A/N – Wow, at some point in the last few days, not only one, but a horde of writing bugs bit me and this is the result. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please, please, please review! Keep whatever has inspired me to do nothing but write this last week going and let me know what you think. Anyways – here's the chapter, hope you like it!
P.S. I've been archived at Falcon-Rider's site! Go check her site out at http://www.geocities.com/starsightvoices.
Chapter 12 – Late Night Wanderings
As Buffy finished putting the leftover wedding cake in the fridge, she grimaced at how empty it was. Knowing there was nothing she could do without more money, she started aimlessly walking around the lower level of the house, picking up dishes and tidying as she went. When they had gotten home, Dawn had gone straight up to her room to bed. She had been strangely silent on the way home, not even throwing in her usual sarcastic, bitter comments. Willow had gone home with Tara, saying her and her fellow Wiccan had more to 'talk' about. Buffy couldn't help but smile at the thought of seeing the two walking away hand in hand. It was nice to see all her friends so happy.
The thought of happiness made Buffy pause. Why couldn't she be happy along with everyone else? She was happy for them, but she wasn't happy herself. She had finally realized what she wanted. What she needed. And after one conversation that left her sick to her stomach, she realized that her decision was too late.
Buffy's gut reaction after Arabella left her on the balcony was to go find Spike. She was upset, so she should go see Spike. Then she had realized why she was upset, and her brain had finally allowed herself to analyse her usual gut reaction and understand what it meant. When Buffy needed support, she didn't go to her best friends, or to her sister. She went to the soulless vampire that loved her. And it wasn't just because he wouldn't judge her or expect anything of her. It was because he did expect something from her – for her to be herself. He provided her with a support no one had ever given her. No matter what the situation was, no matter what was going on between them at the time, Spike had always been behind her, supporting her every decision and every action. Sure, he would object and give his opinion, often quite harshly, but he would always be there at her side in the end. Buffy was finally realizing just how much she needed his support to function.
Somewhere along the line, she and Spike had become a part of one another. Buffy didn't even think Spike saw it. They slayed together, watched out for Dawn together, slept together…the list went on and on. The only things they didn't do with one another were the things Buffy consciously would not allow. Top on that list for the last few months was that under no circumstances would she allow herself to fall asleep with him. Not after that first night. It was too dangerous to allow herself to do so. When she had first woken up that morning, before she was fully conscious of where she was, all Buffy wanted to do was roll over and hide from the world. She could smell that distinct Spike scent surrounding her, could feel his arms holding her tightly. And she wanted to get lost in those simple sensations. What bothered her more than anything that morning, what made her run more than anything in that whole horrible situation was that she wanted to stay, wanted to forget about everything. About her friends, about slaying, about money, about Dawn. All Buffy wanted to do was lose herself in Spike. And she couldn't have resisted doing just that if she had ever allowed herself to wake up in his arms again.
But now her attitude had changed. Buffy couldn't help but chuckle at why it had changed. The wedding of an ex-demon and a man who hated Spike with his entire being had made her finally understand the war being raged against her conscious mind and subconscious mind. And finally, her conscious mind had clued in and admitted the truth about her feelings. Only she was sure it was too late. She was too late.
But maybe she wasn't. The words Xander had said to her just over a year ago travelled through her mind.
"He's never held back with you. He's risked everything. And you're about to let him fly because you don't like ultimatums? If he's not the guy, if what he needs from you just isn't there, (shakes head) let him go. Break his heart, and make it a clean break. But if you really think you can love this guy ... I'm talking scary, messy, no-emotions-barred need ... if you're ready for that ... then think about what you're about to lose."
Buffy had thought a lot about those words. Especially in the weeks after Riley left. At some point, Buffy had realized that Riley wasn't the guy. He had been her rebound guy, even though she still wouldn't admit it to anyone but herself. For some reason the words had always stuck in her mind. The words had been nagging at her thoughts all day, and now it clicked. She was ready for it.
Without another thought, Buffy was out the door and down the street. She ran the familiar path at her full preternatural speed, reaching Spike's crypt in less than five minutes. As soon as she reached the door, her entire body froze. She went from being a blur of green to looking like a statue. All the clarity seemed to disappear, and questions started to run through her head. What if he's not there? What if he is there? Should I knock or slam through the door as usual? What if he's not alone? What if he is alone? What if he's alone and doesn't want to be bothered? What if he's not interested?
What if he is interested?
That question made Buffy move. She opened the door cautiously, afraid of what she would find inside, but she needed to know. For once in her life she wouldn't run away, she wouldn't avoid what might hurt her heart. She'd take the risk. As Buffy took the final step into the crypt, she closed her eyes and waited for the usual sarcastic comment that came with her entrance. He always knew when she was coming and was always prepared. So she waited, eyes shut, biting her lip in a combination of anticipation and dread.
And waited.
And waited.
And waited.
After a few minutes had gone by, Buffy opened her eyes and looked around. The crypt was empty. There was nothing, no TV, no chair, no fridge. And most importantly, no Spike. Buffy took a deep breath and swallowed back the sob that was trying to get out. Maybe he's asleep. I've snuck up on him asleep before. Buffy couldn't just accept this and walk away. She had come farther than she had ever come before. With more purpose, Buffy reached for the match she new always rested above the crypt's entrance. When her hand found the familiar box, she smiled, and took it as a sign that Spike wasn't completely gone from this place. Finding a discarded candle, she lit it and headed to the familiar entrance to the crypt's lower level. The level she had spent hours in. The level she had blown away.
As she cautiously headed down the ladder, candle balanced precariously in one hand, she could smell the smoky remains of the room Spike had made into his home. As her feet hit the ground, she instinctively turned to wear the bed was. It was funny how she knew exactly where it was, having spent such a small amount of time in it compared to the rest of the room. The dim light she had revealed the charred remains of a mattress, springs covered at soot visible from the many holes the fire had caused.
Buffy slowly turned around the room, looking for some sign of Spike. Some sign that he was still in this place. The light passed over the room, illuminating the objects and decorations she could remember adorning the room. As she passed over a trunk, she paused. She couldn't remember that being there before. In fact, she couldn't remember seeing anything with a similar shape in the room.
Buffy moved closer to investigate, and saw the telltale signs that this was something new. There were marks in the ash that covered the ground, showing that the trunk had indeed been dragged into the centre of the room. She inspected the trunk carefully. It wasn't as charred as the rest of what she saw, even in the dark light. It looked heavy and old; the wood lid was engraved with three letters. W.A.C.
"William…"
Instantly Buffy knew that the trunk had belonged to Spike as a human. But for some reason, she doubted that it still contained what she would have originally found in it. Buffy knew she shouldn't open the trunk, but she couldn't help it. She had never been good with temptation. She placed the candle beside her and allowed her hands to delicately trace over the three letters before she slowly began opening the lid.
*****
Spike had been walking. He wasn't sure how long he had been walking, although he was aware that it had been at least two or three hours. He knew he should probably do something or go somewhere, but instead he just walked. He had probably passed every gravestone in every graveyard at some point that evening, staking a few fledglings as he went. There was no fight in his stakings, they were fast, mechanical and efficient. He had too much on his mind to put the energy he needed to have fun dusting the new vampires.
So he continued to walk, hands dug deeply into his duster pockets, shoulders slumped, and head down. Every so often, his hands would appear; a fag in one, his lighter in the other. The nicotine was doing nothing to come his nerves, but Spike continued to hope in vain that the nicotine in one of the many he had smoked would kick in eventually. He was beginning to hope they would kick in soon.
It was hard enough having to try and interpret the staring competition he and Buffy had had during the wedding ceremony. The way her eyes had looked into his, completely open, it was new to him and slightly unnerving. It had given him so much hope that maybe… Spike was afraid to think the thought, afraid that his vocalising a reconciliation between him and the Slayer would curse the possibility. He had felt her eyes on him numerous times that night, but she hadn't come near him, and he wouldn't, he couldn't go to her first. It frustrated him that he hadn't had time to study the Slayer covertly and try to figure out what she was thinking. He had had things to do at the wedding, and he had forced himself to focus on them and not her green eyes once he had gotten to the reception.
That brought up the two other difficulties he had. First, there was his conversation with Dawn. It had actually gone quite well, he thought. Before he had walked away, it looked as if he had finally struck something in her teenage brain that would make her see how stupid she had been. Hopefully what he said would stick, and not be forgotten in a few days or weeks. By the expression in her eyes, Spike was pretty sure his words would actually stay with the youngest Summers and influence her actions in the future. It wasn't Dawn that had been bothering him, though. It was his own reaction. The feelings and thoughts he had had at the end of the conversation. Feelings he hadn't felt until recently.
Spike had spent a good hour of his walk trying to figure out what it all meant. He had thought about his feelings and actions over most of his unlife, and what he saw bothered him. In the last two years, he had been slowly feeling things and caring about things that he never would have before. Most specifically, the love he felt for Buffy. He had and still loved Drusilla. But it was so different than what he felt for Buffy. Drusilla was like a drug. He constantly wanted more, but every dose damaged him more and more. Loving Dru had caused him more harm than good, and he was glad that his time with her was over. With Buffy, it was so much simpler, and so much more complicated than what he had with Drusilla. His love for Buffy had no strings, no fine print. He loved her. It couldn't be categorized as love for this reason or that reason. It didn't depend on specific conditions or traits Buffy possessed. Although Spike felt awkward using the word to describe anything about himself, when he thought of the love he had for Buffy, the word pure always came to mind. He felt pure love for Buffy. And the emotion was the most complicated and most basic emotion he had, or ever would, feel.
At first he had thought it was the chip's fault. It had softened him up by not allowing him to hunt. But he had been hunting, just not humans. If truth be told, some of his most brutal kills had occurred while slaying demons, and definitely some of his most fun. They had the power and strength that most humans didn't possess, sometimes they even surprised him with a challenge. If anything, not being able to kill humans had provided him with a whole new set of fighting skills. His next answer to the emotion question was maybe that the chip provided stimulus to the parts of his brain where specific emotions were. The thought was viable, but there was a gnawing feeling in his stomach that told him that wasn't the situation. There was something else going on with him, going on around him. He was a little apprehensive about whatever that was, but again part of him was telling him the changes were good.
There was one thing that was definitely not good. It was anything but not good. When Spike had gone to D'Hoffryn, he had doubted the demon would agree to do what he had asked. He had wanted things fixed. He didn't want things fixed for him, but for Buffy. Even if it meant he would be out of her life forever, he needed to try and make things better in her life.
"Spike."
"D'Hoffryn."
"So what may I do for you? That expression tells me you're here to talk business."
"I'm here to call in my favours."
"Which one?"
"All of them."
"Really. You must want me to do something extremely important for you."
"I want you to fix her."
"Fix who?"
"Buffy."
"The Slayer? How does she need fixing?"
"You know she was brought back, right?"
"The power of that magic was felt everywhere."
"Well, the witch screwed up. She's not right, she didn't come back right. I can hit her. I want you to make it so I can't, make her like she was before her death. Make her better and happy again."
"Spike, I'm sorry, but I cannot do what you ask. It's not in my power to do something like that…
He had known going into the conversation that the old, powerful demon would probably refuse his request, but he had to try. He had expected a flat out refusal, even laughing. He hadn't expected what D'Hoffryn had said next. He really wished D'Hoffryn hadn't told him what he had.
"Things are in play, big things. You're involved, everything is involved… this goes straight to the top."
The warning had made Spike very nervous. D'Hoffryn had never been one for chaos, but he wasn't one to give a doomsday warning. He usually just stepped back and watched things unfold. And of course, Hof couldn't just give him a warning about what to be ready for, it had to be cryptic and confusing. There were so many possibilities for the meaning behind the words it made Spike's head spin.
Spike was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts by the familiar tingle in the back of his neck.
"Buffy." Before he even realised where he was, he could sense the Slayer was near. Looking around, he couldn't help but smile smugly. He had somehow managed to end up outside his crypt. Well, his old crypt, anyways.
Spike had listened to Arabella's advice and found a flat in one of the nicer apartment buildings in town. He had funded it for the next few months by selling Dracula's debt to Arabella. The topic of the one hundred year old bet had come up on one of their drunken trips down memory lane. Arabella had been there when the bet was made, and, of course, remembered the event much better than Spike did. The next afternoon Arabella had arrived at the crypt with a newspaper and manila envelope in her hands. Hung over and half asleep, Spike had signed a contract selling the debt to the Keeper. She had made some calls, done some math, and had decided that she would be able to get the money from the legendary vampire a lot more easily than Spike ever would. Spike could remember her mumbling about it being a project with interest while she counted out the very generous amount of money she was giving Spike in return. Of course, there were conditions for the money.
Arabella had spent the morning apartment hunting. She had found a few places that were up to her standards and available right away. One beneficial thing about living on the Hellmouth was the fast turnover rate for real estate. The mortality rate probably had a big hand in that fact, and it definitely helped Spike find an apartment that came furnished. Spike had moved in immediately, and only had one more object to transfer from the crypt, his trunk.
As Spike entered the crypt he wondered idly if Buffy had found the trunk that was home to his personal history. Everything he had saved over the years, even a few pictures and mementos from his human years were in there. When he saw the faint glow coming from lower level, it was confirmed. Buffy was probably sorting through his most personal and revealing belongings as he stood staring at the glowing trap door in front of him. Strangely enough, it didn't bother him.
One of Spike's favourite Buffy-dreams was when they would sit, entangled in each other's arms and talk. They would talk about everything, their lives, their interests, the weather. It didn't matter what they talked about in the dreams, the important fact was that they were both perfectly content being in each other's company. Sometimes in the dream they were in the sunlight, sometimes in her house. Most often the location was insignificant, and all Spike could see was Buffy's smiling face as she told him about her day. They had had so few real conversations since she had come back, and none of the conversations they had ever included a smile from the blond slayer. Spike had always known the important details about Buffy's life, and quite a few secrets no one else knew, but he had never been given the opportunity to learn the little things, like what her favourite food was, or what books she had loved as a child. He had learned some things from his talks with Joyce, but there was something so much more special about the idea of Buffy willingly sharing herself with him.
The thought that Buffy would learn some of the things he dreamed of learning about her made him smile gently. Even she wasn't asking him specifically, she was still learning those things he so desperately wanted her to know. The trace of hope he had always clung onto until recently was starting to emerge, and Spike made a quick move towards the stairs.
*****
The first thing Buffy saw when she opened the trunk, was a black and white picture of Drusilla in a poodle skirt. Buffy stared at the picture for a moment before the inside of the lid caught her eye. It was covered with postcards from all over Europe. Lifting the corner of one up, Buffy's eyebrow raised when she recognized the messy scribble on the back. It was Angel's writing. Angelus's. Buffy wondered if all the postcards had come from her ex-boyfriend before he got his soul, or if it was by chance that the one she chose to glance at was from him. Her focus on the postcards disappeared as she saw another picture that rested at the top of the trunk. It was old and delicate looking, a severe woman dressed in the 19th century style, with a small boy standing obediently beside her. The sharp cheekbones and large eyes gave the identity of the boy away, and Buffy found herself staring at the photo, mouth agape. She had never really thought of Spike as human before.
Before Buffy could do anymore rummaging, she felt the tingle that only Spike's present caused. It was different than the feeling most vampires caused – that uncomfortable crawling up the back of her spine. With Spike, the tingle was a welcome sensation, a light tickling at the back of her neck that quickly spread to the rest of her body. When she felt him right behind her, she dropped the lid of the trunk and spun around. Even in the shadows, his piercing blue eyes drew her own green ones to them, and she almost fell back at their intensity.
"Spike, um, hi. I, uh, I thought you were gone. I mean, the crypt, it's, it's empty," Buffy gestured around, wishing she could disappear into a corner. Her cheeks had quickly gone a bright red at being caught looking in the trunk.
Spike had to suppress a chuckle. He had never seen her so embarrassed before, or so cute. Her large eyes had somehow managed to get even bigger, and she was gnawing at her bottom lip nervously. Spike could barely stop himself from pulling her into his arms when she started to fidget under his stare. Spike opened his mouth to speak, but then thought better of it. He was enjoying watching her turn beet red too much.
"I didn't see anything – well not much. A few postcards and photos, that's all really. I, I thought you had left it here."
Spike stepped out into the light and smiled the same gentle smile he had on before as he got closer to both trunk and Slayer. "It's alright, luv. Wouldn't have left it out in the open if I didn't want anyone to find it."
Buffy straightened her back a little and looked at the vampire in front of her. He looked so different without the duster and usual punk get up. The gentle expression matched the suit he was in, and it made her want to reach out and wrap her arms around him forever. Well, Buffster, now or never. Maybe she could do just that. Buffy took a deep breath and stepped towards Spike. She could feel the air between them change as they got closer, and she relished in the electric feel that went down her spine.
"I want to apologize."
Spike just shook his head gently. Something was definitely different with his Slayer. "I told you it's alright, luv. No need to concern yourself over it." Spike paused and thought for a second. "Although, I doubt I'll ever hear an apology come from you again, so why don't you go ahead." He couldn't help saying it, and smirked at his petite love. To his shock, a light smile covered her lips.
"That's not what I wanted to apologize for." The smirk left Spike's mouth, and was replaced with a dead serious expression. Buffy gulped nervously and looked down. Slowly, she turned her head up, and looked directly into the azure eyes that had always read her so well. "I wanted to," Buffy paused and took a deep breath. I can do this; my heart won't stop if I say this out loud. "I wanted to apologize for not being clear the other day. When I said I can't love you."
Spike winced and stepped away. He could not believe he had been stupid enough to think she was here for a reconciliation. Turning his back to Buffy, he closed his eyes and waited for the biting comment he knew was coming.
Buffy bit her lip nervously. Maybe that wasn't the best way to begin. She could feel her heart beating heavily in her chest and wanted nothing more than to bolt. Her feet were betraying her though, and she was rooted to her spot. She knew she had no choice but to continue, however scared she was. "I shouldn't have feelings for you, Spike. I'm not supposed to. That's why I can't love you." Spike's ears perked up, there was something in her voice that gave him hope, but he didn't turn around, he just waited for her to continue. "But I do – have feelings, I mean. You make me happy. I'm sorry I've been so afraid to let you – "
Before she could continue, Buffy found herself enveloped in Spike's arms, his cold lips covering her own. She welcomed the passionate kiss, and wrapped her own arms around his neck, entwining her fingers in his hair. After what seemed like both years and nanoseconds, they separated. Both panting, although only one needed to breath. Buffy looked into Spike's eyes, and was knocked away by the love and happiness he saw there. Suddenly, his eyes clouded over slightly, and he looked at her quizzically. She knew instantly that he was wondering about whether she would tell the Scoobies about them or not.
"Does this mean – "
Before he could finish the question, he was silenced by Buffy's finger on his lips. "I'll – I mean, we'll tell them tomorrow. I want to do this properly this time." Even as she said the words, Buffy could feel the familiar knot forming in her stomach. She shrugged it off when the happiness and love came back to Spikes eyes, this time mixed with awe. Before Buffy could even form another thought, Spike was kissing her again as he spun her around the room.
When they finally broke apart, Spike was sitting on the trunk, Buffy straddling him. Both their lips were swollen and red from their impromptu make-out session, and Spike had a goofy grin Buffy had never seen before plastered across his face. He was holding her casually around the waste, their foreheads wresting against one another. "I love you so much, Buffy."
Buffy just smile and pecked him on the lips. "I hate to say this, but I better get going. I've got to wake up early tomorrow and I've got a double shift at the Palace for getting all of today and yesterday off."
"I'll walk you. Better head back to my new place before the sun comes out to visit."
The couple forced themselves to get up and lose contact while they climbed the ladder to exit the crypt. As they walked the familiar path towards Revello drive, they walked in blissful silence, arms wrapped tightly around eachother. Buffy hadn't felt this content longer than she could remember. She felt as if all the weight had been lifted off her shoulders and she was free to enjoy the world again. Spike was still in shock. He never thought he'd actually be walking arm in arm with Buffy, cuddling like a real couple as they took a late night stroll.
Once they reached the door, Spike turned to Buffy and drew her into yet another long, deep kiss. As they broke apart, Spike looked at her hopefully. Before he could suggest he come inside, Buffy smiled and shook her head.
"Tomorrow. After we tell everyone. Xander and Anya don't leave for their honeymoon until Monday – something about it being more economical. Just be at the Magic Box at sunset, okay?"
Spike nodded and answered with another long kiss. This time, Buffy whimpered as they broke apart. She was ready to drag him inside behind her, but knew she had to control herself, Spike certainly wouldn't.
Breathlessly, she whispered, "Tomorrow," again, before giving Spike a chaste peck and rushing into the house. She leaned against the door until she could no longer sense his presence, and headed up to the bathroom to have a very cold shower. She wasn't sure she could last twenty-four hours now that she realized just how long it had been since they were last together.
*****
A/N – I know, I know – all puppies and sunlight for their reunion. But do you really think I'm going to make it that easy? (picture me smiling evilly here)