Do What You Have to Do
Part V
Seven words.
That was all it had taken to transform the heated atmosphere of the kitchen into a chilled, oppressive wasteland of hurt.
Not ten seconds before, Spike had been so close to realizing his dream of the last two years; to have his lips joined against Buffy's once more. He had been so close to feeling the love of his life pressed against him, not in comfort, but in desire for him. He had seen it in her eyes, how they had glistened at him, taking him in and, for a brief moment, he felt that she was seeing him for the first time. For two years, all he had thought about was her looking up at him in acceptance.
Now, all that crossed the former vampire's mind was what he could say to this girl--no, young woman--that stared at him with a contempt that crushed his already aching heart. Not having the courage to meet her eyes again, Spike took to staring at his feet as one hand nervously ran through his hair.
Buffy had been just as surprised at her reaction to Spike as he was. The warmth that had spread throughout her body as his hands rested on her hips had been even more intense than the deep embrace they shared the night before. She had a feeling as to why, but her brain could not quite process the information since all she could see were the waves of disdain that radiated from her little sister like a sick plague. The intensity of the air was suffocating and Buffy pulled unconsciously at her shirt, pleading for air to grace her lungs reasonably.
She stared at Dawn, whose rigid posture reminded Buffy of a rattlesnake, coiled to strike and the slayer frantically searched for the words to diffuse the oncoming apocalypse before it came to pass.
"Dawn," she finally managed, though her voice was devoid of both strength and authority.
Dawn chanced a brief glance at her sister before returning her eyes to the one person she hated more than anyone. It was ironic that it was the same person that she had held more faith in than anyone else--the same person that had not left, not like her dad or mom, not like Buffy. He was the only safe thing in her life, watching over her when the others were too busy to notice, or care. He was her first love (at least that is what she thought) and her best friend and he treated her not like a child but an adult and with that, he held her accountable as such. A part of her couldn't help but smile at how proud he would be when he found out how much she had grown up and all she wanted was to see that doting smile saved especially for her. She wanted to see him swoon at how she had grown into such a beautiful young woman. But that sliver of her was beaten down, gagged and locked away in the recesses of her mind, hijacked by the anger and pain of what he had done to her.
He left.
When she had first found out what he had tried to do to Buffy, she was beyond hurt. It hadn't mattered the reasons, there were no excuses for what he had done and Dawn had sworn she would never forgive him, despite how that promise to herself had ripped into her guts. It wasn't until Buffy had pled with her to let it go that Dawn forgave him. Though she had denied it, the usually oblivious Buffy had seen right through Dawn's façade of indifference and the teen had cried in Buffy's arms that night though she didn't know why until several months later; it had been then that she accepted the fact that she would never see him again. She had forgiven him for hurting Buffy, but Dawn would never forgive him for leaving when she needed him most. When they needed him most.
The anger surging through her blood was barely enough to mask the hurt and elation at seeing him and her inherited stubbornness was all that kept Dawn from running into his arms, crying into his chest. Despite her resolve, however, Dawn couldn't prevent the single tear that cascaded down her cheek just as Spike brokered the courage to look her in the eye.
"Niblet," he choked, his throat burning painfully. He didn't realize he was moving until his hand hesitantly wiped the stray tear from her cheek. He pulled away when he saw the minute flinch of her eyes, the seething hatred dying down to a fraction of what it was. The mask was broken and Spike saw as the young woman slowly crumbled and the wide-eyed, gangly teen with a crush on him crawled to the surface.
Spike waited nervously as her eyes began to water in earnest and her mouth opened to say something before a double toot of a horn broke the spell.
All three occupants jumped at the unexpected noise and Buffy inhaled sharply. She had watched with a gnawing fear as Spike walked over to her sister and was more than surprised when Dawn hadn't lashed out at him. She didn't even move, from what Buffy saw, when he brushed her cheek and she knew that it would only a matter of seconds before her little sister threw her arms around the former vampire and sobbed her heart out.
But with the moment interrupted, Dawn came back to her senses and frowned as she noticed Spike's proximity to her. Without thinking, she pushed past him and into the living room, muttering to Buffy that she had forgotten her wallet. Seconds later, the thundering slam of the front door let the couple realize that they were again alone.
Neither spoke for several minutes, lost in their own thoughts. The pain in Buffy's chest was a shared pain and she empathized with both her ex-lover and sister. She had been there when Dawn had given up hope of ever seeing Spike again and the teen had fallen into a depression that had been worse than when their mother had died. Thankfully, it hadn't lasted long and when it was over, she had never mentioned Spike again. Though she was not rude, Dawn let her displeasure show if his name was ever mentioned by calmly walking out of the room. Of course, the worst had been the issue over the leather duster.
At first, after Dawn had forgiven Spike for his attack on Buffy, she had begged her older sister to let her wear it on patrol and the elder Summers had begrudgingly assented. For two months they alternated between wearing it on patrol until one night Dawn had thrown it in a garbage can, intent on setting it afire. Buffy had stopped her before she lit the match but it had disturbed the slayer greatly. Dawn never told her why she was going to do it but Buffy had seen the glassy look of her sister's eyes and knew…
That had been the night when she had given up, and Buffy's heart broke. Dawn had run to Buffy's arms and cried, the duster crushed between them. Buffy held her for over an hour before the tears subsided and that had been the last time Dawn had cried over Spike.
In truth, it had been the last time Dawn had cried over anything--until today.
Buffy didn't know what to think or do as she watched Spike. She wanted to go to him and comfort him, but where would that lead? She didn't trust herself enough to offer only a kind word without it being followed by a gentle caress that would, in turn, melt into a reassuring kiss that… No, she would let him break the silence when he was ready. She only hoped that when he did want to talk that her words would be enough.
Spike leaned weakly against the counter top, a hand covering his face as the other helped support his shaky legs. He couldn't believe how beautiful his Niblet had become and for a moment he could almost forget about the pain and anger in her eyes and focus on the young woman that was ready to walk out into the world. God, he was so proud of her and all he wanted to do was embrace her and whisper it to her as he stroked her hair.
But it was a fleeting vision as reality came crashing down around him. For an instant, Spike had seen her elation from seeing him though it had been quickly buried and though her anger had almost overwhelmed him, the other emotion that was within her completely sideswiped him. It had been in Buffy's eyes that night and he'd know it anywhere.
Disappointment.
For whatever reason, disappointment was harder than anger to deal with. At least with anger, he could offer his body or mind to be ripped and shredded in two, until the rage was satiated. Hell, he had done that very thing with Buffy on several occasions, letting her pound him into oblivion just because he knew that it was a sort of therapy to her, allowing her to release emotions that she could not figure how do deal with in any other way. True, it was violent and painful, but he had always been a masochist at heart. He chuckled as he thought of when Buffy had told him that--how he was in love with pain. The dry amusement quickly faded as his mind pictured two sets of green eyes. They were different shades but both held the same air of disappointment that reached into his guts and tore straight into his soul and all the fists in the world wouldn't make it better for either one. Neither Buffy nor Dawn could seek the closure they needed by Spike offering his body as a punching bag. Luckily, Buffy seemed to be coming around and he hoped he would never see that look in her face again. But Dawn--that was a different story.
A story with a gaping hole in its plot that he had no idea how to fix.
***
The walk to the Expresso Pump is relatively both short and definitely silent. The shock of seeing Dawn is still registering within me and I have no idea what to do about it. I had thought the guilt of one hundred years of killing was bad, but it's nothing compared to the look I saw today in my Niblet's eyes.
My Niblet. Can't really call her that anymore. She has grown so much in two years and not only visually. I can see the difference in her aura clear as the sun rising in the east. The fractured and self-conscious girl I knew is gone and I want to cry for that. Not because she has grown but because I wasn't here to see it.
God, I sound like the great poof himself. Next thing you know, I'll be stuck with high hair and someone will show up explaining the less than finer points of my new little body--namely that I'd have to get my rocks off with five of my closest friends.
Bugger that; I'd kill myself before that happens. Course, it's been two years since…well, it's been two years.
"Whatcha thinking about?" Buffy asks, her eyes shine spectacularly in the midday sun and I can see her wonder at seeing me in the light for the first time.
"Just hoping my little transformation doesn't bugger up me hole like Peaches," she smiles at me and the little tinglies under my skin are alive and kicking once again.
"Why do you call him that? Peaches, I mean?"
I take a sip from my mocha (not too bad, though still not on par with some good ole English brew, or a nice shot of the dancing worm) and smirk, with just a touch of sensuality thrown in for good measure. Oh, it works all right and I hide my satisfied smile when her cheeks blush slightly and her eyes fall to her cup of joe.
"You don't wanna know, luv," I reply, "you don't wanna know." She nods, taking my word for it and I'm glad for that. Sure as hell don't wanna break it to her about her first love's past sexual proclivities.
We are silent for several minutes, taking in the scenery on this lovely day and, on the side, casting glances at one another like some shy teenagers. I can't help but admire how beautiful she is with the rays of the sun bouncing from her golden skin and it puts me in mind of an angel. Not one of the stumpy little baby angels with the fat wings and diapers, but the scary-as-hell-smiting-down-armies-with-a-single-swipe-of-a -sword angel. She is deadly in her element, bringing death upon demons like a plague. But she is just as deadly in the light of day, her radiance threatening to blind all who dare look upon her. Cor, she is beautiful and, though I know I don't deserve her, I want her to be mine.
Fat chance of that happening a voice sounds in my head my eyes catch the reflecting brilliance of the stone resting on her finger. My gaze does not linger, however, though my mind does. My Buffy is engaged. My slayer has promised herself to some bloody ponce who I'm gonna rip apart if…
If what? Damn, it's that bloody voice again. Go ahead William, it goads. Fuckin git. It spits out my given name as if it is something dirty and tainted. Well isn't it? It asks mockingly and I just can't help but wish to have this voice personified in a living, breathing body so I can pound it's bloody face and it's sancti-fuckin-monious attitude into oblivion. Just five minutes is all I'd need. Five minutes, some guitar string, a slap jack and, of course, one or two never-been-used railroad spikes. Hell, I could even throw in a chain saw--Angelus said something about those…
You haven't changed the voice whispers and I wince. Not just because of the words but with the resignation that it says them with. No, and you will never change, it continues. All the bloody trouble you went through to get a soul and where has it gotten you? A nice, healthy dose of guilt for your actions. The same actions you would gladly repeat if someone made you mad enough.
I want to bellow from the bloody rafters how wrong that is but it isn't. Raking both hands through my hair, I mull over some of the thoughts I've had in the past two years and can't deny I've thought about killing several times in that time. Course, aside from the occasional prat in traffic or the bloody gits working the cash registers in retail and fast food establishments, only two faces have danced in my mind regularly and I catch myself salivating over the prospects of hearing them scream. And the giddiness sometimes feels so good at them cowering under my glare that I have to fight the urge that pleads with me to find them and take care of them, William the Bloody style. S'not like they would be missed 'cept by a handful of people.
Course one of those people just so happens to be sitting directly across the table from me, staring at me with those childlike eyes of innocence. Yes, I said innocence cuz, for all she has seen and done, Buffy still has an innocence about her that I can't quite explain. It's there in her eyes, buried deep behind the pain and suffering that her calling has bestowed upon her, like it is beginning to be set free--awaiting for the key that will set it lose and…
I shake the thoughts away, feeling too much like the bloody awful poet of days long past. My thoughts return to the whelp and Captain America, AKA the vampire pin cushion. Don't know what she sees in 'em but the fact that she cares about 'em grants 'em a stay of execution. Huh. No, as much as I liked to do it, I wouldn't kill 'em and not just because it'd hurt Buffy. Well, that's a huge part of it but not all. If two years have taught me anything, it's that most people are good people. They may have faults from 'A to Z' and back again, but their hearts are in the right place. And as much as I loath to admit it--and I mean loath with a capital 'L' written in bright, shiny colors--Harris and Finn have their good qualities about 'em. They fight the good fight, protecting those that will never know their sacrifices. They could have turned their backs to it all long ago, but they didn't. They face danger everyday, not shying away from the potential of death that hovers over them like a vulture, patiently awaiting for them to fall face first into the sands of death. The more I think about it, the more I admire them--they truly are heroes.
'Course, that doesn't mean that I'm not gonna kick their arses when I see 'em. 'Specially Harris. See how bad his is now that the Big Bad is de-chipped.
I push those thoughts aside for a moment and take in the fact that Buffy cares about them. She loves them both and would die to protect them. It's almost as if they are a part of her extended family, protected under the expansive and caring arms of the slayer. She's always there when they need her and that thought makes me wonder…I can understand why she would be there for them, considering they have, God help me, redeeming qualities about them. But me…
"Why did you send Angel to look for me?" The question spills from my mouth even before the thought is completed in my head.
I watch Buffy intently, noticing the minute stiffening of her body and I can tell this is something she doesn't really want to answer right now.
She shrugs it off and answers casually, "Because I knew if anyone could find you, it'd be him," and before I can ask why again she adds in a voice that is no more than a whisper "and I missed you." I smile like a bleedin idiot but it's okay considering she graces me with a timid smile of her own. By the look in her eyes I can see there is so much more to the answer than she is saying but I won't press her. Besides, I don't even think she has it all figured out.
"Spike," she says as she studies her hands intently, rubbing them together before they disappear under the table and presumably into her lap.
"Yeah, luv?" I ask and take another sip of my mocha (gonna have to order one of those soddin cappuccino makers when I get a chance).
She's rocking slightly in her seat now and her lips are set in a tight line, worry lines etched around her eyes. Those few things tell me two things: 1) that whatever she's about to say is serious and 2) she really doesn't wanna tell me. Doesn't take a genius to figure it out, though. S'bout the blighter on the phone, same one that probably put that ring on her finger. My blood is screaming in my veins, jealousy and anger begging to be released but my emotions remain under lock and key and I wipe my face of emotions, save for mild curiosity. I've been wonderin' how long it would take for her to come clean and as glad as I am that she's about to be honest with me, part of me wants her to shut up before she lays it all out for me. Cuz once the words are out, it all becomes real and I can no longer pretend that she's just wearing a ring that caught her fancy at the mall.
"There's something…something I want to tell you," she's trying hard to be strong but I catch the unmistakable waver in her voice. Her hesitation would be kind of cute if it wasn't for the knife playing connect the dots with my entrails right about now.
I give her a wan smile and a nod of encouragement. I know how hard it must be to come clean and though a part of me is bitter about it and wants to make it as difficult as possible, the reasonable side (go figure--William the Bloody being reasonable) doesn't want to hurt her any more than I already have.
"S'alright, luv," I reassure her, "you can tell me anything." She smiles meekly and goes back to studying her hands resting in her lap.
"It's so…I don't know. I mean, I know the stuff that happened between us was fucked up," I perk my eyebrows at her choice of words, considering she doesn't talk like that unless she's all hot & horny or brassed off. "And I know that I've already told you that we need to work through it all together.
"The thing is," she takes a sip of her joe, "that despite what I said earlier--about not talking about it, I think that, sooner or later, we'll have to."
I nod solemnly before speaking, wanting to pick my words carefully. "Buffy, that…that night was the worst night of my life. The things I did, the things I said, they…" but she holds her hand up my mouth shuts.
"I know, Spike. But I don't want to talk about that now. I mean, we need to talk about it, and I mean soon, just so that we can begin our healing in earnest. But, considering we probably will be two pretty mopey and not-good-to-be-around people afterwards, I'd rather wait until Dawn graduates." I can't hide the wince that accompanies me at the mention of my Niblet and Buffy spots it right away.
"You've think you've lost her," she tells me. The lump in my throat prevents a response so I nod somberly.
"Spike," she says and before I know it, her warm hand is pressed against mine before she squeezes it gently. "You haven't lost her."
I laugh at that, albeit it's hollow even to my ears. "Sorry, pet, but gotta disagree with you there. If you think I haven't then I don't think you saw the look in the Bit's eyes. Oh, I've lost her, alright."
Buffy squeezes my hand again, 'cept this time it's hard enough to be uncomfortable. My questioning eyes find hers and the bare determination in her hazel jewels shuts my gob quite effectively.
"Spike, just listen for once in your life." My scarred eyebrow arches in slight amusement and Buffy gives me a quick grin. "Yeah, I know, pot and kettle," then she goes all serious girl on me. I swear she must have been hanging around Watcher-man quite a lot these past few years.
"Trust me, Spike, you haven't lost her. Now, that's not to say that you haven't got major groveling in your future, but you'll win her back. You always have."
I shake my head, more in the conviction behind her words than my doubt at its truth. "Yeah, but don't remember the last time I attacked her sis and tried to…"
"Cattle prod. Crypt. Chains. Drusilla." She counts the four off from pinky to pointer before wiggling them in my face in that "need I say more?" way of hers. I blanch internally and though I know my argument is a bit tired but I won't give up. S'not my style.
"Well, yeah, but it wasn't as bad as…that." I almost cheer in the resigned look she gives me. Let's me know that I've done it again. Never been one to lose a battle of wits with the slayer, least not when I'm tryin' to make a bleedin' point, that is.
"You're right, Spike," she says and her voice is hard and I can't help but feel like my insides are being dragged across thousands of sharp rocks. "That night…in the bathroom was much worse than the whole 'give-me-a-crumb' ideological genius you showed with Dru and the cattle prod." My head sinks at the lack of emotion in her voice but find my head lifted by a dainty finger. She's moved over to sit next to me and I don't even remember seein' her move. Bugger, I must be out of it.
"The thing you don't realize, Spike, is that what you did to me has nothing to do with the way she was looking at you." I can't keep the incredulity out of my voice when I speak.
"Are you off your bird? You mean to tell me that all the hate and anger and bloody disappointment in the Bit's eyes today had nothing to do with the little stunt I pulled?"
"Yes, it does have to do with the 'little stunt' you pulled," the irritation in her voice is bubbling over but she keeps her cool, "but it's not quite the 'little stunt' that you think it is."
"Then tell me, oh wise one," I don't pretend to hide my annoyance, either, "what is it that has our residential teen throwing daggers at me?"
"You left."
***
Spike almost doubled over at the impact of the words. Like a sledge hammer (or a cathedral falling onto you) the pain that ripped through his insides was incapacitating. His eyes were transfixed on the petite blond next to him and his mouth was agape, all words lost to him. You left. The two words drilled themselves into the core of his emotionally exhausted soul, another painful weight that his metaphysical shoulders had to bare.
Buffy had never seen the anger drain from Spike so quickly and she was slightly unnerved by it. After the words spilled from her mouth she instantly regretted her spiteful tone. It wasn't that she was trying to hurt him, but she had been irritated by his 'I'm so perceptive and I know everything' attitude that the callousness just seeped into her voice.
God, I am such a bitch, she thought again as she studied the former vampire's chest as it mechanically rose and fell. She was too much of a coward to look at him, because she had seen the immediate effect her words had in his eyes. A crushing despair called out from them, and she saw the pleading in them. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than for her to end the pain that raged on within him. And it hurt her to see him so vulnerable--it hurt bad: almost as much as the night in the bathroom, except that this was all his pain she was feeling, not some sick and twisted combination of the two of them. Or was it?
The more Buffy thought about it, the more she realized that the bitterness that laced those two words was not entirely from her annoyance with him. The truth was that, as much as he had hurt her when he attacked her, Buffy had been more scarred by the fact that he had left. Not only did he leave--she did understand his reasons--but he didn't come back, wouldn't have come back if she hadn't found him. Admitting that his leaving hurt more than the bathroom incident to herself was bad enough but it would be much worse actually speaking the words to Spike. She just hoped to God he didn't notice her own grudge against him for leaving.
But Spike had noticed it. In fact, the first thing he had seen when she had said that was how it had affected her. It wasn't that he disregarded what his leaving had done to Dawn, but since she wasn't here and Buffy was, he prioritized the slayer's feelings.
The silence between them was nothing new and, in fact, had been a staple of their conversations over the past fourteen hours. Still, this ebb was worse than the others and Buffy didn't know why. Maybe it was because they were out in the sun--together--and it was a time for celebration and not heartache. Maybe it was the way she had felt the pain of him leaving re-open as she spat out those two small words. Or maybe it was because she was scared--scared of what she wanted from him and scared that she may not have changed as much as she thought.
Finally, after a few more minutes, after the waiter had collected their now cold drinks, Buffy chanced a look at Spike's eyes.
"Spike," she said and gently touched his knee. The warmth radiated through the cotton of his pants and she knew that it would take some time getting used to.
"Spike," she called again, rubbing her hand comfortingly against his leg. When he finally looked into her eyes, she wanted to hide from the pain there but forced herself to meet it. Seems like a pattern for the day, Buff, she thought miserably.
"I'm sorry, Buffy," he finally choked out, his eyes watery but his tears at bay. "God, I'm so sorry." She winced at his confession but gave him a knowing smile.
"That's good, Spike. It really is--" she took a deep breath, "but I don't think I'm the one that you need to apologize to." She felt him tense underneath her palm and jerked her hand back when she saw the blue fire in his eyes.
"Are you sure about that?" The nervous energy vibrated off him and Buffy knew it was taking all his self-control not to jump up and pace back and forth.
Spike could tell he was about to lose it and consciously engaged the deep breathing techniques he learned in Africa. He would have used it during their other talks but he had wanted Buffy to see all of him, every tear, every ounce of self-disgust. But flying off at the handle in a public establishment was not the way to go.
After three fulfilling inhalations, the angst coursing through him was halved and he trusted himself to speak again. "Sorry, luv," he said and snorted almost immediately.
"What?" Buffy asked. She was now leaning closer to him as she had noted the drastic change that had taken place.
"S'nuthin--just seems that all I have to give out are apologies. Hurtin' you in the…in the bathroom like I did then leavin' you--"
"Spike. I've already dealt with that," she lied and cursed when Spike arched an eyebrow at her in that annoying way of his that informed her that he, in fact, did know."
"Leavin' hurt you, didn't it? Hurt you more than what I tried to do." The last part was not a question and it was Buffy's turn to look away, counting to ten to keep her feelings firmly in check. She didn't know whether to tell him the truth or brush it aside but, considering the old Buffy would have reveled expertly in the latter, she took the higher and, ultimately, more difficult, road.
"Yeah," she whispered, "it did." She was grateful to feel his hand against the bare skin of her leg and his silence. Now that she had told him the truth, she wanted to divest herself of all her pent-up feelings of abandonment.
"Like I told you last night, it took me awhile before I got over…that night. But I did. Get over it. That's not to say that I wasn't still hurt by it and judging by my actions last night, I think you pretty much had that part figured out." He smiled wanly and it gave her the confidence to continue.
"But what I hadn't forgotten, or even really admitted to myself, was how bad it hurt when I found out that you left. When I brought Dawn over to the crypt the night I got shot…" she held a hand up to him and the fury in his eyes died down somewhat. He had already known about it, but the casual way she tossed it out reminded him all too much of how precious her life was. "Anyway, even though there were like a million things going on around me at the time, I was kinda numb to it. Especially after the bathroom...thing. After I stopped crying, I didn't think there was anything that could make me feel—much less make me feel worse," she saw him wince but continued, "but when Clem told me you left…God." Tears sprang of their own accord and slithered down Buffy's cheeks though she didn't notice. "When he looked at me with those big eyes of his and told me that you didn't say when you were coming back…a part of me, a part that I didn't even know was there, was ripped out. It was kinda like…like…"
"Seeing me with Anya," he whispered a gently brushed a few of her tears away with his thumb. Buffy leaned into his hand and nodded.
"Yeah. Another one of those nice surprises for Buffy. I mean, when I saw you with Anya, man, it hurt so bad. And it surprised me, like some sort of ironic sucker punch. Here I was, commending myself for getting under control, taking responsibility for things and not giving in and then 'Pow'," she punched her palm with the other hand. "Down for the count."
"I didn't know," Spike murmured and it was by force of will alone that he did not drop his eyes from her face.
"How could you? I mean, it hadn't been even six hours since I had given you the big 'get over it/move on' spiel. I knew I still wanted you and everything, but I had convinced myself that it was nothing more than physical—like you were the perfect balm to soothe my numb soul or something. But it wasn't until I saw you with Anya that I had to admit to myself that I really did care for you—and not just as a fling-thing, either."
"You told me," he said and this time he did look down, "before I attacked you. You told me that you did have feelings for me. It was the most you had ever admitted about what you felt—it should have been enough. It should have been…" but Buffy silenced him with a kiss.
There was nothing passionate or lustful in the way their lips touched but it was soulful nonetheless. For the few seconds their lips held, they both felt the pain of that night drift away from them, replaced by forgiveness and understanding. And though they knew that the hurt from that night would never fully disappear, they could live with that because it would only remind them how far they had come in changing who they were.
"Thank you," Spike murmured into Buffy's neck as she hugged him close. His left hand stayed on her leg while he snaked his arm around her waist. The tender feel of her against him was even greater than it was last night and he surmised that it was the fact that there wasn't just pain involved.
"No," she said and pulled away enough to look him in the eye, "thank you. You have always been there for me, Spike. Even when we were mortal enemies, you were my one constant—always keeping me on my toes. If I could count on one thing back then, it was that you would somehow worm your way into my life and annoy me," they both laughed at that before she continued. "Back then, I thought of you just as that, an irritation—well, at least when you got the chip since I didn't have to worry about you killing me. But there were times when you were really there for me.
"The whole ordeal with Glory really opened my eyes to what you could be, who you really were after you got through the layers of the Big Bad. You would have given your life to keep Dawn safe and you almost did—twice. When I kissed you after Glory tortured you, the reason I didn't say anymore than I did was because I didn't know what to say. No one had ever done something like that from me and it scared me. Not because of the sacrifice but because you were a vampire and, as you know, in my book, vampires were bad. There was no such thing as a vampire who would give himself up for another and when I had proof that you did just that…" the tears had begun anew but Buffy wouldn't let it deter what she had to say, "I was thrown for a loop. Why? Because, even then, I was attracted to you." When he arched his eyebrow in surprise, she slapped him gently on the arm. "Don't let it go too much to your head, freak." She blushed slightly before she added, "I mean, you are kinda cute and all." Spike only smiled, posting everything for later use—much later.
"Anyway, it really freaked me out but, as things were, I really didn't get a chance to evaluate it all. It wasn't until you left, though, that everything sorta came together. I remembered all the times I was so mean to you—how we were so mean to each other—and then the times that you were there for me, just to listen. Like when I found out about my mother's illness. Or the time I thought I had driven Dawn away and you went looking for her with me. No matter what we did or said to one another, you had a way of forgetting everything, even your pain, to be there for me and, let me tell you—coming back from the dead? —Brings out some serious bitchiness. But even that didn't turn you away from me. And when…when I saw that you left, it hurt more…more than Angel leaving."
Buffy's admission sideswiped the sandy-haired man and he couldn't keep his thoughts from spinning endlessly in his mind. He opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it, deciding to let Buffy finis her confession.
Sighing deeply, Buffy was unaware of the effects that her last words had on Spike. All she knew was that if she didn't finish this now that, despite all her claims of being 'new & improved', she might never get it out.
"When Angel left, the second time, even though it hurt, I kind of expected it. Aside from him telling me in advance, I just had the feeling, when he came back from hell, that it was only going to be a temporary deal. I don't know why, I just did. And even though my mind had accepted that as a fact, my heart got in the way and refused to process it. Not only did I really love him—big time, scary-like…but he was also my knight in shining armor," she snorted, "I know, it sounds way corny but it's true. Not just for the obvious reasons like the dangerous and mysterious older man and the whole fighting by my side thing. The reason was much simpler.
"He was the first man to be there for me when my father decided I wasn't so important anymore." Buffy choked back a sob as fresh memories of Angel's departure meshed with the disappointment and heartbreak that Hank Summers had inflicted on his first born. Only the firm yet gentle hands that grasped her shoulders kept the slayer from breaking down.
"S'alright luv," Spike assured as he ran his fingers up and down her bare arms, "you can stop if you want to." As much as he wanted to hear her finish, part of him wanted her to stop because it hurt him so much to see her like this—especially knowing that he caused it.
The reason Spike had never come back, aside from the satisfaction in knowing that he would live with the guilt of what he had done to her as his punishment, was that he never really thought that she would miss him; in fact, the thought never crossed his mind. He had just known that one look at him and she would have reflexively shoved a stake straight through his beating heart and he would have deserved it. But her confession had changed even more between them than their earlier talks and he was completely lost on how to handle it all.
Wiping her eyes with her palms, Buffy stared into the bright blue eyes that stared back at her. She had always thought that, though he cared for her as a vampire, the love (or whatever it was) he felt could never compare to the true love humans felt. But she knew, as she stared into the warmth of his blue waters that she had been wrong. Although there were slight differences in his eyes now, the love for her that shone from them was no different that it was two years ago.
"Sorry," she said, smiling, "this was supposed to be a fun day, not 'Console the Crying Slayer'. God, I must look a mess," she said and grabbed a napkin from the table to finish the job of clearing her tears away.
"I bet I look like a raccoon, don't I?" she asked him.
Spike only smiled and Buffy felt the warmth of the simple gesture soar through her veins and all the way to her toes.
"Doesn't matter, luv. You're always beautiful." Buffy grinned sheepishly to his casual, yet sincere compliment and she couldn't quite meet his eyes.
But she wasn't quite finished just yet.
"Spike," she said and kept the emotional wavering of her voice to a minimum, "I told you this so that you know just how much you meant to me, even then. I wasn't a good person during that time and, no matter what you say, that darkness that was in me rubbed off on you. I told you earlier that I had forgiving you for the bathroom incident and I have. There will be times when it will resurface, but I will never use it against you. I promise.
"But, I have to be truthful. Leaving, even though you had your reasons, really hurt and though I have already forgiven you, will take a little longer to deal with. It's not your fault and I don't think there is anything you can do to help me through it since it's just my insecurities. So, if I regress into the bitch that was, please, just bare with me, okay?"
"Being there."
"Huh?" Buffy asked.
"I can help you," Spike said and kissed her on the cheek while his thumb traced along her jaw line, "by being there for you." He kissed the other jaw and finished by returning her previous chaste kiss she had given him.
He then pulled away, despite noticing her mouth's invitation to deepen the kiss. He wanted to but there were still some things they had to clear up, starting with the little bit of jewelry around her finger.
"I ran from you once, Buffy and though I may have had good reason, it still doesn't make running away any better." He took her hand in his a placed it over his heart and wiped all trace of emotion save for his grave seriousness at the promise he was about to make.
"I won't do it again, luv, this I promise you. No matter what," he glanced poignantly at the ring before looking back into her eyes, "or who, is in the way, I will not run. Two years away hasn't changed how I feel about you and it hasn't changed my desire to see you happy. And whatever brings that light to you, I will not stand in the way of it. But I will not run. You will always be able to count on me—on my life I swear."
The depth of the words shook Buffy more than any of his declarations of love ever had. She didn't know what it was, but she knew that he would stick by his promise. She was grateful for this and yet she was terrified. She felt completely safe yet equally vulnerable and part of her itched to clam up and deny the tingling within her. Only by her promise to herself to change kept the denial away. She didn't know if it would have worked anyway, considering she had no clue what she was denying.
Spike saw the war raging within his love and decided that they had had enough of the hurtful talk. Maybe not all of it, he thought, glancing at the ring. Ignoring the painful jab in his heart, Spike forced a smile before standing.
"Well," he said before throwing a twenty down on the table, "I don't know about you, but as much as I love this place, I don't plan on spending my first official full day in SunnyHell admiring the flavors of joe this place has. Madam?" He asked, giving Buffy a gentlemanly bow and held his hand out for her to take.
Even though she knew what he was doing, Buffy couldn't help but smile at Spike's chivalrous show. Wiping absently at her face, she took his hand and stood.
"Why, I do declare," she said in her best southern-belle accent, "Sir William, you are just too much a gentleman."
"That, I am, luv. But of course," he leaned over and whispered in her ear, "I can be quite the scoundrel if you'd like…" he completed the innuendo by grazing her ear with his lips and Buffy couldn't hold back the shudder that wracked her body.
"Do you ever turn that down a notch?" she asked breathlessly.
Looking at her with his sexiest look, that in of itself was enough to make her blush, Spike whispered demurely "For you, luv, that notch goes all the way to the top." He chuckled as her features darkened even more before leading her out onto the streets.
"You know, I fancy a walk through the park. What about you, pet?"
Buffy smiled, enjoying this new playful banter they had so easily slipped into. It was enough to make her forget about other issues that had to be dealt with. "The park is fine," she said and nudged him with her shoulder as she basked in the glow of just being happy.
So caught up in one another, neither saw the surprised then murderous features of the brunette man staring bullets into the back of the former vampire before turning into the opposite direction.
***I know it was supposed to be Dawn/Spike but, as with life, things come up. Just like the conversation Buffy and Spike were having steered into another direction. Don't blame me, the characters told me what to do…
***The next chapter will have Buffy and Spike enjoying the park--until, of course, they have that lil talk about a certain ring. I will have it up no later than Friday, Sept 6th (I know it's a long time but I want to write at least 3 chapters of Family Ties by then.
***Any guesses who the 'brunette' was?? Well, you'll find out.
***And to the Dawn/Spike people, in a chapter or two, I will have a chapter devoted just to them and what they have to say to one another. It will be rough, that's all I can say.