Eleven: CATHARSIS
With Buffy settled in bed, Spike switched off all but the inverted shade lamp in the corner by the bed. In the dim light, he sat on the floor taking in all the food he'd been brought, realizing only then how famished he truly was. Physically fortified, but emotionally drained, he decided to prepare himself for the night so he crept out of Buffy's room to the master bedroom.
When he was shopping for Dawn earlier that day, Spike picked up some pajamas, figuring (and rightly so) that wandering in his regular sleeping attire (i.e. the nude) probably wasn't the best idea with an impressionable teen in the house. As long as Spike was a guest in the Summers' home, he would have to be more modest. He tossed his jeans and T-shirt on the bed then slipped on the loose fitting drawstring pants. From a small travel duffle, he took his shaving bag and proceeded to the bathroom.
Shaving was so different now that he could actually see himself. After doing it for more than 120 years without a reflection though, he rarely bothered to look up even now. Spike was still, for all intents and purposes, a tactile guy.
After shaving, he brushed and flossed his teeth, gave his hair a tousle, relieved himself then, leaving the bag behind in the bathroom, returned to Buffy.
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She looked so peaceful there, bundled beneath her down-filled covers, pale tawny hair splayed out on the pillow like a halo around her face.
"So beautiful," came his barely audible remark. How much he wanted to curl up next to her, to comfort her, to be with her. God. I want her.
Tonight that was not to be. He needed to be invited to her bed, not enter it when she was unable to deny him. Instead he pulled the extra pillow from Buffy's bed and took a blanket from her closet. For a bloke who's spent the better part of the last century sleepin' on stone and in rat-infested hovels, this isn't so bad, he tried to convince himself as he settled down on the floor, knowing too well where he'd rather be.
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As the early morning light streamed through the bedroom window, Spike roused from a restful sleep. Clearly the blood loss had taken a toll, as he met sleep with relative ease and maintained it for the balance of the night. Sitting up, he glanced to the bed to find Buffy gazing at him with a still blank stare and flat face. At least she's rolled over. That's progress, he thought optimistically.
He raised himself to kneel. "Good morning, Buffy," he chirped softly, grazing her cheek with his hand. "Did you sleep alright, luv?" Spike waited for a response, but neither expected nor received one. "Well, I had a lovely sleep here. I'm feeling right strong this morning. Just a little rest was all I needed."
Still Buffy's eyes were vacant.
Spike wanted something, anything but that empty expressionless look. He sat down beside her and pulled her up to sit. Briefly, he contemplated slapping her across the face and shaking her until she came around, but that hadn't worked the night with Glory. No sense expecting anything different now, he figured. 'Sides, no gates o' Hell openin' up. No need to rush this.
Taking her chin in his hand to guide her face to his, he peered deep into her eyes searching for recognition --- cool penetrating blue meeting wide dull green. "Buffy. I need you to look at me. I need to know you're in there, luv. Please," he begged. "I've been apart from you too bloody long. I know I was a stupid git for leavin'. an evil bastard for trying to do to you what I did. But please Buffy. I've already lost you once. Can't stand doin' it again. Yeah, me bein' selfish," he chuckled half-heartedly.
"You know, the one good memory I have from you bein' gone was the night you came back to me... or to... to us, Buffy," Spike stammered. "You looked so sad when you came down those stairs, but oh, so beautiful, luv. I wanted to throw my arms around you then. like now. Make everything better. Take away all your hurt.
"I know you never believed me. I know you thought I was a monster." With a shrug, he added, "Bloody hell, maybe you still do --- bverything I've done these past years I've done for you. Oh." He let out a heavy breath. ".not to win you over, not to make you love me. I did it all because I love you. You made me want to be a better man," he declared proudly.
"Please luv, come back to me. I need you. I love you. You've got to come back. I'm nothing without you, my beautiful Buffy." His eyes shimmered like the warm azure waters of the Caribbean as tears welled up in them. He squeezed his eyes tightly to let the water that had collected in them cascade down his cheeks. As he opened them again and refocused on Buffy, he saw a single tear slide down her pale cheek. "Buffy?" he whispered then he managed a strained but hopeful smile.
As he reached to brush away the tear, she snatched his hand pressing it to her face.
The joy he felt at that swift and unexpected movement overtook him and he began to weep. He pulled her hand to his lips and, dropping his head, he peppered it with delicate warm kisses. His head still down with her hand pulled to his mouth, he felt her other hand grasp his head, pulling it to her chest.
As she held him there, the tears began to flow between them like rain. "Spike," Buffy's voice quivered. "I'm sorry. Sorry I couldn't help you. Sorry for all the terrible things I said to you. did to you. Sorry I couldn't believe you. Sorry I denied loving you." Buffy was unloading months if not years of stored emotion. "I was afraid. Oh, so afraid that it wasn't really you, that it was the chip making you..." she sobbed gasping for breath. "It wasn't your fault. Any of it. It's Angel..."
Hearing the name of his grand-sire struck a hurtful blow. Great. That Poof's still got hold of you?! Let him go, Buffy. He doesn't deserve you. But Spike kept mum to let the girl have her say.
"I mean... he was everything to me: my first love... and then when we... and he lost his soul... The things he said to me." she sniffled. "I was crushed. I know that's when I started to build up walls around my heart. Walls I was so afraid to let anyone break down. I didn't want to risk that kind of hurt again." She rubbed her eyes. "Don't you see? It was so much easier for me to believe you had some kind of agenda. That you wanted something from me. Or to think the chip was in control, holding you back... and one day it would stop working, and it would be like with Angel all over again," she huffed. "I guess I just I didn't want to believe that you could choose to do good, choose love me even without a soul when Angel couldn't," she choked. "I always thought of Angel as my one perfect love. But when you left... when I realized you might never come back, I knew-- knew that the pain I felt in losing you was so much worse than when Angel left me.
"Spike." She gathered all the composure she could muster, looked him square in his teary blue eyes and said with an outpouring of such sincerity and sentiment that overwhelmed them both, "I love you. I have for a long time, even before you went away. I loved you as the demon. I love you as the man. Please, don't ever leave me. Please..."
Unable to restrain himself any longer, Spike took her mouth with his own searing kiss and together they fell into the soft down-filled cloud upon her bed. As they broke that kiss, he looked at her with her eyes wide and the gates to her heart thrown open. This is what I've waited for all my life, he thought.
Looking deep into his eyes, she saw the pure elation in him at that moment and felt his love pour out to her, bathing her in its warmth embrace. I've waited for my whole life for this, she knew.