Chapter 3: Forgiveness
The night was cold, and bitter. The midnight rain was like a piercing knife, burning yet like ice. Her long, dirty blonde hair was tied into a bun at the nape of her neck. She wasn't really headed anywhere special, she just needed to get away. Spike had been a heavy burden that became even heavier after her sixth apocalypse, when she realized she loved him. But by that time, it was too late, Spike was dead. But now, he was back. He was feeding again, four people were dead. She kept telling herself it wasn't her fault--after all, he's evil. But she just wished she could convince her heart that. She was now walking aimlessly through Sunnydale Cemetery. She couldn't hold back her tears. So there she sat-alone-like always. She heard the grass rustle and picked up his scent. Her voice hardened.
"What do you want?"
"I, uh..."
"You what? Broke iron clad chains to take a stroll?"
He smiled and she hated him for it.
"Why do you do this to me?! Just because I can't love you
Doesn't mean you have the right to-"
"To what? Hurt you?! Open up your eyes and look around,
Love. You're not the only hurt one here. And don't give me
That 'you can't love me' garbage! I don't want to hear it. If
You can look me in the eyes and tell me you don't love me,
I'll leave—forever."
"Would it make me feel better?! To send a dangerous
Murderer out into the world? Yeah, that's a great ultimatum
Spike."
"I didn't kill those four people, I can prove it. I'm a changed
Man, Buffy."
"Okay. There it is again. You thinking you're something
Special--something human. Newsflash: you're not. You're not
Changed, not human, not a man. You're a vampire! An evil,
Horrible, blood-sucking vampire! It's not that I don't love
You, it's that I can't."
She touched his cold face, lightly tracing the battle wounds with her fingertips.
"Why not?" he whispered.
"I don't know, Spike. But I wish I could."
She turned but he caught her arm.
"Buffy! Stay, please! Stay with me."
"Why?"
"I don't know if—I don't know what I would do without you.
If you weren't around, I don't think I could live without you.
I'm not ready to leave you, and I don't think I ever will be. I
May not be a man, but you make me feel like one. I know
What I am, what I've done, but you make it different—
Better."
She smiled through her tears. She sniffed and quickly wiped them away. Spike stopped her, holding her hands.
"Don't be ashamed to cry, Buffy."
"I don't want to cry anymore."
He wrapped his arms around her in a huge embrace.
"You won't, love, I promise."
She looked into his steel-gray eyes.
"I'm going to hold you to that."
"Well," he laughed, "I'm not minding the holding."
They went on their way, hand-in-hand through the cemetery.
The night was cold, and bitter. The midnight rain was like a piercing knife, burning yet like ice. Her long, dirty blonde hair was tied into a bun at the nape of her neck. She wasn't really headed anywhere special, she just needed to get away. Spike had been a heavy burden that became even heavier after her sixth apocalypse, when she realized she loved him. But by that time, it was too late, Spike was dead. But now, he was back. He was feeding again, four people were dead. She kept telling herself it wasn't her fault--after all, he's evil. But she just wished she could convince her heart that. She was now walking aimlessly through Sunnydale Cemetery. She couldn't hold back her tears. So there she sat-alone-like always. She heard the grass rustle and picked up his scent. Her voice hardened.
"What do you want?"
"I, uh..."
"You what? Broke iron clad chains to take a stroll?"
He smiled and she hated him for it.
"Why do you do this to me?! Just because I can't love you
Doesn't mean you have the right to-"
"To what? Hurt you?! Open up your eyes and look around,
Love. You're not the only hurt one here. And don't give me
That 'you can't love me' garbage! I don't want to hear it. If
You can look me in the eyes and tell me you don't love me,
I'll leave—forever."
"Would it make me feel better?! To send a dangerous
Murderer out into the world? Yeah, that's a great ultimatum
Spike."
"I didn't kill those four people, I can prove it. I'm a changed
Man, Buffy."
"Okay. There it is again. You thinking you're something
Special--something human. Newsflash: you're not. You're not
Changed, not human, not a man. You're a vampire! An evil,
Horrible, blood-sucking vampire! It's not that I don't love
You, it's that I can't."
She touched his cold face, lightly tracing the battle wounds with her fingertips.
"Why not?" he whispered.
"I don't know, Spike. But I wish I could."
She turned but he caught her arm.
"Buffy! Stay, please! Stay with me."
"Why?"
"I don't know if—I don't know what I would do without you.
If you weren't around, I don't think I could live without you.
I'm not ready to leave you, and I don't think I ever will be. I
May not be a man, but you make me feel like one. I know
What I am, what I've done, but you make it different—
Better."
She smiled through her tears. She sniffed and quickly wiped them away. Spike stopped her, holding her hands.
"Don't be ashamed to cry, Buffy."
"I don't want to cry anymore."
He wrapped his arms around her in a huge embrace.
"You won't, love, I promise."
She looked into his steel-gray eyes.
"I'm going to hold you to that."
"Well," he laughed, "I'm not minding the holding."
They went on their way, hand-in-hand through the cemetery.