and I found myself grateful that my best friend was by my side. There was a certain atmosphere that a best friend brought with them into your life. You know that your safe in their presence, you know that their shoulder will always be open for you to cry on, you know their always there to trust, and you know that, no matter what, someone will always have your back even if the rest of the world walked out on you. And that was the atmosphere that Willow always brought into a room with her. And how couldn't I feel reassured with her there?
'Angel looks at ease around them,' Willow mentioned.
'Angel knows them from college,' I replied, watching as my lover gave one of the men a dig in the arm, 'they were good friends back then.'
Willow nodded, her eyes falling back on the three men stood outside.
'How's your Mom?' she asked.
Mom had left with Cordelia and Evelyn to see Grandpa Benjamin by lunch time. She looked determined when I saw her, like she was trying her hardest to stay strong, but I could see through her fairly believable façade. Since I had returned to Sunnydale, I had learnt everything inside and out about my Mom. I knew her better than any one else ever did … even my Father. But she was trying to stay strong, just like me, and I didn't want to comment on the worried sparkle in her eyes, so I passed Evelyn to her instead and watched as she melted like putty in the hands of her granddaughter.
'Determined to prove that she's a strong Summers chick,' I replied, a faint smile playing on my lips.
Willow smiled too. Her lips parted to reply, however, before she could muster even a single word, my bedroom door flung open.
'Look, it's my two favourite girls! Hey Buff, can I have this?'
I looked up to see Xander in the door way, holding up an apple pie. His jet black hair was slightly windswept and his jacket was still in place. Flashing his goofy grin at me, he held the pie slightly higher as though I hadn't noticed it in the first place.
'Xander, how did you get in the house? I didn't even see you pass the police,' I said.
Xander cocked his eyebrow. 'The police are here?' he asked.
I rolled my eyes. 'Yes. How did you get in?'
'Magic,' winked Xander, collapsing happily on my bed. 'Anyway, going back onto more serious matters, can I have this apple pie?'
I couldn't help but laugh. When Xander entered the room, my troubles all managed to escape through the open door. In both of my best friend's presence, nothing could worry me. It reminded me of the times when we were all still innocent, watching movies on my sitting room floor and eating cheesy puffs until one of us threw up, the times when the outside world didn't exist and it was only us. It was unreal that after all these years, since the first day I started Sunnydale High, we were still as close as we were back then. The only thing that had changed was that Willow was a Mom and happily married, I had become a Mother and found my soul mate, and Xander had grown facial hair.
'Yes, Xand, you can have the pie,' I smiled.
He cheered. And before I could even offer to go retrieve him a spoon or fork, he whipped out his own spoon from his inside jacket pocket and shovelled a large piece into his mouth.
'When did you last eat, Xander? I'm sure that I fed your starving mouth only yesterday,' Willow laughed.
Xander tried to reply, though his mouth was full to the brim with chewed up pie, so all that came out was loads of crumbs. I groaned as they fell onto my bed.
'Xander, watch out! You're getting crumbs all over my freshly made bed,' I moaned.
Xander jabbed his fork in my direction and swallowed loudly. 'Now don't go getting Desperate Housewives on me!'
I stuck out my tongue at him.
'Who's getting all Desperate Housewives?' questioned Angel as he entered the room.
He cocked his eyebrow at Xander. I guess coming into your bedroom to find one of your friends sprawled out across the bed, eating pie like he had never been fed, whilst successfully getting crumbs all over the bed was enough to make anyone question their sanity, especially when you had been stood in the front garden for a good few minutes and had never even saw that person come in. However Angel just shook his head, probably conjuring up more embarrassing memories he had shared with Xander, and sauntered to my side, pulling me into his arms.
'They're gone. I told them about Spike,' said Angel.
'What did they say?' asked Willow.
'Parker and Riley – the two policemen – weren't surprised to hear his name come up,' answered Angel.
I looked up at him, confused.
'What do you mean?'
'Spike assaulted someone a week ago after he had a bit too much to drink – a guy called Andrew. Riley told me he was a weak, blonde scrawny lad who stood no chance against Spike. Police are keeping an eye out already for him,' explained Angel, rubbing my back softly.
I shook my head, disgusted in Spike's actions. I couldn't understand how I had loved a monster like him. It was funny how during the time, when you're in the moment, you just go with the flow and live life happy with what you've got … then, when years have passed, and you look back on the past, you almost laugh at how it had been, how you couldn't believe the life you once led. It showed just how much people changed and how they grew. The past was what shaped the future.
'Why has no one found him yet?' questioned Xander, who was rubbing his stomach with affection.
'Spike grew up being abused. He had to be sneaky and quick enough to get past his parents before they …'
'Kicked the shit out of him?' offered Angel.
'Yeah.'
Buffy couldn't help but wonder if everything would have been different if Spike's parents had loved him. Most people, even those who pretended not to, loved their children, if not as deeply as others then they at least loved them somewhere in their hearts, but Spike's parents did anything but love him. They reminded him all the time how he was a mistake, a waste of space, and how they would rather see him dead underground then breathing the same air as him. And, when they got scarily drunk, if he wasn't quick enough, if he pushed them far enough with his uncontrollable mouth, then he would be kicked black and blue, sometimes beaten so hard that he would be left unconscious. Buffy knew that, somewhere along the line, his parents were the reason he had become the way he had. Maybe after getting the shit kicked out of you for all those years, maybe it felt nice being able to have that sort of power over someone else. Maybe the idea of being the predator instead of the prey was fun for him. Thinking back on the times when Spike had told her about the abuse he suffered, she should have known by the bitterness and hatred deep in his voice that a monster was about to be born.
'Don't worry, Buffy, when this is all over … we'll all go on a holiday to Hawaii or something,' smiled Willow, giving me a soft pat on the shoulder.
'That would be great,' I grinned.
We lapped into a small silence.
'Hey, Buff, do you have anymore pie?'
Even in this dark time, I still had some source of light that guided me through the unknown.
Thanks so much for the sweet reviews for the last chapter! Honestly – you readers mean A LOT to me!
I have a few things to mention:
1) I don't like this chapter. Don't ask me why, I just don't like it. No, I don't understand either why Buffy isn't making a statement now to the police – but I think its because she doesn't want to be looked at like a victim when she's trying to be strong at the moment.
2) It's thanks to Romanceaholic that I put the police part in – I guess searching for fingerprints was a good idea .. I wasn't going to use it but I got to include two more Buffyverse characters! Parker and Riley. Anyway, yeah – Spike wore gloves so his fingerprints didn't come up.
3) I have a poll up on my profile. I would LOVE you to vote. The reason there is no 10/10 also is because I don't believe my writing to be perfect, therefore – no 10/10.
4) And finally … I was looking through profiles on here today and so many writers have interesting facts about them. I don't know where to start, so I decided to let my readers ask the questions & I will put the answers up to the questions on my profile. So, I give you permission to ask away! I would love to hear some of your questions – and don't worry I won't bite, just ask me :)
Anyway, lots of love, sorry for waffling on! Mwah x
