Apology 10
He was sitting on the top of the sepulchre, scribbling furiously, his papers supported by the back of a book, when he felt the hand on his shoulder and jumped.
"Sorry," Buffy said. "I didn't mean to startle you." She looked around the crypt. "Where's Clem?"
"He went to a movie." Sitting his work down beside him, he looked up at her. "Lookin' for him?"
"Not really. Just wondered." She picked up the papers. "What's this?"
"Letters. I write letters."
"Hey, this one's to Harmony. 'Sorry I was a total bastard.' Harsh. 'It wasn't fair to make you dress in Buffy's clothes.' Whoa. What?"
He snatched the letters from her hand. "That's private."
She stood glaring at him, her hands on her hips. He waited for the blow. It never came. Buffy started laughing, a slight chuckle in her throat that soon cascaded into a deep belly laugh. She doubled over, not even trying to contain herself. "You ... Harm ... me ...blue sweater?"
"I'm so glad you're amused."
"Oh, am. Much." She wiped her eyes, and sucked in a breath. "There was a time that would have led to major stakeage. Or a good nose punch. Now..." She suppressed another guffaw. "Now I'm kind of flattered. I think." She tried to gain her composure. "That letter ... You're in touch with Harmony?"
"No. I'm just writing for my own benefit. I'll be happy never to meet her again. Nothin' she'll ever see. I did mail one, though. To Angel."
"Really?" Her eyes narrowed. "What did you tell him?"
"Well, I wanted to share a few things with him. About the soul. Don't worry, I didn't tell him about us. Figured that was your place." He sat back down. "So I guess he'll never know."
"He does know." She sat beside him. "I told him. Called him a few days ago. You think you had a bad summer; you should hear about his." She put her hand on Spike's. "I told him almost everything. Last year, you leaving, how I felt when you came back. He took it surprisingly well. Might be the 'being in love with someone else' thing." Her hand clasped over his. "Angel and I have both moved on." She gave his fingers a squeeze and then stood up. "I'll see you later. Come for supper tomorrow night. I think you and Dawn have some things to work out."
"I will. Come for supper, I mean. Thanks." He looked down at his ink stained fingers. "Buffy?"
"Spike?" She leaned over, tipped his chin up with her fingertips, and brushed her lips lightly against his cheek. "Tomorrow night. Seven o'clock." With that she disappeared out the door.
He sighed, and pulled a blank page from the back of his papers, beginning to write:
"Dear Dru,
I wanted you to know. I loved you. Loved you with everything I had for more than a hundred years. I'm sorry it wasn't enough.
You knew, even before I did. It's why you took up with Angelus, I think. From the day I first saw the Slayer, my heart was not my own. How that must have hurt.
You were good to me, as much as you could be. You gave me great happiness. You were my mother, my lover, my child, my glorious evil queen. The days I spent with you were precious.
I'm sorry for the last time we met. Sorry I threatened to kill you. I was desperate with love for her, but you know that. You understood me better than anyone.
I got a soul Dru. For her. I know how that must make you laugh. You know what I said about Angel. But I want you to know it was the right thing. I think I may have a chance now, to be happy again.
I can only wish the same for you.
Love,
Spike."
He read the letter, walked over to his table, dipped the edge of the paper in the candle's flame, and watched it burn.
"She'll never get it now." He spun around, to see Buffy looking intently at him. "I forgot something."
"Yeah?" He looked at the crypt floor, not seeing anything out of place. "What?"
"This." She stepped towards him, slowly. She reached out for him, pulled him close, rested her head on his chest and sighed. When she looked up at him, his eyes were fearful, reluctant, but she gently rested her hand on the back of his head and pulled him down into the kiss. It was deep, luscious, and she never wanted it to end.
He pulled back. "Buffy. I don't ..."
"I'm not using you. Not any more. If you don't want this, I'll go." When he didn't respond further, she turned and started to walk away. "Dinner," she called. "Tomorrow night. Don't forget."
"Buffy." The word stopped her. "Don't go."
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, spreading into a sunburst as she ran into his arms.
*****
The quality of mercy is not strained; it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. It is twice blessed: it blesseth him that gives and him that takes. Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes the throned monarch better than his crown.
But mercy is above this sceptered sway, it is enthroned in the heart of kings, it is an attribute to God himself; and earthly power doth then showest likest God's when mercy seasons justice.
He was sitting on the top of the sepulchre, scribbling furiously, his papers supported by the back of a book, when he felt the hand on his shoulder and jumped.
"Sorry," Buffy said. "I didn't mean to startle you." She looked around the crypt. "Where's Clem?"
"He went to a movie." Sitting his work down beside him, he looked up at her. "Lookin' for him?"
"Not really. Just wondered." She picked up the papers. "What's this?"
"Letters. I write letters."
"Hey, this one's to Harmony. 'Sorry I was a total bastard.' Harsh. 'It wasn't fair to make you dress in Buffy's clothes.' Whoa. What?"
He snatched the letters from her hand. "That's private."
She stood glaring at him, her hands on her hips. He waited for the blow. It never came. Buffy started laughing, a slight chuckle in her throat that soon cascaded into a deep belly laugh. She doubled over, not even trying to contain herself. "You ... Harm ... me ...blue sweater?"
"I'm so glad you're amused."
"Oh, am. Much." She wiped her eyes, and sucked in a breath. "There was a time that would have led to major stakeage. Or a good nose punch. Now..." She suppressed another guffaw. "Now I'm kind of flattered. I think." She tried to gain her composure. "That letter ... You're in touch with Harmony?"
"No. I'm just writing for my own benefit. I'll be happy never to meet her again. Nothin' she'll ever see. I did mail one, though. To Angel."
"Really?" Her eyes narrowed. "What did you tell him?"
"Well, I wanted to share a few things with him. About the soul. Don't worry, I didn't tell him about us. Figured that was your place." He sat back down. "So I guess he'll never know."
"He does know." She sat beside him. "I told him. Called him a few days ago. You think you had a bad summer; you should hear about his." She put her hand on Spike's. "I told him almost everything. Last year, you leaving, how I felt when you came back. He took it surprisingly well. Might be the 'being in love with someone else' thing." Her hand clasped over his. "Angel and I have both moved on." She gave his fingers a squeeze and then stood up. "I'll see you later. Come for supper tomorrow night. I think you and Dawn have some things to work out."
"I will. Come for supper, I mean. Thanks." He looked down at his ink stained fingers. "Buffy?"
"Spike?" She leaned over, tipped his chin up with her fingertips, and brushed her lips lightly against his cheek. "Tomorrow night. Seven o'clock." With that she disappeared out the door.
He sighed, and pulled a blank page from the back of his papers, beginning to write:
"Dear Dru,
I wanted you to know. I loved you. Loved you with everything I had for more than a hundred years. I'm sorry it wasn't enough.
You knew, even before I did. It's why you took up with Angelus, I think. From the day I first saw the Slayer, my heart was not my own. How that must have hurt.
You were good to me, as much as you could be. You gave me great happiness. You were my mother, my lover, my child, my glorious evil queen. The days I spent with you were precious.
I'm sorry for the last time we met. Sorry I threatened to kill you. I was desperate with love for her, but you know that. You understood me better than anyone.
I got a soul Dru. For her. I know how that must make you laugh. You know what I said about Angel. But I want you to know it was the right thing. I think I may have a chance now, to be happy again.
I can only wish the same for you.
Love,
Spike."
He read the letter, walked over to his table, dipped the edge of the paper in the candle's flame, and watched it burn.
"She'll never get it now." He spun around, to see Buffy looking intently at him. "I forgot something."
"Yeah?" He looked at the crypt floor, not seeing anything out of place. "What?"
"This." She stepped towards him, slowly. She reached out for him, pulled him close, rested her head on his chest and sighed. When she looked up at him, his eyes were fearful, reluctant, but she gently rested her hand on the back of his head and pulled him down into the kiss. It was deep, luscious, and she never wanted it to end.
He pulled back. "Buffy. I don't ..."
"I'm not using you. Not any more. If you don't want this, I'll go." When he didn't respond further, she turned and started to walk away. "Dinner," she called. "Tomorrow night. Don't forget."
"Buffy." The word stopped her. "Don't go."
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, spreading into a sunburst as she ran into his arms.
*****
The quality of mercy is not strained; it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. It is twice blessed: it blesseth him that gives and him that takes. Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes the throned monarch better than his crown.
But mercy is above this sceptered sway, it is enthroned in the heart of kings, it is an attribute to God himself; and earthly power doth then showest likest God's when mercy seasons justice.