Homecoming pt. 11
Spike pushed the bedroom door closed with his foot, before the others could follow them in. He carefully laid Buffy on the bed and knelt beside it. "Wake up, love," he said gently, "It's okay. It really is."
Buffy opened her eyes and looked at Spike. "Who are you?" she asked.
"Buffy?"
"I mean, who are you really, Spike?" she stared at him, her face betraying no emotion. "You come back after all this time, and you tell me you still love me. You want me to be with you. But you leave out one little all important detail. How am I supposed to trust you now?"
"I wanted to tell you. I was going to tell you." He put his hand on hers, but she pulled back. "You're so weak. I didn't want to upset you."
"Upset me. Right." Her lip quivered and tears dropped from her eyes. "I can't do it. I can't kill you now. It's too late."
"Buffy, my sweet love, you won't have to kill me. I'll never give you cause."
"But Anya," she sniffed back the tears, trying to look at his face, trying to believe, "she told me that you hurt Xander. Threw him against the wall."
"And he's fine, isn't he? If I really wanted to hurt him, I would of. Everything, killing, feeding, it doesn't matter to me now. Making you happy, getting you well, that's all that matters." He reached out for her hand again, and this time she let him take it.
"How?" she asked. "The chip. Why?"
"You know how it was, before I left. I thought you hated me. I hated myself. Knew I couldn't live like that anymore, feet in two worlds. I needed to be me. Get rid of the chip. Maybe I'd changed. Maybe I was still that evil thing you were afraid of, but I had to know." He felt her squeeze his hand, and he sat on the edge of the bed. "I heard about someone, a wise man, who could help. Don't laugh, but they said he could give me a soul."
"You wanted a soul? For me?" she asked.
"No, bugger it, for me." He cupped her cheek in his palm, as she smiled up at him. "Don't smile yet. I've something else to tell you." He paused, like he hoped something would interrupt him, like a convenient apocalypse. When it wasn't forthcoming, he continued. "The night I found out that I could hurt you, remember, not long before we ... Well, I wanted to know if the chip still worked. So I found a young woman, alone in an alley, and I talked myself into biting her. I couldn't of course, not with the chip, and it wasn't as easy as it used to be, but I did try."
She considered his words. "You didn't bite her."
"But I would have. I wanted you to know. That's the sort of thing I needed to understand about myself, whether I was still a killer. Whether I was worth loving. And if it proved I couldn't do it myself, then dammit, I'd get me a poncy soul of my own."
"Did you get a soul?" She looked into his eyes, to see if they seemed different than she'd remembered.
"Wise man told me I didn't need a soul. That love was enough. Then he worked a little mumbo jumbo, and voila, chipless. Funny thing was, I didn't care about the killin' anymore. Realized I hadn't for a long time. The old git was right; love had changed me. So here I am."
She reached out for him. "And here you are."
The voice outside the door was loud and angry. "Yeah, I'm happy she's breaking up with him! But it's too damn quiet in there. What if he's hurt her? Get your hand off me Giles, I'm going in." The door swung open to reveal Buffy and Spike, wrapped in each others' arms on the bed.
Spike looked up at the intruder. "Hello, Harris. Never learned how ta knock?"
Spike pushed the bedroom door closed with his foot, before the others could follow them in. He carefully laid Buffy on the bed and knelt beside it. "Wake up, love," he said gently, "It's okay. It really is."
Buffy opened her eyes and looked at Spike. "Who are you?" she asked.
"Buffy?"
"I mean, who are you really, Spike?" she stared at him, her face betraying no emotion. "You come back after all this time, and you tell me you still love me. You want me to be with you. But you leave out one little all important detail. How am I supposed to trust you now?"
"I wanted to tell you. I was going to tell you." He put his hand on hers, but she pulled back. "You're so weak. I didn't want to upset you."
"Upset me. Right." Her lip quivered and tears dropped from her eyes. "I can't do it. I can't kill you now. It's too late."
"Buffy, my sweet love, you won't have to kill me. I'll never give you cause."
"But Anya," she sniffed back the tears, trying to look at his face, trying to believe, "she told me that you hurt Xander. Threw him against the wall."
"And he's fine, isn't he? If I really wanted to hurt him, I would of. Everything, killing, feeding, it doesn't matter to me now. Making you happy, getting you well, that's all that matters." He reached out for her hand again, and this time she let him take it.
"How?" she asked. "The chip. Why?"
"You know how it was, before I left. I thought you hated me. I hated myself. Knew I couldn't live like that anymore, feet in two worlds. I needed to be me. Get rid of the chip. Maybe I'd changed. Maybe I was still that evil thing you were afraid of, but I had to know." He felt her squeeze his hand, and he sat on the edge of the bed. "I heard about someone, a wise man, who could help. Don't laugh, but they said he could give me a soul."
"You wanted a soul? For me?" she asked.
"No, bugger it, for me." He cupped her cheek in his palm, as she smiled up at him. "Don't smile yet. I've something else to tell you." He paused, like he hoped something would interrupt him, like a convenient apocalypse. When it wasn't forthcoming, he continued. "The night I found out that I could hurt you, remember, not long before we ... Well, I wanted to know if the chip still worked. So I found a young woman, alone in an alley, and I talked myself into biting her. I couldn't of course, not with the chip, and it wasn't as easy as it used to be, but I did try."
She considered his words. "You didn't bite her."
"But I would have. I wanted you to know. That's the sort of thing I needed to understand about myself, whether I was still a killer. Whether I was worth loving. And if it proved I couldn't do it myself, then dammit, I'd get me a poncy soul of my own."
"Did you get a soul?" She looked into his eyes, to see if they seemed different than she'd remembered.
"Wise man told me I didn't need a soul. That love was enough. Then he worked a little mumbo jumbo, and voila, chipless. Funny thing was, I didn't care about the killin' anymore. Realized I hadn't for a long time. The old git was right; love had changed me. So here I am."
She reached out for him. "And here you are."
The voice outside the door was loud and angry. "Yeah, I'm happy she's breaking up with him! But it's too damn quiet in there. What if he's hurt her? Get your hand off me Giles, I'm going in." The door swung open to reveal Buffy and Spike, wrapped in each others' arms on the bed.
Spike looked up at the intruder. "Hello, Harris. Never learned how ta knock?"