Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my new foundation and Heat Magazine. Everything Buffy related belongs to the wonderful Joss Whedon.

Battlefield.

Chapter Fourteen: Our forever is over.

Courage, sacrifice, determination, commitment, toughness, heart, talent, guts. That's what little girls are made of; the heck with sugar and spice – Bethany Hamilton.

I toyed with the piece of paper for some time, rereading the limited words until they were etched front and centre in my brain, until Angel stalked into Faith's room, announcing that he had bathed our child with lots of fuss. I almost smiled at the pride in his voice. Stuffing the paper into my pocket when Angel had his eyes elsewhere, I grabbed the washing basket and left Faiths room. Meanwhile, as I headed downstairs, I could feel my heart pounding furiously in my chest.

I knew what I had to do. I had known since my eyes had first allowed the roughly scribbled words to sink into my mind.

Whenever I spilt something – milk, water, food, anything that was able to be spilt – my Mom always taught me to clean it up without asking her to do it. It was funny how life was like that as well – you make a mess, you clean it up yourself. I suddenly found myself thanking Mom for her unrecognizable-at-the-time life lessons.

I dumped the basket on the kitchen table and left it there as I headed back upstairs. I was positive that later on Mom would scold me for just dumping it there without bothering to unload the dirty washing into the washing machine, though at the moment I couldn't care less. I returned back upstairs just in time to see Angel put the final article of clothing on Evelyn's now dry body. She wasn't struggling, which surprised me, although I guessed that she had tired herself out from all the fuss she had given her Daddy in the bathroom. As soon as she was fully clothed, I swept her out of his arms and cuddled her to my chest. Angel stood up, the soaked towel bundled in his arm, and pressed a kiss to each of our foreheads. After he left the room, I pressed my nose to Evelyn's hair, breathing in her breathtaking scent.

'Mommy loves you so much,' I whispered as I walked over to her cot, 'and I'm doing this to protect you.'

Cradling her in one arm, I used the other to retract the piece of paper from Spike. Unfolding it with unsteady fingers, I bent down and placed it across the bottom of her cot.

I pressed one more kiss to my daughters head. 'I love you. I will always love you. This is the work that I have to do.'

I lay her down on top of the note, hiding it beneath her body, and took a step backwards to admire my gorgeous child.

As soon as I had decided to meet Spike at his old flat, I devised up a plan. Spike would know if I brought Angel with me, who I knew all along would be my backup if there ever did come a time when Spike would want us to meet, and I didn't doubt for a second that he was probably just bragging when he said he would know if I came alone or not, though Spike was sly and scheming and I didn't want to test him. So I thought … what if Angel came after I already arrived alone? Spike would never know that he was about to come, even Angel wouldn't know he was coming until after I had already left.

I grabbed my jacket from the bedpost and pulled it on. With one last glance at Evelyn, I threw open the bedroom door and headed downstairs.

As I had thought, Mom and Faith were both unpacking the groceries in the kitchen. Angel was sprawled out across the sofa, remote in hand, flicking through the channels. I walked over and pressed a kiss in his hair.

'I'm going out,' I said, turning my back on him and walking towards the door.

'Where?' Angel asked. Curiosity was evident in his tone.

'Just out,' I answered lamely.

My hand fell on the door knob. 'Angel, please remember to feed Evelyn in about half an hour.'

'Sure, but Buffy –'

The rest of his sentence was cut off as I shut the door behind me.

I was once again stood in front of the oak door, breathing in the same musty smell that had caused me to wrinkle my nose in pure disgust last time. The door was as dusty and unappealing as it was the previous time I visited. I took in a deep breath, gagging slightly at the awful smell, before allowing the tips of my fingers to push against the mouldy door. Unlike last time, it opened with a slight creek. There was no need for me to kick it open unfortunately.

And once again I was greeted by the outstanding cluttered mess that was Spike's flat. The same pizzas boxes still occupied the floor besides the foul and uncomfortable sofa. Everything that had littered the floor on my last visit – clothing, the shattered glass that used to be beer bottles, stripped wallpaper, and newspapers – was still in its original place, untouched. The only difference to the unattractive flat was the cheap coffee table was now stood upright in front of the sofa with a mug of some sort of liquid inside and the television had returned back to its place on the wooden cabinet. Over my shoulder, I glanced towards the back of the door. The picture of us in high school that I had smashed was no longer there.

'It's rude to just walk straight in, niblet,' I heard him say.

I had been unable to remember how his voice sounded all these years, now the memory of its hardness and how it always sounded mocking hit me like a slap to the face. In High school, all those many years ago that seem like a totally different lifetime, his voice was always soft and loving. How unrecognizable it was now.

'Like I was going to knock,' I replied, keeping my back to him.

Knocking on the door would have given him power, as though I needed him to open the door to allow myself in. It would make him feel in control. He wasn't in control, unknown to him … I had this game in the bag.

'I hope you teach little Evelyn her manners,' Spike mocked.

And I snapped as he knew I would.

I spun around, my teeth clenched, fists curled tightly. His piercing blue eyes found my hazel ones – he was laughing inside, I was furious. He was taller than me, as always, and I guessed he had maybe grown slightly more since the last time I had seen him. He was leant up against the wall; his hands shoved in his black combats pockets, with no shirt on to my dismay. His skin was the same colourless paleness that he had always moaned about. Once upon a time, I found that I loved how pale he was because it helped his beautiful eyes stand out. Now everything about him made me sick to the stomach.

'Don't you dare say her name,' I hissed.

I felt like wiping the smirk straight off his face. However I then remembered that Angel would be arriving within the next half an hour, I needed to leave him something of Spike that he could release his stress on. I gritted my teeth together, unravelled my iron clad fists, and took a steady breath.

'What do you want, Spike? Why did you drag me all the way down here?' I questioned as controllably as I could.

His smirk instantly vanished, along with the mocking vibe. A frown settled upon his pale face as he let out a small sigh. He seemed to struggle for words for a moment, as though they were choking him, before his lips parted and his now calm voice filled the silence.

'I want you back, Buffy,' he spoke clearly with pure determination.

My eyes widened.

'I don't want you though. You think ruining my best friends house, drawing creepy pictures of my Mom and abducting my daughter is going to make me run back into your arms like a fairytale? I've got news for you – my life is like a horror movie thanks to you.'

I couldn't wrap my mind around the fact that he would torture me in the most horrible ways, yet want me back. Over time he must have lost part of his sanity because this wasn't the same boy I fell in love with all those years ago.

'You want me, Buffy … you've always wanted me,' Spike said.

'Sure, I wanted you when I hit puberty but I'm in love with Angel, Spike, not you,' I replied honestly.

Spike's nose screwed up in disgust, as though my choice of soul mate made him want to vomit. I almost felt like rolling my eyes.

'Angel?' he questioned in his usual mocking tone. 'Pfft. That pillock doesn't love you … not as much as I do.'

Spike comparing his love for me to Angel's was the most hilarious thing I had ever heard. I couldn't even stop myself this time as a loud bark of laughter erupted from my mouth, startling Spike and succeeding in making me laugh even more. But after I had sobered up from the hilarity, the seriousness of the conversation overpowered me … and nothing was funny anymore.

'That pillock,' I spat, 'didn't rape me and kill our child. Angel loves me more than you cold heart will ever be capable of.'

After seeking forgiveness from my son, even if it was only in my mind, I had found that I was able to recall upon my past with strength now. My throat was unblocked and I could speak clearly of it. I now was able to understand that it had never been my fault, no matter how much I had allowed myself to think it was, it was more of Spike's fault than it ever was mine.

And suddenly, before I could predict what he was about to do, Spike fell to his knees in front of me and clasped my hand in his strong one. I tried to wriggle for freedom but freedom did not come.

'I've changed, Buffy. I swear, I'm a changed man now,' Spike whispered, begging for me to understand.

I merely snorted. 'Changed man? You've just spent months making my life hell on earth. Fuck sake, Spike, you could have killed me in that car accident!" I yelled for the first time since entering the vile flat.

People don't really change, we like to believe they do, but they don't. I think our thoughts, feelings and opinions obviously can, though the person themselves can't. Most people try to fool themselves that someone has changed – their cheating husbands, their rebellious children, their untrustworthy friends – and they are so blinded by what they want to see, that they don't see the true person actually there. Sometimes saying people have changed is just an excuse to understand their behaviour better. Me personally though, I don't believe anyone can change … not from who they truly are. My beliefs helped me in a time like this because I knew that I would never believe Spike had changed and I wouldn't try to fool myself like some many others.

'You can go straight to hell if you think I'm going to believe that bull shit,' I hissed, allowing myself to quickly pull my hand out of his as his grip loosened.

'I know that I'm a monster, but you make me feel like a man-'

'Urgh, Spike! Get it into your frickin' head! You are a monster, you're sick – you totally knock me sick! You raped me and then you smacked me in the face and I fell, Spike! I FELL DOWN THEM FUCKING STAIRS AND NO ONE WAS THERE TO CATCH ME! AND YOU KILLED OUR BABY! OUR BABY, SPIKE! THEN YOU COME HERE AND YOU RUIN EVERYTHING I'VE BUILT! YOU DESERVE TO ROT IN FUCKING HELL. YOU ARE A MONSTER!'

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest rapidly. Spike hadn't moved throughout my outburst; he just stood there, his narrowed eyes staring at me in a creepy sort of way. Every single emotion, every single word, that had been pent up since my departure from Michigan had been released finally … and it felt great! I knew I had never lost control in that way before, however at the moment I couldn't care because it was Spike – murderer of my child, murderer of my happiness, murderer of my life.

I saw Spike's hands trembling in fury, his eyes leaking all the fury he was experiencing within … and like a volcano, I knew he would erupt.

'You know it's true, Spike – don't fight it. We weren't right since High School; it all fell to pieces then. I'm happy now. I have Angel and my daughter and my friends –'

And so the volcano erupted …

'AND WHAT ABOUT ME, HUH? I LIVE IN A SHITHOLE, I DON'T HAVE A JOB, EVERYWHERE I FUCKING GO I AM REMINDED THAT YOU, YOU STUPID BITCH, ARE TELLING PEOPLE THAT I KILLED OUR CHILD! I HAVE FRIENDS HERE TOO! YOU THINK THEY AIN'T RANG ME UP AND ASKED ME ABOUT IT? WELL THEY FUCKING HAVE. I'M SORRY MY LIFE AIN'T AS FUCKING PERFECT AS YOURS!'

I didn't move an inch as he got up close into my face, spraying me with his spit as he stared me down with those once beautiful, now only haunted, set of deep blue eyes. I could see the vein in his forehead throbbing angrily. His teeth were gritted, his jaw set. His chest heaved.

'And what do you want me to do about it?' I hissed with deadly venom.

'I want you to fix it, bitch,' he spat.

'Why would I want to do anything for you?' I questioned as I took a step backwards, finding that the bold scent of his breath was making me feel quite sickly.

However my attempts to put some distance between me, Spike and his repulsing breath failed as he took a step closer, allowing no space to come between us. I chomped down on my lip, forcing my knee not to rise up and "accidently" collide with somewhere that would be rather painful.

'You just don't get it, do you Spike? Our forever is over. Gone, non-existent, ended. As soon as you get that into your thick skull, you can move on,' I said.

'What if I don't want to move on?' Spike asked, the trembling of his fury decreasing slightly.

'Try. Me and you – we're never going to happen, not again. I learn from my mistakes.'

Spike spun round and delivered a sharp kick to the coffee table. It toppled over with a large clatter. The mug that had been positioned on there, holding some sort of muddy looking liquid, shattered on the floor, the liquid flowing. My eyes darted from the mess to Spike. He sure had an anger problem. I didn't know how I had missed that when I had been dating him.

'I am no mistake,' he hissed.

'You … are … the … biggest … mistake … of … my … life,' I spoke out sharply and clearly.

His eyes narrowed into slits. They were dark – extremely dark. I couldn't recognize the beautiful blue colour they possessed. His face scrunched up into fury. Everything turned deeper and darker. I recognized that face, I had seen this side of him before, and it was only as the memory of me falling down the stairs embedded into my brain that I realised his fists were screwed up tightly by his side, quivering like a maniac.

My eyes clamped shut, blackening everything out. I didn't want to see his fist rise and smack me in the face, I much preferred him getting it over with and giving Angel a reason to tear him limb from limb then burn the pieces.

I waited.

And just as I opened my eyes slightly and saw his hand shaking inches away from me, the door burst open.

I was saved.

WOOOOOOOO! ANGEL IS HERE TO KICK SOME ASS! YESS! ABOUT TIME, DON'T YOU ALL THINK?!

I THINK THERES ONLY TWO MORE CHAPTERS LEFT IF IM BEING HONEST :(

AND I'M NOT HAPPY. BUT DON'T WORRY … I AM WRITING A NEW BUFFY/ANGEL FIC – BUT THIS ONE IS SUPERNATURAL THEMED! OH YES!

SO, PLEASE REVIEW! LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! AND I APOLOGISE FOR THE VILE LANGUAGE – BUT SPIKE IS VILE AND BUFFY IS PEEVED!

LOTS OF LOVE,

BETH! X