It had been two weeks since Buffy and Spike had stop talking. Everything
was harder with the two in the mist of a fight. Sometimes she really wanted
to beg for forgiveness and have him hold her. Sometimes Spike wished that
he would just apologize and hold her. They never would though. They were
both stubborn.
Buffy knocked on Giles' door. "Giles? You there?" No answer. She opened the door anyway and headed in. Her mother was baking a cake and needed some sugar and Buffy needed another one of Spike's shirts. Ever since their fight, Buffy snuck into Spike's bedroom and would "borrow" one of his shirts. Since she couldn't be around him, she could at least have his smell around her. His smell was so comforting. It made her feel powerful and safe. How could a smell do that?
She walked into Spike's room and eyed everything carefully. She didn't want to disturb anything. Buffy went to his drawers and pulled out a black shirt. She laid her head on it. Soft and smells like him. "Having fun, pet?" he sneered. His back was against the doorframe and his arms where crossed over his chest. A small pang erupted in Buffy's stomach. Buffy stuttered. "Sorry. You-your shirt." She was caught! Buffy looked down to her shoes and tried to pass by him. Spike put his hand in front of the doorway, so she couldn't pass. "I was wonderin' where all my bloody shirts were going. Thought I was mad." She couldn't look him in the face. "Mom just wanted some sugar," she said while feeling vulnerable. He let down his arm and looked toward his bed, not wanting to look at her. She walked out, fully embarrassed and got her sugar. "Buffy," he called out. She turned around, confused. "Here." He threw her an old black t-shirt. On the front had the words, "Fucked up Life" and a little stick figure with a cloud over his head and a thunder bold coming from that. She smiled. "Go knock yourself out." Before she walked out she softly said, "I'm sorry," knowing that he couldn't hear her. Spike smiled, "Me too."
Buffy knocked on Giles' door. "Giles? You there?" No answer. She opened the door anyway and headed in. Her mother was baking a cake and needed some sugar and Buffy needed another one of Spike's shirts. Ever since their fight, Buffy snuck into Spike's bedroom and would "borrow" one of his shirts. Since she couldn't be around him, she could at least have his smell around her. His smell was so comforting. It made her feel powerful and safe. How could a smell do that?
She walked into Spike's room and eyed everything carefully. She didn't want to disturb anything. Buffy went to his drawers and pulled out a black shirt. She laid her head on it. Soft and smells like him. "Having fun, pet?" he sneered. His back was against the doorframe and his arms where crossed over his chest. A small pang erupted in Buffy's stomach. Buffy stuttered. "Sorry. You-your shirt." She was caught! Buffy looked down to her shoes and tried to pass by him. Spike put his hand in front of the doorway, so she couldn't pass. "I was wonderin' where all my bloody shirts were going. Thought I was mad." She couldn't look him in the face. "Mom just wanted some sugar," she said while feeling vulnerable. He let down his arm and looked toward his bed, not wanting to look at her. She walked out, fully embarrassed and got her sugar. "Buffy," he called out. She turned around, confused. "Here." He threw her an old black t-shirt. On the front had the words, "Fucked up Life" and a little stick figure with a cloud over his head and a thunder bold coming from that. She smiled. "Go knock yourself out." Before she walked out she softly said, "I'm sorry," knowing that he couldn't hear her. Spike smiled, "Me too."