Chapter 11

"We should bring these to Joe." Buffy said at last. She stretched, her neck kinked from having snuggled with Spike. Those were words she never thought would pass through her mind. But that's what they had done, snuggled and talked about the songs they had, the melodies. She knew that eventually they would have to discuss Sunnydale, but for now they could pretend it didn't exist.
"I dunno. I'm not exactly eager to go back out into that infernal sunshine." Spike said.
"Maybe it could wait then." Buffy agreed. She sat back down on the bed, but jumped up again as if the bed had bit her. "No. Let's go." She was at the door within seconds. Spike sighed. He was so close, but she just wouldn't let him in. Part of him didn't blame her, but part of him was furious, and desperate. She teased him with kisses and words, letting him believe he would find peace in her at last.
"WE can go." Spike stood up and grabbed his coat.
"I'm sorry." Buffy whispered as he walked past her.
"I know." Spike answered.
They arrived at the studio and there was someone waiting for them. "Have I seen you before mate?" Spike asked the young black guy.
"You might have seen me at Angel's the other day."
"What do you want?" Buffy pushed Spike behind her and drew herself up.
"Relax. Angel sent me to talk to you. He got a call from your pals in Sunnydale. He didn't want to mess in your business but he wanted to relay the message that they're missing you at home. Ya dig?" She shrugged. The young man continued. "I've done it before. Went back on friends. Make sure you're doing it for the right reasons. I'm Gunn by the way." Gunn strolled off, his message having been given.
"Strange." Spike grabbed the door and entered the building, not waiting for Buffy.
"You have more stuff! Excellent!" Joe put his arm around both Buffy and Spike, guiding them towards the booth.
"Wait. Shouldn't we go over those other songs? I thought you were going to add a beat to them?" Buffy said, confused. The look on Joe's face faltered for a moment.
"Of course." He turned directions and led them to another room with white walls and a long table in the center. He left them and came back a couple minutes later with a man and a boom box.
"Hello, I'm Don. I used the recordings and added some music. You can tell me what you think." He turned the boom box on and their voices filled the room. Spike's song had a nice electric guitar sound filling the back while Buffy's had a rolling piano melody.
"That sounds like a crappy top 40's pop song." Spike whispered. "No offense."
"None taken." Buffy grinned.
"It could use a little work mate, but not bad."
"What about getting into the studio with the new songs?" Joe injected.
"Why you so eager mate? Genius takes time." Spike asked Joe, suspiciously.
"I'm not. Just thought you two were."
"I don't mind." Buffy said, trying to be the peacemaker of the situation. They went into the booth and reordered the songs.
When they came out Buffy was leaning on Spike.
"Are you alright my dear? You look flushed?" Joe questioned Buffy. Her brow was furrowed.
"I think I'm fine. It was just stuffy in there. I'm sure I'll be fine once I get some fresh air."
"Well then I'll see you two bright and early tomorrow?"
"Hey mate, I'm curious. When do we see some cash?" Spike felt Buffy press her hand into his, signaling she wanted to leave.
"Soon enough." Joe smiled his sleazy smile. They left the building and Buffy took some deep gulps of fresh air.
"What's wrong Buffy?"
"I'm not sure. When we went in I started to feel weird, and kinda queasy. Now that I think about it, I felt that way last time too. It wasn't as bad."
"Maybe you're allergic to something in there. Or is could just be the stuffiness."
"You're probably right."
"So I was thinking, we need a name for our little duo."
"Why not just Spike and Buffy…wait that sounds lame." Buffy snorted.
"Exactly my point."
"Well it should be something meaningful. Something we're about."
"You sound like some sort of Girl Scout."
"Let me guess, you used to eat them?"
"No. I liked the cookies." Buffy rolled her eyes. She would never get used to the random stuff he said.
"The Lost Youth."
"What Slayer?"
"The Lost Youth. The album will be called Starting over. Both of us, we had these screwed up lives and now we're starting over." Buffy snapped her fingers in satisfaction.
"The lost youth." Spike repeated. "It has a nice edge. I like it."
"Uh huh." After speaking her idea, Buffy tuned out sleepily.
"Buffy. Did you hear anything I just said?"
"Something about an album cover?" She guessed.
"You don't look good." She stumbled into Spike, her hand landing on his chest.
"I'm fine." Buffy gulped.
"Come here." Spike reached for her and she succeeded, letting him lift her into a piggy back.
They went back to the motel and Spike dumped Buffy off onto her bed. He took her shoes off for her and went over to his bed. He opened the case of his new guitar and took it out. He rubbed his hand across the smooth wood surface and put his fingers on the strings. He plucked at the strings, trying to recall the different chords.
Slowly his fingers started moving more surely, until a haunting melody began to flow from his fingers.
\\My baby
I'm afraid
That we'll be stuck in our past
We've tried running but we always go back

And I know we can't live in yesterday
Cos you're all I know of tomorrow
So we keep going on
Together
Looking for a place to rest
I could ride the wind, with you by my side
But without us
I cannot survive

When you went away
I felt a chill always in the air
The world got so cold
And I hate to remember
Why do I remember?
We can' t look back

A darkness creeps upon me
And I sink back into death
When I think about how far I've come
And what I will lose
If I can't go forward
Without slipping back

My baby
I'm afraid
That we'll be stuck in our past
We've tried running forward but we always go back//
Spike muffled a sob, as it escaped from his throat. He hated how he could be so violent then so emotional. So sensitive. His darkness was supposed to take away all that feeling, so he could live blissfully free of it. Yet it inspired him, drove him, to create and be tortured.
Had they really come anywhere from where they started? They still fought, and bickered, They snarled and punched. But also there was lust and something else. He gave her love but she didn't give it back. Not yet. She gave him want, and need. She begged him to fill her full of Now, so she wouldn't be hungry for Then. Because Then was pain. Then was something she was running from. Then was something she couldn't escape. And neither could he.
Even at that moment, Spike could feel the chill in the air. The one he had sung of. She seemed so far away, in sleep. But he knew how close he was, able to slip inside her nightmares. But even then he could not comfort her. She was beyond comfort it seemed, walking through this world's hell fires. Caught in the fire.
He heard Buffy stirring and put his guitar down, wiping away the embarrassing tears. "Spike." She propped herself up on her elbows. "I heard you playing guitar. Were you? Or was it in my dream?"
"Did you have a good dream?" Spike asked, ignoring the question. The way she looked at him gave him hope.
"I I did." She smiled. "You were there. And you were singing to me, and I felt better, and I felt ok."
"I was. I wrote another song."
"Ok." She closed her eyes again, seemingly too exhausted to bother. Spike put the guitar back and smiled. He was finally getting through to her.