Author's Notes: I believe in happily ever after. We don't get it in
the ways we wanted it, but it exists nevertheless. By the way,
thoughts are in enclosed as such: 'thought.' -Beautiful Wednesday
Setting: This picks up at the end of "Beneath You," and is divergent
from Joss' plot lines from there.
Behind the Sun
Chapter One
Watching Spike drape himself over the cross, sheer disbelief shot though Buffy's mind. 'This isn't happening, this so isn't happening.' It wasn't until the stench of burning flesh assaulted her senses that she accepted the reality of the situation, and then practically few across the sanctuary to haul him down from his deadly perch.
"See the spark burning? Is it enough? No, no, no, never enough, cannot be enough, enough isn't real, she can't see, never sees, and all my fault." Muttering to himself and whatever ghosts he perceived, Spike began shaking his head violently, punctuating his words.
"Spike," she cooed, trying for his attention, as she attempted to inspect his wounds-it didn't work, "Spike! Stop that, now!" He didn't so much as demonstrate awareness of her presence. 'Okay, new tactic then.' Desperately searching for a better way to get though to him, Buffy went with the first words that came to mind, "But Spike, I do see the spark."
He looked up at her, an accusatory flash briefly masking the guilt and pain in his eyes, "The spark is in me, in me! In where nobody sees it, can't see, she can't see it!."
"Listen to me, Spike, I do see it, I've always seen it."
"No, never before, couldn't, the spark is new, like cancer and flowers and fresh graves, haven't seen it, I never had it. Do now. And all is burning, inside out.."
Buffy stopped her ministrations and gently turned his face to hers, giving a sad sort of smile.
"You're right, you didn't have a spark, Spike. But you were a fire."
"See? Fire! Fire burns, everything, all around, all is ashes and we all fall down. The fire was bad, is bad, always bad, nothing right, never good.never worthy..." His voice trailed off; she sighed, 'this is so not going according to plan.'
"Yes, fire can be bad, it can burn and destroy, but that's not all."
"No, not all, mustn't forgot the blood in the streets, the sky, and death gaily marching by, dolls and the buttons, the king will be angry." "That's not what I meant. I meant that it can be good too. Fire is good and bad, and I have to tell you the truth now."
"She always told me the truth, always a monster, only a monster."
"No, that's the thing; I lied, Spike. I said you were bad because I wanted to believe you were bad, I thought it would be easier that way, and I hoped that saying it often enough would convince me of it, but you know what? It didn't work, even when I got burned, because you wanted, you tried to be good, and so you were good, mostly."
"Mostly's not enough, mostly is nothing! Wasn't good to you.wasn't good.mostly is gone.can't come back.I killed mostly.threw it to the bathroom floor." he looked up at her with haunted eyes as she cut him off.
"Excuse me, but as I was saying, you were mostly good, and mostly good about the best that any of us can do." She was beginning to realize that this was an uphill battle.
"But I hurt you." Finally! She thought, 'A coherent statement!' "We always hurt the ones we love."
Spike began rocking back and forth, eyes closes and face contorted in concentration. As suddenly as he'd started, he froze and peered intently at Buffy, "Then why did she, does she always."
".Hurt you?" Buffy finished for him, "I hurt you, Spike, because I was angry at you for being good, but mostly because I was angry with myself for." 'Enough running, slayer, out with it,' she mentally steeled herself for her confession, ".for wanting to love you, and I was frightened that I might love you. I hurt you, and it was very, very wrong, and I am so sorry." She paused and blinked teary eyes, 'I was not planning on this turning into a weepy confession,' "Can you forgive me?" She'd taken up one burnt hand in hers, but he pulled back with violent force at her apology.
"She doesn't need forgiveness, never, never, wasn't wrong, just right, right about me, and him.can't forgive what wasn't bad.she's not bad.not like me.throwing switches that don't come back.she can't be like me.not bad."
"No, Spike, I'm not bad, but I am like you, just like you, and if I'm not bad, then you can't be either. But I still have done bad things, and I've done bad things to you, things I will always regret. I am sorry, Spike."
"She's sorry?..you're sorry, but." his voice broke as he began weeping.
Gingerly wrapped around him in protection and comfort, the Slayer cradled the Vampire; both creatures now so much more than they appeared. Once enemies, once lovers, but now something undefined, undreamed of.
* * * * *
In time, her presence and care quieted Spike, and Buffy had managed to get him back to her house. She closed the front door behind her softly and turned around to find Spike's eyes wide with confusion. 'What now?' It took a moment, but when she noticed that his attention remained fixed on the door behind her, she assumed his bewilderment must have something to do with it, with.'coming in. No invite required. Oh. Of course, he expected me to revoke his invitation after.after he.left.' She spoke softly, recapturing his focus.
"Come on, Spike, let's go upstairs, shh now, Dawn's sleeping."
"'Bit?." He looked about nervously, shaking faintly.
"Yeah, she's mad at you, but I think it's just 'cause she missed you. She'll come around, don't worry. Okay, no, we're not going to my room, yeah, no, let's go to Mom's room for now, all right?" Gently steering him down the hall, she deposited him on the bed. She wanted to clean him up, but she didn't think he could deal with doing that in her bathroom, not in his current state.
"I'm going to get some towels and run some hot water, so you just stay here for now. Spike? Got it? Stay put." He nodded slightly but continued peering at the bed curiously as she walked back out the door.
"She's still here." Buffy stopped as he whispered, preparing herself for whatever he might say.
"Who is, Spike?" She half-turned back to him from her position in the doorway.
"Your Mum." He didn't look at her, simply studied the comforter with his fingertips.
"No, Spike, she's.don't you remember?" Buffy spoke without accusation, and hoped she'd be able to make sense of whatever he replied.
"Couldn't forget, can't ever forget. Cocoa in the kitchen, then blood, dirt, flowers. Miss her." He choked on the words and continued rubbing the comforter between his thumb and forefinger.
"Me too." Buffy crossed the room again knelt at the foot of the bed and joined him fingering the cloth. "Why do you say she's still here, though? She's gone."
"No, she's everywhere," he began gesturing to the space in the room, but his hand found it's way to the tips of Buffy's hair, "everywhere." She smiled genuinely.
"I think I know what you mean."
They sat in silence for a few more minutes before Buffy rose again to finally get the towels and the first aid kit. "I'll be right back, okay?" He looked up at her again.
"Okay."
When she reached her bathroom, Buffy locked the door behind her and slid to the floor; head in her hands, she tried to collect herself. 'I was so not prepared for this, I figured if he came back I'd yell at him for leaving, that I'd fight with him until he realized that I was mad mostly that he left, and that I'd really missed him. And then he'd go back to driving me crazy and life would be normal again. But now he's nutty as a fruitcake and I still love him so much it hurts.'
Everything in her froze.
'Still?
I loved him? I loved Spike?
I loved Spike.
I loved Spike.
I wasn't learning to love him, I wasn't afraid that one day I'd wake up in love with him. I did love him. I do love him.
I love him.
Whoever he is now.
I love him.'
Shocked by her own realization, she somberly got up and resumed gathering the necessary items for patching up Spike. Spike, is that what he wanted to be called now? She'd have to ask. She giggled, 'strange, I come to terms with the fact that I love him the same day I discover that I no longer even know his name. Gotta love my life. At least he does, 'cause some days I'm not so sure. Doesn't he?' She stopped again. 'What if his love for me left with his sanity? What if his soul can't love me? What if he can't love me anymore?' She shook her head, this was getting her nowhere, 'Buffy, shut up, you can not deal with this now-injuries now, blinding insecurities later, okay?'
He'd fallen asleep by the time she'd finished running hot water in her mother's bathroom sink, so, sitting beside his still form, she ran her fingers through his hair carefully and whispered his name, "Spike? Wake up, we've got to get you cleaned up, Mom would have a fit if I left you like this all night. Spike? Or.William?" At his given name, he stiffened slightly and opened his eyes; Buffy could have cried at the sorrow and pain he inadvertently revealed. He shuddered, and curled in on himself, "Come on, let's get you cleaned up." He shook his head and mumbled, almost defiantly.
".no.won't." Irritation and emotional exhaustion got the best of her.
"That's enough. I'm going to take care of these gashes whether you want me to or not! So unless your manly pride is resilient enough to survive getting carried to the bathroom by a girl, you're going to need to get up." She softened again, "Please?." He sat up, complying. 'Miracles happen every day!'
"Slayer wants to play nice, does she? Well, I can make it nice..." he leered, suddenly a different person. 'Or not. And I just wanted this to be.'
"Spike, stop. Let's not do this tonight." 'I'm too weary and so are you.'
"Gonna make me, Slayer?" 'Don't hit him, don't hit him, don't hit him.'
"Yes!" 'No! Don't do this!' Sigh. "No. No, I'm not. Because I just can't play this game anymore, Spike, it hurts too much. I don't want to fight with you anymore, not like this," her voice grew very small, "and I'm tired. Let's rest. I'm going into bathroom; I want to help you, please come?" The cocky demeanor fell away, back to wherever it came from.
".don't deserve help.just pain." In response, she tentatively laid a hand on his shoulder and guided him to the bathroom and sat him down on the countertop.
A short while later, having disinfected and bandaged his chest and lower jaw (fortunately, the burns on his face were already closing), she rinsed the washcloth and began tending to his badly burned hands. Even in his mostly incoherent state, he watched her in awe and pain, obviously reliving a similar night almost a year before.
"One hundred and forty-seven." He looked up, confused, somewhere in his jumbling thinking finding a phrase, 'Wasn't that my line?'
"One hundred and forty-eight today, but I guess today doesn't count, does it?"
"She's stealing my lines now?" He looked sad, as if she were mocking him.
"No, now they're my lines too. I told you we were the same. We both ended up back home."
"I don't.but you saw me.before.there are too many days.and the sun burns us all.so many days."
"But I wasn't counting the days you were gone, I was counting the days until you made it home." He knew that the look in her eyes meant something, 'but I can't find it!' Realizing he'd lost something precious, he began crying once more.
"The stars are so hard to count beneath the sun. They're all yelling and the words get mixed up.she's whispering secrets for me, but they're all so loud.I don't know, I just don't know. Are they your secrets or mine? The little hen should have known, the danger is not the sky, not for her.it's always the ground.I'm so lost.can she see me?"
"Shhh, now, quiet now, you're not lost, you're right here, you're home. Don't worry, she sees you, she sees you everywhere." 'Time to take this one to bed.'
"Like Mum?" Childlike, he followed her back to the bedroom.
"Not exactly, more like.the moon." He frowned, puzzled, almost hurt. "You know how the moon has it's cycles?" She waited for him to think about it.
"She gets angry with me, sees that I'm bad, goes away sometimes."
"Well, yeah, actually, that's exactly how I felt. I missed you like the moon, you were angry, then scared, and then you went away, and it was dark outside. But I know the moon always comes back, and you promised.you promised not to leave.so I hoped you come back, like the moon. And look," she pointed out the window to a faint crescent of silvery light between the misty clouds, "Last night, no moon, but tonight, tonight, well, it's back. So are you."
"I'm the moon?" She coaxed him onto the bed, he began to crawl in, Doc Martin's and all.
"Sometimes, sometimes. Now wait a minute, mister, can't get in bed with your shoes on." 'I feel like I'm dealing with a four year old'. He mumbled sleepily as she knelt to remove his shoes.
"Can I be the fork?" 'What?!'
"Okay, I guess. Why do you want to be a fork?" Humor him, get him to sleep.
"Can't have Xander being the fork, it's best not to leave him any pointy things now that I'm around. He can be the cow." Spike sniggered at that, "Are you the spoon?" Buffy let out the anxious breath she'd taken, this was something she could do! 'Nursery rhymes, of course, I guess I am dealing with a four year old!'
"I might just be."
* * * * *
End Chapter One
Behind the Sun
Chapter One
Watching Spike drape himself over the cross, sheer disbelief shot though Buffy's mind. 'This isn't happening, this so isn't happening.' It wasn't until the stench of burning flesh assaulted her senses that she accepted the reality of the situation, and then practically few across the sanctuary to haul him down from his deadly perch.
"See the spark burning? Is it enough? No, no, no, never enough, cannot be enough, enough isn't real, she can't see, never sees, and all my fault." Muttering to himself and whatever ghosts he perceived, Spike began shaking his head violently, punctuating his words.
"Spike," she cooed, trying for his attention, as she attempted to inspect his wounds-it didn't work, "Spike! Stop that, now!" He didn't so much as demonstrate awareness of her presence. 'Okay, new tactic then.' Desperately searching for a better way to get though to him, Buffy went with the first words that came to mind, "But Spike, I do see the spark."
He looked up at her, an accusatory flash briefly masking the guilt and pain in his eyes, "The spark is in me, in me! In where nobody sees it, can't see, she can't see it!."
"Listen to me, Spike, I do see it, I've always seen it."
"No, never before, couldn't, the spark is new, like cancer and flowers and fresh graves, haven't seen it, I never had it. Do now. And all is burning, inside out.."
Buffy stopped her ministrations and gently turned his face to hers, giving a sad sort of smile.
"You're right, you didn't have a spark, Spike. But you were a fire."
"See? Fire! Fire burns, everything, all around, all is ashes and we all fall down. The fire was bad, is bad, always bad, nothing right, never good.never worthy..." His voice trailed off; she sighed, 'this is so not going according to plan.'
"Yes, fire can be bad, it can burn and destroy, but that's not all."
"No, not all, mustn't forgot the blood in the streets, the sky, and death gaily marching by, dolls and the buttons, the king will be angry." "That's not what I meant. I meant that it can be good too. Fire is good and bad, and I have to tell you the truth now."
"She always told me the truth, always a monster, only a monster."
"No, that's the thing; I lied, Spike. I said you were bad because I wanted to believe you were bad, I thought it would be easier that way, and I hoped that saying it often enough would convince me of it, but you know what? It didn't work, even when I got burned, because you wanted, you tried to be good, and so you were good, mostly."
"Mostly's not enough, mostly is nothing! Wasn't good to you.wasn't good.mostly is gone.can't come back.I killed mostly.threw it to the bathroom floor." he looked up at her with haunted eyes as she cut him off.
"Excuse me, but as I was saying, you were mostly good, and mostly good about the best that any of us can do." She was beginning to realize that this was an uphill battle.
"But I hurt you." Finally! She thought, 'A coherent statement!' "We always hurt the ones we love."
Spike began rocking back and forth, eyes closes and face contorted in concentration. As suddenly as he'd started, he froze and peered intently at Buffy, "Then why did she, does she always."
".Hurt you?" Buffy finished for him, "I hurt you, Spike, because I was angry at you for being good, but mostly because I was angry with myself for." 'Enough running, slayer, out with it,' she mentally steeled herself for her confession, ".for wanting to love you, and I was frightened that I might love you. I hurt you, and it was very, very wrong, and I am so sorry." She paused and blinked teary eyes, 'I was not planning on this turning into a weepy confession,' "Can you forgive me?" She'd taken up one burnt hand in hers, but he pulled back with violent force at her apology.
"She doesn't need forgiveness, never, never, wasn't wrong, just right, right about me, and him.can't forgive what wasn't bad.she's not bad.not like me.throwing switches that don't come back.she can't be like me.not bad."
"No, Spike, I'm not bad, but I am like you, just like you, and if I'm not bad, then you can't be either. But I still have done bad things, and I've done bad things to you, things I will always regret. I am sorry, Spike."
"She's sorry?..you're sorry, but." his voice broke as he began weeping.
Gingerly wrapped around him in protection and comfort, the Slayer cradled the Vampire; both creatures now so much more than they appeared. Once enemies, once lovers, but now something undefined, undreamed of.
* * * * *
In time, her presence and care quieted Spike, and Buffy had managed to get him back to her house. She closed the front door behind her softly and turned around to find Spike's eyes wide with confusion. 'What now?' It took a moment, but when she noticed that his attention remained fixed on the door behind her, she assumed his bewilderment must have something to do with it, with.'coming in. No invite required. Oh. Of course, he expected me to revoke his invitation after.after he.left.' She spoke softly, recapturing his focus.
"Come on, Spike, let's go upstairs, shh now, Dawn's sleeping."
"'Bit?." He looked about nervously, shaking faintly.
"Yeah, she's mad at you, but I think it's just 'cause she missed you. She'll come around, don't worry. Okay, no, we're not going to my room, yeah, no, let's go to Mom's room for now, all right?" Gently steering him down the hall, she deposited him on the bed. She wanted to clean him up, but she didn't think he could deal with doing that in her bathroom, not in his current state.
"I'm going to get some towels and run some hot water, so you just stay here for now. Spike? Got it? Stay put." He nodded slightly but continued peering at the bed curiously as she walked back out the door.
"She's still here." Buffy stopped as he whispered, preparing herself for whatever he might say.
"Who is, Spike?" She half-turned back to him from her position in the doorway.
"Your Mum." He didn't look at her, simply studied the comforter with his fingertips.
"No, Spike, she's.don't you remember?" Buffy spoke without accusation, and hoped she'd be able to make sense of whatever he replied.
"Couldn't forget, can't ever forget. Cocoa in the kitchen, then blood, dirt, flowers. Miss her." He choked on the words and continued rubbing the comforter between his thumb and forefinger.
"Me too." Buffy crossed the room again knelt at the foot of the bed and joined him fingering the cloth. "Why do you say she's still here, though? She's gone."
"No, she's everywhere," he began gesturing to the space in the room, but his hand found it's way to the tips of Buffy's hair, "everywhere." She smiled genuinely.
"I think I know what you mean."
They sat in silence for a few more minutes before Buffy rose again to finally get the towels and the first aid kit. "I'll be right back, okay?" He looked up at her again.
"Okay."
When she reached her bathroom, Buffy locked the door behind her and slid to the floor; head in her hands, she tried to collect herself. 'I was so not prepared for this, I figured if he came back I'd yell at him for leaving, that I'd fight with him until he realized that I was mad mostly that he left, and that I'd really missed him. And then he'd go back to driving me crazy and life would be normal again. But now he's nutty as a fruitcake and I still love him so much it hurts.'
Everything in her froze.
'Still?
I loved him? I loved Spike?
I loved Spike.
I loved Spike.
I wasn't learning to love him, I wasn't afraid that one day I'd wake up in love with him. I did love him. I do love him.
I love him.
Whoever he is now.
I love him.'
Shocked by her own realization, she somberly got up and resumed gathering the necessary items for patching up Spike. Spike, is that what he wanted to be called now? She'd have to ask. She giggled, 'strange, I come to terms with the fact that I love him the same day I discover that I no longer even know his name. Gotta love my life. At least he does, 'cause some days I'm not so sure. Doesn't he?' She stopped again. 'What if his love for me left with his sanity? What if his soul can't love me? What if he can't love me anymore?' She shook her head, this was getting her nowhere, 'Buffy, shut up, you can not deal with this now-injuries now, blinding insecurities later, okay?'
He'd fallen asleep by the time she'd finished running hot water in her mother's bathroom sink, so, sitting beside his still form, she ran her fingers through his hair carefully and whispered his name, "Spike? Wake up, we've got to get you cleaned up, Mom would have a fit if I left you like this all night. Spike? Or.William?" At his given name, he stiffened slightly and opened his eyes; Buffy could have cried at the sorrow and pain he inadvertently revealed. He shuddered, and curled in on himself, "Come on, let's get you cleaned up." He shook his head and mumbled, almost defiantly.
".no.won't." Irritation and emotional exhaustion got the best of her.
"That's enough. I'm going to take care of these gashes whether you want me to or not! So unless your manly pride is resilient enough to survive getting carried to the bathroom by a girl, you're going to need to get up." She softened again, "Please?." He sat up, complying. 'Miracles happen every day!'
"Slayer wants to play nice, does she? Well, I can make it nice..." he leered, suddenly a different person. 'Or not. And I just wanted this to be.'
"Spike, stop. Let's not do this tonight." 'I'm too weary and so are you.'
"Gonna make me, Slayer?" 'Don't hit him, don't hit him, don't hit him.'
"Yes!" 'No! Don't do this!' Sigh. "No. No, I'm not. Because I just can't play this game anymore, Spike, it hurts too much. I don't want to fight with you anymore, not like this," her voice grew very small, "and I'm tired. Let's rest. I'm going into bathroom; I want to help you, please come?" The cocky demeanor fell away, back to wherever it came from.
".don't deserve help.just pain." In response, she tentatively laid a hand on his shoulder and guided him to the bathroom and sat him down on the countertop.
A short while later, having disinfected and bandaged his chest and lower jaw (fortunately, the burns on his face were already closing), she rinsed the washcloth and began tending to his badly burned hands. Even in his mostly incoherent state, he watched her in awe and pain, obviously reliving a similar night almost a year before.
"One hundred and forty-seven." He looked up, confused, somewhere in his jumbling thinking finding a phrase, 'Wasn't that my line?'
"One hundred and forty-eight today, but I guess today doesn't count, does it?"
"She's stealing my lines now?" He looked sad, as if she were mocking him.
"No, now they're my lines too. I told you we were the same. We both ended up back home."
"I don't.but you saw me.before.there are too many days.and the sun burns us all.so many days."
"But I wasn't counting the days you were gone, I was counting the days until you made it home." He knew that the look in her eyes meant something, 'but I can't find it!' Realizing he'd lost something precious, he began crying once more.
"The stars are so hard to count beneath the sun. They're all yelling and the words get mixed up.she's whispering secrets for me, but they're all so loud.I don't know, I just don't know. Are they your secrets or mine? The little hen should have known, the danger is not the sky, not for her.it's always the ground.I'm so lost.can she see me?"
"Shhh, now, quiet now, you're not lost, you're right here, you're home. Don't worry, she sees you, she sees you everywhere." 'Time to take this one to bed.'
"Like Mum?" Childlike, he followed her back to the bedroom.
"Not exactly, more like.the moon." He frowned, puzzled, almost hurt. "You know how the moon has it's cycles?" She waited for him to think about it.
"She gets angry with me, sees that I'm bad, goes away sometimes."
"Well, yeah, actually, that's exactly how I felt. I missed you like the moon, you were angry, then scared, and then you went away, and it was dark outside. But I know the moon always comes back, and you promised.you promised not to leave.so I hoped you come back, like the moon. And look," she pointed out the window to a faint crescent of silvery light between the misty clouds, "Last night, no moon, but tonight, tonight, well, it's back. So are you."
"I'm the moon?" She coaxed him onto the bed, he began to crawl in, Doc Martin's and all.
"Sometimes, sometimes. Now wait a minute, mister, can't get in bed with your shoes on." 'I feel like I'm dealing with a four year old'. He mumbled sleepily as she knelt to remove his shoes.
"Can I be the fork?" 'What?!'
"Okay, I guess. Why do you want to be a fork?" Humor him, get him to sleep.
"Can't have Xander being the fork, it's best not to leave him any pointy things now that I'm around. He can be the cow." Spike sniggered at that, "Are you the spoon?" Buffy let out the anxious breath she'd taken, this was something she could do! 'Nursery rhymes, of course, I guess I am dealing with a four year old!'
"I might just be."
* * * * *
End Chapter One