Chapter 20

5 July 2004 - Glasgow

I see her. I see her there, where I least expected to see her, and I freeze. I don't know how long I stand there, staring, willing my brain to come up with something to say, or at least show me a different picture, but it does neither. Her expression is shocked, and she's doing a fish impersonation which I suspect rather mirrors my own. And then, like the coward I am when it comes to her, I turn around, desperate to get away from the look of pain I know will replace the shock.

Morag's behind me, still on the other side of the front door. She mouths something silently and gestures. I see a flash, and then there's a cloudiness between us.

"Spike, go and talk to her. I've put a barrier up. It'll only last an hour or until I remove it, but while it lasts, you won't be able to use either the door or the windows. You've run far enough. Talk to her. Explain it to her. If, when you've talked, you both decide you never want to see each other again, then fine. But if you don't …"

She smiles at me, and she still looks like Mrs. M., but now I know better. She's a fiend in human form.

"Oh," she adds as she turns away. "I'll just be upstairs. And try not to destroy my home. It may not be much but it's important to me."

She disappears from view then, and I turn around, looking into the living room, more afraid of this than any monster I've ever faced.

I walk slowly the few steps to meet my doom, but I'm met before I reach the living room by the source of my current terror.

Buffy. My heart seems to expand in my chest just to look at her. She's … as lovely as ever. More so, maybe. The strain I remember from Sunnydale - the long-term tiredness and worry - is gone and she looks like she's been happy. And then I realise. Of course she's happy. She's got Angel, and there's no ban on happies any more, is there?

"Spike?"

Her voice is soft, and now I notice there're tears in her eyes.

"Yes, it's me."

"What? How?"

"Why don't we sit down and I'll tell you."

She nods, and I walk past her to lead the way back to the living room. She sits on one of the two armchairs and I choose the other. She's looking at me, waiting for an explanation, but words just don't come.

"How long?" she asks.

I'm not sure what she's asking.

"How long have you been back this time?"

"Buffy, Love, I wasn't gone."

"What?"

"The battle in LA? I was ok after that. A bit burned and scratched, but ok."

"But you lost your memory, right?" The shock seems to have worn off and it's being replaced with something more familiar - defensiveness with a side of anger.

"No."

"No? No?" Her voice is getting louder. "So, what did you do? Why didn't you let anyone know you were ok? Why?"

"I … "

"We thought you were dead. Did you know that? I had just found out that you were back, and then you were dead. Do you know what that did to me?"

She stiffens, concentrating on something, then takes a deep breath.

"Moira," she says, pointing at her head. "It's freaky enough when Willow does that sort of thing. Anyway, she's telling me to give you a chance to explain, so you've got it. And it had better be good."

She's bristling with impatience and fury, but she's doing her best to keep it under control.

"After the battle, I couldn't find anyone. I got carried away by a dragon, and when I killed it, well, it sort of landed on me and I got knocked out. By the time I came round, there was no sign of anyone, and it seemed easier to go home rather than trying to find the others."

The hard glint in her eyes hasn't diminished at all yet, and now she's tapping her foot.

"Then, next day I was wakened by Blue - Illyria. She … told me what happened. That Wes didn't make it, and Charlie was in a bad way, although I know he made it in the end. And … that Angel got his reward."

The foot's still tapping. She's not going to make this any easier for me.

"She said you were on your way. Way I figured it, you and Angel had everything you wanted now, and I'd just be in the way. I … couldn't bear to … see you with him. Nothing's changed, I'm still a selfish bastard. I want you to be happy, Buffy, but …"

"And who told you I was rushing to be with Angel?"

"No one. I just … knew. Angel's human. It's what you always wanted. I … couldn't be around."

"Spike!" she yells. "Do you have any idea what I went through when I heard you were gone? Knowing you had been back for months but hadn't bothered to let me know, that was painful enough, but then that you'd done that and then gone and died to save the world again? It almost broke my heart."

She's crying now - actual tears - but there's anger there despite that talk of a broken heart. I want to go and hold her, but I'm frozen to my seat without any idea what to do for the best.

"I'm sorry. I thought … "

"What did you think?" she demands, anger more obvious than ever. "Buffy can't really feel anything so I can do what I want? Buffy doesn't matter? Buffy hurt me and now it's my turn? What did you think?"

"I … thought, you already thought I was gone, even though I came back, so … it was better to leave things."

"Better? Better for me?"

"Well, yeah. You … and Angel even."

"Me and Angel. What is it with you two? Both making assumptions about my feelings and neither giving me the chance to decide for myself. Both doing what you think is for the best when if they'd only ask me, you might find things aren't how you think."

"What do you mean, Buffy?" I ask. I think I know what she could mean, but I'm not going that way unless I hear it in words of one syllable.

"What do I mean? Just because you've been around for longer than me, you've both taken on this 'I know best' attitude. Well, let me tell you, if it comes to what I want or what I need, then maybe, just maybe, I could give you some pointers."

Ok, that's not what I thought she was saying, but it doesn't discount it either.

"I'm sorry, Buffy. I didn't mean to hurt you. I never did. When… when I first came back, I was a bloody ghost, and then, when I got my body back, things were getting hairy in LA and I was needed there. And then you were with the Immortal, and … Wait. You're not still with the bloody Immortal, are you?"

"Why should you care who I'm with? You don't even care enough to let me know you're alive."

"Just answer the question, please. Are you with the Immortal?"

She's silent, looking at me, ready to yell again, but then she deflates a little, and answers quietly. "No."

"But you and Angel …"

"No, not Angel."

"But … No happiness clause, no sunlight allergy, little Angels in the future?"

"I … When I was seventeen, the best gift anyone could have given me would have been humanity for Angel. I would've done almost anything for it. But it didn't happen. He went away, and I grew up. Maybe, if he hadn't gone away, we would've grown apart anyway, I don't know. I do know that him leaving the way he did left things open. I never had the chance to look at how I felt about Angel after that. The feelings were always overwhelmed by what I felt then. How lost I was without him. How happy I had been when we were together. The reality …," she pauses, shaking her head slightly as if to stop that particular thought. "Angel and I are not together, and I don't think we ever will be. Anyway, I'm not sure I want to have to fight a werewolf for him."

"Nina? She's still around?"

"Yeah. You … know about her?"

"Met her a time or two."

"And you were still sure he and I'd be together now?"

"Well, … yeah. She's a nice enough bird, but not really much competition."

She seems unsure whether to smile or frown at that comment. It gives me a moment to digest what she's just said, and I'm torn. She's just given me the best news I could have had, but I know I've ruined things between us.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly. "I shouldn't have run from LA. I should've … I was just so terrified of having my heart ripped out again. And seeing you with Angel? That would've done it."

She nods, seeming to understand.

"You've made quite a hit with Moira," she comments, wiping her eyes and trying to change the tone of things.

"She's a special lady," I agree.

"I thought so too. Until I realised that she's been playing me."

"She's been trying to persuade me to call you, but the longer it went, the harder it was. Truth is, I should've called you as soon as I was back properly. It seemed like an anticlimax. I'd died a hero, and I wanted you to remember that rather than to see the mediocre creature I've become."

"What about what I said?"

I must look puzzled because she explains. "At the end. At the Hellmouth. I told you I loved you."

"Yeah, well …"

"Spike, you of all people should know that I don't say things like that unless they're true. Hell, I don't say them even if they are true."

"I know you believed it … at some level, but that was Spike the Hero, all glowy and about to be turned to dust. The real me … the me that's inside … He's different. More … ordinary."

"It's all you. Spike, I think that after all we've been through together, that I know the best and the worst of you. It's all you. You're capable of causing pain, and you're capable of dying to save the world. You're capable of loving someone who's done her best to drive you away. You're capable of fighting for a soul because of love. If there's one thing you've never been, it's ordinary."

"I …" I can't take this. If I sit here, I'm going to start blubbing like a schoolboy. I get up, and walk out into the hallway. I stand there, facing the wall, just trying to collect myself. I don't know what to think. If what she's just said is true then I must've thrown away my chance to be with her. If I'd called when I got back … if … but it's too late now. I hurt her again. Even with the best of intentions, it seems that's what I do. And after that, she couldn't still care. Whatever she felt must be burned away by …"

I didn't hear her creep up behind me, but I feel her hand on my shoulder.

"Spike. Don't run again. Please. I … I think I'd like some time alone - some time to think. Moira's agreed to take down the barrier. Please be here when I've had a chance to digest all this. Promise me?"

I turn around, taking in the red eyes and damp cheeks.

"I promise," I answer.

When I tear my eyes away from hers, it's because with a hissing sound, the barrier at the front door has disappeared. I walk through it and back to my own flat in silence. I could do with some time alone too. Now, I wonder if there's any of that beer left? No. No beer. I need to think, to really understand how much I've hurt her. The one thing I vowed I'd never do again.