Author: Mainecoon
Rating: G
Summary: This is crap. I am depressed. Enjoy.
...
"Spike?"
"Oh! Um. H'lo, Buffy. Lovely evening, isn't it?"
"Spike... what are you doing here?"
Spike looked down, feigning surprise at finding himself standing on Buffy's porch steps. "Here? Well, I was just…"
Buffy sighed heavily. "Spike, I don't have time for this."
"Yes, I know, but…"
"If you're still here at any foreseeable time in the future, you're ash. Got it?"
Spike nodded resignedly.
"Good." Buffy brushed past him and disappeared into the night without another word. But rather than leaving, Spike simply sat on the steps and gazed into the shadows. He was interrupted soon enough, anyway.
"Spike, dear, what are you doing?" Joyce asked, poking her head from the kitchen door. Spike leaped to his feet.
"Oh, nothing. Just leaving. Sorry."
"Oh, stop that. I can tell there's something bothering you. Why don't you come on in? I'll make you a cup of cocoa." She turned back into the house. After a moment of hesitation, Spike followed.
Inside, Joyce boiled some water for cocoa. "Don't mind my daughter getting snippy," she said. "She doesn't mean half of what she says in that tone."
"I know," Spike murmured.
They didn't speak again until the kettle announced its presence with a loud whistle. Joyce prepared two cups of cocoa and set one in front of Spike - extra marshmallows, of course. Just how he liked it.
"So," Joyce said. "Why don't you tell me what you were doing lurking about on the porch?"
"Lurking? I…" Spike saw Joyce's encouraging smile, that little upward tilt at the corners of her mouth. An expression he knew too well. "I… just needed to be with… someone."
"Any particular someone?"
"No." Spike sipped the cocoa. "This is real good, Joyce."
"Always is."
"Uh-huh…"
Joyce pulled up a chair and sat beside Spike. "You're always welcome here, you know."
"Uh-huh…"
"Never mind what Buffy says. It's a tough job being responsible for the well-being of the entire world. I know it's difficult enough trying to be responsible for the well-being of two girls."
Spike nodded. "I know. She's…. too young. She should be… you know… out looking at those stupid girly magazines with a bunch of cheerleaders or something, shouldn't she? I mean, doesn't everyone deserve that? Friends, I mean."
"Funny words from a vampire."
"You ever been 126 years old?"
"Nope. Don't intend to either."
"Good. Don't. It's… well, it's damn miserable, that's what it is."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. You learn eventually that nothing lasts. When you're mortal, it doesn't matter because you don't last either, and there's always a chance of something outliving you. Love, you know. Friendship. That sort of thing. But after 126 years… What's left other than the same bloody people doing the same bloody things, repeating the same… bloody… damn… words…. Over and over and over until you can quote them!"
"That bad, huh?"
Spike put the cup down on the table and met Joyce's eyes. "You know, you're the first person I've met who's really, truly seemed to give a damn about me since my parents? And I can't even remember them! I only know that some things happened, but I don't really remember. It's like knowing that the Civil War happened. It seems like I wasn't there for my own childhood."
"It's lonely at the top, isn't it?"
"Well… yeah! Saddest part is, after all this time, you'd think I'd stop caring. You'd think I'd be immune to all this mortal tripe. But I'm not. That's the worst part, you know? 'Cause after all this time… it still hurts to be alone…" Spike's eyes filled with tears. He looked away, ashamed.
"You're not alone, Spike. No one is alone. No, you're never alone." Joyce wrapped her arms around Spike's shoulders and pulled him closer to her. It had been so long since he had felt that kind of embrace, the kind of safety only a mother could truly offer. He barely remembered it. It was more like finding something that had been missing since before he knew it was even there to begin with. As Joyce held him, his tears began to fall in earnest. He sobbed quietly while Joyce rocked him in her arms. "Shhh…. It's all right…. You're all right… I'm here, sweetie… You go ahead and cry, I'm here…"
He didn't know how long they sat together. He only knew he didn't want it to end. But eventually, his tears stopped coming. Eventually, he slumped back, exhausted, into the chair. Joyce ran her cool hands over his cheeks and forehead as she would have done for her own child. Spike felt drained.
"Spike, sweetie, do you want to rest here a while?"
Spike looked up at her through his clouded eyes. "Here…?"
"We've got a place in the basement."
"But, Buffy…"
"Oh, beans to Buffy. She's got better things to worry about, I'm sure. Come on." Joyce took his hand and led him down to the basement, where she made a sort of nest for him with blankets. "There you go. Now, sleep. I don't think anyone will trouble you here."
Spike curled up in the blankets. "Joyce?"
"Yes, dear?"
"Could you… sit with me a little while longer? Just…. Just until…"
"Not a word more, Spike. Of course." And true to her word, Joyce knelt beside him, gently rubbing his shoulders, until long after he had fallen into a deep sleep.