In The Space Between

Buffy felt herself shaking under the emotional onslaught of his words, the terrible sadness in his eyes. The sudden weight of his revelation was too much. He was supposed to be the support from all the other weights in her life, not the bringer of more… something inside of Buffy snapped and she did what she did best. She ran.

Chapter 11: But Will I Hold You Again?

She ran. Just, not very far. Throwing herself across her bed, she immediately buried herself under her wrinkled covers and clenched her eyes shut. Perhaps if she wished hard enough and went to sleep, she would wake up and everything that had happened in the past week or so would undo itself and become nothing more than a bad dream. Stupid Spike. Stupid future Spike (who, if she were to admit it to herself, had already become completely tangled with all her perceptions of Spike-ness). Stupid hospitals. Stupid Riley. Stupid Giles for not trusting her. Stupid her for not actually being worth trusting after all.

Stupid her. That really was what it all came down to, wasn't it? Stupid her making dumb mistakes. Stupid her ignoring reality and the problems around her that she couldn't solve with a stake or a battle axe. Buffy crumpled her comforter into her arms, pulling herself into a half-reclined position. There was just too much going on right now. Where was she supposed to start? How was she supposed to make any sort of sense out of the madness of her life?

"Buffy?" The voice from earlier echoed through the downstairs hallway once again. This time, the voice seemed to have gained a little more determination, and Buffy listened to male footsteps climb the stairway. "Buffy?" Xander's voice radiated concern as he stood awkwardly in her bedroom doorway. "Have you been here the whole time?"

Buffy nodded against her covers, the heavy weight of tears blocking her throat.

"Didn't you hear me downstairs earlier?" he asked softly, walking slowly into her room and settling on the edge of her bed. "Buffy," he started, his eyes dropping to investigate the stitching on the covers that sat between them, "Buffy, you know you don't have to go through all of this alone, right?" Xander's earnest eyes met her own, and Buffy felt fresh tears prickling at her eyes. "You don't need to carry all of this on your own."

The words were too similar to Spike's from last night and she broke down yet again. "I can't stop crying," she admitted between tears. "I'm used to being strong, and suddenly its like I'm needy-Buffy all the time." She felt Xander's arm stretch itself across her shaking shoulder blades. "I mean, I… I don't know how to handle this. I…" her words were swallowed up in wracking sobs.

"Shh, Buff, it's ok." Xander pulled her into a half-hug. "We're all here with you. Remember last year? We're all here supporting you. We're all a part of your Buffy-Slayer awesomeness package deal." He paused, "I'm starting to think that maybe even that future-Spike guy might be okay to trust." Buffy hiccupped in surprise. "I know, right?" Xander said wryly. "I think I'm the last person who would willingly admit that."

Buffy pulled away from Xander, drying her eyes with her sleeves. "Do you," she hiccupped against the force of tears again, "Do you really think that?"

Xander stared at her for a long moment. "You mean about us all being here for you, or about trusting Spike?"

Buffy gave a frustrated half-smile. "Yes, I mean, both."

Xander's gaze emptied into concern. He bit his lip, "I do," he replied slowly, "But," he shook his head, "Listen, it's probably just the whole thing with Riley, but, Buffy if you're seriously…" Xander swallowed hard, "Having feelings for another vampire. Soul or no soul, you need to make sure that's something you actually are ready to go through again. I mean, and I can't believe I'm saying this," Xander's eyes slid closed, as if unable to contemplate her while saying the words, "You can't just let feeling worried about your mom control your other actions. And, I mean, its still… he's still a vampire. And he's still Spike. I mean, usually you wouldn't go near that with a thirty foot stake." He opened his eyes and smiled weakly, "Just saying."

Buffy regarded Xander with a thoughtful gaze. "Do you really think having a soul makes as much of a difference as Angel always said?"

Xander looked half concerned and half relieved at the lack of confirmation from Buffy on her feelings. "I don't know," he admitted softly. "but you know I never trusted Angel as far as I could throw him. Which was, you know, a lot less far than he could throw me." He gave Buffy a chagrined half-smile. "All I know is, there's a lot of people out there who do awful, horrible things with a soul. I mean, there are soldiers killing kids and raping women without remorse, and they've all got souls. There's petty thieves stealing things to live, and filthy rich business men cheating the system and stealing people's money just so they can buy a second island. And they all have souls. So…"

Buffy looked at Xander askance. "When did you get so smart, Xand?" she asked him playfully. Her smile faded a little. "So say someone does something terrible, how do they make amends for that?"

Xander shifted uncomfortably. "Umm, like the legal system?" he gave Buffy a corny smile. "I guess it depends what drove them to do it."

"Drove them to…" Buffy mouthed the words, tasting the bitterness of reality. The weight of choice. For so long she had been the judge and executioner of the evil in the world. Was it possible that she had forgotten that good people can do evil things? That perhaps, in some unknown future, she could be blind to the evil she herself could commit? She sat up straight, her eyes now free of tears. "Thank you, Xander." She said very clearly. "I think I needed to… remember that. That good people could do bad things. That sometimes… shit happens. Its how we move forward that matters, right?"

Xander smiled, his conscience clear. "Exactly," he wrapped Buffy's tiny hand in his own and pulled her too her feet. "Should we go get the gang together and figure out our next move?"

Buffy smiled and nodded. "But you go ahead, ok? I need to," she gestured to herself, "Put myself back together, you know?"

Xander smiled at her, giving her a hug. "You don't need to pretend that everything is ok when it isn't, Buff. We're your friends. We're here for you no matter what."

A quick shower later, Buffy was running her brush through her tangled, wet hair, muttering under her breath as her wet hair left nearly see-through wet streaks against her white t-shirt. A sense of purpose was growing within her. Her world had been shaken, but what counted was how she moved forward. How she reconstructed the pieces into a new whole. There was still time and room to put things back together in a way that was better.

She stood before the basement door, willing it to open. Finally it did, and he stood there, a tired expression on his face. "Just going to stand there all day, pet?" he asked in his trademark sardonic voice.

"What did I do?" she demanded, very clearly, though the waver in her voice was unmistakable. "I drove you to it, didn't I? I'm an expert on these things. I've read… I've read all the books and all the Watcher's guides when it comes to you, and you did horrible, awful things… but never that." She might never forget the look of surprise on his face.

"You read… all…" he was stumbling for words, his shock evident.

"All of them," she replied firmly. "Pays to know your enemy, right?"

She watched him gather himself back together, reassuming the mask of bravado he wore. It was amazing, when exactly had she finally figured out that it was a mask? "Didn't know you cared so much, Slayer," he droned.

"Yes, you do," she said slowly. "And I want an answer. What the hell did I do to push you to that? It wasn't all you. It couldn't have been. I know myself and I…" she ran out of steam. She bit her lip and turned her head slightly, just so she wouldn't have to stare into his eyes. "I know I can be a bitch, and more than a little… self-righteous. I did something stupid didn't I? Or maybe… maybe even multiple somethings. I know… I thought of you… without the soul… I treated you like garbage. And I can't imagine that would have changed any time soon without knowing you with a soul and seeing how… exactly the same you really are."

Silence reigned in the hallway. When Buffy finally found the strength to look up, Spike was staring right at her, an expression of honest awe and confusion spread across his features. "I'm really not in Kansas anymore," he said softly, just under his breath. "You're nothing like her. Buffy… my Buffy… never would…"

"So maybe I'm not exactly like her," Buffy said softly. "Maybe she was a huge mega-bitch and I'm not. The question is can you deal with that?" She stared at him, hoping that her expression was conveying the no-nonsense approach she was going for, and not the melty-Buffy she was feeling, which seemed to feel… a certain empathy for him. The world was coming off its rockers, and they had to reassemble it into something that made sense. Even if it was a sense that completely countered everything they'd ever known before.

"I forgive you," Buffy heard herself breathe. "Whatever happened between that me and you, I forgive you. I forgive that me. And right now… right now I need you to pull yourself together and stop living in that past. There are things… big things that we need to deal with now, and things are happening differently very quickly. I need you to be in the game, and I'm going to need your help with whatever happens." She paused, fighting the part of her that was insistently reminding her of what had happened in very nearly the same spot just a few hours ago. "And whatever happens," she gestured to the space between them, "Here. That's going to happen. But right now, I… we need to get through everything with my mom. And everything with Glory. And we need to find Illyria."

Spike couldn't breathe. Not that he needed to, but it was really second-nature to do it. A habit he'd never given up and had, in fact, encouraged through all his years of smoking. But right now, breath failed him. Thought failed him actually. In fact, he was pretty sure that every sense of perception he had was failing him in every way except for the one small space occupied by Buffy and her earnest eyes. Her voice rose and fell in his ears and while he knew there was more being said, his entire being seemed to fixate on six little words. "I forgive you. I need you." And like a mantra, they repeated on and on, reverberating through his being, freeing him. Whatever crumb he'd ever claimed to want had been given. It was up to him to accept it. To ask then, for the whole cookie, should it ever seem plausible. "We," she said. "We," as if there were such a thing as he and her together. He blinked. She was looking at him expectantly.

"Come on," she said finally, extending a hand to him. "We're meeting at Giles' place, and the sun's pretty much down anyway. You might as well come with. We need your insight, and I need… well I need pretty much whatever you have to offer."

She'd left herself open to a simply wonderful double entendre, but Spike felt his hand numbly accept her own, letting the joke go (at least this once), just so he didn't spoil this fragile moment of trust. He felt her pull him up the remaining stair from the basement. "Come on," she whispered softly, her breath catching in her throat in a delicate way that seemed to set him on fire.

With his free hand, he brushed away the few strands of her damp hair that had fallen over her eyes. "Right then," he said finally. "Lead the way."