Author: C. A. Brown
Rating: PG (at least for now)
Summary: After Africa. After she knows. During his "moments" of clarity. Before forgiveness.
Written because, more than anything, I just want Spike and Buffy to talk to each other.
Part One of (possibly) three parts. All parts can be found on my web page at:
http://users.dialupnet.com/cbrownjc1/hodgepodge/index.html
Spoilers: All for season six. Up to the latest news and rumors for season seven.
Disclaimer: Joss owns them. I don't. End of story.
Distribution: Please ask first.
Feedback: Please. How can I know if it sucks or not?
Notes: This is my first time writing Buffy fanfiction. I don't know if I completely have all
the voices of the characters, but I'm trying hard to. Also, this story is not beta-ed. If you see
any glaringly obvious mistakes, please just e-mail, or review and tell me.
* * * * * * *
Dawn Summers watched her sister head for the front door, a large brown grocery bag in her arms. "Where are you going?"
"Just out for a little while. I'll stop back in for you, and take you to patrol with me tonight, okay?"
"You're going to see Spike, aren't you?"
Buffy stopped by the door and turned back to face her little sister, her eyebrows raised, questioning. Answering the silent query, Dawn gestured to the shopping bag in Buffy's arms. "Hot Wings. Extra spicy, which you hate. I could smell them when you walked through the dining room."
Buffy's lips curled into a lopsided smile. Shrug. "I've got some pints of blood in here too. The Hot Wings are just . . . ." Buffy shrugged again, her voice trailing off.
Dawn, her arms now folded, eyes hard, said nothing.
Buffy put the bag down, and sighed. "Dawn, look--"
"No," Dawn said firmly, shaking her head. The anger, mixed with disappointment was Dawn's main emotion whenever the subject of Spike had ever come up, especially this past week. Buffy wondered what it said that her sister apparently felt more betrayed and angry
and hurt
by what had happened between her and Spike in the bathroom upstairs, than she did lately.
Or, maybe she was just trying to think of it less than Dawn was.
Especially now.
They still didn't know where he had gone to. When he had come back. How long he'd been back. When Buffy had asked him, before, he had babbled: "Yesterday. A month. Don't really know. Days, like months now."
She hadn't understood what he had meant at the time, and his answer had annoyed her.
After she knew, she understood. As best she was able to, at least.
Days, like months now . . .
She told the others, two days later. Willow and Giles were still in England, but she'd told Anya, Xander and Dawn. Even though she'd promised him. Even though he had begged her not to.
Don't tell them. Don't let Dawn know 'bout it, he'd rasped, voice breaking.
Like you didn't want to tell me, Spike? Buffy had wanted to ask. He didn't want to tell me, didn't want me to know, tried to hide it . . . .
Anya knew. Had known immediately, as it turned out. Advantage of being a demon. Getting the lowdown on violations of the laws of physics before anyone else.
Xander was thrown by it, though the fact of it hadn't tempered his hatred for Spike. Buffy doubted even a rip in the fabric of reality could do that.
Dawn's reaction had been a surprise, mostly because there wasn't one. She still seem to regard Spike in the same way she had when she'd finally come face to face with him again for the first time since he had left, and had threatened to kill him: anger, and unforgiveness.
And Buffy herself? How was Buffy Summers handling the news that her former mortal enemy/annoyance/stalker/lover had gone and reclaimed his human soul, on purpose, for reasons she did not completely know, but suspected?
If Spike were more lucid, he would be able to tell her what she was feeling, complete with snarky commentary. Because she had no words to describe her jumbled mass of feelings.
"Why are you doing this?" Dawn was now asking, arms folded in stubborn defiance.
"Dawn--" hesitant.
"No. Why, Buffy? After what happened? After what he did to you? Does having a soul change any of that? Does it really make you forgive him? Just like that?"
Forgive him? Do I forgive him?
She closed her eyes for a moment, and she could see it again, as if it had happened yesterday
yesterday, a month, don't really know
the cold tile on her sore back, the pain from hitting the side of the tub.
His face, above her. Pale. Human. Wild-eyed.
Not stopping, when she had begged him
trusted him
to.
Her stomach dropped. Deep breath. She reached down, picked up the grocery bag, and opened the front door to leave. "No, Dawn. I don't forgive him."
Dawn shook her head in confusion. "Then, why?"
Buffy paused, and she saw him again, in her minds eye. Laying in an alley, beaten, bloody from her fists. Trying to smile at her, not with malice, but with love. Forgiveness.
Love. Give. Forgive.
Why?
She looked back at her sister. Open. "Because I have to try, Dawn. Because I want to forgive him."
* * * * * * *
End part one