*********************************TRApPeD*********************************
Thirty-Nine: When She's Gone
By Annie
2003-06-11
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Day Thirty-Five.
9.07 a.m.
Spike rested his head back, slumping down in the armchair and bringing the half-emptied glass of bourbon to his mouth. It wasn't spreading through him fast enough. It wasn't giving him the release he needed from the thoughts churning through his mind.
She was in Los Angeles.
She hadn't told him exactly why she was going, just that she simply had to. And he had let her go without any fuss because he could already see on her that she was more than serious. This was something she needed to do.
He wanted numbness. He craved it. But it wouldn't set in.
"Spike?"
He turned his head sharply to the door; staring at the human form in the doorway, her eyes staring back.
"What're you doing here, Red?" he finally asked, taking another mouthful of the liquor and praying for it to soak his head.
Willow observed him in silence for a few moments, narrowing her eyes as she watched the haggard expression on his face. He looked more tired than she thought she had ever seen him. Stripped of his arrogance and reduced into something that seemed built by nothing but emotion, and worries. She wondered how much Buffy had disclosed about the trip to L.A - and Angel. It couldn't have been much.
"Can I come in?" she asked and he glared at her, then his face softened and he let forth a smile, shaking his head a little.
"You would be the one to bloody ask before stepping into someone's home, wouldn't you?" he then more stated than inquired and she smiled tentatively back as he signed for her to join him. "You're not like Buffy... barging in where she doesn't belong..." he trailed off, his gaze caught in the golden color of the drink in his hand and then he huffed, once again bringing the edge of the glass to his lower lip, letting it rest there for a second and then swallowing the rest of the liquid down.
"I wanted to say thank you," Willow declared and she immediately had his eyes in hers again.
He looked disbelieving.
"For what?" he asked and she smiled a very small smile at that.
"For what you did," she then answered. "For what you did for Oz."
Spike shrugged, getting to his feet and walking passed her, into the kitchen.
"We couldn't have gotten him outta there without your help," she continued. "I can't tell you..."
"And I couldn't have gotten him outta there without the sodding help of Adam," he interrupted, grabbing the bottle containing his chosen companion for the evening and filling his glass again. "So you go flap the bloody banner of honor over someone else's head 'cause I ain't worth it," he added, putting the bottle down with a harsh bang and she jerked, watching him before she shook her head slightly.
"No," she then disagreed silently. "Adam wasn't the one who fought with us down there, YOU were. I don't know what your plan is... I don't know if what you really wanna do is kill all of us and throw a party once it's done... And I'm not sure why you're doing what you're doing. But last night you showed me that some small part of you cares, otherwise you wouldn't have done what you did when you did it."
"I'm still dangerous, you know," he muttered and she smiled.
"Seems to me the persons most eager to tell everyone how 'evil' they are - are the ones who actually have something more to them," she replied and the shadow of a smile drew over his mouth before he took a mouthful of the bourbon and swallowed it down hard.
"You're blind," he grumbled.
"Maybe I'm not the only one who thinks so," she remarked, eyebrows rising slightly and he blinked at the small hint in her posture.
Buffy?
"All I wanted to say was thank you," Willow now repeated. "You saved the life of someone who means a lot to me. I think I owe you some sort of benefit of the doubt," she added and he eyed her before she turned and walked back up to the door. "Oh, and if you ARE planning on hurting any of us," she said, stopping in the doorway and looking at him again, "especially those of us who have more faith in you than others... I'd advice strongly against it."
He furrowed his brow questioningly as he watched her disappear through the door.
What the bloody hell was that supposed to mean? It sounded like an indirect reference to Buffy...
But the Slayer hadn't told anyone anything. So had the Wicca figured it out? Or was he just reading way too much into it? Well, for about five minutes he had been able to forget about why he felt like he had been hit by a bloody train. That was always something.
***
11.45 p.m.
She closed the door to the dorm room and walked up to her bed. Placing herself on it she tried to calm herself. It hadn't exactly been the ride-of- fun-and-fondness, that she secretively had been very prepared for, seeing Angel again. But right now that was rather far from her mind.
She was afraid. Afraid of what this might've caused in form of a splinter between Spike and her... She hadn't been able to explain why she had to leave so suddenly. That there wasn't an apocalyptic matter per say, but... Well, she wasn't sure that Spike would understand, no matter what aspect she tried to explain it from.
She felt terrible, especially since she had a hunch that whatever there had been, and in some ways still was, in way of rivalry between Spike and her it was nothing at all compared to that which had been going on between her current lover and his grandsire for the past twelve decades or so.
She thought she could detect an air of respect from Spike, one that he never showed anyone else, whenever Angel's name was mentioned. She had to wonder if that was what pissed him off to the extreme, that he couldn't get rid of the slight awe he clearly held for the older vamp.
She had asked him about the two's relationship more than once while they were locked in that spell, but he never really had given her an answer, had he? She wondered what the big deal really was... Spike had said it to be the regular kind of competitiveness, but she knew there had to be more to it. Drusilla was probably a major factor, she seemed to have done nothing but add to the tension between the two vampires. But then what? A brotherly love-hate sort of thing? There had to be a time during which the two could share hunting and living without having to watch their backs all the time...
It puzzled her. She hoped it wouldn't always be that way, but she had a nagging feeling that she shouldn't refer to Angel even in the slightest for a while to come.
Angel...
He had disappointed her. She never would have thought that he could do that.
Spike.
She wanted to see him. She actually longed for him and it sort of frightened her in a strangely exciting sense of that word. The emotion was exquisite in a way she had never experienced before. The thought of him angry or upset with her... It wasn't pleasant. But she was so tired, and so mentally beat up by what had happened in Los Angeles, and she knew she'd just mess everything up even more if she went to see him now.
Tomorrow. She would gather her strength and see him tomorrow.
She still had her doubts when it came to him, to them; her own insecurities to work through, but being away from him had somehow granted her perspective on certain things. On things regarding herself, and how she felt. Because truth was, being away from him had made her realize that she did feel something... more. It had made her understand that she did trust him - in what he said that he felt for her. She could see it. So help her, she could see it and she couldn't ignore that. It was real. It was there. And she had seen a change in him... as well as different sides to him.
She owed him her life.
She KNEW he wouldn't have saved her - he wouldn't have gone through the trouble - simply to screw with her head. No. No way.
He was in love with her; for some reason still not quite clear to her he loved her. And she knew all the holes in the happily-ever-after theory. But if she could make him believe in it, then she should at least allow him the chance to make her believe in it too.
She wanted to trust him. Fully.
She thought she would entrust him with her life, if it came to that.
But her heart?
She closed her eyes.
Tomorrow...
***
Day Thirty-Six.
6.45 a.m.
She was running through a forest, the trees stood in tight rows on both her sides and they were tall enough to shut out any piece of sky. It was dark, wet and she had a feeling that she wasn't alone. That the other someone was someone whom she was looking for, and knowing that that someone was out there sent her a feeling of comfort.
Suddenly a root tripped her and she rolled down a small ridge, landing on a soft bed of moss. She lay on her side, eyes closed and a smile on her mouth when a branch from a nearby bush began to poke her shoulder from behind. She tried to brush it away, but there seemed to be no use. It was innerving and finally she turned her head to look over at it, murmuring:
"What do you WANT?"
Opening her eyes she was in her dorm room, in her bed, and she looked into two blue eyes that she knew well. Spike arched an eyebrow, then replied:
"I want you to wake up, is what I want."
She tried to get the disorientation from sleep out of her head as she blinked and turned onto her back, propping herself up on her elbows and staring at him.
"What? What time is it?" she asked, trying to remember where she had her clock and coming up empty handed as she still felt completely upside down.
"Almost seven," he answered.
"In the morning?!" she exclaimed and he smirked. "Oh, go away, you evil man! I can sleep for another hour," she added, lying back down and pulling her pillow over her head.
"I waited for you last night," he said and she grew still before she removed the pillow in favor of meeting his gaze again.
"I wasn't sure that you would be," she admitted hesitantly and he smiled meekly.
"That the reason why you didn't come?" he wondered and she drew a small breath, pulling herself up into a seated position and looking down on her hands as she struggled to think of what she should be saying to him; and what she should not.
"Spike..."
"I got tired of waiting," he cut her off, rising from the chair he had been seated on. "I wanted to see if you were okay. If you were back. And you are, and... you are."
She looked at up at him, wanting to find the words so badly, but failing.
"Right," he mumbled, turning from her and starting toward the door.
"You woke me up just to say that?" she asked and he stopped in front of the door, looking back at her with a small smile which seemed sad as well and she swallowed.
"No, love," he simply said before turning the knob, opening the door and stepping through it.
She watched it for a while after it had closed, thinking she could probably have handled that a bit better.
***
6.54 a.m.
He had wanted to ask her about what had happened. But spending nearly half an hour watching her sleep had taken the will right out of him to know anything that might harm him. He had given her the power she now held over him without being able to stop himself. It just went to show what he had always suspected: he was a sad sodding wanker. He had just done such a bloody good job at covering it up all these years.
***
10.20 a.m.
There was a knock and she put the magazine, which she had been eye- devouring for the past fifteen minutes, down on her bed before rising and walking up to the door. Trying her best to look ill, since she had decided to cut class on grounds of not feeling very well, she opened the door slowly.
"Spike?" she said and he smiled a little, leaning against the doorframe casually.
She returned the smile, not able to hide her surprise. She hadn't thought she'd be seeing him for a while and she had decided the best thing to do was probably to give him his space. But here he was, and she was taken off guard by how happy she was that he had come back.
He got rid of his smile with effort as he raised his eyebrows in question.
"You NEVER ask for permission," she remarked and he couldn't resist a smirk, his eyes turning meaningful and she shook her head at him. "Okay, once you've been formally invited," she elaborated and he tilted his head to one side, eyeing her in continuing silence and she observed him back before taking a step out of the way.
He came inside and she closed the door.
She turned to face him.
With the window behind him, the light lining his form with a visible aura, there was a softness to his whole being that made her all the more certain of what she was feeling and thinking being right. Being with him was like being on an adventure twenty-four/seven; not that she really needed more of that in her everyday life, but he was the good part of it. And that was what made bits of her insecurity melt away.
At this thought she smiled at him tentatively and he returned it.
"I wanted to tell you," he said, continuing: "that I've had another meeting with Adam... He expects me to break your posse up," he added and she blinked. "Soon."
"Okay," she nodded. "Then we'll make him believe you've succeeded. No biggie."
He nodded as well, glancing about the room with his nerves slowly curling up on themselves as he didn't know what he wanted to do next. On one hand there was the kissing bit. On the other there was the her-just-maybe-having- kissed-Angel bit that made the bleached blonde want to gag. And walk out again.
"I figured you'd wanna know," he murmured, meeting her eyes with his own once more.
She looked rather uneasy as well and he thought that was his signal to just leave. But he couldn't move.
"I did," she confirmed. "Thank you."
"Oh," he shrugged. "All part of the deal," he then grumbled, looking at her almost hesitantly before turning and walking passed her up to her desk.
Looking through her cd's he wanted to find something clever to say. Something snappy or some remark that would throw her. He used to be good at that; now his tongue seemed pinned down and motionless. He wished he could at least have yelled at her, have demanded an explanation as to what the hell she had been thinking, have demanded an answer to the question circling in his head: why?
Why had she gone in the first place? Why had she so suddenly needed to see the one person who could be described as the love of her life? Why wasn't she talking? Why had she ever let him near her?!
Everything had been simpler if she could have used just one scrap of that immense strength she harbored to push him away right from the start.
"Why aren't you in class?" he asked, in lack of anything clever or snappy.
"I'm just... tired," she answered and he smiled faintly, turning to her again.
"Right, from the traveling," he muttered and she was about to say something when he continued: "I don't wanna... hear 'bout it. I don't wanna bloody pretend it even happened... But, while we're on the subject - was there any buggering SPECIAL reason you had to bloody go see him?"
"Spike, I..."
"No. No, I don't wanna bloody hear it," he shook his head, seemingly taking back his question; question-mark and all.
"There was... nothing," she tried. "Nothing at all. A few hello's and a few good-bye's and that's it. Nothing interesting."
At that he turned his head to her, observing her sharply for nearly ten seconds before he said slowly:
"You don't wanna talk to me 'bout this, do you?"
She licked her lips.
"No, I-I do! It's just..."
"What? Another part of your life that's none of my business?" he interrupted her once more and she blinked, taking a step forward.
He didn't understand.
"Don't worry," he sighed. "I really don't wanna sodding know. Not any of it."
He brushed passed her, this time as he walked up to the door, and she shook her head.
"But there's nothing to..." she began, looking at where he should have been on his way out, but wasn't, and trailing off.
He was gone. She sighed.
What else could possibly happen to stir this already spinning situation?
***
8.16 p.m.
Spike entered his crypt, sliding the duster off his shoulders. He had spent the day thinking up a plan good enough to hopefully deceive Adam, and then he had presented the part of it which the latter should be included in to the monster. He had seemed pleased enough. Spike had steered clear of Buffy for the remainder of the day, keeping himself busy with gathering more information on Adam as well as the Initiative.
Now he sighed and walked up to the telly, turning it on and watching the slowly emerging pictures taking form on the screen. Then he turned and proceeded into the kitchen. Opening up the fridge he reached in to bring out a jar filled with blood, but he froze in the middle of the movement and then he straightened his back again. Shutting the door he then turned around to face his unannounced visitor.
The former smirked.
"You look like hell," he stated.
"I was attacked," Angel scoffed. "See how good YOU'D look if you had four strangers jump out on you from all sides."
"All sides?" Spike asked and Angel nodded.
"ALL sides."
They grew silent, as well as serious.
"This town ain't what it used to be," Spike said. "There are things underground that you and I couldn't even bloody fathom, back in our glory days."
Angel smiled a small smile at that. Spike could see the broodiness resting right beneath the surface. Always the shadow lying over the other vampire's eyes. Always the burden he had to bear threatening to break through his composed exterior at any time.
"A few above ground as well," Angel then replied and Spike arched his scarred eyebrow.
Turning he walked further into the kitchen again, bringing out two glasses from one of the cabinets. Getting a bottle of whiskey from another he returned to face his old comrade.
"Drink?" he asked and Angel looked at the amber liquid before giving a shrug and a nod why not.
Spike set the two glasses down on the tattered counter to his left and opened the bottle, pouring until both of the former were half full before putting the bottle down beside them. There were too many questions; he couldn't pick which one to ask first.
He reached one of the glasses out and Angel took it.
"To love and prosperity," he said, raising it and Spike had a glint of recognition occur in his eyes.
"May they both be offered in plenty, in reverence and eternity," he then finished a toast which to them, over the course of fifteen years, had been more familiar than the shirts on their backs.
They raised their glasses half an inch, and then both emptied the contents in one swoop. Swallowing they looked at each other again. The quiet once more growing thick between them.
"What made you return?" Angel asked.
"What made you?" Spike retorted and the tension began to build.
"What about Dru?" Angel inquired and Spike huffed.
"Yeah, what about her?" he then asked back.
"I thought you loved her," Angel pointed out and Spike shook his head.
"So did I," he then stated.
Angel's jaw tightened and he paused before he said:
"I don't know what the hell you think you're doing, but I'm positive it's nothing good."
Spike put his glass down and took a step forward, keeping his gaze in the others without wavering for a second. A challenge.
"How the bloody hell did you even find me?" he murmured.
"Didn't take a genius," Angel answered.
"Lucky you," Spike shot and Angel's gaze hardened as well.
They grew silent once again, and then Spike spoke up.
"You, if anyone, should know what the sod she does to a bloke," he grumbled. Angel stiffened even further at that, knowing all too well that Spike was speaking in no reference to Drusilla this time. "I'm in love with her," Spike added and Angel's hand moved the next moment, grabbing the shorter vamp by the throat. "If she told you," the latter croaked out, "it must mean something to her, too!"
Angel let him go with another huff.
"She didn't tell me," he then stated. "Not flat out."
"But she mentioned it?" Spike wondered, not able to hide the subtle hope in his voice and Angel stared at him.
"You don't deserve her," he merely replied.
Spike ground his teeth in growing irritation.
"This what you bleeding came here for? A buggering lecture?" he asked.
"You can't say you don't know that I'm right," Angel said and Spike glared at him.
"Get out," he demanded, voice lowered.
"Buffy's out of your league," the older merely continued. "Don't tell me that's not the second or third thought that runs through your mind every time you see her."
"Get out!" Spike repeated. "Get out, or I'll throw you out."
"That won't be necessary," Angel replied coolly. "I didn't come back to see YOU."
"Stay away from her," Spike warned, voice quivering with both anger and a sudden rush of fear that he was on the brink of loosing her.
"No," the dark-haired simply brushed him off, turning to walk up to the door.
Spike was the one who threw the first punch.
**************************************************************************** **************************************************************************** **************************************************************************** ******************
Thirty-Nine: When She's Gone
By Annie
2003-06-11
***************************************************************************
Day Thirty-Five.
9.07 a.m.
Spike rested his head back, slumping down in the armchair and bringing the half-emptied glass of bourbon to his mouth. It wasn't spreading through him fast enough. It wasn't giving him the release he needed from the thoughts churning through his mind.
She was in Los Angeles.
She hadn't told him exactly why she was going, just that she simply had to. And he had let her go without any fuss because he could already see on her that she was more than serious. This was something she needed to do.
He wanted numbness. He craved it. But it wouldn't set in.
"Spike?"
He turned his head sharply to the door; staring at the human form in the doorway, her eyes staring back.
"What're you doing here, Red?" he finally asked, taking another mouthful of the liquor and praying for it to soak his head.
Willow observed him in silence for a few moments, narrowing her eyes as she watched the haggard expression on his face. He looked more tired than she thought she had ever seen him. Stripped of his arrogance and reduced into something that seemed built by nothing but emotion, and worries. She wondered how much Buffy had disclosed about the trip to L.A - and Angel. It couldn't have been much.
"Can I come in?" she asked and he glared at her, then his face softened and he let forth a smile, shaking his head a little.
"You would be the one to bloody ask before stepping into someone's home, wouldn't you?" he then more stated than inquired and she smiled tentatively back as he signed for her to join him. "You're not like Buffy... barging in where she doesn't belong..." he trailed off, his gaze caught in the golden color of the drink in his hand and then he huffed, once again bringing the edge of the glass to his lower lip, letting it rest there for a second and then swallowing the rest of the liquid down.
"I wanted to say thank you," Willow declared and she immediately had his eyes in hers again.
He looked disbelieving.
"For what?" he asked and she smiled a very small smile at that.
"For what you did," she then answered. "For what you did for Oz."
Spike shrugged, getting to his feet and walking passed her, into the kitchen.
"We couldn't have gotten him outta there without your help," she continued. "I can't tell you..."
"And I couldn't have gotten him outta there without the sodding help of Adam," he interrupted, grabbing the bottle containing his chosen companion for the evening and filling his glass again. "So you go flap the bloody banner of honor over someone else's head 'cause I ain't worth it," he added, putting the bottle down with a harsh bang and she jerked, watching him before she shook her head slightly.
"No," she then disagreed silently. "Adam wasn't the one who fought with us down there, YOU were. I don't know what your plan is... I don't know if what you really wanna do is kill all of us and throw a party once it's done... And I'm not sure why you're doing what you're doing. But last night you showed me that some small part of you cares, otherwise you wouldn't have done what you did when you did it."
"I'm still dangerous, you know," he muttered and she smiled.
"Seems to me the persons most eager to tell everyone how 'evil' they are - are the ones who actually have something more to them," she replied and the shadow of a smile drew over his mouth before he took a mouthful of the bourbon and swallowed it down hard.
"You're blind," he grumbled.
"Maybe I'm not the only one who thinks so," she remarked, eyebrows rising slightly and he blinked at the small hint in her posture.
Buffy?
"All I wanted to say was thank you," Willow now repeated. "You saved the life of someone who means a lot to me. I think I owe you some sort of benefit of the doubt," she added and he eyed her before she turned and walked back up to the door. "Oh, and if you ARE planning on hurting any of us," she said, stopping in the doorway and looking at him again, "especially those of us who have more faith in you than others... I'd advice strongly against it."
He furrowed his brow questioningly as he watched her disappear through the door.
What the bloody hell was that supposed to mean? It sounded like an indirect reference to Buffy...
But the Slayer hadn't told anyone anything. So had the Wicca figured it out? Or was he just reading way too much into it? Well, for about five minutes he had been able to forget about why he felt like he had been hit by a bloody train. That was always something.
***
11.45 p.m.
She closed the door to the dorm room and walked up to her bed. Placing herself on it she tried to calm herself. It hadn't exactly been the ride-of- fun-and-fondness, that she secretively had been very prepared for, seeing Angel again. But right now that was rather far from her mind.
She was afraid. Afraid of what this might've caused in form of a splinter between Spike and her... She hadn't been able to explain why she had to leave so suddenly. That there wasn't an apocalyptic matter per say, but... Well, she wasn't sure that Spike would understand, no matter what aspect she tried to explain it from.
She felt terrible, especially since she had a hunch that whatever there had been, and in some ways still was, in way of rivalry between Spike and her it was nothing at all compared to that which had been going on between her current lover and his grandsire for the past twelve decades or so.
She thought she could detect an air of respect from Spike, one that he never showed anyone else, whenever Angel's name was mentioned. She had to wonder if that was what pissed him off to the extreme, that he couldn't get rid of the slight awe he clearly held for the older vamp.
She had asked him about the two's relationship more than once while they were locked in that spell, but he never really had given her an answer, had he? She wondered what the big deal really was... Spike had said it to be the regular kind of competitiveness, but she knew there had to be more to it. Drusilla was probably a major factor, she seemed to have done nothing but add to the tension between the two vampires. But then what? A brotherly love-hate sort of thing? There had to be a time during which the two could share hunting and living without having to watch their backs all the time...
It puzzled her. She hoped it wouldn't always be that way, but she had a nagging feeling that she shouldn't refer to Angel even in the slightest for a while to come.
Angel...
He had disappointed her. She never would have thought that he could do that.
Spike.
She wanted to see him. She actually longed for him and it sort of frightened her in a strangely exciting sense of that word. The emotion was exquisite in a way she had never experienced before. The thought of him angry or upset with her... It wasn't pleasant. But she was so tired, and so mentally beat up by what had happened in Los Angeles, and she knew she'd just mess everything up even more if she went to see him now.
Tomorrow. She would gather her strength and see him tomorrow.
She still had her doubts when it came to him, to them; her own insecurities to work through, but being away from him had somehow granted her perspective on certain things. On things regarding herself, and how she felt. Because truth was, being away from him had made her realize that she did feel something... more. It had made her understand that she did trust him - in what he said that he felt for her. She could see it. So help her, she could see it and she couldn't ignore that. It was real. It was there. And she had seen a change in him... as well as different sides to him.
She owed him her life.
She KNEW he wouldn't have saved her - he wouldn't have gone through the trouble - simply to screw with her head. No. No way.
He was in love with her; for some reason still not quite clear to her he loved her. And she knew all the holes in the happily-ever-after theory. But if she could make him believe in it, then she should at least allow him the chance to make her believe in it too.
She wanted to trust him. Fully.
She thought she would entrust him with her life, if it came to that.
But her heart?
She closed her eyes.
Tomorrow...
***
Day Thirty-Six.
6.45 a.m.
She was running through a forest, the trees stood in tight rows on both her sides and they were tall enough to shut out any piece of sky. It was dark, wet and she had a feeling that she wasn't alone. That the other someone was someone whom she was looking for, and knowing that that someone was out there sent her a feeling of comfort.
Suddenly a root tripped her and she rolled down a small ridge, landing on a soft bed of moss. She lay on her side, eyes closed and a smile on her mouth when a branch from a nearby bush began to poke her shoulder from behind. She tried to brush it away, but there seemed to be no use. It was innerving and finally she turned her head to look over at it, murmuring:
"What do you WANT?"
Opening her eyes she was in her dorm room, in her bed, and she looked into two blue eyes that she knew well. Spike arched an eyebrow, then replied:
"I want you to wake up, is what I want."
She tried to get the disorientation from sleep out of her head as she blinked and turned onto her back, propping herself up on her elbows and staring at him.
"What? What time is it?" she asked, trying to remember where she had her clock and coming up empty handed as she still felt completely upside down.
"Almost seven," he answered.
"In the morning?!" she exclaimed and he smirked. "Oh, go away, you evil man! I can sleep for another hour," she added, lying back down and pulling her pillow over her head.
"I waited for you last night," he said and she grew still before she removed the pillow in favor of meeting his gaze again.
"I wasn't sure that you would be," she admitted hesitantly and he smiled meekly.
"That the reason why you didn't come?" he wondered and she drew a small breath, pulling herself up into a seated position and looking down on her hands as she struggled to think of what she should be saying to him; and what she should not.
"Spike..."
"I got tired of waiting," he cut her off, rising from the chair he had been seated on. "I wanted to see if you were okay. If you were back. And you are, and... you are."
She looked at up at him, wanting to find the words so badly, but failing.
"Right," he mumbled, turning from her and starting toward the door.
"You woke me up just to say that?" she asked and he stopped in front of the door, looking back at her with a small smile which seemed sad as well and she swallowed.
"No, love," he simply said before turning the knob, opening the door and stepping through it.
She watched it for a while after it had closed, thinking she could probably have handled that a bit better.
***
6.54 a.m.
He had wanted to ask her about what had happened. But spending nearly half an hour watching her sleep had taken the will right out of him to know anything that might harm him. He had given her the power she now held over him without being able to stop himself. It just went to show what he had always suspected: he was a sad sodding wanker. He had just done such a bloody good job at covering it up all these years.
***
10.20 a.m.
There was a knock and she put the magazine, which she had been eye- devouring for the past fifteen minutes, down on her bed before rising and walking up to the door. Trying her best to look ill, since she had decided to cut class on grounds of not feeling very well, she opened the door slowly.
"Spike?" she said and he smiled a little, leaning against the doorframe casually.
She returned the smile, not able to hide her surprise. She hadn't thought she'd be seeing him for a while and she had decided the best thing to do was probably to give him his space. But here he was, and she was taken off guard by how happy she was that he had come back.
He got rid of his smile with effort as he raised his eyebrows in question.
"You NEVER ask for permission," she remarked and he couldn't resist a smirk, his eyes turning meaningful and she shook her head at him. "Okay, once you've been formally invited," she elaborated and he tilted his head to one side, eyeing her in continuing silence and she observed him back before taking a step out of the way.
He came inside and she closed the door.
She turned to face him.
With the window behind him, the light lining his form with a visible aura, there was a softness to his whole being that made her all the more certain of what she was feeling and thinking being right. Being with him was like being on an adventure twenty-four/seven; not that she really needed more of that in her everyday life, but he was the good part of it. And that was what made bits of her insecurity melt away.
At this thought she smiled at him tentatively and he returned it.
"I wanted to tell you," he said, continuing: "that I've had another meeting with Adam... He expects me to break your posse up," he added and she blinked. "Soon."
"Okay," she nodded. "Then we'll make him believe you've succeeded. No biggie."
He nodded as well, glancing about the room with his nerves slowly curling up on themselves as he didn't know what he wanted to do next. On one hand there was the kissing bit. On the other there was the her-just-maybe-having- kissed-Angel bit that made the bleached blonde want to gag. And walk out again.
"I figured you'd wanna know," he murmured, meeting her eyes with his own once more.
She looked rather uneasy as well and he thought that was his signal to just leave. But he couldn't move.
"I did," she confirmed. "Thank you."
"Oh," he shrugged. "All part of the deal," he then grumbled, looking at her almost hesitantly before turning and walking passed her up to her desk.
Looking through her cd's he wanted to find something clever to say. Something snappy or some remark that would throw her. He used to be good at that; now his tongue seemed pinned down and motionless. He wished he could at least have yelled at her, have demanded an explanation as to what the hell she had been thinking, have demanded an answer to the question circling in his head: why?
Why had she gone in the first place? Why had she so suddenly needed to see the one person who could be described as the love of her life? Why wasn't she talking? Why had she ever let him near her?!
Everything had been simpler if she could have used just one scrap of that immense strength she harbored to push him away right from the start.
"Why aren't you in class?" he asked, in lack of anything clever or snappy.
"I'm just... tired," she answered and he smiled faintly, turning to her again.
"Right, from the traveling," he muttered and she was about to say something when he continued: "I don't wanna... hear 'bout it. I don't wanna bloody pretend it even happened... But, while we're on the subject - was there any buggering SPECIAL reason you had to bloody go see him?"
"Spike, I..."
"No. No, I don't wanna bloody hear it," he shook his head, seemingly taking back his question; question-mark and all.
"There was... nothing," she tried. "Nothing at all. A few hello's and a few good-bye's and that's it. Nothing interesting."
At that he turned his head to her, observing her sharply for nearly ten seconds before he said slowly:
"You don't wanna talk to me 'bout this, do you?"
She licked her lips.
"No, I-I do! It's just..."
"What? Another part of your life that's none of my business?" he interrupted her once more and she blinked, taking a step forward.
He didn't understand.
"Don't worry," he sighed. "I really don't wanna sodding know. Not any of it."
He brushed passed her, this time as he walked up to the door, and she shook her head.
"But there's nothing to..." she began, looking at where he should have been on his way out, but wasn't, and trailing off.
He was gone. She sighed.
What else could possibly happen to stir this already spinning situation?
***
8.16 p.m.
Spike entered his crypt, sliding the duster off his shoulders. He had spent the day thinking up a plan good enough to hopefully deceive Adam, and then he had presented the part of it which the latter should be included in to the monster. He had seemed pleased enough. Spike had steered clear of Buffy for the remainder of the day, keeping himself busy with gathering more information on Adam as well as the Initiative.
Now he sighed and walked up to the telly, turning it on and watching the slowly emerging pictures taking form on the screen. Then he turned and proceeded into the kitchen. Opening up the fridge he reached in to bring out a jar filled with blood, but he froze in the middle of the movement and then he straightened his back again. Shutting the door he then turned around to face his unannounced visitor.
The former smirked.
"You look like hell," he stated.
"I was attacked," Angel scoffed. "See how good YOU'D look if you had four strangers jump out on you from all sides."
"All sides?" Spike asked and Angel nodded.
"ALL sides."
They grew silent, as well as serious.
"This town ain't what it used to be," Spike said. "There are things underground that you and I couldn't even bloody fathom, back in our glory days."
Angel smiled a small smile at that. Spike could see the broodiness resting right beneath the surface. Always the shadow lying over the other vampire's eyes. Always the burden he had to bear threatening to break through his composed exterior at any time.
"A few above ground as well," Angel then replied and Spike arched his scarred eyebrow.
Turning he walked further into the kitchen again, bringing out two glasses from one of the cabinets. Getting a bottle of whiskey from another he returned to face his old comrade.
"Drink?" he asked and Angel looked at the amber liquid before giving a shrug and a nod why not.
Spike set the two glasses down on the tattered counter to his left and opened the bottle, pouring until both of the former were half full before putting the bottle down beside them. There were too many questions; he couldn't pick which one to ask first.
He reached one of the glasses out and Angel took it.
"To love and prosperity," he said, raising it and Spike had a glint of recognition occur in his eyes.
"May they both be offered in plenty, in reverence and eternity," he then finished a toast which to them, over the course of fifteen years, had been more familiar than the shirts on their backs.
They raised their glasses half an inch, and then both emptied the contents in one swoop. Swallowing they looked at each other again. The quiet once more growing thick between them.
"What made you return?" Angel asked.
"What made you?" Spike retorted and the tension began to build.
"What about Dru?" Angel inquired and Spike huffed.
"Yeah, what about her?" he then asked back.
"I thought you loved her," Angel pointed out and Spike shook his head.
"So did I," he then stated.
Angel's jaw tightened and he paused before he said:
"I don't know what the hell you think you're doing, but I'm positive it's nothing good."
Spike put his glass down and took a step forward, keeping his gaze in the others without wavering for a second. A challenge.
"How the bloody hell did you even find me?" he murmured.
"Didn't take a genius," Angel answered.
"Lucky you," Spike shot and Angel's gaze hardened as well.
They grew silent once again, and then Spike spoke up.
"You, if anyone, should know what the sod she does to a bloke," he grumbled. Angel stiffened even further at that, knowing all too well that Spike was speaking in no reference to Drusilla this time. "I'm in love with her," Spike added and Angel's hand moved the next moment, grabbing the shorter vamp by the throat. "If she told you," the latter croaked out, "it must mean something to her, too!"
Angel let him go with another huff.
"She didn't tell me," he then stated. "Not flat out."
"But she mentioned it?" Spike wondered, not able to hide the subtle hope in his voice and Angel stared at him.
"You don't deserve her," he merely replied.
Spike ground his teeth in growing irritation.
"This what you bleeding came here for? A buggering lecture?" he asked.
"You can't say you don't know that I'm right," Angel said and Spike glared at him.
"Get out," he demanded, voice lowered.
"Buffy's out of your league," the older merely continued. "Don't tell me that's not the second or third thought that runs through your mind every time you see her."
"Get out!" Spike repeated. "Get out, or I'll throw you out."
"That won't be necessary," Angel replied coolly. "I didn't come back to see YOU."
"Stay away from her," Spike warned, voice quivering with both anger and a sudden rush of fear that he was on the brink of loosing her.
"No," the dark-haired simply brushed him off, turning to walk up to the door.
Spike was the one who threw the first punch.
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