Putting the Question
By Melissa(dettiot@yahoo.com)
Disclaimer: Joss, ME, and Fox owns them all. I'm just having some fun with
them.
Rating: PG-13 for a few bad words.
Spoilers: Everything up through Angel 5x08, Destiny. Nothing after
that--'cause spoiler-free's the way to be!
Summary: Set a year in the future from the events of Destiny, let's find
out why Spike's still in L.A., making friends and building a new life for
himself.
Putting the Question
Chapter Five
For the second night in a row, Spike caught only a few hours of sleep.
After his meal with Buffy, he had been both morose and murderous. He had
headed out to patrol, meeting Gunn in Echo Park. Thankfully, the other man
had realized pretty quickly that Spike wasn't in the mood to talk; an
impression that was underscored when Spike ripped apart a Gwynnega with his
bare hands. After that, Gunn hadn't said anything more than necessary, and
they had headed back to Wolfram and Hart in the early hours of the morning.
Spike knew that he had kept going much longer than was needed on patrol, but
violence was the only outlet that would help unspool the knot of emotions
that was tangled up in his middle. This should have been his dream come
true: Buffy, open with him, saying she had missed him, that she was happy he
was alive, that she loved him and wanted a relationship with him. But what
if they were just words? What if she was only suffering from her adjustment
to 'normal' life, and wanted something to cling to, or more correctly,
someone? He had done that before, and he didn't know if he could bear the
thought of being everything to her, for a while, only to be cast aside as
nothing.
When he opened his eyes, he stared at the ceiling for a few long moments.
He was in new territory, and while he normally was one to just dive in and
fight his way out, he didn't think that was the right strategy in this case.
Because if he wasn't able to get through this, he'd be the one broken and
blue.
With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed, feeling dazed from the lack of
sleep and the questions that kept bothering him. He showered, and barely
noticed what clothes he pulled on. He distractedly drank some blood, and
then buried himself in work. Translating brittle, crumbling documents
engaged his mind enough to get some perspective on his thoughts.
From Buffy's words last night, he got the sense that she was only now
starting to figure out how she wanted to live her life. And she had
seemingly decided that she had to have a relationship to make her life
settled. She always seemed to be striving for love, comittment; in the
years he'd lived in Sunnydale, he could remember only a handful of months
where she wasn't involved with anyone, even if 'involved' was one way to
describe their relationship at times. So, she wasn't used to being alone,
and on top of the upheaval of being one of many Slayers, it wasn't
surprising that she'd decided to latch onto a guy, any guy. Who better than
the one who'd always loved her, no matter what? Heady stuff for someone who
was always insecure when it came to love.
'But what about her words last night? About those moments right before the
Hellmouth was closed?' his mind prodded him. 'She said she saw your
soul--she said I love you!'
As much as his heart wanted to give in to the swell of feeling, his logic
kept overruling it. He'd realized, in the last year, that his heart was so
bruised that it only seemed to react in set patterns. Trying not to fall
fast and deep was nearly impossible once he had started. So, he had started
making his mind play a greater role in these times. And in this case, his
mind was screaming at him to stay out of this. Let Buffy figure out things
without him, make her stand on her own two feet, rely on her other friends.
'Then you're no better than Rupert,' his heart chided. 'That's just what he
did. You'd leave her to those friends who weren't able to help her before,
let her sink under all those responsibilities and burdens?'
"More than I've ever had," Spike grumbled out loud, before forcing his
concentration back to the documents and the translation.
***
He dreaded the evening. Spending the night with Buffy and Angel wasn't his
idea of a fun time in the best of situations, and this certainly was the
worst of situations. He wondered how Buffy was going to act. Would she
make a play for Angel since he'd given her the brush-off? What if Angel
took her up on the offer? And why was he worrying about this? At most, he
wanted to be friends with Buffy, and Angel and he had reached a tentative
relationship in the last year. So wouldn't he want them to be happy
together?
Spike shook his head as he headed to Angel's office, where everyone was
meeting. The whole gang was participating in this one, so at least he'd
have other people around. Of course, that could be a draw-back, too, he
realized as he realized he was the last one to arrive.
Buffy gave him a look of longing and sadness, poignant despite its
briefness. He felt his throat tighten, almost as if there were words that
were prevented from being said. Things like "I love you and want you and
will do whatever I can to make you happy." But instead of saying anything,
he forced himself to break eye contact with Buffy and take in the other
people in the room.
Fred looked sympathetic, and gave him a small wave. Gunn nodded at him, and
Spike made his way over and sat next to him on the sofa. Wes had his normal
blank expression, but Angel hadn't troubled to hide his emotions. He glared
at Spike, and Spike wondered how much Buffy had talked to him about last
night's dinner.
Thankfully, Angel only spent a few moments keeping them in suspense, before
he started talking. "Spike," he said, his voice clipped, "give us all an
update on what you've done to stop the Rite of Peesu-Brat from going ahead."
Spike moved forward, feeling exposed but trying to keep focused on the job.
"We've patrolled the area the last two nights, and kept at least five girls
from being rounded up. Based on my sources, they're still shy a few
sacrifices, but they're determined and probably will be able to make their
quota. So stopping the ritual itself is now the goal. What I'd suggest
doing is an undercover operation. I've got a Spewriter who's willing to
work with me. I'd come to the ritual, using Fred as a 'sacrifice,' saying I
was bringing her in to pay off a debt to the Spewriter. Meanwhile, the rest
of you would take up defensive positions on the fringes. At my sign, we'll
attack the various leaders and prevent them from doing the spells that they
need to cast at a specific time. It'll be about distraction and
incapacitation, and then killing. Most of these demons are fairly
peaceable, and they don't give us trouble otherwise."
Angel nodded. "I don't like the idea of Fred being the bait, though. Seems
too dangerous for her. What about using Buffy?"
"Um, as the choice for potential sacrifice, can I just say that I can take
care of myself?" Fred interjected.
Gunn shook his head. "Have to agree with the boss on this one. It's just
too risky, Fred."
Fred stared at Gunn, her eyes narrowed. "You *know* what I'm capable of,
Charles. I can do this."
Spike looked back and forth between Fred and Gunn. He got the sense that
there was more to this than meets the eye, but before he could ask anything,
Angel stepped in. "Look, Fred, we all know you're a good fighter, but in
this situation, I think the Slayer would be a better choice. Buffy?"
Buffy had kept her eyes on the floor during the discussion, but at this
point, she quietly looked up at Angel and said, "If Spike is all right with
it, I'll do it."
Spike gaped at Buffy, surprised at how she hadn't immediately leaped forward
to do what Angel had requested. When he realized that everyone was waiting
for his answer, he quickly said, "Um, yeah, fine by me."
Angel pushed back from his desk and stood up. "All right then. Let's get
going."
Spike followed the group out of the office and down to the parking garage.
He chose to ride with Gunn and Wes. For a moment, it seemed like Buffy
would choose their car, but after some hesitation, she sat behind Fred in
Angel's car. Spike gave a small sigh when he climbed into the passenger
seat of the car.
As they drove to the site of the ritual, he could feel Wes's eyes on the
back of his head. He was about ready to say something, when Gunn casually
asked, "You okay with all this, Blondie?"
Spike shrugged. "Got a job to do. I'll get it done, and then I won't have
to see her again."
"Well, I was talking more about the way that Angel pushed you aside in
there, but I'm guessing that's not what you were thinking about," Gunn
commented dryly.
"Look," Spike said, his voice hard. "She's just a girl I once knew. And
I've spent too long making something for myself here to throw it away for
some girl who's never been able to make up her mind. First she wants me,
then I'm disgusting. She's happy, then she's sad. Worse than a bloody
see-saw. And I'm not willing to go for another ride and follow her halfway
around the world."
Wes spoke from the backseat. "You're certainly very insistent about staying
here."
"Yeah, how do you know you'd have to leave? Maybe the Slayer's willing to
settle down," Gunn said.
"End of discussion," Spike said angrily. "You don't know what's going on,
so you're just interfering where you're not needed."
"All right, Spike," Gunn said. But despite his agreement, Spike couldn't
help feeling that Gunn wanted to press the issue. Spike sighed, and stared
out the window, trying to project an anti-social vibe as they finished the
drive to Echo Park.
The evening was cool and breezy, as L.A. in early November usually was.
They gathered at the edge of the park, and Spike spoke quietly, refusing to
let Angel take this over. "All right, Slayer's with me. Fred and Angel,
take position on that ridge up there," gesturing to a rise covered with
trees. "Gunn, you take position towards the south, and Wes, you're on the
eastern boundary. When I give the signal, start taking out the demons at
the compass points; they're the ones who will be casting the spells. The
Slayer and I will take out the ones in the middle and will work on getting
the sacrifices out of here. We'll send the girls up towards Angel and Fred,
so you guys will need to provide some cover for them. Everyone good?"
Answered with nods, Spike said, "Okay, let's go."
The others dispersed to their positions, leaving Spike alone with Buffy. He
took a deep breath before speaking. "You gonna be able to do this?"
Buffy didn't say anything for a moment, then she lifted her chin and looked
at him defiantly. "I know how to work with people I'm upset with.
Otherwise, the First Evil would be running the show now, wouldn't it?"
Spike sighed, feeling embarrassment and regret. "I know that. I . . . "
His voice trailed off, when he realized he just didn't know what to say. He
muttered, "Come on, let's get this started," he said, holding up a trick set
of handcuffs to bind her hands behind her. Buffy let him cuff her, but he
could tell she was trying not to think about the other times he'd shackled
her. Because he was certainly trying very hard not to think about the same
thing.
He placed his hand on her shoulder and lead her forward, into the mass of
demons. Buffy whispered to him, "Just how many are we going to have to take
out?"
He said out of the corner of his mouth, "Six; two in the middle and four on
the compass points. All the bystanders, innocent and otherwise, make it a
bit tricky. But remember, it's just about keeping the ritual from being
completed."
She nodded, and rolled her shoulders a bit. He marveled, as her muscles
moved, at how small she was and how much strength she had. The more fragile
she looked, the more focused she was on unleashing her power when she could.
They moved through the park, and without questions entered the area set
aside for the ritual. Spike was amused to see that the demons had gotten a
permit to use the park for the event. Spike made contact with the Spewriter
he had worked with, and Buffy was lead over to join a large group of girls.
Spike tried to make it look like he was hanging around, observing things.
He stole a glance at his watch, and realized the spells would be starting in
only a few moments.
Suddenly, Buffy was at his side. "What the hell are you doing?" he
whispered to her.
She smiled weakly at him. "I told myself I wouldn't do this, but I just
have to." She paused, and then looked directly at him. "I love you."
Before he could respond, she quickly scampered back over to join the rest of
the victims.
He stared after her, as his brain suggested several reasons for her actions.
But before he had a chance to ponder the situation anymore, he heard a
murmured chant begin, and realized it was time. With a lightning-fast move,
he ran towards the nearest warlock and quickly started punching him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gunn come towards the ritual space, and
he thought he spied Fred wielding a crossbow from the ridge. He heard
Buffy's voice, directing the girls out of the area. But all his attention
was focused on the crowd of demons swarming around him. Most of them were
crap fighters, but going up against twenty-five assorted demons was still an
undertaking.
He threw punches and kicks, feeling his blood sing each time he made
contact. This was what he was about. Violence, terror, the shouts of "It's
Spike!" And even better, he knew he was doing this to protect people. This
was what he had missed out on when he hung on the fringes of the Scooby
Gang. He'd never really been able to let it loose and not worry about
losing the respect of the people fighting with him. Before, if he had acted
like this, he'd have Xander screaming that he'd gone evil, or Willow
threatening him with some spell. Now, though, he could unleash it, and just
as easily, tuck it away and go back to W&H for a movie night.
This was what he didn't want to give up for Buffy.
As if his thoughts had drawn her to him, he realized the Slayer had moved
into a position behind him, and was easily dealing with a group of assorted
demons. Within a few minutes, their opponents had been knocked out or run
off. With a grin, he turned to Buffy.
The Slayer was panting a bit, but she didn't even have a scratch on her.
"All right, Buffy?" he said, the left-over adrenaline making him bounce on
his toes.
She nodded. "Just fine. Wow, that was fun. Low-risk yet still a good
fight. Like low-impact aerobics."
He chuckled a bit. "Glad to know we helped keep you in shape," he said, as
Gunn, Wes, and Angel met up with them. "You lot all right?" he asked the
others.
"Fred's organizing getting all the girls home. Most live in the area, so I
thought Gunn and Wes could help her with walking or driving them home. I
need to go back to the office," Angel said.
"Good," Spike said. "Slayer, you want to head back over to Wolfram & Hart
with Angel? I better stay and help with the clean-up."
The smile that had been on Buffy's face dimmed considerably. "Um, all
right, I guess. I probably should pack some."
"See you later, then," he said, and loped off towards the wooded area on top
of the hill. He heard Wes and Gunn follow him after a few moments, and then
Gunn caught up with him.
"Putting her out of your mind, or just running away from her?" he
questioned.
"Sod off," Spike retorted, and Gunn wisely kept his mouth shut.
***
Spike groaned in relief when he arrived back at Wolfram and Hart. The
clean-up had taken longer than he had thought it would, complicated by quite
a few of the girls being traumatized by the events. Calming them down had
taken a lot out of him, and considering he had barely gotten any sleep for
the last two nights, all he wanted was his bed.
He pulled up short, when he reached his door, and saw Buffy leaning against
the wall. "Slayer, it's late, and I'm tired. I know you're not leaving
till tomorrow afternoon, so can we postpone the goodbyes till then?"
She pushed away from the wall and shook her head. "I'd rather not. In
fact, I was hoping we could get out of here, go talk some."
"Slayer, you seemed to indicate last night that you were gonna wait for me
to come running back to you. So why the puppy dog routine?"
She shrugged. "Lots of reasons. I've always sucked at being patient.
Besides, I think I'm just taking a page out of your book: I'll be a nuisance
until you pay attention to me."
"Is that what you think I did?" he said. "Decided to torment you until you
had to admit you loved me? 'Cause it worked so well for me."
Buffy bit her lip. "Spike, I'm just asking for a bit of time. I know
you're tired. If you give me this now, I'll leave tomorrow without
insisting on the 'big goodbye scene'."
He grumbled, "Just trying to get me while I'm in a weakened state," but
tilted his head and made an 'after you' gesture towards the elevator.
In the elevator, Buffy turned to him. "Is there some place nearby that we
can get some coffee? Maybe something to eat?" He nodded, and that seemed
to satisfy Buffy. They made the trip to the ground floor of W&H, and then
down the block to a small coffee shop that Spike had discovered not long
after he had become corporeal.
Inside, he pulled off his jacket and ordered just coffee, while the Slayer
requested the breakfast special. He leaned back in the booth and sipped his
coffee while the Slayer plowed into her food.
"You're hungry," he commented, as she used her toast to mop up the last of
her fried egg.
She nodded. "I didn't eat much today."
"Not smart, Slayer," he said. "Need to keep your strength up. Was glad to
see you had gained some weight when you showed up here."
Buffy finished the last of her home fries without replying to his comment,
and set her fork down on the table. "I had an interesting talk with Angel
on the way back to the office."
Spike sighed. "What did Angel have to say?"
"Not much. Pretty close to his usual spiel. 'I love you but we can't be
together.' 'Spike isn't to be trusted, despite the good things he's doing
here.' 'He really seems to be over you.'" She crossed her arms over her
chest. "He seemed pretty convinced. And determined to convince me, too,
that you could care less about me."
He shook his head. "I'll always care about you, Slayer. Just don't want to
be in love with you. I don't want to walk down that road again."
"Well, he seemed to certainly want me to think otherwise. I think he was
hinting around that I should just admit that what Angel and I had would
always be the prize in the Cracker Jack box o' love. That someday, we could
be together again." She leaned forward, propping her chin up on her hands,
her elbows on the table. "What do you think, Spike?"
Spike stared at her, perplexed at the direction this conversation was
taking. "What? You want me to give you advice about you and the Poof?"
"You know, that's the first time you've said something mean about Angel
since I arrived," Buffy noted. "Up till now, you were rather civil to him.
Yes, Spike, I was wondering if you could give me some advice. We are
friends, after all, according to you. Or are you now starting to believe
what you said before, that you can never be friends with an old lover?"
Spike shook his head, frustration and anger making his words clipped. "I
only said that you and Angel could never be friends. That's not what I
wanted for us. I want to be able to help you out, be an ear for you." He
paused, and the anger took over. "But if you think I'm going to give you
advice on you and that hair-gelled ponce, you're crazier than I ever was.
No, thank you."
"Okay," Buffy said, picking up her spoon and stirring the last bit of her
coffee.
A silence fell over the table, as Spike once again marveled at his inability
to understand Buffy. At times like these, he realized that Dru, for all her
insanity, was remarkably straight-forward.
"I didn't believe him," Buffy said quietly. She looked up at him briefly,
and then back down at her coffee cup. "I think he knew how I felt, and he
was making a last-ditch effort. For Angel, the thought of losing me to you
seems worse than just losing me."
"He doesn't have anything to worry about," Spike said tiredly. "Did you
tell him that?"
Buffy shrugged. "Does it matter? He knows how I feel, so it's irrelevant
whether you reciprocate or not."
"And just how do you feel?" Spike asked in frustration. "You say you love
me. But how? When? Clue in the guy who's been out of your life for the
last year."
"It's not like it happened while we were apart," she said slowly. "I knew
before the last battle."
"When did you know? When you were snogging Angel?"
She shrugged one shoulder. "Yeah, actually. I mean, sure, kissing is
always nice. But . . . I knew. He wasn't the one I wanted to kiss. And as
soon as it was done, I knew who I wanted to kiss. But I wasn't about to
tell Angel that I loved you, before I told you. And besides, I meant what I
said to him. I needed to spend some time baking. And I've had that time,
and now I know I'm ready to be a cookie."
"Huh?" Spike said, feeling thorougly confused.
"Never mind," Buffy said, waving her hand. "The point is, I know who I
want. And yes, I knew a long time ago, and I could have picked a better
time to tell you. But, Spike, you remember how it was," she said softly.
"I kept telling myself that I'd talk to you after it was all over. Because
if I didn't give myself something to look forward to, I didn't know if I
could keep it all together." Her voice broke, but she continued. "So when
we were in the Hellmouth, and we were holding hands . . . I realized that
there wasn't going to be an 'after.' I had to tell you then. And I even
know why you didn't believe me then. But please don't tell me that you
still don't believe me."
Spike looked at her, at her green eyes, large and bright with unshed tears.
She was biting her lower lip, and her hands were clenched together, resting
on the table. He was just so amazed by the changes in her. It didn't seem
possible that this trembling girl was the same stone-faced general that had
lead her massively out-numbered and under-trained army of girls into a
Hellmouth and come out on top. Yet despite her emotions getting the better
of her, she was still looking directly at him, her chin raised, not giving
any ground. She was holding fast, determined to make him believe her.
And God help him, he did.
Spike sighed deeply. "I believe you."
Buffy let loose a small squeak of surprise, but kept staring at him. Her
stare unnerved him, and he quickly started speaking. "I'm not saying I want
a relationship with you, mind. I'm just saying . . . that what you said, I
believe that you mean it. And . . . and it's good to hear."
Buffy nodded slowly, before snapping out of her trance-like state. "Thank
you, Spike."
At that, another silence fell between them, heavier and full of questions
and emotions. He stared at the table, out the window, at the waitress who
was skimming through a newspaper, anywhere but at her. Finally, he blurted
out the first thing he could think of.
"So, what are your plans now?"
Buffy's mouth opened, then closed. "Um, I had thought some about going back
to school. Don't need to worry so much about dying young, especially since
I've already done it twice, you know, so school seems like a better
investment now. I was thinking about studying psychology . . . I liked the
class I took with Dr. Walsh, before she turned out to be evil, which I'm
sure you remember," she said, her forehead furrowed. "Plus, I really liked
my work with the students at the high school. So maybe I'll go into
counseling. Most of the time it's just sitting and listening, and I can do
both of those things pretty well. When I'm not babbling, I mean, like right
now," she said with a grimace.
"No, I asked for a reason," Spike said. He was trying to put together the
puzzle pieces. Maybe he hadn't been right, when he thought Buffy was
latching onto him to keep herself from drowning. "Do you know where you
want to go?"
"It's a bit up in the air right now. Dawn's pretty settled in England, and
she's nearly eighteen. She'd like to stay with Willow and Giles until
college, so if I wanted to, I could move back to the States and I wouldn't
have to worry too much. I mean, more than I naturally would. I prefer it
over here; I'm tired of all the rain. I was kinda thinking about Arizona,
maybe Florida. Warm, you know."
"Not California?" Spike commented.
She shook her head rather emphatically. "San Francisco is too cold and
rainy. Just like England, really. And as for L.A. . . ." Her voice
trailed off, and she spun her coffee cup around on its saucer. "I was
waiting till after I left here to really decide. But I thought that it
might be uncomfortable to be so close."
Spike swallowed, and didn't ask for more information. He had a good idea
what she meant. She looked up at him at this point, her eyes curious. "So
what about you? Fred told me about how you were all ghost-like for a while,
and then one day, bam, solid!Spike. Are you still stuck in L.A.?"
"Nope. Found that out pretty quickly," Spike said. "Just so you know . . .
I didn't think of you immediately. But damn soon thereafter. And I was
going to go haring off to Europe to find you, but I had to stay because of
trouble here. Then, whenever I started getting ready to go, something else
would come up. After a while, I started thinking that maybe it wasn't that
I couldn't leave, but that I shouldn't leave. Maybe I was here for a
reason."
Buffy looked at him with a steadfast gaze. "You've never really seemed to
believe in fate or prophecies," she said. "What changed your mind?"
Spike shrugged. "Long story. Basically, I started realizing that being
souled, like Angel, changed things around a bit in the cosmic scheme of
things. And I wanted to get to the bottom of it all. Staying here in Los
Angeles seemed the best way to find out what was going on. So I stayed."
"And you got over me," Buffy said quietly.
Spike nodded. "And I got over you."
"Maybe that was what you were here for," she said. "Maybe you had to bake,
just like me."
"Still confused by the whole baking analogy, pet," Spike said dryly. "But
if I have the gist of things, perhaps you're right. Had to spend some time
finishing what I started in Sunnyhell, thanks to the Principal and all.
Learn how to be my own man, finally." He flashed a small grin at her.
"It's only taken me about a hundred and thirty years. Makes one wonder how
those of you with shorter lifespans manage to mature at all."
Buffy grinned back at him. "Well, some of us are less mature than others,"
she said.
The grins felt good, Spike realized. They had run the gamut of emotions
during their talk, and it was time for them to relax a bit. It had gone
better than he ever would have expected, to be honest. He had expected
Buffy to start insisting, after he confessed he believed her, that he had to
still be in love with her. Yet though she seemed sad at his decision, she
wasn't pushing him, wasn't trying to call the tune. Perhaps she really had
started to grow up.
The waitress waddled over to their booth, and asked if she could refill
their coffee, but after a glance at Spike, Buffy declined for the both of
them. The waitress nodded, dropped their check on the table, and headed
back to the counter.
"Well, I guess this is it," he said softly. "What time do you leave
tomorrow?"
"Have a flight leaving LAX around 7," she said. "With security being what
it is, not to mention traffic, I'll be leaving for the airport around four."
Spike nodded. "Well, come on, pet, let's pay the bill and shove off."
She sighed, and said, "All right. I'll take care of this one," she said,
picking up the check.
"No, I can take it--have money of my own, you know. Got Angel to finally
agree to give me a paycheck," he said with a smirk.
"Nah, I've got it," she said. "Next time I'm in town, though, you'll
treat." She paused. "That is, if you'd like to have dinner with me, the
next time I visit."
He chose not to think too much about how he was already excited for that
future dinner, and answered her question with a joke. "As long as you keep
in touch before you return, just so I know we're still on."
Buffy smiled a little, and then headed over to the register. They headed
out of the coffee shop, and Spike noticed that dawn wasn't far away. He
could smell the sun, feel that small itch in his bones that would grow more
insistent, reminding him to seek shelter. But for now, he was happy to
slowly walk back to W&H, Buffy silent at his side. They took the elevator
upstairs, and Buffy said, "I'm going to go crash on the couch in Fred's
office." She looked at him for a moment, and then, as if she was building
up her courage, said softly, "Can I give you a hug? I know it's silly to
ask, but I feel like it's the right thing to do."
Spike smiled at her. "Sure, pet," he said, holding his arms away from his
body. With a quiet exhalation, Buffy wrapped her arms around his body, and
he held her tightly. He closed his eyes, and remembered that dance he'd had
with Harmony, when he had thought about how good it felt to hold a woman.
Nobody had ever felt as good as Buffy felt to him right now.
All too soon, the moment was over, and she stepped away from him. "I'll be
calling you soon," she said, pasting a bright smile on her face. "I'll call
you at inconvenient times, and claim it's because I can't figure out the
time change. But really it'll be because I want to annoy you."
He laughed a bit with her, but he could see the tinge of sadness in her
eyes. He wondered if his own eyes reflected the bittersweetness he felt,
too. "I'm looking forward to it, Buffy." He was struck with an impulse,
and instead of questioning it, he went for it. He leaned down, brushed a
kiss across her cheek, and said, "Bye, Slayer."
When he drew back, he could see tears in her eyes again, but they both
ignored them. "See you soon, Spike," she said with another too-bright
smile, before she turned and headed towards the lab.
Spike shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and slowly walked to his
office. The burden of exhaustion he carried seemed light compared to the
feelings that were dragging him down. But he was too tired to think about
such things right now. Once in his room, he dropped his jacket on the
floor, toed off his shoes, and then dropped face-down on his bed. He fell
into sleep, and his last memory was of how soft her cheek had been beneath
his lips.
End, Chapter 5
By Melissa(dettiot@yahoo.com)
Disclaimer: Joss, ME, and Fox owns them all. I'm just having some fun with
them.
Rating: PG-13 for a few bad words.
Spoilers: Everything up through Angel 5x08, Destiny. Nothing after
that--'cause spoiler-free's the way to be!
Summary: Set a year in the future from the events of Destiny, let's find
out why Spike's still in L.A., making friends and building a new life for
himself.
Putting the Question
Chapter Five
For the second night in a row, Spike caught only a few hours of sleep.
After his meal with Buffy, he had been both morose and murderous. He had
headed out to patrol, meeting Gunn in Echo Park. Thankfully, the other man
had realized pretty quickly that Spike wasn't in the mood to talk; an
impression that was underscored when Spike ripped apart a Gwynnega with his
bare hands. After that, Gunn hadn't said anything more than necessary, and
they had headed back to Wolfram and Hart in the early hours of the morning.
Spike knew that he had kept going much longer than was needed on patrol, but
violence was the only outlet that would help unspool the knot of emotions
that was tangled up in his middle. This should have been his dream come
true: Buffy, open with him, saying she had missed him, that she was happy he
was alive, that she loved him and wanted a relationship with him. But what
if they were just words? What if she was only suffering from her adjustment
to 'normal' life, and wanted something to cling to, or more correctly,
someone? He had done that before, and he didn't know if he could bear the
thought of being everything to her, for a while, only to be cast aside as
nothing.
When he opened his eyes, he stared at the ceiling for a few long moments.
He was in new territory, and while he normally was one to just dive in and
fight his way out, he didn't think that was the right strategy in this case.
Because if he wasn't able to get through this, he'd be the one broken and
blue.
With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed, feeling dazed from the lack of
sleep and the questions that kept bothering him. He showered, and barely
noticed what clothes he pulled on. He distractedly drank some blood, and
then buried himself in work. Translating brittle, crumbling documents
engaged his mind enough to get some perspective on his thoughts.
From Buffy's words last night, he got the sense that she was only now
starting to figure out how she wanted to live her life. And she had
seemingly decided that she had to have a relationship to make her life
settled. She always seemed to be striving for love, comittment; in the
years he'd lived in Sunnydale, he could remember only a handful of months
where she wasn't involved with anyone, even if 'involved' was one way to
describe their relationship at times. So, she wasn't used to being alone,
and on top of the upheaval of being one of many Slayers, it wasn't
surprising that she'd decided to latch onto a guy, any guy. Who better than
the one who'd always loved her, no matter what? Heady stuff for someone who
was always insecure when it came to love.
'But what about her words last night? About those moments right before the
Hellmouth was closed?' his mind prodded him. 'She said she saw your
soul--she said I love you!'
As much as his heart wanted to give in to the swell of feeling, his logic
kept overruling it. He'd realized, in the last year, that his heart was so
bruised that it only seemed to react in set patterns. Trying not to fall
fast and deep was nearly impossible once he had started. So, he had started
making his mind play a greater role in these times. And in this case, his
mind was screaming at him to stay out of this. Let Buffy figure out things
without him, make her stand on her own two feet, rely on her other friends.
'Then you're no better than Rupert,' his heart chided. 'That's just what he
did. You'd leave her to those friends who weren't able to help her before,
let her sink under all those responsibilities and burdens?'
"More than I've ever had," Spike grumbled out loud, before forcing his
concentration back to the documents and the translation.
***
He dreaded the evening. Spending the night with Buffy and Angel wasn't his
idea of a fun time in the best of situations, and this certainly was the
worst of situations. He wondered how Buffy was going to act. Would she
make a play for Angel since he'd given her the brush-off? What if Angel
took her up on the offer? And why was he worrying about this? At most, he
wanted to be friends with Buffy, and Angel and he had reached a tentative
relationship in the last year. So wouldn't he want them to be happy
together?
Spike shook his head as he headed to Angel's office, where everyone was
meeting. The whole gang was participating in this one, so at least he'd
have other people around. Of course, that could be a draw-back, too, he
realized as he realized he was the last one to arrive.
Buffy gave him a look of longing and sadness, poignant despite its
briefness. He felt his throat tighten, almost as if there were words that
were prevented from being said. Things like "I love you and want you and
will do whatever I can to make you happy." But instead of saying anything,
he forced himself to break eye contact with Buffy and take in the other
people in the room.
Fred looked sympathetic, and gave him a small wave. Gunn nodded at him, and
Spike made his way over and sat next to him on the sofa. Wes had his normal
blank expression, but Angel hadn't troubled to hide his emotions. He glared
at Spike, and Spike wondered how much Buffy had talked to him about last
night's dinner.
Thankfully, Angel only spent a few moments keeping them in suspense, before
he started talking. "Spike," he said, his voice clipped, "give us all an
update on what you've done to stop the Rite of Peesu-Brat from going ahead."
Spike moved forward, feeling exposed but trying to keep focused on the job.
"We've patrolled the area the last two nights, and kept at least five girls
from being rounded up. Based on my sources, they're still shy a few
sacrifices, but they're determined and probably will be able to make their
quota. So stopping the ritual itself is now the goal. What I'd suggest
doing is an undercover operation. I've got a Spewriter who's willing to
work with me. I'd come to the ritual, using Fred as a 'sacrifice,' saying I
was bringing her in to pay off a debt to the Spewriter. Meanwhile, the rest
of you would take up defensive positions on the fringes. At my sign, we'll
attack the various leaders and prevent them from doing the spells that they
need to cast at a specific time. It'll be about distraction and
incapacitation, and then killing. Most of these demons are fairly
peaceable, and they don't give us trouble otherwise."
Angel nodded. "I don't like the idea of Fred being the bait, though. Seems
too dangerous for her. What about using Buffy?"
"Um, as the choice for potential sacrifice, can I just say that I can take
care of myself?" Fred interjected.
Gunn shook his head. "Have to agree with the boss on this one. It's just
too risky, Fred."
Fred stared at Gunn, her eyes narrowed. "You *know* what I'm capable of,
Charles. I can do this."
Spike looked back and forth between Fred and Gunn. He got the sense that
there was more to this than meets the eye, but before he could ask anything,
Angel stepped in. "Look, Fred, we all know you're a good fighter, but in
this situation, I think the Slayer would be a better choice. Buffy?"
Buffy had kept her eyes on the floor during the discussion, but at this
point, she quietly looked up at Angel and said, "If Spike is all right with
it, I'll do it."
Spike gaped at Buffy, surprised at how she hadn't immediately leaped forward
to do what Angel had requested. When he realized that everyone was waiting
for his answer, he quickly said, "Um, yeah, fine by me."
Angel pushed back from his desk and stood up. "All right then. Let's get
going."
Spike followed the group out of the office and down to the parking garage.
He chose to ride with Gunn and Wes. For a moment, it seemed like Buffy
would choose their car, but after some hesitation, she sat behind Fred in
Angel's car. Spike gave a small sigh when he climbed into the passenger
seat of the car.
As they drove to the site of the ritual, he could feel Wes's eyes on the
back of his head. He was about ready to say something, when Gunn casually
asked, "You okay with all this, Blondie?"
Spike shrugged. "Got a job to do. I'll get it done, and then I won't have
to see her again."
"Well, I was talking more about the way that Angel pushed you aside in
there, but I'm guessing that's not what you were thinking about," Gunn
commented dryly.
"Look," Spike said, his voice hard. "She's just a girl I once knew. And
I've spent too long making something for myself here to throw it away for
some girl who's never been able to make up her mind. First she wants me,
then I'm disgusting. She's happy, then she's sad. Worse than a bloody
see-saw. And I'm not willing to go for another ride and follow her halfway
around the world."
Wes spoke from the backseat. "You're certainly very insistent about staying
here."
"Yeah, how do you know you'd have to leave? Maybe the Slayer's willing to
settle down," Gunn said.
"End of discussion," Spike said angrily. "You don't know what's going on,
so you're just interfering where you're not needed."
"All right, Spike," Gunn said. But despite his agreement, Spike couldn't
help feeling that Gunn wanted to press the issue. Spike sighed, and stared
out the window, trying to project an anti-social vibe as they finished the
drive to Echo Park.
The evening was cool and breezy, as L.A. in early November usually was.
They gathered at the edge of the park, and Spike spoke quietly, refusing to
let Angel take this over. "All right, Slayer's with me. Fred and Angel,
take position on that ridge up there," gesturing to a rise covered with
trees. "Gunn, you take position towards the south, and Wes, you're on the
eastern boundary. When I give the signal, start taking out the demons at
the compass points; they're the ones who will be casting the spells. The
Slayer and I will take out the ones in the middle and will work on getting
the sacrifices out of here. We'll send the girls up towards Angel and Fred,
so you guys will need to provide some cover for them. Everyone good?"
Answered with nods, Spike said, "Okay, let's go."
The others dispersed to their positions, leaving Spike alone with Buffy. He
took a deep breath before speaking. "You gonna be able to do this?"
Buffy didn't say anything for a moment, then she lifted her chin and looked
at him defiantly. "I know how to work with people I'm upset with.
Otherwise, the First Evil would be running the show now, wouldn't it?"
Spike sighed, feeling embarrassment and regret. "I know that. I . . . "
His voice trailed off, when he realized he just didn't know what to say. He
muttered, "Come on, let's get this started," he said, holding up a trick set
of handcuffs to bind her hands behind her. Buffy let him cuff her, but he
could tell she was trying not to think about the other times he'd shackled
her. Because he was certainly trying very hard not to think about the same
thing.
He placed his hand on her shoulder and lead her forward, into the mass of
demons. Buffy whispered to him, "Just how many are we going to have to take
out?"
He said out of the corner of his mouth, "Six; two in the middle and four on
the compass points. All the bystanders, innocent and otherwise, make it a
bit tricky. But remember, it's just about keeping the ritual from being
completed."
She nodded, and rolled her shoulders a bit. He marveled, as her muscles
moved, at how small she was and how much strength she had. The more fragile
she looked, the more focused she was on unleashing her power when she could.
They moved through the park, and without questions entered the area set
aside for the ritual. Spike was amused to see that the demons had gotten a
permit to use the park for the event. Spike made contact with the Spewriter
he had worked with, and Buffy was lead over to join a large group of girls.
Spike tried to make it look like he was hanging around, observing things.
He stole a glance at his watch, and realized the spells would be starting in
only a few moments.
Suddenly, Buffy was at his side. "What the hell are you doing?" he
whispered to her.
She smiled weakly at him. "I told myself I wouldn't do this, but I just
have to." She paused, and then looked directly at him. "I love you."
Before he could respond, she quickly scampered back over to join the rest of
the victims.
He stared after her, as his brain suggested several reasons for her actions.
But before he had a chance to ponder the situation anymore, he heard a
murmured chant begin, and realized it was time. With a lightning-fast move,
he ran towards the nearest warlock and quickly started punching him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gunn come towards the ritual space, and
he thought he spied Fred wielding a crossbow from the ridge. He heard
Buffy's voice, directing the girls out of the area. But all his attention
was focused on the crowd of demons swarming around him. Most of them were
crap fighters, but going up against twenty-five assorted demons was still an
undertaking.
He threw punches and kicks, feeling his blood sing each time he made
contact. This was what he was about. Violence, terror, the shouts of "It's
Spike!" And even better, he knew he was doing this to protect people. This
was what he had missed out on when he hung on the fringes of the Scooby
Gang. He'd never really been able to let it loose and not worry about
losing the respect of the people fighting with him. Before, if he had acted
like this, he'd have Xander screaming that he'd gone evil, or Willow
threatening him with some spell. Now, though, he could unleash it, and just
as easily, tuck it away and go back to W&H for a movie night.
This was what he didn't want to give up for Buffy.
As if his thoughts had drawn her to him, he realized the Slayer had moved
into a position behind him, and was easily dealing with a group of assorted
demons. Within a few minutes, their opponents had been knocked out or run
off. With a grin, he turned to Buffy.
The Slayer was panting a bit, but she didn't even have a scratch on her.
"All right, Buffy?" he said, the left-over adrenaline making him bounce on
his toes.
She nodded. "Just fine. Wow, that was fun. Low-risk yet still a good
fight. Like low-impact aerobics."
He chuckled a bit. "Glad to know we helped keep you in shape," he said, as
Gunn, Wes, and Angel met up with them. "You lot all right?" he asked the
others.
"Fred's organizing getting all the girls home. Most live in the area, so I
thought Gunn and Wes could help her with walking or driving them home. I
need to go back to the office," Angel said.
"Good," Spike said. "Slayer, you want to head back over to Wolfram & Hart
with Angel? I better stay and help with the clean-up."
The smile that had been on Buffy's face dimmed considerably. "Um, all
right, I guess. I probably should pack some."
"See you later, then," he said, and loped off towards the wooded area on top
of the hill. He heard Wes and Gunn follow him after a few moments, and then
Gunn caught up with him.
"Putting her out of your mind, or just running away from her?" he
questioned.
"Sod off," Spike retorted, and Gunn wisely kept his mouth shut.
***
Spike groaned in relief when he arrived back at Wolfram and Hart. The
clean-up had taken longer than he had thought it would, complicated by quite
a few of the girls being traumatized by the events. Calming them down had
taken a lot out of him, and considering he had barely gotten any sleep for
the last two nights, all he wanted was his bed.
He pulled up short, when he reached his door, and saw Buffy leaning against
the wall. "Slayer, it's late, and I'm tired. I know you're not leaving
till tomorrow afternoon, so can we postpone the goodbyes till then?"
She pushed away from the wall and shook her head. "I'd rather not. In
fact, I was hoping we could get out of here, go talk some."
"Slayer, you seemed to indicate last night that you were gonna wait for me
to come running back to you. So why the puppy dog routine?"
She shrugged. "Lots of reasons. I've always sucked at being patient.
Besides, I think I'm just taking a page out of your book: I'll be a nuisance
until you pay attention to me."
"Is that what you think I did?" he said. "Decided to torment you until you
had to admit you loved me? 'Cause it worked so well for me."
Buffy bit her lip. "Spike, I'm just asking for a bit of time. I know
you're tired. If you give me this now, I'll leave tomorrow without
insisting on the 'big goodbye scene'."
He grumbled, "Just trying to get me while I'm in a weakened state," but
tilted his head and made an 'after you' gesture towards the elevator.
In the elevator, Buffy turned to him. "Is there some place nearby that we
can get some coffee? Maybe something to eat?" He nodded, and that seemed
to satisfy Buffy. They made the trip to the ground floor of W&H, and then
down the block to a small coffee shop that Spike had discovered not long
after he had become corporeal.
Inside, he pulled off his jacket and ordered just coffee, while the Slayer
requested the breakfast special. He leaned back in the booth and sipped his
coffee while the Slayer plowed into her food.
"You're hungry," he commented, as she used her toast to mop up the last of
her fried egg.
She nodded. "I didn't eat much today."
"Not smart, Slayer," he said. "Need to keep your strength up. Was glad to
see you had gained some weight when you showed up here."
Buffy finished the last of her home fries without replying to his comment,
and set her fork down on the table. "I had an interesting talk with Angel
on the way back to the office."
Spike sighed. "What did Angel have to say?"
"Not much. Pretty close to his usual spiel. 'I love you but we can't be
together.' 'Spike isn't to be trusted, despite the good things he's doing
here.' 'He really seems to be over you.'" She crossed her arms over her
chest. "He seemed pretty convinced. And determined to convince me, too,
that you could care less about me."
He shook his head. "I'll always care about you, Slayer. Just don't want to
be in love with you. I don't want to walk down that road again."
"Well, he seemed to certainly want me to think otherwise. I think he was
hinting around that I should just admit that what Angel and I had would
always be the prize in the Cracker Jack box o' love. That someday, we could
be together again." She leaned forward, propping her chin up on her hands,
her elbows on the table. "What do you think, Spike?"
Spike stared at her, perplexed at the direction this conversation was
taking. "What? You want me to give you advice about you and the Poof?"
"You know, that's the first time you've said something mean about Angel
since I arrived," Buffy noted. "Up till now, you were rather civil to him.
Yes, Spike, I was wondering if you could give me some advice. We are
friends, after all, according to you. Or are you now starting to believe
what you said before, that you can never be friends with an old lover?"
Spike shook his head, frustration and anger making his words clipped. "I
only said that you and Angel could never be friends. That's not what I
wanted for us. I want to be able to help you out, be an ear for you." He
paused, and the anger took over. "But if you think I'm going to give you
advice on you and that hair-gelled ponce, you're crazier than I ever was.
No, thank you."
"Okay," Buffy said, picking up her spoon and stirring the last bit of her
coffee.
A silence fell over the table, as Spike once again marveled at his inability
to understand Buffy. At times like these, he realized that Dru, for all her
insanity, was remarkably straight-forward.
"I didn't believe him," Buffy said quietly. She looked up at him briefly,
and then back down at her coffee cup. "I think he knew how I felt, and he
was making a last-ditch effort. For Angel, the thought of losing me to you
seems worse than just losing me."
"He doesn't have anything to worry about," Spike said tiredly. "Did you
tell him that?"
Buffy shrugged. "Does it matter? He knows how I feel, so it's irrelevant
whether you reciprocate or not."
"And just how do you feel?" Spike asked in frustration. "You say you love
me. But how? When? Clue in the guy who's been out of your life for the
last year."
"It's not like it happened while we were apart," she said slowly. "I knew
before the last battle."
"When did you know? When you were snogging Angel?"
She shrugged one shoulder. "Yeah, actually. I mean, sure, kissing is
always nice. But . . . I knew. He wasn't the one I wanted to kiss. And as
soon as it was done, I knew who I wanted to kiss. But I wasn't about to
tell Angel that I loved you, before I told you. And besides, I meant what I
said to him. I needed to spend some time baking. And I've had that time,
and now I know I'm ready to be a cookie."
"Huh?" Spike said, feeling thorougly confused.
"Never mind," Buffy said, waving her hand. "The point is, I know who I
want. And yes, I knew a long time ago, and I could have picked a better
time to tell you. But, Spike, you remember how it was," she said softly.
"I kept telling myself that I'd talk to you after it was all over. Because
if I didn't give myself something to look forward to, I didn't know if I
could keep it all together." Her voice broke, but she continued. "So when
we were in the Hellmouth, and we were holding hands . . . I realized that
there wasn't going to be an 'after.' I had to tell you then. And I even
know why you didn't believe me then. But please don't tell me that you
still don't believe me."
Spike looked at her, at her green eyes, large and bright with unshed tears.
She was biting her lower lip, and her hands were clenched together, resting
on the table. He was just so amazed by the changes in her. It didn't seem
possible that this trembling girl was the same stone-faced general that had
lead her massively out-numbered and under-trained army of girls into a
Hellmouth and come out on top. Yet despite her emotions getting the better
of her, she was still looking directly at him, her chin raised, not giving
any ground. She was holding fast, determined to make him believe her.
And God help him, he did.
Spike sighed deeply. "I believe you."
Buffy let loose a small squeak of surprise, but kept staring at him. Her
stare unnerved him, and he quickly started speaking. "I'm not saying I want
a relationship with you, mind. I'm just saying . . . that what you said, I
believe that you mean it. And . . . and it's good to hear."
Buffy nodded slowly, before snapping out of her trance-like state. "Thank
you, Spike."
At that, another silence fell between them, heavier and full of questions
and emotions. He stared at the table, out the window, at the waitress who
was skimming through a newspaper, anywhere but at her. Finally, he blurted
out the first thing he could think of.
"So, what are your plans now?"
Buffy's mouth opened, then closed. "Um, I had thought some about going back
to school. Don't need to worry so much about dying young, especially since
I've already done it twice, you know, so school seems like a better
investment now. I was thinking about studying psychology . . . I liked the
class I took with Dr. Walsh, before she turned out to be evil, which I'm
sure you remember," she said, her forehead furrowed. "Plus, I really liked
my work with the students at the high school. So maybe I'll go into
counseling. Most of the time it's just sitting and listening, and I can do
both of those things pretty well. When I'm not babbling, I mean, like right
now," she said with a grimace.
"No, I asked for a reason," Spike said. He was trying to put together the
puzzle pieces. Maybe he hadn't been right, when he thought Buffy was
latching onto him to keep herself from drowning. "Do you know where you
want to go?"
"It's a bit up in the air right now. Dawn's pretty settled in England, and
she's nearly eighteen. She'd like to stay with Willow and Giles until
college, so if I wanted to, I could move back to the States and I wouldn't
have to worry too much. I mean, more than I naturally would. I prefer it
over here; I'm tired of all the rain. I was kinda thinking about Arizona,
maybe Florida. Warm, you know."
"Not California?" Spike commented.
She shook her head rather emphatically. "San Francisco is too cold and
rainy. Just like England, really. And as for L.A. . . ." Her voice
trailed off, and she spun her coffee cup around on its saucer. "I was
waiting till after I left here to really decide. But I thought that it
might be uncomfortable to be so close."
Spike swallowed, and didn't ask for more information. He had a good idea
what she meant. She looked up at him at this point, her eyes curious. "So
what about you? Fred told me about how you were all ghost-like for a while,
and then one day, bam, solid!Spike. Are you still stuck in L.A.?"
"Nope. Found that out pretty quickly," Spike said. "Just so you know . . .
I didn't think of you immediately. But damn soon thereafter. And I was
going to go haring off to Europe to find you, but I had to stay because of
trouble here. Then, whenever I started getting ready to go, something else
would come up. After a while, I started thinking that maybe it wasn't that
I couldn't leave, but that I shouldn't leave. Maybe I was here for a
reason."
Buffy looked at him with a steadfast gaze. "You've never really seemed to
believe in fate or prophecies," she said. "What changed your mind?"
Spike shrugged. "Long story. Basically, I started realizing that being
souled, like Angel, changed things around a bit in the cosmic scheme of
things. And I wanted to get to the bottom of it all. Staying here in Los
Angeles seemed the best way to find out what was going on. So I stayed."
"And you got over me," Buffy said quietly.
Spike nodded. "And I got over you."
"Maybe that was what you were here for," she said. "Maybe you had to bake,
just like me."
"Still confused by the whole baking analogy, pet," Spike said dryly. "But
if I have the gist of things, perhaps you're right. Had to spend some time
finishing what I started in Sunnyhell, thanks to the Principal and all.
Learn how to be my own man, finally." He flashed a small grin at her.
"It's only taken me about a hundred and thirty years. Makes one wonder how
those of you with shorter lifespans manage to mature at all."
Buffy grinned back at him. "Well, some of us are less mature than others,"
she said.
The grins felt good, Spike realized. They had run the gamut of emotions
during their talk, and it was time for them to relax a bit. It had gone
better than he ever would have expected, to be honest. He had expected
Buffy to start insisting, after he confessed he believed her, that he had to
still be in love with her. Yet though she seemed sad at his decision, she
wasn't pushing him, wasn't trying to call the tune. Perhaps she really had
started to grow up.
The waitress waddled over to their booth, and asked if she could refill
their coffee, but after a glance at Spike, Buffy declined for the both of
them. The waitress nodded, dropped their check on the table, and headed
back to the counter.
"Well, I guess this is it," he said softly. "What time do you leave
tomorrow?"
"Have a flight leaving LAX around 7," she said. "With security being what
it is, not to mention traffic, I'll be leaving for the airport around four."
Spike nodded. "Well, come on, pet, let's pay the bill and shove off."
She sighed, and said, "All right. I'll take care of this one," she said,
picking up the check.
"No, I can take it--have money of my own, you know. Got Angel to finally
agree to give me a paycheck," he said with a smirk.
"Nah, I've got it," she said. "Next time I'm in town, though, you'll
treat." She paused. "That is, if you'd like to have dinner with me, the
next time I visit."
He chose not to think too much about how he was already excited for that
future dinner, and answered her question with a joke. "As long as you keep
in touch before you return, just so I know we're still on."
Buffy smiled a little, and then headed over to the register. They headed
out of the coffee shop, and Spike noticed that dawn wasn't far away. He
could smell the sun, feel that small itch in his bones that would grow more
insistent, reminding him to seek shelter. But for now, he was happy to
slowly walk back to W&H, Buffy silent at his side. They took the elevator
upstairs, and Buffy said, "I'm going to go crash on the couch in Fred's
office." She looked at him for a moment, and then, as if she was building
up her courage, said softly, "Can I give you a hug? I know it's silly to
ask, but I feel like it's the right thing to do."
Spike smiled at her. "Sure, pet," he said, holding his arms away from his
body. With a quiet exhalation, Buffy wrapped her arms around his body, and
he held her tightly. He closed his eyes, and remembered that dance he'd had
with Harmony, when he had thought about how good it felt to hold a woman.
Nobody had ever felt as good as Buffy felt to him right now.
All too soon, the moment was over, and she stepped away from him. "I'll be
calling you soon," she said, pasting a bright smile on her face. "I'll call
you at inconvenient times, and claim it's because I can't figure out the
time change. But really it'll be because I want to annoy you."
He laughed a bit with her, but he could see the tinge of sadness in her
eyes. He wondered if his own eyes reflected the bittersweetness he felt,
too. "I'm looking forward to it, Buffy." He was struck with an impulse,
and instead of questioning it, he went for it. He leaned down, brushed a
kiss across her cheek, and said, "Bye, Slayer."
When he drew back, he could see tears in her eyes again, but they both
ignored them. "See you soon, Spike," she said with another too-bright
smile, before she turned and headed towards the lab.
Spike shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and slowly walked to his
office. The burden of exhaustion he carried seemed light compared to the
feelings that were dragging him down. But he was too tired to think about
such things right now. Once in his room, he dropped his jacket on the
floor, toed off his shoes, and then dropped face-down on his bed. He fell
into sleep, and his last memory was of how soft her cheek had been beneath
his lips.
End, Chapter 5