Chapter Eleven

When Kit came home much later Buffy was sitting up, curled in front of a fire in one of the many rooms with a book of all things. A blanket was tucked around her in the large chair and she'd pulled on a pair of PJs from her time—feeling she'd earned them. She was flipping a page and really starting to get into the Darcy fellow when clipped footsteps echoed into the room and her compatriot flounced down into the chair next to her.

"I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure that's not the right way to sit down," she joked sarcastically.

He sighed. "Yes, well, I think I've earned it this evening."

"Oh, I've earned a lot."

He chose to ignore that statement and went on. "I spent the better part of evening trying to explain away your behavior to Lady Mclay. She was very worried."

"I bet," she snipped as she turned a page, trying hard to multitask reading and talking, thought it wasn't working to well.

"What in the hell happened back there?" he finally bit off. "I thought the idea was to get William to like you. And you just left. With some flimsy excuse about being tired and feverish."

At this she snapped the book shut, mildly thinking she should have used the book mark first. Damn, oh well. Her gaze turned to Kit's. "Did you even wonder for a moment why Lady Mclay might have been a bit upset about me leaving?"

"Naturally, but—."

"You weren't paying attention to what was going on at all either, were you?" She rolled her eyes. "Too busy getting all flirty with Lady Mclay to see who was getting flirty with me."

"Flirty…?" he asked with obvious confusion.

She rolled her eyes and turned in her seat a little to face him better. "Mooning! You were too busy mooning over Mclay to notice Regina MOONING over me!"

He blushed and adjusted his glasses, more than likely out of embarrassment at either her statement or that he hadn't noticed.

Buffy huffed and slouched back into her seat, book forgotten in her lap as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "She's got it out for me. So, I freaked, alright? Then I had to explain myself to William and now he thinks I'm gay."

"What does being happy have to do—?"

"Oh, for Christ's sakes! I need a 21st century to 19th century translator!

"He thinks I like to get snuggly with men!"

"Oh."

"Yes, oh," she bit off this time, not caring if it pissed him off. "And then I had to explain quickly and carefully that I'm not interested in him that way. That it wasn't the reason I wanted to be his friend.

"Thankfully," she muttered, "he bought it and he's going to talk to his sister. Keep things quiet, to put it bluntly."

Kit was quiet for a long while as the fire crackled in the background. Buffy didn't even look at him. This really hadn't been the way she'd planned for things to turn out. Sure, she guessed she expected a few women to want to shack up with her in the coming days or weeks. She knew just by looking at herself in the mirror, as a guy, she wasn't bad looking at all; not to mention, her 'uncle' was really well off with a good title—or whatever. So, sure, she knew she'd have to sideswipe a few. She just hadn't expected it to be Reggie—William's own flesh and blood. She hadn't really planned on what to say if that came up, but really she should have thought of it. Blah, she wasn't the smart one in her group usually. That was delegated to Willow or Giles, and now she had neither. She didn't have her friends to depend on this time; and even if they were around, they really wouldn't be much use…

…They're little family was a bit broken…

She never really needed her mother more than right then.

Buffy sighed.

"I need a drink."

"Make it a double."

Glasses clinked in the background as he poured for them. A moment later and Buffy had glass in her hand. She took a sip and grimaced, all at once thinking about Spike again. It wasn't whisky, but it might as well have been.

"You know, this might work in your favor."

"How could this possibly work in 'my favor'? I'm supposed to get buddy buddy with him, somehow figure out how to get his memories back, and drag his ass back home after we separate them.

"At best I'm supposed to stay close until we talk to the demon genie."

Kit took a sip off his drink as she got more comfortable in the chair. "How close were you with Spike? Was he really just someone who joined 'the good fight' after he got that device in his brain?"

Here it came. She knew it was coming. Eventually, Kit was going to see things that her friends were usually too blinded to. "What do you mean?" she asked quietly.

He stared down at his drink. "Whistler hasn't told me much, if that's what you're thinking. But…" he trailed off a moment and looked over at her. "I saw the way you looked at William that first night… heard the way you spoke the poem…

"What is he to you, Buffy?"

She was quiet again as the question washed over her. It was the question of the century, really. What had Spike ever been to her? Lover? Friend? Confidant? Punching bag? Irritating jerk? Then why did thinking about all those times with him, good and bad, make her want to cry?

"Buffy?"

She closed her eyes and let her drink sit her lap between her lazy digits. "I'm not really sure how to answer that… sorry."

"Have you never talked about it? With anyone? Your friends?"

She laughed bitterly. "There's only three people who might understand; two of them are dead and the third is… I don't want to burden her." Her mother, Tara, and Dawn; though, she'd never wanted to burden Dawn or risk her telling someone if she slipped up in front of the group. She was just a teenager, after all. She'd understand the gravity, but Buffy didn't want Dawn to have that gravity weighing on her—secrets had a way of destroying people.

Secrets… it had destroyed her and Spike.

"Talk to me about it then," he told her softly.

"We barely know each other," she countered back just as softly, grasping for a straw even as Isabella's little talk screamed at her in the back of her mind.

"That's the point, isn't it?" he countered back. "You don't have to worry about a stranger's opinion. We'll be together for only a short while—hopefully."

It was a good point, she thought to herself and nodded silently. "Spike and I are… complicated. Always have been," she said with some reverie. "At first he was my enemy, then he was a reluctant partner for a short moment, and then an even more reluctant partner after he was chipped, and then he… he became my rock, my lover… eventually, I pushed him away entirely…" she whispered as she felt tears pricking. Idly, she wiped one away. "It's my fault he's here, stuck; that's why I have to fix it.

"I owe him that much.

"But, I can put him through all of the pain we had the first time."

"What happened exactly?"

"What didn't happen?" she half joked just before taking another sip from her drink, wincing again at the flavor. "I hurt him—a lot. And not just emotionally; I also did it physically when he couldn't fight back or didn't want to. I abused him, Kit. I used him for my own broken means, trying to feel something and then beat him for making me happy because of what he was. I hated him because he was a vampire and he made me happy." She looked at him then, face puffy and red and she kept trying to hold back tears.

"How fucked up is that?"

"Quite," he admitted with a strained sigh, looking as if he felt… sorry for her.

"Don't feel sorry for me," she muttered, once again curling into herself as she stared at the fire. "I did this to myself."

"Do you love him?" he asked slowly. "Does… does he love you?"

"He always loved me," she said with a crack her voice.

"And you?"

No one had ever asked her that; mostly because no one knew. Spike had wanted her to love him. He'd begged for it with every look, told her with every caress, screamed it when Glory beat the shit out of him and he still didn't budge on information.

But, no one had ever asked her. She knew the answer, but she'd never asked herself either.

"I need to say it out loud, don't I?" she said more to herself, but Kit heard it.

"Yes."

Her hand clasped over her mouth and the cup fell from her grasp, hitting the floor with a clatter. It didn't break, but liquid sloshed and splashed everywhere. In a minute she felt Kit in front her, gripping her knees as if to pull them away from her as she shut herself from the world, as her eyes closed so tight she could see stars.

She felt her heart crack, break, crumble and beat, straining for her to do something about it all—the pain. All those moments swam in her head together: his voice, his anger, his whispers, hers; all of it. The smiles, the screams, the broken glass, the tears. It hit her like a train and she couldn't breathe.

She needed to say it.

"Buffy… talk to me. Are you alright?"

"Yes," she gasped as the tears fell, as she crumbled into his arms and onto the floor; because, by god she needed someone to crumble into. "Yes," she rasped again as he hugged her and she held on for dear life, and the darkness started to recede.

"Yes, I love him."

#

The house was quiet in the late evening hour. A servant took their coats and he nodded as Lilith said she'd check in on their mother and his nephew. But, for the most part, things were quiet. Lord, what a night. The very events of the night in question had him reaching for Reggie as she turned to go up the stairs and to her room.

"A moment. I need to talk to you."

His tone must have put her off because when she stopped and turned she looked a little worried and then said, "Have I done something?"

He shook his head, smiling. "Not at all. I just need a word, is all. As soon as possible if you don't mind."

"I don't." She smiled back and stepped off the stairs, then following him as he headed to another room in the house—the library.

It was dark for only a moment until he turned on some of the lamps. Something his father has installed in some rooms before his death.

"What's this about?" she asked as he turned.

"Let's sit down for a bit," he told her as took a seat at the table. When she finally joined him across from it, he asked, "Do you want some tea brought down?"

"Is it so serious that we need tea made for us at nearly two in the morning, brother?" She chuckled softly.

"Only if you want some."

She shook her head, causing her curls to bounce as her bright eyes carried some worry. "No, there's no need to drag a maid from her bed to heat a pot. Thank you. Just get on with it, Will."

He gave her a small smile. One hand was on his cheek, holding up his head as his elbow rested on the table. He leaned into it as his other hand stayed in his lap. He really didn't want to shatter her dreams of matrimony to the most perfect man ever—to her at least—but, it had to be done soon. Waiting around would only be delaying the inevitable. "I know we don't talk all the time, Reg…. but, do you know what it is when one man prefers another over a woman?"

She blinked at him a few times, staring.

He raised a brow.

"I'm not stupid, Will. Yes, I know what it is." She frowned. "But, what does that have to do with anything?"

William reached over and took his sister's hands in his own. "You must promise me not to say a word, Reg. Alright?"

And then she stared at him still—harder though. Her eyes shifted and then narrowed—widened—and then looked softer. "Will… are you…"

He looked confused for a moment and then realized what she was assuming. "Gods! No!"

"Then what—." She started, aggravated, and then started again, "What are you trying to tell me? Out with it, already." she said as her hands went up.

He sighed and sat back in the chair in the most ungentlemanly manner he'd ever managed. "Dare."

"What?"

"Dare prefers men. That's why he left tonight. That's why he was so rude without meaning to be. You spooked him and he didn't want to hurt your feelings."

"Oh… gods… are you sure?" Her face dropped. "I mean, how do you know? Assumptions are—."

"He told me, Reg. He confided in me and I in turn told him you would be discreet about this."

She was frowned, slumped back in her chair just like him. But now, she looked off to the side and bit down on her lower lip. Her gloved hand came up to touched her chin. From his vantage point she looked to be deep in thought. "Well," she started. "That does present a problem."

"Pardon?"

"Well," she went on, "one presumes he has to marry to produce an heir. Dare is a very good looking man, but there are other options. We could still get married and I could…"

"Reg!" he snapped off.

"What?" she said back. "It's not as if it's not done all the time. Do you know how many children aren't their father's in our world? Come now. Honestly. And who could blame them. Dare wouldn't be the first man to put the option into motion."

He sighed. "He's not interested, Reg. At all."

"That's because he doesn't know—."

"Drop it. Please, for me." He was frowning himself. "He's just very uncomfortable about the whole thing. I don't know what's to become of it, but he'll need time to figure out what he's going to do. And, for all we know his uncle could get married and have a son."

"Yes… Lilith did speak to him a lot tonight…" she trailed off looking put out. She sighed, huffed and slouched. "Very well… if only because you never ask anything of me. Still… it's going to be hard to find someone else even remotely like him, you know."

"Yes, I know." Now he smiled.

She stood up then. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go to bed and try to rethink my prospective 'marriageable men' list.

"And well… try not to be too disappointed.

"Tears don't suit you, Reg."

"Rejection doesn't either," she called out before shutting the door behind her.

He didn't quite understand it, didn't want to… but, some part of him was relieved that it hadn't worked out between his sister and Dare.

The implications scared him.

AN :: Well, got another one out. I hadn't really planned it to be this soon; though, I do hope your enjoyed it. Thanks for reading!