Angel stared at the worn piece of paper for the hundredth time that day.
Ever since Spike had left, it was all he could think about. He didn't tell
anybody about it, because he hadn't made up his mind. Could he travel all
the way to Africa? Would it work? Would the same thing that happened to
Spike happen to him? Spike indicated in the letter that Angel would have a
different experience. But could he really trust Spike about this?
He watched Cordelia move around the hotel, taking care of her various chores. She never complained, but he knew that she was tired of their "relationship." She deserved more, but he couldn't just walk out on her. He grimaced at the thought. He left Buffy for the same reason, and looked how well that worked out. Sure he had a life and a purpose in L.A., but even though he loved Cordy, he still regretted it every day.
Angel sighed, what was wrong with him? He had the perfect opportunity here, yet he hesitated. A part of him suspected that he didn't want a permanent soul. A small, nagging voice pointed out that if we went to Africa, Angelus wouldn't permanently die. What was so horrible about that? Nothing, really. He never wanted to be Angelus again, but..
Angel folded the letter and put it back into his pocket. There would be plenty of time to decide. He had a whole eternity, didn't he? But Cordelia didn't. Damn..
*** .Spike was bored. Painfully, terribly bored. He wasn't tired, he wasn't hungry, he wasn't restless. He had permission to leave his room now, but there wasn't anything out there he wanted to do. Buffy was at work, Dawn was in L.A., and Joyce was at her pre-school. So he had the entire house to himself, and nothing to do.
Last time he had the house to himself was when he was taking care of Dawn. Spike wasn't above snooping, and while Buffy was gone, he went through all of her personal belongings. Nobody had the heart to clean her room out.that's what he thought then, anyway. Now looking back it was clear that nobody cleaned out the room because they never thought she would be gone for long.
He was in her room now, and again, he wasn't above snooping. She had ten years worth of memories in this room, and she was a different person now. Spike understood that. Whatever had happened to her in the past decade had molded her into a woman that he didn't really know anymore. The girl he used to love simply would not be able to juggle a small child, a house, a job, on top of her slaying responsibilities. The girl he knew gave up on life, not once but twice.
He looked for clues now. Her wardrobe was far more conservative, in muted colors. Gone were the bright clothes and the belly shirts and the pants that were slightly too tight. Her shoes were sensible. Not a 4 inch heel among them. His girl had grown up.
Spike turned his attention to her desk. He found an old cigar box pushed to the very back of the bottom drawer. Curious, he pulled it out and opened it. Inside was a stack of letters, and all the envelopes contained one simple name, written in tight, feminine handwriting. Spike. Spike frowned and debated whether he should put the box back without reading the letters or not. On the one hand, he did feel slightly guilty now about reading her private thoughts. On the other hand, they were addressed to him, weren't they?
The conscience Spike acquired nearly a decade before didn't stop him from opening the envelope on the top. It was dated March 7, 2112. Nearly six months prior. He didn't read it immediately; instead he looked at when all the other letters were dated. At the very bottom of the pile was a letter dated February 28, 2002, three days after he had left town. It was also the shortest letter in the stack.
ISpike, I'm sorry. Please come back. /I
He wondered if she would have sent these letters to him if she knew where to send them? He wondered if he would have come back if he had received such a letter? He had a feeling that Buffy never truly understood why he left. She thought it was just a fight, like the others that had defined their relationship. Fighting was never a problem before, and he was pretty thick skinned. No, he didn't leave because they had a fight. He left because it wasn't just a fight, wasn't just a war of angry words. He left because she honestly believed what she said.
He sighed and lost interest in the letters. Maybe he'd read them later. He carefully put the letters in the box the way he found them, and returned the box to its place in the drawer. He left her room the way he found it, and went downstairs to see what was on television.
Spike found it somewhat amusing that he hadn't watched television in a decade. All of his favorite shows were probably long over. He flipped through the stations and, to his delight, found Passions. As the hour progressed, he was thrilled to see that he could still follow the storyline. But that didn't match the excitement when he saw that Springer was still on the air. Now that was quality television. He wondered idly if one of the cable stations was carrying Dawson's Creek. Maybe he could find it on DVD. He'd have to ask Buffy about that.
He was engrossed by the drama on the screen when Buffy came home. "You left your room, huh?" She said pleasantly as she closed the door.
"Yep, decided I needed to catch up on my shows."
Buffy smiled, "Did you look in the closet?"
"No. Why?"
Buffy opened the hall closet widely, and Spike gaped. "Dawn recorded every episode of Passions, and when she moved, she made sure I did as well."
"Why?"
"She.we.never believed you wouldn't come back," Buffy explained quietly.
Spike didn't know how to respond that. It seemed she was surprising him on a daily basis. Did her version of events allow for him to return? Were they remembering things so radically differently that she could honestly believe he would return, no hard feelings, and worried about Passions? He saw from her smiling face that that was indeed the case. For the first time, Spike began to doubt his own mind.
"I thought you said you wouldn't be home until after five?" Spike asked.
She shrugged, "Sometimes when it's slow, I go home early."
"What do you do now, anyway?"
"There is a little clothing store in the mall. I'm the manager. It's not bad at all. I get to set my own hours so it doesn't get in the way of my other job," she paused and tilted her head slightly, as if considering something. "It's a lot of responsibility, but I really enjoy it."
"I'm glad to hear you aren't working at the Double Meat," Spike spat the name of the fast-food chain.
She laughed, "No, I quit that place a long time ago. I've been working in the mall for several years now."
She sat down beside him and watched what was on the televsion for a few moments. "I can't believe this is still on the air."
"Neither can I. What's this about not letting Joyce watch telly?"
Buffy shook her head. "She's allowed to watch a few hours a day. Mainly things on PBS. I...I just don't know how to raise a small child, you know? And it's hard because she's so smart, Spike. I don't want her to waste that intelligence on TV. I want her to read and play."
"She is extremely bright," Spike agreed. "Has she shown any uh.magical abilities?"
"I've been watching her carefully, but nothing yet. So far she just has their brains. Anyway, Xander is coming over for dinner tonight, and I've got some errands to run."
Spike watched her move about the house, straightening up, picking up Joyce's toys, and dusting. It occurred to him that he could offer to help her out, but he wasn't in the helping mood. For her part, she didn't seem to expect him to get up and lend her a hand. He lost interest in the television, and just let his eyes follow her. He used to love to watch her, and could do so for hours without interruption.
"Are you hungry?" She asked.
"No, I'm fine."
Buffy walked into the kitchen, aware of his eyes on her. She was feeling very self-conscious, and awkward. She missed the way they used to talk, and now it was hard work to carry on a conversation. She didn't know what to say to him. She didn't just want to talk about Joyce all of the time, but it seemed that at this point, she was all they had in common. They didn't have a common experience in ten years, and before he left, it seemed they were never on the same page. Even the sex was awkward, and at times, unfulfilling.
She had two hours before she had to pick up Joyce, and three before she expected Xander. Maybe she could think of something fun to do with Spike.
"Hey, Spike," she said, entering the living room, "do you want to play Scrabble?"
Spike raised one eyebrow, "What?"
"Scrabble. Do you want to play?"
Spike was bewildered; did she want to play Scrabble? What on Earth would posses her to ask if he wanted to play Scrabble? "Why?"
Buffy frowned, "I just thought it sounded like fun is all."
"Since when do you think Scrabble is fun? That doesn't strike me as something you would enjoy," Spike said.
"What does that mean?" She demanded. "Do you think I'm stupid?"
Spike shook his head, "You just never struck me as very academic."
"I'll have you know that I got a 700 verbal score on my SATs," she informed him.
"Slayer, I don't even know what that means."
She flopped down on the couch, "It means I'm smart enough to play Scrabble."
They sat in silence for several minutes, watching the talk show. "Are you bored?" Spike finally asked. "Is that why you're sitting here scowling?"
"No, I'm not bored. I'm frustrated."
"Been awhile since your last boyfriend, Slayer?"
Buffy punched his arm, "That's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?"
"I didn't expect things to be so awkward between us."
"What? You thought we could just be best friends again?"
"We were never.." Buffy started to protest, then faltered. Spike stared at her, waiting for her to finish the sentence. "Can we start again?" She asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Start over, you know. Put the past behind us. We were friends once and..."
"No."
"No?"
"No. No starting over. I'm not interested in starting anything with you."
Buffy was hurt, and was horrified at the tears prickling the back of her eyes. "Why not?
Spike leaned forward, "Because you never..
*** ".trust me?" Spike demanded. "Is that so difficult?"
"Yes," Buffy answered. "Why should I? Last time I trusted you, you tried to get the chip removed."
"Well, I didn't do anything."
"How am I supposed to know that? Your girlfriend comes to town, there's a rash of 'mysterious' murders, and I'm not supposed to suspect you?"
"What do you think I did? Stared at them to death?"
"You probably fed from them after she killed them," Buffy answered.
Spike frowned, "What are you talking about?"
"The way I figure it, you didn't tell me Dru was in town because you were enjoying the all You-Can-Eat-Buffet."
Spike shook his head and began to walk away, but then turned around. "This isn't about whether or not I was feeding off of Dru's leftovers. What's really bothering you?"
"Isn't that enough?"
"You know I didn't do anything. Why are you picking a fight?"
"All we ever do is fight."
"Because you won't allow yourself to be happy for five minutes."
"How can I be happy Spike? Look at my life."
"You won't let me make you happy."
"What? Are you going to bring my mom back? Are you going to stop Glory? Are you going to protect my sister and my friends?"
"I'm doing my best to help you, Buffy."
"But it'll never be enough, Spike. You won't ever be able to do enough."
"I see."
"No, you don't see. Spike, can't you feel it? It's all spinning out of control. And now Drusilla is back in town.."
"She's gone," Spike said quietly. "You don't have to worry about her."
"Did she leave town?"
"Don't worry about it Slayer, she won't bother you again."
"I can't do this anymore, Spike. I need to rest."
"Come to my crypt and you can get some sleep."
"No, Spike, I need to rest."
Spike pulled her against him and looked into her eyes. She looked like she had aged ten years in the past ten days. "I know, pet. I know." Spike didn't say anything then, but he knew that was the moment he lost his Slayer forever.
He watched Cordelia move around the hotel, taking care of her various chores. She never complained, but he knew that she was tired of their "relationship." She deserved more, but he couldn't just walk out on her. He grimaced at the thought. He left Buffy for the same reason, and looked how well that worked out. Sure he had a life and a purpose in L.A., but even though he loved Cordy, he still regretted it every day.
Angel sighed, what was wrong with him? He had the perfect opportunity here, yet he hesitated. A part of him suspected that he didn't want a permanent soul. A small, nagging voice pointed out that if we went to Africa, Angelus wouldn't permanently die. What was so horrible about that? Nothing, really. He never wanted to be Angelus again, but..
Angel folded the letter and put it back into his pocket. There would be plenty of time to decide. He had a whole eternity, didn't he? But Cordelia didn't. Damn..
*** .Spike was bored. Painfully, terribly bored. He wasn't tired, he wasn't hungry, he wasn't restless. He had permission to leave his room now, but there wasn't anything out there he wanted to do. Buffy was at work, Dawn was in L.A., and Joyce was at her pre-school. So he had the entire house to himself, and nothing to do.
Last time he had the house to himself was when he was taking care of Dawn. Spike wasn't above snooping, and while Buffy was gone, he went through all of her personal belongings. Nobody had the heart to clean her room out.that's what he thought then, anyway. Now looking back it was clear that nobody cleaned out the room because they never thought she would be gone for long.
He was in her room now, and again, he wasn't above snooping. She had ten years worth of memories in this room, and she was a different person now. Spike understood that. Whatever had happened to her in the past decade had molded her into a woman that he didn't really know anymore. The girl he used to love simply would not be able to juggle a small child, a house, a job, on top of her slaying responsibilities. The girl he knew gave up on life, not once but twice.
He looked for clues now. Her wardrobe was far more conservative, in muted colors. Gone were the bright clothes and the belly shirts and the pants that were slightly too tight. Her shoes were sensible. Not a 4 inch heel among them. His girl had grown up.
Spike turned his attention to her desk. He found an old cigar box pushed to the very back of the bottom drawer. Curious, he pulled it out and opened it. Inside was a stack of letters, and all the envelopes contained one simple name, written in tight, feminine handwriting. Spike. Spike frowned and debated whether he should put the box back without reading the letters or not. On the one hand, he did feel slightly guilty now about reading her private thoughts. On the other hand, they were addressed to him, weren't they?
The conscience Spike acquired nearly a decade before didn't stop him from opening the envelope on the top. It was dated March 7, 2112. Nearly six months prior. He didn't read it immediately; instead he looked at when all the other letters were dated. At the very bottom of the pile was a letter dated February 28, 2002, three days after he had left town. It was also the shortest letter in the stack.
ISpike, I'm sorry. Please come back. /I
He wondered if she would have sent these letters to him if she knew where to send them? He wondered if he would have come back if he had received such a letter? He had a feeling that Buffy never truly understood why he left. She thought it was just a fight, like the others that had defined their relationship. Fighting was never a problem before, and he was pretty thick skinned. No, he didn't leave because they had a fight. He left because it wasn't just a fight, wasn't just a war of angry words. He left because she honestly believed what she said.
He sighed and lost interest in the letters. Maybe he'd read them later. He carefully put the letters in the box the way he found them, and returned the box to its place in the drawer. He left her room the way he found it, and went downstairs to see what was on television.
Spike found it somewhat amusing that he hadn't watched television in a decade. All of his favorite shows were probably long over. He flipped through the stations and, to his delight, found Passions. As the hour progressed, he was thrilled to see that he could still follow the storyline. But that didn't match the excitement when he saw that Springer was still on the air. Now that was quality television. He wondered idly if one of the cable stations was carrying Dawson's Creek. Maybe he could find it on DVD. He'd have to ask Buffy about that.
He was engrossed by the drama on the screen when Buffy came home. "You left your room, huh?" She said pleasantly as she closed the door.
"Yep, decided I needed to catch up on my shows."
Buffy smiled, "Did you look in the closet?"
"No. Why?"
Buffy opened the hall closet widely, and Spike gaped. "Dawn recorded every episode of Passions, and when she moved, she made sure I did as well."
"Why?"
"She.we.never believed you wouldn't come back," Buffy explained quietly.
Spike didn't know how to respond that. It seemed she was surprising him on a daily basis. Did her version of events allow for him to return? Were they remembering things so radically differently that she could honestly believe he would return, no hard feelings, and worried about Passions? He saw from her smiling face that that was indeed the case. For the first time, Spike began to doubt his own mind.
"I thought you said you wouldn't be home until after five?" Spike asked.
She shrugged, "Sometimes when it's slow, I go home early."
"What do you do now, anyway?"
"There is a little clothing store in the mall. I'm the manager. It's not bad at all. I get to set my own hours so it doesn't get in the way of my other job," she paused and tilted her head slightly, as if considering something. "It's a lot of responsibility, but I really enjoy it."
"I'm glad to hear you aren't working at the Double Meat," Spike spat the name of the fast-food chain.
She laughed, "No, I quit that place a long time ago. I've been working in the mall for several years now."
She sat down beside him and watched what was on the televsion for a few moments. "I can't believe this is still on the air."
"Neither can I. What's this about not letting Joyce watch telly?"
Buffy shook her head. "She's allowed to watch a few hours a day. Mainly things on PBS. I...I just don't know how to raise a small child, you know? And it's hard because she's so smart, Spike. I don't want her to waste that intelligence on TV. I want her to read and play."
"She is extremely bright," Spike agreed. "Has she shown any uh.magical abilities?"
"I've been watching her carefully, but nothing yet. So far she just has their brains. Anyway, Xander is coming over for dinner tonight, and I've got some errands to run."
Spike watched her move about the house, straightening up, picking up Joyce's toys, and dusting. It occurred to him that he could offer to help her out, but he wasn't in the helping mood. For her part, she didn't seem to expect him to get up and lend her a hand. He lost interest in the television, and just let his eyes follow her. He used to love to watch her, and could do so for hours without interruption.
"Are you hungry?" She asked.
"No, I'm fine."
Buffy walked into the kitchen, aware of his eyes on her. She was feeling very self-conscious, and awkward. She missed the way they used to talk, and now it was hard work to carry on a conversation. She didn't know what to say to him. She didn't just want to talk about Joyce all of the time, but it seemed that at this point, she was all they had in common. They didn't have a common experience in ten years, and before he left, it seemed they were never on the same page. Even the sex was awkward, and at times, unfulfilling.
She had two hours before she had to pick up Joyce, and three before she expected Xander. Maybe she could think of something fun to do with Spike.
"Hey, Spike," she said, entering the living room, "do you want to play Scrabble?"
Spike raised one eyebrow, "What?"
"Scrabble. Do you want to play?"
Spike was bewildered; did she want to play Scrabble? What on Earth would posses her to ask if he wanted to play Scrabble? "Why?"
Buffy frowned, "I just thought it sounded like fun is all."
"Since when do you think Scrabble is fun? That doesn't strike me as something you would enjoy," Spike said.
"What does that mean?" She demanded. "Do you think I'm stupid?"
Spike shook his head, "You just never struck me as very academic."
"I'll have you know that I got a 700 verbal score on my SATs," she informed him.
"Slayer, I don't even know what that means."
She flopped down on the couch, "It means I'm smart enough to play Scrabble."
They sat in silence for several minutes, watching the talk show. "Are you bored?" Spike finally asked. "Is that why you're sitting here scowling?"
"No, I'm not bored. I'm frustrated."
"Been awhile since your last boyfriend, Slayer?"
Buffy punched his arm, "That's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?"
"I didn't expect things to be so awkward between us."
"What? You thought we could just be best friends again?"
"We were never.." Buffy started to protest, then faltered. Spike stared at her, waiting for her to finish the sentence. "Can we start again?" She asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Start over, you know. Put the past behind us. We were friends once and..."
"No."
"No?"
"No. No starting over. I'm not interested in starting anything with you."
Buffy was hurt, and was horrified at the tears prickling the back of her eyes. "Why not?
Spike leaned forward, "Because you never..
*** ".trust me?" Spike demanded. "Is that so difficult?"
"Yes," Buffy answered. "Why should I? Last time I trusted you, you tried to get the chip removed."
"Well, I didn't do anything."
"How am I supposed to know that? Your girlfriend comes to town, there's a rash of 'mysterious' murders, and I'm not supposed to suspect you?"
"What do you think I did? Stared at them to death?"
"You probably fed from them after she killed them," Buffy answered.
Spike frowned, "What are you talking about?"
"The way I figure it, you didn't tell me Dru was in town because you were enjoying the all You-Can-Eat-Buffet."
Spike shook his head and began to walk away, but then turned around. "This isn't about whether or not I was feeding off of Dru's leftovers. What's really bothering you?"
"Isn't that enough?"
"You know I didn't do anything. Why are you picking a fight?"
"All we ever do is fight."
"Because you won't allow yourself to be happy for five minutes."
"How can I be happy Spike? Look at my life."
"You won't let me make you happy."
"What? Are you going to bring my mom back? Are you going to stop Glory? Are you going to protect my sister and my friends?"
"I'm doing my best to help you, Buffy."
"But it'll never be enough, Spike. You won't ever be able to do enough."
"I see."
"No, you don't see. Spike, can't you feel it? It's all spinning out of control. And now Drusilla is back in town.."
"She's gone," Spike said quietly. "You don't have to worry about her."
"Did she leave town?"
"Don't worry about it Slayer, she won't bother you again."
"I can't do this anymore, Spike. I need to rest."
"Come to my crypt and you can get some sleep."
"No, Spike, I need to rest."
Spike pulled her against him and looked into her eyes. She looked like she had aged ten years in the past ten days. "I know, pet. I know." Spike didn't say anything then, but he knew that was the moment he lost his Slayer forever.
