Author Note: This Missing Scene is set around the time of 'Doublemeat Palace'. Agnsty-awkward conversation, about a raw subject.
Chance of Life
Entering his crypt Spike was pleased to find Buffy sitting there, waiting for him. He was less pleased when he saw she had that distanced look on her face again, though. More unshed tears in her eyes.
"Buffy?" he asked, reaching out to stroke her cheek. She flinched away, and his heart sank.
'Is this the day she finally ends it?' he wondered to himself, as he sat opposite her.
"What's wrong?"
Buffy looked at him, then shook her head a little as she cast her eyes elsewhere around the room. She had her arms wrapped around herself, and she pulled them tighter as she said, "You wouldn't understand."
Spike made a scoffing sound, and suddenly her eyes were back on his. She'd have glared him into the ground, if she could.
"Really full of yourself, aren't you?"
He shrugged. "Reckon I gotta be, since you have no faith in me."
Buffy sighed. "This really isn't about you."
"Fine!" he snapped, standing up. "Maybe it's not my business, and maybe I wouldn't understand, but I'm willing to damn well try."
Lowering his tone, he continued, "You're here because you know I'll try. Because you don't dare open up to anyone else. So here I am" – he spread his arms wide in front of her – "Open up whenever you want. Ready an' waiting, tha's me."
"I hate how you're right," Buffy admitted, which made Spike crack a grin.
"Thanks, pet."
"Ugh!" she groaned, throwing herself further back into the couch. "It's everything, and it's nothing. When did life become so complicated?!"
"When you started having one again," Spike hedged. "…or maybe when you started being able to create it, again."
Another hard stare from her to him, but different from before. He knew he'd guessed correctly.
"Can smell you Slayer," he explained, to which she gave him a horrified look.
"You're disgusting."
"Hey, now, none o' that. Can't help the senses I got. Add a basic fact to a little intuition and, yeah, I think I'm able to understand. It's your first one since you were resurrected, right?"
"We are so not talking about this."
"Why? You think chattin' about periods is gonna scare me off? There jus' another fact of life, Buffy."
"Don't say that."
"Right, okay, 'cause that's the real problem, init? It's what they represent. The ability to have sprogs. To give life. From your prospective, as one who takes lives – one who's lost her own life more than once – I can see why-"
"I don't take lives," Buffy interrupted.
"Yeah," he flashed her a mocking smirk. "Because demons don't count as real beings. Our lives don't matter."
"That's right," she ground out. Spike's faux smile dropped, then, and he got in her face.
"You don't believe that."
Buffy was trembling, just ever so slightly, but she refused to give in. She bit her lip, to stop herself.
The smirk returned at her silence, but it was more genuine the second time round. "No," he repeated, "You don't believe that."
She looked away from him. "Am I a bad person?" she asked, in a small voice. "Is this fate, or the powers that be, or life itself taunting me?"
Finally the wall that had been holding back her tears broke, and one trickled loose at her words.
"No, Buffy," Spike reassured her, before amending: "Well, not any more than anyone else."
Closing her eyes, the Slayer wiped angrily at them. "Why am I freaked?"
"Because you forgot what it felt like to feel stuff. An' havin' your monthlies reminds you that you're human, tha' your a woman, who can have kids."
"Please stop talking about kids!" she pleaded. "And stop being insightful, it's freaking me more."
Nudging her over, where she sat, Spike placed himself down beside her and lit a cigarette. Unthinkingly he offered her one, too. And to his great surprise she actually did take it – not to light, of course, but to twirl in her fingers.
"You did ask," he finally responded. His eyes were transfixed on the careful movement of the white stick in her hand. Reckoned she was seeing some kind of metaphorical significance in that, too, but decided not to mention it.
"Look, Buffy, I know havin' a normal life an' family is a sore issue for you."
"Ha! You have no idea!"
"Bloody hell," he exclaimed, snatching the cigarette back from her so she'd look at him again. "You want to believe I don't understand you. That's why you get all pissed when I say somethin' that proves I do."
"Shut up!" she snapped – standing up. "Just stop talking!"
Spike took a deep breath.
"Tense, luv?" he asked, softly. Sincerely.
Buffy was gonna respond with a emphatic 'duh' but he spoke again first.
"I could give you a massage? Help you relax."
She looked down at the floor again and released a sigh. "Yeah, that'd be nice."
