Part 12
The words swam before her eyes, dark blue ink blending into the cream- colored paper until all Buffy saw was a mass of scribbles, circles and loops that didn't make any sense. Time seemed to stop; everything in the world came to a halt as Buffy sat alone, her heart heavy. Nothing had changed between them; she had chased Spike away, only this time it was forever. Buffy gnawed at her pouting lower lip, angry with herself for thinking that things would be different. She was still the same impulsive, tempestuous person she had been three years ago.
"But he still cares about me," Buffy reminded herself, clutching his poem tightly in her fist. The raw emotions leapt off the page: pain, anguish, turmoil, regret. But there was something else, an odd formality to Spike's words, as if he was trying to say goodbye without really wanting to leave. Buffy smoothed the paper out over the coffee table, studying the scrawled words without making sense of them. Spike didn't love her anymore but that didn't change how she felt, how much she needed him. Even if he could never love her again, she needed to repair the shattered bonds between them. Buffy needed Spike in her life, he was her anchor in the turbulent sea of life; without Spike, she floated aimlessly, water crashing over her in waves, with no will to do anything more then simply exist.
Buffy's voice was strong, determined, in command, "I won't let him leave me. I can't!" Stuffing her feet into a worn pair of sneakers, Buffy grabbing her keys and her wallet. "I've gotta find him," she said, dashing out the door, "we're not going to do this again." The elevator was somewhere between the twentieth and the twenty-first floor, the green lights seemed to mock Buffy as she waited for the doors to open. Too impatient to wait, Buffy yanked open the door to the stairwell, dashing down the white corridors, not even feeling the steps beneath her feet. She didn't care that Spike had left, that he claimed it was over. He never gave up on her; in fact he had done everything possible to convince her of his love and devotion. For the first time in years, Buffy wasn't filled with self-pity or overwhelming feelings of betrayal. She knew that her impulsive, self-centered decisions had splintered the bonds of trust that had bound their hearts together. I have to fix this, she thought, her mind racing as she sprinted out of the stairwell and into the foyer of her building.
Pushing open the door that separated the bright entranceway from the street outside, Buffy stood in the center of the sidewalk. She had no idea where to go next, New York wasn't a small town like Sunnydale, and Spike could have gone anywhere. "You looking for someone ma'm?" The weekend doorman's quiet voice broke through her thoughts and Buffy spun to face him. "Yes, a friend of mine, he just left a few minutes ago. Black leather jacket, platinum blonde hair. Did you see which way he went?" Her eyes were wild with desperation, maybe by some strange twist of fate she would be able to find Spike, maybe she would have a second chance to make things right. The doorman nodded, "yes ma'm. I saw him not ten minutes ago, headed up that way," he pointed down the street. "Asked me where the nearest bar was. I told him, it's two blocks up and one block over. Nice little place, probably not too crowded on a night like this."
Buffy was already running down the sidewalk by the time he finished answering her question. "Thank you," she called back to the doorman, her blonde hair whipping wildly around her face in the chilly breeze. He nodded, glad that he could help. Buffy dashed down the street, hating the sense of déjà vu that threatened to overwhelm her. She had to find Spike; she couldn't let him walk out of her life for a second time, not without some kind of fight. Even if it took years, she was going to make it up to him; she had to make him see that she did remember, that she had never forgotten how perfect they were together.
Her head spun wildly as she stood on the street corner, the doorman hadn't said which way "one block over" was. Catching a glimpse of bright neon lights to her left, Buffy waited impatiently for the traffic light to glow green. "Finally," she muttered as the white lights shone brightly, telling her that it should be safe to cross the intersection. Buffy raced across the street, not paying attention to the small crowd of people crossing on either side of her. She stopped abruptly on the corner, having spied a familiar leather-clad figure smoking casually against the side of a nearby building. "Spike!" Her voice caught in the howling wind and his head snapped up at the sound.
"Spike," she repeated loudly, walking hesitantly towards him. The tip of his cigarette glowed red, wisps of smoke curling around his sharp features. His blue eyes bored holes through Buffy, icy orbs that chilled her to the depths of her soul. Everything else seemed to fade away except his piercing gaze; Buffy's eyes never left his as she walked closer. Stopping less then a foot away from him, she stood frozen, struggling to catch her breath. Her fingers, bright red from the cold, trembled as they reached out to grab the cigarette from his lips. Buffy threw it in a nearby puddle, not noticing the angry hiss it made; the only thing she could see was Spike, the only thing she cared about was the man in front of her, the vampire who meant more to her then anything in the world.
He raised his scarred eyebrow deliberately, questions racing through his head. For an instant Spike allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy that Buffy really did care about him, that she wasn't going to let him walk out of her life without a fight. Smacking himself mentally for being such a simple-minded fool, Spike brought his attention back to her shivering form. "Now was that necessary," he drawled. His voice was too polite, his face dangerously calm and indifferent. Buffy was too cold to notice, too scared to comment, too much in love to care. "This has to stop," she said, practically yelling over the shriek of the wind and the cacophony of car horns. "I can't let you just leave, Spike! I love you too much to let that happen again."
Buffy wasn't trying to be calm anymore; she didn't care about how pathetic or weak she looked. Her pride had led her down the seemingly endless path of loneliness. It had left her alone in a strange world, one where she felt awkward and out-of-place. She knew her voice was bordering on hysterical but it didn't matter anymore. The only thing that mattered was Spike. "I remember," she said, desperate to break through the irritating mask of indifference that he was hiding behind. "I never forgot, I never could. I didn't move on, Spike.I just kept waiting.hoping.wishing that someday you'd come back.and I'd get another chance to tell you how sorry I am."
The muscles in Spike's jaw were working in overtime, the howling wind drowning out his low growl of anger. He had to be strong about this, "little late for that," he said, brushing past Buffy. Grabbing his arm, Buffy spun him around to face her. "Is it," she asked, her eyes blazing with something Spike's overly descriptive vocabulary couldn't name. He sighed in frustration; he was so tired of chasing ghosts, tired of following lost dreams down a broken path. At the same time, he knew that Buffy was a part of him. She made him feel complete, like he was more then a vampire, not just a soulless demon. Buffy made him feel like a man, she made him feel loved.
"Spike, we have to stop this," Buffy pleaded, her eyes begging Spike to listen to her. He sighed deeply, "stop what? Stop running away from each other? Stop ignoring the tension between us? What should we stop doing, Slayer?" Tears filled Buffy's eyes, but she didn't care how desperate she looked, "I can't lose you Spike.when you're not here it's like I'm falling apart.every day another piece breaks away..and there's nothing I can do to stop it." Buffy looked wildly at Spike, hoping that she was making some kind of sense to him, praying that her words were having an effect on him. "Please, can't we try this again? I'm not asking for romance, I'm not asking you to forget everything..I just want you back in my life.as my friend."
Buffy's voice dropped to a whisper, "I need you here." She fixed her eyes on the concrete sidewalk, unable to look at Spike. "Is that what you want," Spike asked, taking a step closer to Buffy, "friendship?" She looked up, nodding slowly, her eyes never leaving his. Buffy was lying to herself and to Spike; she wanted more then his friendship, she wanted his love. But she had ruined any chance of them being anything more then just friends, now Buffy knew she had to settle for friendship, anything to get Spike back into her life. A look of understanding passed over Spike's face as he looked at Buffy; she would never be able to love him again, he had ruined any chance of them being anything more then friends. "Alright," he said, resigning himself to her friendship instead of her love. Spike would do anything to get Buffy back into his life, even if it meant lying to himself and denying his true feelings.
She brightened, "so are we okay?" Spike nodded slowly, deliberately pausing before he spoke, "yeah." Deep down he knew that they would never be "okay," he and Buffy couldn't survive as simply friends, they were meant to be lovers. They were made for each other, the perfect balance of darkness and light. He remembered telling her once that love wasn't hearts and flowers, that it was passion, raw and unrelenting. Shaking his head, Spike turned his attention back to the woman in front of him. She was shivering, her beautiful green eyes red-rimmed and her lips a ghastly pale. Her hands were stuffed deep in her coat pockets, tight fists clutching to the silky lining of her jacket as Buffy fought back tears of disappointment.
Buffy offered him a tight smile, it was killing her how casual and indifferent Spike looked; she kept hoping against hope that he would break the invisible barrier between them. She wanted him to dramatically sweep her into his arms, cradling her petite body against the familiar planes of his muscular chest. Buffy ducked her head down, watching the way the light reflected off the recycled fragments of glass mixed into the pavement beneath her sneakers. Gnawing on her lower lip, she pushed a small pebble with the toe of her shoe, wishing that he would reach out and push aside the locks of hair falling around her face. She needed to feel his hand tracing the contours of her face, gentle feather-light caresses that sent shivers of cold and tremors of warmth coursing through her body. If she tipped her head the right way, Buffy would be in the perfect position to kiss Spike, her lips a hairbreadth from his. Unconsciously she licked her lips, immediately regretting her action when the biting cold settled over the moisture.
Spike watched her, an odd mixture of longing and something else that looked like pain on his face. Sighing heavily, Buffy took a step away from him. She hated that he was uncomfortable in her presence, how her close proximity filled him with anguish. "So what time's your flight," she asked, mentally pleading with him to say that he wasn't going back to Australia, that he was staying in New York. Turning his head away from Buffy, Spike watched the cars sailing through the streets, not seeing what was in front of him. He glanced at his watch, "ten minutes ago." Buffy looked up quickly, her eyes glowing with excitement that she quickly hid, "so you're staying," she asked. Spike nodded, "yeah, looks like it," he said dryly. He hated how Buffy wouldn't look at him, that she couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. The rejection stung sharper then anything Spike had felt in years. This was worse then any beating he had ever suffered, the pain seemed to cut right through his mind, engulfing his body and eating away at whatever was left of his spirit.
They stared blankly at each other for several long minutes before Spike broke the silence. "Better get back to your apartment," he said, biting his tongue before he slipped and called Buffy "pet". She nodded, rubbing her gloved hands together, trying to get some circulation back into her numb fingers. "Yeah, I probably should," she said half-heartedly. "Do you have work tomorrow," Spike asked, needing to make some kind of conversation as they walked up the block towards Buffy's apartment. Out of habit, he had fallen into step beside her. Buffy shook her head, "took the rest of the week off." He nodded, processing the information, not sure how to act in order to stay within the confines of their newly defined relationship.
Reaching the front door of her building in what felt like seconds, Buffy turned to face Spike, shifting awkwardly from one foot to another. "So you're going to be in town for a while," she asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. Spike nodded, "yeah, the next semester doesn't start until after a week after New Year's, so I don't need to be back on campus until the third of January." Buffy's eyes widened, "that's a long break," she said, mentally calculating how long Spike would be able to stay in New York, if he decided he wanted to stay. Since today was either the fourth or fifth of December, depending on how late it was, they had a little over a month in the City; assuming of course that Spike was going to stay.
As if he could read her mind, Spike looked away from Buffy, his hands stuffed deep inside his pockets as he rocked on the balls of his feet. "Soooo," he said, drawing out the word for as long as possible, trying to figure out the right way to tell Buffy that he was staying in New York until he absolutely needed to go back to Australia. She forced a giggle, something to break the silence. "You want to get something to eat tomorrow night," she asked, "I promise no big emotional breakdowns or screaming fits." Spike smirked, a grim twisting of his mouth, "yeah, that'd be nice. It's been a while since I've eaten in the City. Wouldn't mind doing it again. Pretty nice restaurants here, if my memory serves."
Buffy nodded, resisting the urge to grin at her small victory. "So I'll see you tomorrow night.actually more like later today," she asked, her voice small but not hopeful. She had come too far and had been hurt too many times to get her hopes up again. Spike nodded, "yeah, say seven-ish?" "That sounds good," Buffy said, not realizing how forced her smile was or how high-pitched her voice had become. "Alright, see you then," Spike said leaning in towards Buffy, but turning away at the last moment, before he crossed the line between talking and kissing. "Bye," Buffy said as she walked into the apartment, not wanting to see her retreating back.
Alone outside, Spike dug in the pockets of his duster for a cigarette. "Bloody hell," he swore. "At least we're not screaming at each other," he mused darkly, searching for the elusive silver lining in the black cloud that was his life. "Just friends," he mocked in a falsetto voice, angry with himself for pushing Buffy away. He hated how so many years had slipped past before he tried to set things right. "Well, she didn't stake me, which is an improvement," he said, lifting his arm to signal for a cab, "now I just have to get her to forgive me."
The words swam before her eyes, dark blue ink blending into the cream- colored paper until all Buffy saw was a mass of scribbles, circles and loops that didn't make any sense. Time seemed to stop; everything in the world came to a halt as Buffy sat alone, her heart heavy. Nothing had changed between them; she had chased Spike away, only this time it was forever. Buffy gnawed at her pouting lower lip, angry with herself for thinking that things would be different. She was still the same impulsive, tempestuous person she had been three years ago.
"But he still cares about me," Buffy reminded herself, clutching his poem tightly in her fist. The raw emotions leapt off the page: pain, anguish, turmoil, regret. But there was something else, an odd formality to Spike's words, as if he was trying to say goodbye without really wanting to leave. Buffy smoothed the paper out over the coffee table, studying the scrawled words without making sense of them. Spike didn't love her anymore but that didn't change how she felt, how much she needed him. Even if he could never love her again, she needed to repair the shattered bonds between them. Buffy needed Spike in her life, he was her anchor in the turbulent sea of life; without Spike, she floated aimlessly, water crashing over her in waves, with no will to do anything more then simply exist.
Buffy's voice was strong, determined, in command, "I won't let him leave me. I can't!" Stuffing her feet into a worn pair of sneakers, Buffy grabbing her keys and her wallet. "I've gotta find him," she said, dashing out the door, "we're not going to do this again." The elevator was somewhere between the twentieth and the twenty-first floor, the green lights seemed to mock Buffy as she waited for the doors to open. Too impatient to wait, Buffy yanked open the door to the stairwell, dashing down the white corridors, not even feeling the steps beneath her feet. She didn't care that Spike had left, that he claimed it was over. He never gave up on her; in fact he had done everything possible to convince her of his love and devotion. For the first time in years, Buffy wasn't filled with self-pity or overwhelming feelings of betrayal. She knew that her impulsive, self-centered decisions had splintered the bonds of trust that had bound their hearts together. I have to fix this, she thought, her mind racing as she sprinted out of the stairwell and into the foyer of her building.
Pushing open the door that separated the bright entranceway from the street outside, Buffy stood in the center of the sidewalk. She had no idea where to go next, New York wasn't a small town like Sunnydale, and Spike could have gone anywhere. "You looking for someone ma'm?" The weekend doorman's quiet voice broke through her thoughts and Buffy spun to face him. "Yes, a friend of mine, he just left a few minutes ago. Black leather jacket, platinum blonde hair. Did you see which way he went?" Her eyes were wild with desperation, maybe by some strange twist of fate she would be able to find Spike, maybe she would have a second chance to make things right. The doorman nodded, "yes ma'm. I saw him not ten minutes ago, headed up that way," he pointed down the street. "Asked me where the nearest bar was. I told him, it's two blocks up and one block over. Nice little place, probably not too crowded on a night like this."
Buffy was already running down the sidewalk by the time he finished answering her question. "Thank you," she called back to the doorman, her blonde hair whipping wildly around her face in the chilly breeze. He nodded, glad that he could help. Buffy dashed down the street, hating the sense of déjà vu that threatened to overwhelm her. She had to find Spike; she couldn't let him walk out of her life for a second time, not without some kind of fight. Even if it took years, she was going to make it up to him; she had to make him see that she did remember, that she had never forgotten how perfect they were together.
Her head spun wildly as she stood on the street corner, the doorman hadn't said which way "one block over" was. Catching a glimpse of bright neon lights to her left, Buffy waited impatiently for the traffic light to glow green. "Finally," she muttered as the white lights shone brightly, telling her that it should be safe to cross the intersection. Buffy raced across the street, not paying attention to the small crowd of people crossing on either side of her. She stopped abruptly on the corner, having spied a familiar leather-clad figure smoking casually against the side of a nearby building. "Spike!" Her voice caught in the howling wind and his head snapped up at the sound.
"Spike," she repeated loudly, walking hesitantly towards him. The tip of his cigarette glowed red, wisps of smoke curling around his sharp features. His blue eyes bored holes through Buffy, icy orbs that chilled her to the depths of her soul. Everything else seemed to fade away except his piercing gaze; Buffy's eyes never left his as she walked closer. Stopping less then a foot away from him, she stood frozen, struggling to catch her breath. Her fingers, bright red from the cold, trembled as they reached out to grab the cigarette from his lips. Buffy threw it in a nearby puddle, not noticing the angry hiss it made; the only thing she could see was Spike, the only thing she cared about was the man in front of her, the vampire who meant more to her then anything in the world.
He raised his scarred eyebrow deliberately, questions racing through his head. For an instant Spike allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy that Buffy really did care about him, that she wasn't going to let him walk out of her life without a fight. Smacking himself mentally for being such a simple-minded fool, Spike brought his attention back to her shivering form. "Now was that necessary," he drawled. His voice was too polite, his face dangerously calm and indifferent. Buffy was too cold to notice, too scared to comment, too much in love to care. "This has to stop," she said, practically yelling over the shriek of the wind and the cacophony of car horns. "I can't let you just leave, Spike! I love you too much to let that happen again."
Buffy wasn't trying to be calm anymore; she didn't care about how pathetic or weak she looked. Her pride had led her down the seemingly endless path of loneliness. It had left her alone in a strange world, one where she felt awkward and out-of-place. She knew her voice was bordering on hysterical but it didn't matter anymore. The only thing that mattered was Spike. "I remember," she said, desperate to break through the irritating mask of indifference that he was hiding behind. "I never forgot, I never could. I didn't move on, Spike.I just kept waiting.hoping.wishing that someday you'd come back.and I'd get another chance to tell you how sorry I am."
The muscles in Spike's jaw were working in overtime, the howling wind drowning out his low growl of anger. He had to be strong about this, "little late for that," he said, brushing past Buffy. Grabbing his arm, Buffy spun him around to face her. "Is it," she asked, her eyes blazing with something Spike's overly descriptive vocabulary couldn't name. He sighed in frustration; he was so tired of chasing ghosts, tired of following lost dreams down a broken path. At the same time, he knew that Buffy was a part of him. She made him feel complete, like he was more then a vampire, not just a soulless demon. Buffy made him feel like a man, she made him feel loved.
"Spike, we have to stop this," Buffy pleaded, her eyes begging Spike to listen to her. He sighed deeply, "stop what? Stop running away from each other? Stop ignoring the tension between us? What should we stop doing, Slayer?" Tears filled Buffy's eyes, but she didn't care how desperate she looked, "I can't lose you Spike.when you're not here it's like I'm falling apart.every day another piece breaks away..and there's nothing I can do to stop it." Buffy looked wildly at Spike, hoping that she was making some kind of sense to him, praying that her words were having an effect on him. "Please, can't we try this again? I'm not asking for romance, I'm not asking you to forget everything..I just want you back in my life.as my friend."
Buffy's voice dropped to a whisper, "I need you here." She fixed her eyes on the concrete sidewalk, unable to look at Spike. "Is that what you want," Spike asked, taking a step closer to Buffy, "friendship?" She looked up, nodding slowly, her eyes never leaving his. Buffy was lying to herself and to Spike; she wanted more then his friendship, she wanted his love. But she had ruined any chance of them being anything more then just friends, now Buffy knew she had to settle for friendship, anything to get Spike back into her life. A look of understanding passed over Spike's face as he looked at Buffy; she would never be able to love him again, he had ruined any chance of them being anything more then friends. "Alright," he said, resigning himself to her friendship instead of her love. Spike would do anything to get Buffy back into his life, even if it meant lying to himself and denying his true feelings.
She brightened, "so are we okay?" Spike nodded slowly, deliberately pausing before he spoke, "yeah." Deep down he knew that they would never be "okay," he and Buffy couldn't survive as simply friends, they were meant to be lovers. They were made for each other, the perfect balance of darkness and light. He remembered telling her once that love wasn't hearts and flowers, that it was passion, raw and unrelenting. Shaking his head, Spike turned his attention back to the woman in front of him. She was shivering, her beautiful green eyes red-rimmed and her lips a ghastly pale. Her hands were stuffed deep in her coat pockets, tight fists clutching to the silky lining of her jacket as Buffy fought back tears of disappointment.
Buffy offered him a tight smile, it was killing her how casual and indifferent Spike looked; she kept hoping against hope that he would break the invisible barrier between them. She wanted him to dramatically sweep her into his arms, cradling her petite body against the familiar planes of his muscular chest. Buffy ducked her head down, watching the way the light reflected off the recycled fragments of glass mixed into the pavement beneath her sneakers. Gnawing on her lower lip, she pushed a small pebble with the toe of her shoe, wishing that he would reach out and push aside the locks of hair falling around her face. She needed to feel his hand tracing the contours of her face, gentle feather-light caresses that sent shivers of cold and tremors of warmth coursing through her body. If she tipped her head the right way, Buffy would be in the perfect position to kiss Spike, her lips a hairbreadth from his. Unconsciously she licked her lips, immediately regretting her action when the biting cold settled over the moisture.
Spike watched her, an odd mixture of longing and something else that looked like pain on his face. Sighing heavily, Buffy took a step away from him. She hated that he was uncomfortable in her presence, how her close proximity filled him with anguish. "So what time's your flight," she asked, mentally pleading with him to say that he wasn't going back to Australia, that he was staying in New York. Turning his head away from Buffy, Spike watched the cars sailing through the streets, not seeing what was in front of him. He glanced at his watch, "ten minutes ago." Buffy looked up quickly, her eyes glowing with excitement that she quickly hid, "so you're staying," she asked. Spike nodded, "yeah, looks like it," he said dryly. He hated how Buffy wouldn't look at him, that she couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. The rejection stung sharper then anything Spike had felt in years. This was worse then any beating he had ever suffered, the pain seemed to cut right through his mind, engulfing his body and eating away at whatever was left of his spirit.
They stared blankly at each other for several long minutes before Spike broke the silence. "Better get back to your apartment," he said, biting his tongue before he slipped and called Buffy "pet". She nodded, rubbing her gloved hands together, trying to get some circulation back into her numb fingers. "Yeah, I probably should," she said half-heartedly. "Do you have work tomorrow," Spike asked, needing to make some kind of conversation as they walked up the block towards Buffy's apartment. Out of habit, he had fallen into step beside her. Buffy shook her head, "took the rest of the week off." He nodded, processing the information, not sure how to act in order to stay within the confines of their newly defined relationship.
Reaching the front door of her building in what felt like seconds, Buffy turned to face Spike, shifting awkwardly from one foot to another. "So you're going to be in town for a while," she asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. Spike nodded, "yeah, the next semester doesn't start until after a week after New Year's, so I don't need to be back on campus until the third of January." Buffy's eyes widened, "that's a long break," she said, mentally calculating how long Spike would be able to stay in New York, if he decided he wanted to stay. Since today was either the fourth or fifth of December, depending on how late it was, they had a little over a month in the City; assuming of course that Spike was going to stay.
As if he could read her mind, Spike looked away from Buffy, his hands stuffed deep inside his pockets as he rocked on the balls of his feet. "Soooo," he said, drawing out the word for as long as possible, trying to figure out the right way to tell Buffy that he was staying in New York until he absolutely needed to go back to Australia. She forced a giggle, something to break the silence. "You want to get something to eat tomorrow night," she asked, "I promise no big emotional breakdowns or screaming fits." Spike smirked, a grim twisting of his mouth, "yeah, that'd be nice. It's been a while since I've eaten in the City. Wouldn't mind doing it again. Pretty nice restaurants here, if my memory serves."
Buffy nodded, resisting the urge to grin at her small victory. "So I'll see you tomorrow night.actually more like later today," she asked, her voice small but not hopeful. She had come too far and had been hurt too many times to get her hopes up again. Spike nodded, "yeah, say seven-ish?" "That sounds good," Buffy said, not realizing how forced her smile was or how high-pitched her voice had become. "Alright, see you then," Spike said leaning in towards Buffy, but turning away at the last moment, before he crossed the line between talking and kissing. "Bye," Buffy said as she walked into the apartment, not wanting to see her retreating back.
Alone outside, Spike dug in the pockets of his duster for a cigarette. "Bloody hell," he swore. "At least we're not screaming at each other," he mused darkly, searching for the elusive silver lining in the black cloud that was his life. "Just friends," he mocked in a falsetto voice, angry with himself for pushing Buffy away. He hated how so many years had slipped past before he tried to set things right. "Well, she didn't stake me, which is an improvement," he said, lifting his arm to signal for a cab, "now I just have to get her to forgive me."
