Chapter 6: It's All Coming Back to Me

Spike was there again. Back to the place filled with nothing but white mist and he groaned at that. "You just love playing hide and seek with me, don't you? Whoever you are, whatever you want, just bloody tell me cause I'm goddamn tired of your games," he yelled. Turning his head around slowly, he waited for a response. He squinted his eyes through the thick fog, hoping that the woman who had been haunting his dreams would step forward and tell him just what in the bloody hell she wanted from him.

His patience was wearing thin; he clenched his jaw before shouting again. "Fine. You don't wanna talk to me? That's just fine by me. But if you keep—"

"Spike…I knew you'd come home. You'd come back to me." He whirled around, finally facing a female figure standing a few feet from him.

Spike drew his brows together. "What? You mean this is home? This place that offers nothing but fog is my home?"

"You will be home soon. Reach for my hand, Spike. Come." Tentatively, he took a step toward her; arm stretching out to her, trying to touch her hand but she seemed so far away. Small thunder was heard out of nowhere, and then there was a shrill cry ringing behind him. "No! Don't look back! Please don't!" She suddenly warned.

"What?" Spike instinctively did the contrary out of curiosity. He widened his eyes, disbelieving what he was seeing. As though watching a horror movie, he watched himself draining a helpless girl and howling in laughter, claiming victory over killing an innocent. The motion picture started to become blurry as it continued displaying his past deeds, letting him know how much satisfaction he used to gain over taking a human's life. He remained still, unable to move as his eyes fixed to the scene. Slowly, he shook his head in denial, mumbling incoherently to himself. He stepped aback, sensing whatever or whomever it was that offered the free show was trying to remind him of who he really was. Or better yet, it was aiming to accuse him, pointing out his flaws, his crimes that he had done in more than a hundred years.

He couldn't take it any longer. Enough was enough. He tried to look away but his head refused to turn. He shut his eyes closed and whispered, "Stop."

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

His eyes flew open, fear starting to crawl inside him as he stared into the ceiling, his breath was erratic. As much as he tried to understand all the meaning of his dreams, he wanted to forget everything he ever saw in them. He was disturbed, annoyed and aghast by them.

As he was calming down his breathing, he realized he wasn't alone in his bed. A warm body snuggled against him and he looked down to its owner. For a few minutes, he studied her features, her closed eyes, her button nose, her soft golden tresses, her ivory skin. A sad smile touched his lips. He still didn't understand why she was here, why she wanted to be here with him even though he himself had doubts about their future together. Yet she seemed to be sure and insisted that they did belong together. Both of them knew it would be a rocky start to build their renewed relationship and in the back of his mind, he wondered if their love would be good and strong enough to stand by it.

He carefully and quietly removed himself from her and put his jeans on. His thoughts now focused on his own feelings. Did he love her? He barely knew her, regardless of their past. All he knew about her was that she was a strong independent woman and he admired that.

Does she really love you? His inner self asked. He wasn't sure how to answer the silent question. Looking back down to her, he recollected their moments together. When she stared at him, did she not gaze at him with warmth in her eyes? When she cried, did her tears not sparkle with hopes to make everything right? When she touched him, did her skin not feel smooth with tenderness?

Love was not your friend. It was in your blood, in your veins and it would start eating you from the inside out the moment it resided in the centre of your heart. Spike chuckled at the theory. For some weird reason, he found it familiar. Stalking toward the balcony door, he let himself out and breathed in the early morning air. He hissed as his bare feet came into contact with the cold floor. Closing his eyes, he let the cool air filled in his lungs and somehow it calmed the nagging sound in the back of his mind. The nagging sound that continuously asked him whether he would be worthy enough for her? Would he be worthy enough to be cried over night after night? By her? Would he be worthy enough to be loved by her? Would he be just good enough?

Lighting a cigarette, he wished he could go back to the past so that he could have his decision made.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Buffy woke up without him beside her. Her breath caught in the throat as she felt the emptiness next to her. Oh god, please don't tell me it was a dream, she feared. For the first time since the hellmouth was destroyed, she had slept peacefully, dreamless. That was if last night wasn't a dream. She looked around, finally let her breath out once she caught a glimpse of white hair. She quickly dressed and walked to the balcony, her lower lip caught in between her teeth. What was he thinking? Did he regret what happened last night? Her thoughts jumbled with uneasiness. And doubt, and fear. The air filled with awkwardness as he acknowledged her presence and they simply stared at each other.

"I'm…I'm going to my room and uh, take a shower." Buffy finally said after a full long minute of silence. I wish you'd ask me to be in your shower, she thought randomly. "And then we can have breakfast together." She continued. Spike only nodded. With that, Buffy turned around and started walking away, only then she spun around again, facing him. "The words I said last night..." She stopped midway, her eyes searching his. Spike tilted his head to the side, waiting for her to continue. "I just want you to know that they are true." And I hope yours was too, she silently added as she recalled the word he said. The only word.

Forever.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Breakfast was uneventful. Once or twice in every ten minutes, Buffy tried to start a conversation. Yet Spike barely uttered more than three words. She was getting frustrated, but there was nothing she could do. Their silence and politeness around each other was too bizarre to her. She wasn't used to this. She missed their bickering and small talks. She even missed his sexual innuendos although she always appeared to be disgusted by them. She missed the old Spike.

And now, the man in front of her, the man whose figure resembled exactly that of her ex-lover, didn't even bother to attempt any small conversation to lessen the awkwardness surrounding them. He seemed to be deep in his thoughts as she noticed when he asked her to repeat her questions more than once.

"If you need anything, I'll be in my room." He said quietly, already started to head toward the staircase.

"Why are you being like this?" She blurted, standing up from her chair.

"Like what?"

"Cold. Like I'm not even here. Like I don't exist." She pursed her lips together before continued in a quieter tone, "Like I'm nothing to you."

"Buffy…" He saw despair in her eyes and cursed himself for causing it. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to do that. I'm just— confused right now. I don't know what to decide, how to react."

"Then let me help you. Let me in, Spike." He shook his head slowly, feeling sorry for himself and for her.

"You can't. I don't even know where to start." He turned around and started for the staircase. As he landed his foot on the first step, he said, "Thank you for the breakfast." Then continued ascending the stairs without looking back at her.

Buffy let a lone tear roll down her cheek. An odd feeling struck her as she acknowledged how their current situation fell into the same line as theirs two summers ago. She now knew how it felt to try reaching out to a person one loved yet that person refused to open their heart to them. She chuckled bitterly at the irony. Wiping the tear away, she returned to the table and began to clean the dishes up.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

He stared blankly ahead him as he treaded towards his room. He needed a smoke. It appeared it was the only thing that he could depend on at times like this. Digging into his pocket, he drew a pack of Marlboros and slipped one cigarette between his lips. He took a deep intake as he started pacing around his room. Damn it! He didn't want to think of anything at all right now. He didn't want to deal with his doubt, her awaiting hope, and their undecided future. He had hoped she would have all the answers to his dilemma but every time he looked into her eyes, all he could see was the expectation of having all the problems solved and forgetting what was in the past. He couldn't do that. He wanted badly to look into the past no matter how horrendous it would be. Some people might say that it was for the best to forget it, but not him. He had too many questions to ask; questions that he'd been desperately trying to find the answers for.

Crushing his cig, he went for another one. His hands were shaky when he flicked the Zippo. Staring out to the city, he sorted through his thoughts. What was it about her that had made him care for her? Was it her determination? Was it her strength, her power over saving the world from apocalypses that he had heard from Angel?

But then again, when did he start to care for her? Was it when he held her hand for the first time? Or maybe when he brushed the tears away from her cheeks. Or perhaps when he quieted her by sealing her lips with his.

He smiled to himself. There was one thing about her that he couldn't put his finger on, the thing that made him want to make her smile with sparkles dancing around her big green eyes; make her laugh in mirth at his bad jokes and make her feel joyous every time they were together. Sadly, he always ended up making her miserable, brushing her off with his cold demeanor, leaving her with inquiries on the tip of her tongue.

God, he felt hopeless now. Bits of memories that he had regained clearly didn't help. He crushed his cig into the ashtray and reached for yet another one, but he came up with an empty pack. He scrunched the carton and threw it across the floor carelessly. A similar scene of him doing the exact thing flashed before his eyes as the crumpled carton landed under the table next to the wardrobe. His brows drew into a frown, his eyes fixed to the carton.

He stalked toward the table and retrieved the packet. Taking a few steps backwards, he tossed the packet once again. This time, the previous scene lasted longer. He could catch a glimpse of blond female near him as if he was talking to her at that moment. Eager to find out who she was, he picked up the carton and did the same thing over and over again, his concentration was focused fully.

"Buffy." Her name immediately fell from his lips as soon as her face came into view. He wished he could remember what they were talking about. Was it important? To him the least?

He was so anxious to recall the whole scene that he straightened his body abruptly after bending down to grab the carton under the table; the back of his head hit the table loudly. He cursed under his breath as he rubbed his throbbing head. The effects on his head became worse when a jolt of pain surged through his head.

He groaned, "This is not happening!" Having learnt from the experience, he tried not to close his eyes. However, all of his energy seemed to be sucked out of his body, leaving him with no other choice but shutting his eyes and clutching his head in his hands and hoping he wouldn't receive any more gruesome and sadistic scenes from the past.

Various scenes rushed through his minds. He watched himself lying helplessly as men in white coats surrounded him, putting something inside his head. Then it was switched to a scene with him and Buffy smiling into their kiss, her fingers caressing his cheek as she sat on his lap comfortably. The next scenes jumbled through his mind exceedingly fast yet he was able to caught glimpses of Buffy rushing toward him when he lay on the floor, of him holding her bloody hands as they sat face to face, of him stroking her hair as she fell asleep holding onto him, and of their hands clasping together as lights surged through his body.

Everything seemed to stop in his mind as a vision of him getting out of a car, lighting his cigarette and smiling to himself. "Home sweet home." He heard himself saying.

"Wh-What?" He whispered disorientated.

Before his question was answered, a familiar figure came into view. It was her again, the woman who had been haunting his dreams. Bracing himself, he watched her making her way toward him. As her face started to appear clearly, a smile touched her lips and her hand reached out to him. "Come home to me, Spike." She said gently.

Spike gasped as he snapped his eyes open. He could hear his heart pounding. Breathing heavily, he reached for the table and began to stand up as steady as he could. "Buffy." It was all he could utter before he ran out of the room.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

For an hour she had been fighting herself to not go see him. It was hard just leaving him alone to figure out everything on his own. But she had done everything she could think of to bring his memories back. She had made sure he knew how she felt for him. And all she got was coldness and a brush-off from him.

She wanted to cry her eyes out. Why was he doing this to her? Did she really deserve to be treated like this? Was this a payback for what she did to him two years ago? She preferred to have him speak a bitter truth than give her the silence treatment. Well, she tried to coax him to open his heart to her. Alas she didn't succeed.

Buffy sighed in defeat. There was nothing she could do for him now and she hated herself for that. She dragged her feet toward the lobby, her head hung lowly.

"I remember now, Buffy." Spike's voice intercepted her train of thought. She spun around, seeing him standing tall and panting heavily on the last step of the staircase. Her mouth open slightly but no words escaped. "I remember everything. It's all coming back to me." He gave a short laugh that seemed more like stifling his cry. His gaze fixed on hers as he continued in a softer tone, "I remember how much I love you."

Buffy blinked back her tears. She took steps toward him then decided to run into his arms. Tears of joy flew across her cheeks as she held onto him tightly. "You have no idea how much I wanted to hear those words." She whispered, choking on her sob.

Spike smiled against her shoulder, then kissed it tenderly. He pulled away, enough to lean down back to her and kiss her, filling their kiss with the feelings words couldn't describe. The kiss became desperate as both expressed the ache of missing their time together.

They broke away, smiling. Buffy reached for both of his hands, linking hers with his and looked up to him, fear somewhat flashed across her features as she uttered the same words she told him in the school basement. "I love you." She said meekly.

Spike smiled and then bent down to give her a sweet kiss. Leaning his forehead against hers, he said, "I love you too, pet." Buffy sighed contently, smiling as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Always?" She asked, looking up to him again under her eyelashes.

His smile widened. "Always."

to be continued.

(A/N: Sorry for the very long delay. RL has been crazy. Hope the epilogue will be coming soon.)