Spike smashed the clock against the wall. Its wires stuck out as the clock bounced from the wall and landed on the floor, joining the other broken items. He breathed heavily, staring inquisitively at the silent wall. He switched his gaze to the trashed bed; it kept its words to itself. Looking at his surroundings, he couldn't find any more things to destroy, to express his anger and devastation and anguish. He cursed at the silence in the room, because it gave him time to relive their last conversation in front of the Espresso Pump.
He couldn't remember what had happened between them. The only thing he remembered was that Buffy was being selfish. Yes, she was being selfish the entire time and it made him mad that when he finally confronted her about it, their situation worsened. Spiraled down further and further to the point that it now cost them their relationship.
Fuck her and her jealousy. He had put up with her and he had enough of it. Did she do her share? No. She would never know that every time she was busy, he became lonely. He tried to understand her but she didn't want to understand him.
Was it wrong of him to make new friends who happened to be female? Yes, it was wrong to her because she was being selfish and she wouldn't stop questioning his new friends and his mutual friendship.
He slumped to the floor, body leaning on the end of the bed. He hadn't cried since Drusilla betrayed him. His body was tired from anger and distress. He missed her. He missed the old her.
Tara and Anya stepped down the stairs cautiously, looking around at the darkened room. They both had decided to check up on Spike when he never returned to their table at the Espresso Pump. Their eyes widened and they glanced at each other as they observed the chaotic room. They rushed toward the young man slumped on the floor by the end of the disarrayed bed.
"Spike? A-are you okay?" Tara asked softly.
"Spike, what's wrong?" Anya brushed a hand on his head, her other hand trying to pry his arm away from covering his face. Spike looked up at them groggily, his eyes were red and bleary. He bowed his head down again, his elbows resting back to his knees. The girls put their arms around him, their heads leaning against his as they comforted him in silence.
Buffy's body felt numb except for her feet that were acting on autopilot, bringing her back home. She opened the front door weakly, her thoughts jumbled in her mind. She disregarded her mother's greeting; her feet now carried her up the staircase. Joyce's voice sounded questioningly in her ears, yet Buffy ignored her. She kept on walking up the stairs, through the hall until she reached her room and closed the door behind her.
Buffy made her way to her bed and sat down, her eyes drawing a blank. For a long minute, she tried to sort out her feelings but failed. Something caught her attention as she looked down at her lap. A tear fell onto the back of her hand and she blinked the rest of her tears back quickly. She shifted her gaze to the nightstand. A small recorder with a cassette inside was laying on it. She reached for the recorder and crawled onto her bed, her body curled into a ball. Pressing the play button, she choked on her cry at the first message to which she listened.
"Buffy, luv. It's me again. God, I miss you. I know it's pathetic. But I can't help it. I know I sound like a poofter, but I'll always be a helpless poofter when it comes to you. pause I wish you could be here more. So yeah, I'm missing you. A bloody lot."
Willow stared at the white bedroom door and sighed deeply. Joyce had called her twenty minutes ago, telling her it was urgent and that she needed her to come over as soon as possible. Willow had suspected it was all about Buffy and she was right. Joyce told her that Buffy had acted strangely when she came home. She had tried to coax her daughter to tell her what had happened but Buffy never responded. Buffy only cried on her mother's lap and then fell asleep.
Willow felt sorry for Joyce. She could see the helpless look on the older Summers' face. Joyce had pleaded with her to talk to her daughter. She felt that Buffy might be more comfortable speaking with her best friend, as Joyce realized she rarely talked to her daughter about her social life.
Willow took a deep breath before she raised her fist and knocked on the door. She didn't hear any response but decided to enter the room anyway.
"Hi, Buffy." She greeted her best friend softly. Buffy responded to her in a weak tone. She raised her upper body and sat up on her bed. Her hair was a mess and she had upset lines drawn on her facial features.
Willow attentively sat close to Buffy and put her hands on her lap. "How are you feeling?" God, what a stupid question! She felt so retarded asking her that.
Buffy gave her a tight smile. "Horrible."
"I'm really sorry, Buffy. I shouldn't have asked that. That was a stupid question."
"It's okay, Will…"
"I mean I saw the whole thing. I should've known better…that it wasn't good. I— Oh god, I made you feel worse." Willow immediately felt guilty when she saw Buffy's face fall at the mention of the incident.
Buffy forced a weak smile. She hung her head low as she brushed a thumb on the comforter. "Everything's gone bad. And I think I'm the one to be blamed."
"No, it's not…" Willow protested quickly.
"Yes, it is. You're just trying to comfort me…Thanks anyway." Willow smiled kindly and squeezed Buffy's hand in consolation. She let go of Buffy's hand when her eyes caught a picture which was perched on the nightstand. Its frame was made of old-fashioned silvery metal with a touch of elegance. Willow knew how much Buffy loved that photo frame. After Willow and Buffy bought it from a flea market, Buffy had said that she was going to use it to put the one picture that she would look at before she went to sleep.
Willow smiled as she traced a line on the frame. "I remember this picture. I took it, didn't I?"
Buffy took the photo from Willow and sighed dejectedly. "Yes, you did." She confirmed in a whisper. She bit her lip as she stared down to the picture of her and Spike lying on the sand, sleeping. Her head was resting against his chest as they wrapped their arms around each other. Before, it had looked so sweet. Now it would only make Buffy burst out crying whenever she saw it.
"Buffy…" Willow began carefully. "Talk to him. If you think it's your fault, don't you want to straighten everything out? Apologize to him if you must. Or-or just talk to him again." Willow sighed when Buffy stayed quiet. "I know there's a possibility that you can't work out your relationship again. But at least don't end it this way! You can always go back to being friends, right?" Buffy was still quiet. Willow shook her head in frustration, her patience was growing thin. "He is your best friend, Buffy!"
"He used to be." Buffy finally responded.
"Don't you want him to be again?"
Buffy nodded weakly, her lips trembled when she whispered, "Yes." Willow's features softened. She gave a comforting squeeze to both of Buffy's hands.
She spoke again, this time in a soft tone. "You know I can't watch you two fall apart. You both are my best friends. Please, Buffy, talk to him? He's as miserable as you are, Xander told me."
Buffy looked up to Willow and sniffled. She smiled faintly and nodded. Willow's smile beamed and she open her arms to hug her friend. "Thank you." She said in relief.
to be continued.