The Return to Sunny D - September 2002
Chapter Two
Buffy ran up to her room, wanting desperately to take a shower. She was filthy from spending all day cleaning the basement out. At this point she was willing to do anything to stop her mind from working, or thinking, or feeling anything. After Spike left Sunnydale she was crushed and relieved at the same time. She had never thought he would actually go, but she was glad he did. After what he had done to her, she wasn't sure if she could ever trust him again. Actually, she had a sinking feeling that she would never trust him. He had violated her in the worst way imaginable, months later she could almost see where he was coming from. Almost. There was no excuse, but in the long run it had just proven that he was an evil, soulless creature that was not to be trusted. Or at least that's what she told herself to comfort herself at night.
It wasn't just Spike though. All of her comfort zones were shot to hell. Willow was in a mental institution somewhere England, buy order of the WC. Anya had left Xander, saying that they needed some time apart before they could begin to trust one another again. Buffy had never cared for Anya, but without Anya, Xander was just a shell of himself. He pretty much drank a lot and spent a lot of time losing his money playing poker in the back of Willie's bar. Dawn blamed her for Spike leaving, which she could understand. She and Giles talked on the phone more often, but he went back to England to monitor Willow's progress. Buffy knew that if she thought about poor Tara she would completely lose it and would never make it through the day. Her world was falling apart and the hot water from her shower was the only comfort she had left.
She opened the door to her bedroom slowly. She found dozens of candles lit throughout her room. Wild flowers were sprinkled all over the bed and her floor. She noticed her window was open. She could have sworn she closed it before she left. Her next thought was a certain vampire had been in here. She shook it from her head, not wanting to think about that possibility. As she made her way closer to the bed she found a piece of parchment paper folded into thirds, with her name sloppily printed on the top. She knew this handwriting. A shaky hand reached down and picked up the letter. She almost started crying when she positively identified the sloppy handwriting.
To my Slayer:
I know that we parted on the ugliest terms imaginable, and even though I cannot take back my actions or my horrible words, I am undeservingly asking for the chance to make amends. You were always in my thoughts, through the most hideous of my trails. I did it all for you, even though I didn't realize it at the time. I am what I am right now because of you. You are my life and I am yours, no matter how much you wished it wasn't so. I beg you to see me. I love you and I want you. Meet me at the Bronze tomorrow night, around eight. Don't tell anyone of my return until you have seen me for yourself. I will be thinking of you every second until then.
Love William
William, since when does he go by William? Was Buffy's first thought. She then became unreasonably angry. She decided to skip the shower and headed straight toward Spike's former crypt. She burst through the door, and much to her surprise the crypt was completely empty. There was no proof that a vampire named Spike had ever lived there. She did find a small box in the middle of the floor. Buffy bent over to pick the box up. She opened it and found a small silver band within. It had her named engraved on the inside of the band. She immediately knew who it was from. The Slayer slipped the small box into her coat pocket. The night was cold, and Buffy hugged herself as she made her way back to the house. A small smile escaped from her lips at the thought of Spike being back. She went upstairs when she got home and took a long bath, thinking about Spike.
******************
Spike was in his apartment unpacking his meager possessions. He had been back in Sunnyhell for about two weeks. His job at the museum looked promising. They were thoroughly impressed with how much he new about 19th century England, and about the broad amount of travels he had made considering he was only 27 years old. The job at the museum was only part time, on call, and he needed something with more structure. Structure, Buffy will like that, Spike thought to himself. He wasn't sure how Dawn was going to take it when she found out he was going to be teaching English Comp. where she was attending high school. He sighed heavily as he sorted through the boxes he had accumulated over his last hundred forty plus years on this earth. Actually, there was surprisingly little to go through. After all the times he and Dru had to relocate, he was honestly surprised he was even still alive. He pulled out a small photo album. He recognized as being once he had stolen from Buffy's house.
He started to flip through it. Becoming more sentimental than he would have ever thought possible, a lump formed in his throat when he realized that he actually missed all of these people. They were his friends, he guessed. Well the closest to any he had ever had before. There was one of Xander and Anya sitting on Buffy's back porch, Xander making a goofy face and Anya, he was almost sure of, was thinking about money. He wondered whatever happened with those two. With a tiny pang of guilt he felt responsible for their parting. Even though he and Anya shagged after the breakup, he felt that he hadn't helped matters at all. There was another of Willow and Tara kissing. He felt a small tear slip down his cheek as he thought of the shy blonde wiccan. She had been a good girl, she never deserved this. If only I would have been here. Stupid bloody poofter..
Part of him knew that wasn't true though. He knew through the underground that Tara would have been killed regardless on whether or not he would have been here or not. Tara and Buffy had been shot in broad daylight, there would have been nothing he could have done. He mindlessly thumbed through the rest of the album. Most of them he had stolen from the Summer's home. He reached the very last one, the only one with him in it. He and Buffy had been standing in the hallway. She loosely had her tiny arm around his lean waist. He could tell it had been around Christmas time, with all the cheesy lights and tinsel scatter all over the place. He knew that Dawn had taken the photo, he also knew that there had been no one else in the house at the time. Buffy made sure never to get within ten feet of him when the Scoobs were around, especially the whelp. She was also smiling, not the fake performance smile, she looked genuinely happy.
He missed her so much. The last few months had quite literally been hell. He started to regret the flowers and candles he had left in Buffy's room. He didn't want her to think he had turned into Angelus or anything. He had come back for her trust, and her love. He had gotten used to her not loving him, but he had to have the trust part back. He knew he couldn't live without her.
And then I break into her bloody room like a stalker and.he didn't finish the thought, grimacing enough about the first part. He moved into the bedroom to unpack his clothes, anything to keep his mind from wandering back to her. He came across his duster. He smelled it, like Buffy had done so many times when she thought he wasn't looking. It smelled of blood, alcohol, smokes, and lust. Things he had not had since coming back to Sunny D. Spike sighed and dropped the relic in a cedar trunk at the foot of his bed. He briefly wondered if Buffy would notice that he had snaked it from her room after he was done with his little stalker party. He doubted it though, he had found it at the bottom of her closet under a bunch of outdated clothes and stuffed animals. He sighed once more, and looked over his apartment. Buffy would be happy with this.
"Home sweet home." He muttered to himself as went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. He sat down at his dining room table and began to scribble in his journal.
Chapter Two
Buffy ran up to her room, wanting desperately to take a shower. She was filthy from spending all day cleaning the basement out. At this point she was willing to do anything to stop her mind from working, or thinking, or feeling anything. After Spike left Sunnydale she was crushed and relieved at the same time. She had never thought he would actually go, but she was glad he did. After what he had done to her, she wasn't sure if she could ever trust him again. Actually, she had a sinking feeling that she would never trust him. He had violated her in the worst way imaginable, months later she could almost see where he was coming from. Almost. There was no excuse, but in the long run it had just proven that he was an evil, soulless creature that was not to be trusted. Or at least that's what she told herself to comfort herself at night.
It wasn't just Spike though. All of her comfort zones were shot to hell. Willow was in a mental institution somewhere England, buy order of the WC. Anya had left Xander, saying that they needed some time apart before they could begin to trust one another again. Buffy had never cared for Anya, but without Anya, Xander was just a shell of himself. He pretty much drank a lot and spent a lot of time losing his money playing poker in the back of Willie's bar. Dawn blamed her for Spike leaving, which she could understand. She and Giles talked on the phone more often, but he went back to England to monitor Willow's progress. Buffy knew that if she thought about poor Tara she would completely lose it and would never make it through the day. Her world was falling apart and the hot water from her shower was the only comfort she had left.
She opened the door to her bedroom slowly. She found dozens of candles lit throughout her room. Wild flowers were sprinkled all over the bed and her floor. She noticed her window was open. She could have sworn she closed it before she left. Her next thought was a certain vampire had been in here. She shook it from her head, not wanting to think about that possibility. As she made her way closer to the bed she found a piece of parchment paper folded into thirds, with her name sloppily printed on the top. She knew this handwriting. A shaky hand reached down and picked up the letter. She almost started crying when she positively identified the sloppy handwriting.
To my Slayer:
I know that we parted on the ugliest terms imaginable, and even though I cannot take back my actions or my horrible words, I am undeservingly asking for the chance to make amends. You were always in my thoughts, through the most hideous of my trails. I did it all for you, even though I didn't realize it at the time. I am what I am right now because of you. You are my life and I am yours, no matter how much you wished it wasn't so. I beg you to see me. I love you and I want you. Meet me at the Bronze tomorrow night, around eight. Don't tell anyone of my return until you have seen me for yourself. I will be thinking of you every second until then.
Love William
William, since when does he go by William? Was Buffy's first thought. She then became unreasonably angry. She decided to skip the shower and headed straight toward Spike's former crypt. She burst through the door, and much to her surprise the crypt was completely empty. There was no proof that a vampire named Spike had ever lived there. She did find a small box in the middle of the floor. Buffy bent over to pick the box up. She opened it and found a small silver band within. It had her named engraved on the inside of the band. She immediately knew who it was from. The Slayer slipped the small box into her coat pocket. The night was cold, and Buffy hugged herself as she made her way back to the house. A small smile escaped from her lips at the thought of Spike being back. She went upstairs when she got home and took a long bath, thinking about Spike.
******************
Spike was in his apartment unpacking his meager possessions. He had been back in Sunnyhell for about two weeks. His job at the museum looked promising. They were thoroughly impressed with how much he new about 19th century England, and about the broad amount of travels he had made considering he was only 27 years old. The job at the museum was only part time, on call, and he needed something with more structure. Structure, Buffy will like that, Spike thought to himself. He wasn't sure how Dawn was going to take it when she found out he was going to be teaching English Comp. where she was attending high school. He sighed heavily as he sorted through the boxes he had accumulated over his last hundred forty plus years on this earth. Actually, there was surprisingly little to go through. After all the times he and Dru had to relocate, he was honestly surprised he was even still alive. He pulled out a small photo album. He recognized as being once he had stolen from Buffy's house.
He started to flip through it. Becoming more sentimental than he would have ever thought possible, a lump formed in his throat when he realized that he actually missed all of these people. They were his friends, he guessed. Well the closest to any he had ever had before. There was one of Xander and Anya sitting on Buffy's back porch, Xander making a goofy face and Anya, he was almost sure of, was thinking about money. He wondered whatever happened with those two. With a tiny pang of guilt he felt responsible for their parting. Even though he and Anya shagged after the breakup, he felt that he hadn't helped matters at all. There was another of Willow and Tara kissing. He felt a small tear slip down his cheek as he thought of the shy blonde wiccan. She had been a good girl, she never deserved this. If only I would have been here. Stupid bloody poofter..
Part of him knew that wasn't true though. He knew through the underground that Tara would have been killed regardless on whether or not he would have been here or not. Tara and Buffy had been shot in broad daylight, there would have been nothing he could have done. He mindlessly thumbed through the rest of the album. Most of them he had stolen from the Summer's home. He reached the very last one, the only one with him in it. He and Buffy had been standing in the hallway. She loosely had her tiny arm around his lean waist. He could tell it had been around Christmas time, with all the cheesy lights and tinsel scatter all over the place. He knew that Dawn had taken the photo, he also knew that there had been no one else in the house at the time. Buffy made sure never to get within ten feet of him when the Scoobs were around, especially the whelp. She was also smiling, not the fake performance smile, she looked genuinely happy.
He missed her so much. The last few months had quite literally been hell. He started to regret the flowers and candles he had left in Buffy's room. He didn't want her to think he had turned into Angelus or anything. He had come back for her trust, and her love. He had gotten used to her not loving him, but he had to have the trust part back. He knew he couldn't live without her.
And then I break into her bloody room like a stalker and.he didn't finish the thought, grimacing enough about the first part. He moved into the bedroom to unpack his clothes, anything to keep his mind from wandering back to her. He came across his duster. He smelled it, like Buffy had done so many times when she thought he wasn't looking. It smelled of blood, alcohol, smokes, and lust. Things he had not had since coming back to Sunny D. Spike sighed and dropped the relic in a cedar trunk at the foot of his bed. He briefly wondered if Buffy would notice that he had snaked it from her room after he was done with his little stalker party. He doubted it though, he had found it at the bottom of her closet under a bunch of outdated clothes and stuffed animals. He sighed once more, and looked over his apartment. Buffy would be happy with this.
"Home sweet home." He muttered to himself as went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. He sat down at his dining room table and began to scribble in his journal.