Note: OK. This is my first fic—well, my first anything in, like, two and a half years, which is how long I have had crippling writer's block. And I'm really sick of it, so even if this is the worst piece of literature ever read, I wrote it and that is something to me. Yay. And constructive feedback would be much appreciated. Thank you!!
Disclaimer: Buffy isn't mine. And sadly, neither is Spike. Yet. On with the story!
It's funny, how she misses him. Really, she never thought she would. Never in a million years did she ever dream she'd want to do something to him other than ram a stake through is heart, that she'd ever want to see that stiff, bleached hair again, or smell those damn cigarettes, or put up with those snarky insults. So it kind of comes as a surprise when she realizes that she does. It's incredibly annoying. Just like him. God what's wrong with her? She misses that too, how he used to make her want to scream, how he did make her scream sometimes. And she misses his stupid cocky smile and his stupid unfathomable British expressions, and his stupid, stupid soul and God, she hates him. Even though she doesn't. She had, once, when things had been simpler, but not anymore. Which, she guesses, is probably why she misses him. Duh.
She doesn't love him, though, no matter how much she wishes he were with her. She knows it, and unfortunately, so had he. Sometimes, when she isn't really paying attention, she catches herself wondering if she ever would have. You know, loved him. It's a thought that frightens her beyond reason, but she thinks, maybe, there's no harm in considering it. Or maybe there is, but screw that because she's the Slayer and it's not like she's ever not done something because of the potential harm factor, right?
Maybe she could have. Probably not, but maybe. Anything's possible. He had sacrificed his life to save the world. That wins him—or won him, or maybe would have won him—points, right? And there had been those two nights, when for the first time since she had known him, he had helped her without asking for anything in return. So, you know, maybe. Stupid maybe.
No, she always decides, she could never have felt that way about him. She had cared for him, which was honestly more than she'd ever expected to do, but she could never have loved him. She'd loved Angel, and Riley, or she thinks she had. And that was nothing like what she and Spike had. They—Angel and Riley—had handled rejection a lot better, for one thing—no creepy robot Slayers or anything. And neither of them forced her to feel what Spike had, with hot red emotion. Anger and hate and life. With them it had always been blue. Sadness, mostly, with a hint of frustration. They had never hidden their true selves to try and be with her. They hadn't gone halfway around the world to get something that only caused pain because they'd thought she wanted it. They hadn't been there for her—stuck by her when she needed them most. They'd both left her. And if Buffy is in love with you, that's what you do. You leave. And Spike hadn't. So of course she could never have loved him. Her life doesn't work that way.
Or maybe it does, she always ends up thinking. Or maybe she isn't being fair to Angel and Riley. Or maybe she doesn't want to be. Or maybe maybe maybe, she really would have loved him someday. And she's back where she started.
It's funny, how she misses him.