DIVERSION

PART 2:

It seemed they'd stood like that for an hour, although she knew in reality it couldn't be more than a minute. She wanted to see his face, needed to know what he was thinking, but that would mean moving nearer to him and she couldn't do that yet.

This was getting ridiculous. She tossed her hair back in exasperation,

"So what? You going to quiet me to death?"

She thought she saw something, a change of expression, it was hard to tell when he was so completely hidden in shadow. Why didn't he DO something? Every inch of her was tense, ready for whatever he might throw at her, verbal or physical. Even so she was still unprepared for the sudden awkward move forward, the abrupt clearing of the throat.

"Sorry...sorry. It's just...it's been a while. I'd forgotten..."

He stopped as he realised that she could see his face now. It too looked different, the angles a little softer, his eyes a little bluer, if that were possible, and above his face...what had possessed him to do that?

"Your hair!"

She could barely keep the surprise and dismay out of her voice, realised it made her sound like Cordelia, shallow; like 'you're wearing THAT?'. He was smiling now, a little ruefully, passing his fingers through it with a sort of bemused expression.

"Yeah. Yeah. The bleach, it was getting a bit...eighties you know. Plus, you've no idea how hard it is to find that stuff in the middle of the Namibian desert. That and the nail polish remover..."

He registered the surprise on her face and the smile faded, to be replaced by something else, a look bordering on contrition. She felt him trying to read her, to understand what was going through her mind. Was she still angry with him? Hurt? Did she still want to kill him? Or was it worse, did she feel nothing. Bored maybe? She frowned, shook her head a little.

"A....ha."

And he was moving towards her now, slow, hesitant. So unSpike.

"Buffy,"

he spoke her name rustily, as if the syllables hadn't passed his lips in years. She found herself unable to look at him, afraid of what she might see, what it might make her feel.

"I needed to go, I had to get as far away as possible, as fast as possible. The way I was feeling," he faltered, "what I did to you..."

his voice died away to a whisper and she risked a glance at him. His head was bowed now, the sight of the dark curls on his neck seeming so alien and yet still strangely familiar to her. She felt a stab of anger at herself, what was this? Did she feel sorry for him? Yeah, that's right - pity the poor animal who tried to rape her. Held her down, ignored her pleas to stop. But there was something there. Something other than the pain and the distrust and she let herself feel it.

It was good to see him.

She felt strange, standing here with him. She wondered what she would say if Xander walked in, right at this exact moment. She doubted that any of her friends would ever forgive his actions. They would understand them - but the fragile trust that he had built with Willow, with Dawn, that was gone. So where did that put him now? Where did he belong? They had barely tolerated him before but at least he had been reliable in one way, he would do anything to keep Buffy from harm, even if that meant risking his own skin to save her worthless friends. That had been their protection from him and his one saving grace. Now she was pretty sure any of them would stake him as soon as look at him. Her head felt dizzy, what was it he wanted from her now anyway?

"You shouldn't have come back."

There, she had said it and she meant it. It would have been easier if he hadn't, for everyone. She could sense him looking at her again now but still couldn't bring herself to return his gaze. She started forward towards the door, half expecting him to catch her hand, but he didn't.

"I wasn't going to."

His voice was calm, no trace of the misery she knew he must be feeling and curiosity overcame her need for flight.

"So why then."

He reached into his pocket, fumbling for something wrapped in a cloth, again so awkward, so unSpike. A step forward.

"This."

His palm stretched out to her. On the surface lay a stone, like an emerald, bright green, but the centre glowed with a soft, moving light. She looked at it, then at him, considered her next words carefully,

"Pretty! But you know a postcard, that would have been nicer."

He frowned with annoyance and she saw it, the old Spike, Spikeness, he was pissed that she wasn't all 'oooohh!' over his expensive bauble. Expecting her to be grateful or something.

"Look Spike, it's all very sweet and everything but really, the money thing isn't such a big deal these..."

He interrupted her with almost Giles-like self-control,

"It's not for you. It's for Red."

Oh. Well, colour me embarrassed as hell. She examined his expression for a clue, but there was nothing. Still she didn't reach, didn't take it from him.

"So it's like a magic thing? Because that is so what she doesn't need right now..."

She caught herself mid-sentence. He didn't know about any of that. He'd left right before everything happened. She wondered how he react, what he'd say when she told him how close they'd all come, how much they had needed his help, how much she had needed it. And where had he been? Swanning around some desert, soaking up the sun - the moon - on some kind of head-trip thingy when he should have been here, helping without being asked as always. Saving Willow, saving....

"It's from Tara."

And now she couldn't think of anything. All words had gone. She looked from the stone to him again, back to the stone, asked questions with her eyes.

"The place I went," he didn't seem to want to explain but she obviously needed it, "I was after something. I wanted..." he stopped, started again,"I wanted to feel better, to be myself again. This demon that lives there, he's got a handle on the whole nether worlds thing, the dark magicks, I thought he could help me."

Her interest was peaked despite herself,

"Help you do what?"

He raised an eyebrow at her meaningfully,

"The chip." he tapped the side of his head, "One of their own docs couldn't get it out, I reckoned magic was the only answer."

She felt her skin begin to crawl with a slow dread. Was that it? Was that the difference she'd noticed? But before she could begin to react to that he silenced her,

"Don't worry, that's not what happened."

His expression was unreadable now and she couldn't tell what he was about to say next. She couldn't understand why he seemed so different, so calm, quietly authoritative.

"As I say, I wanted a quick fix but he wasn't going to give it to me. Said he could give me something else though, something better."

So that was it. He made a bargain with a demon, for this...whatever it was.

"And it's from...it's Tara's?"

He nodded once, eyes on hers. She had to ask,

"How do you know?"

His hand reached out, placed it in her palm and she felt her. A heat radiating out, down her arm, pouring out of it over her whole body, surrounding her with familiarity, with Tara and tears spilled from her eyes, hot, disbelieving and then it was gone. He had taken it back.

"Sorry. Should have warned you. It's pretty intense."

His voice was soft, filled with emotion as he carefully re-wrapped the stone. The tears wet her cheeks, like a blessing and she stared at him unable to vocalise what had just happened, what she had felt. What was that and where had he found it? Yet she knew there was no need for any answers, other than the one she had just been given.

"Spike, do you think...should Willow have it?"

A small smile.

"It belongs to her."

He was right. Whatever it was for, whatever the stone contained it was meant for Willow. He was looking at her again now, his head cocked, as if awaiting her next move.

"Maybe I should be the one to take it to her though. She's not allowed to see....it's only close friends and family at the moment."

He stirred as if waking for a dream, realised her meaning.

"Right, you're right. Just..." he hesitated, "Give her my...you know."

and his hand came out again passing it back to her, their fingers brushing. He jerked back quickly with a start, but that moment was as long as it had taken. Her eyes were wide now, wider than before and he was backing away.

"Give me your hand!"

It was less of a command, more of a plea, but he wasn't going to listen. His hands were in his pockets, his eyes cast down to the floor, his voice cracked,

"No. It's not why...this isn't why I came back. I promised her, I said I'd bring the stone but that was all."

But she was reaching for his face, his neck, any bit of bare flesh she could find. He wasn't going to fight her, didn't want to and finally he let it happen, let her touch him, feel the warmth of his skin, his hands. He watched her face as she found a pulse, placed a palm flat on his bare chest.

"You're not cold. You're not cold."

That was all she could say, all she could keep repeating.

He slowly drew a breath, a deep one, let her see his lungs fill, let it out slowly into her hair as she bent her head to his chest to listen, an expression he'd never seen before in her eyes. Wonder. She was filled with it and it almost stopped his brand new heart beating for a second, such was the delight of seeing her smile in that way. How could he have even contemplated not coming back? Missing this? The childlike awe he himself still felt, every morning when he woke up to the rising sun, on that most beloved of faces.

"But how..."

She couldn't even finish the question, couldn't seem to get her head past the sound of his heart, his new smell, his mouth, she kept looking at his mouth.

"Sort of a freebie actually. Well, more of a bonus thing"

He could explain more later, right now he needed some space. Pulled away from her gently, stepped back towards the door. He couldn't get over her, the way she was just standing there now, in the ruin of his former home, shaking her head in amazement. He risked a smile, another small one,

"What are you thinking?"

Her eyes focused, unfocused with an almost comic gesture, the implication clear - her mind had just blown. She laughed once, abruptly,

"What am I...? Spike you're alive!!"

He couldn't resist, knew he shouldn't, but the timing was too sweet.

"Actually, I'd prefer William, if it's O.K with you."