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Chapter Thirty-Four
So... so this what it felt like. Right? She remembered. She remembered well how it felt when Angel left, when Riley had. The former... well, because, it had to be done. You couldn't really be with someone you couldn't connect with physically. She wasn't sure she could have. It just... it was too dangerous. She'd figured that out months after the pain started to abate. And with Riley? She wasn't sure she'd ever really loved him. She'd wanted to, desperately. But some part of her just couldn't do it.
And now Spike. Somehow, that was worse. The adult love she felt for him was deeper, like an old tree whose roots had extended deep into the ground. Maybe... maybe she'd finally screwed up so badly with someone that it was completely irreparable.
Yeah, it hurt. She was almost stunned with it. How accustomed she'd grown to him letting her in, letting her do with him as she wanted. It was the first time she could really remember him saying no and meaning it. It felt final. It was, right?
She just stood there in the hallway, feeling like idiot. What did she really expect? That he'd have just kept putting up with her crap? With hurricane Buffy? You didn't just break a person five ways to Sunday and expect them to go on wanting you, loving you. He still did, it seemed. But he wasn't giving in, not this time.
Damn... was she really going to pity herself? Better than laying blame at someone else like she usually did. She'd managed to learn how not to do that while she'd been here.
Buffy took in a deep breath, noting how shaky the sound was, once she was certain Spike was far from her; quite possibly down the stairs in another part of the house already. She reached up and wiped away the tears that refused to stop. She hated the way her nose became stuffy, the way her throat felt clotted with sobs.
"Buffy? Oh good, I wanted to ask you about a lesson. I know it's early, but there's not much to do. I... Buffy?"
She didn't need to turn to know the person connected to that voice. "Hi, Reg," she got out, once more wiping her face, this time with haste. She forced a smile, knowing she wasn't fooling the other woman. "Fencing... fencing sounds good. I could use the work out." It wouldn't hurt to release some stress.
"What's wrong?" she asked immediately, cobalt blues narrowed. Her hands moved to her hips.
"It's alright. I—."
"Talk to me," she ordered, sternly.
"You're as bad as my little sister," Buffy sighed out, feeling too beaten to really put up a fight. "I ran into your brother. Tried to fix things."
"And?"
"He doesn't want to."
"That's... um..." She paused, brows going high before she crossed her arms over her chest. Buffy let the quiet pervade; Reggie was obviously considering something and she didn't have much to say in response. "That... doesn't really make sense considering what I saw of you two. You know... before."
"Maybe you didn't see it all. I told you... I hurt him a lot. Used him. Used him worse than Dru."
"Does he still love you?"
"Claims to. I just don't think I should push."
"You're giving up?"
"Seems like."
Reggie snorted.
Buffy glanced at her. "What?"
"You traversed over a hundred years into the past, wooed my brother as a man, put up with our time's backwards standards, and now you're going to throw in the towel? Are you jesting?"
"Well, I—."
"I've seen you two together. More here than there. And my William loves you, Buffy. Deeply. More deeply than I thought possible for two people aside from my parents. Yes, you've both hurt each other. I saw that. I saw the way you ripped each other to pieces. Maybe... maybe not all of it. But enough. And you haven't treated him that way here. You treated my brother like a person, like a man of worth. And... I don't know much about Dru, but outside of the family... few people ever treated William with a sense of worth or value. With respect.
"That counts for something, Buffy. It does."
"What do you expect me to do, Reg? Woo him again?"
"Maybe? Try talking to him again. Perhaps when you've both calmed down. Have your say, make sure he listens to you, and yes, if that doesn't work, if need be—woo him again. Perhaps this time with flowers or poetry."
Buffy couldn't help it; she laughed. The laughter broke through her gloom and made Reggie smile as well.
"Serenades I hear, while old fashioned, work wonders as well."
Ha... singing to Spike. She could just see that happening. God... she was an idiot. But Reg was right. She hadn't had her say yet, had she? He'd said his peace, but she hadn't told him all the things she still meant to tell him.
"I'll talk to him, Reg," she told her, nodding. "Soon."
"Good. Now that that's settled... Can we please go get a lesson in?"
Buffy rolled her eyes as the other woman looped her arm through hers and led her down the hall. "As if you'd take no for an answer."
"You're catching on!"
#
Hours later found Spike in the nursery with his older sister. He'd been there for a while, playing with Victor and talking to her about... well most anything. Their mother's recent death was still harrowing to her; it was to him. However, he supposed it was easier for him to deal with now because he'd been through it once, and... and because he was happy that she'd gone naturally—without his stupidity to muck it all up. He silently prayed when Tara and the PTB sorted this all that they could leave that part alone, allow his mother to have never experienced what he'd done to her.
But at the moment he found himself more concerned with the little imp plopping down in his lap and smacking his face with a book.
"Story?" Victor asked, big brown eyes locked on Spike's. "Please?"
He was barely three, but already Spike could appreciate his level of vocabulary. It was a different time, after all. And Lily had both the money and the time to spend on his education. Likely, he'd be writing and reading himself well before six.
"Sure," Spike finally replied, tussling his short brown curls before he took the book in his hands and settled them both more comfortably on the floor. His back relaxed against a wall. Lily was smiling at him, working on some embroidery as she relaxed in a comfortable chair. Quickly enough, he read the nursery rhyme aloud, moving onto the next one when Victor urged him. He found himself engrossed in his nephew, soaking up their time up together. Soon, he knew, there would come a time when he wouldn't be here. When he had to go home. He had to enjoy it while it lasted.
It seemed he was so engrossed that he didn't, in fact, sense Buffy as she leaned into the frame of the open doorway. This he only noticed once Lily said something. He looked up, locking gazes with her, a little taken aback by the unexpected tenderness he saw present in her eyes.
"Is there something amiss?" his sister asked.
Buffy shook her head as she stepped away from the door. "Not at all. I just got done with Reg."
"Did she have fun?" His sister asked, setting down her needlework.
"Never knows when to quit, is more like it," Buffy said with a grin. "That sister of yours really would have made one hell of a slayer—honest. But, yes, she had fun."
Lily grinned. "I do believe Reggie would have been beside herself if such a vocation befell her; though, I am quite glad it didn't."
Buffy nodded and glanced at Spike. He'd gone back to reading to Victor the moment the boy had nudged him to do so, albeit quieter since the women were talking.
"Do you mind if I snag your brother for a few?"
"Not at all. I need to put Victor to bed for his afternoon nap."
"But, mummy..!"
"No buts, young man. Bedtime. Off with you. Come on now. Your uncle can read to you later."
"Yes, mum." He pouted, but got up all the same, and left the room.
"I'll see you two later," Lily told them as she swept out the room, skirt swishing around her.
"Care if we go somewhere else?" Buffy asked as soon as they were far enough down the hall that she knew Lily and Victor wouldn't hear them.
"What's this all about then?" Spike asked as he stood up, having a good feeling he knew already.
"You've said what you wanted to say, but... I haven't said what I needed to say."
"Need closure then?"
"Walk with me?" she asked instead.
"Yeah... sure, pet."
She led him through the house. At first he thought she'd take them outside, but when she didn't head to any of the doors that led outside he realized that wasn't so. Eventually, she found their way into the library. Buffy, without a word, shut the doors behind them.
"It became our favorite place," she said as way of an explanation.
"Are you sure you wanna ruin those memories by letting us go at each other's throats, luv?"
"Some of our best moments are when we went at each other's throats," she argued softly.
His eyes narrowed at that, but he let it go, more curious about where she was going with all of this. "Well... 'M here." He waved his hands wide and plopped down on top of a table, legs spread. "Have at it, pet. Say what you need to say."
She nodded and crossed her arms over her chest. He watched as she took a moment to gather herself, her brow knit and her eyes awash in something. And then, he watched as she took a deep breath in, beginning, "I was... I was awful to you. All the time. And at first it was justified. You were a prick." She shifted from one foot to the other as she paused, wondering if he'd argue. He didn't, so she continued. "But... At some point a lot of lines blurred, Spike. There... there was this period of transition where you got the chip and neither of us could really trust one another. It got weird. Even so, you did become a better person. A man. And I... It wasn't your fault I couldn't accept that.
"It wasn't right, the way I hurt you all the time. The way we baited each other." She watched as he reached into a pocket on his vest and pulled out a pack of smokes and a lighter. It was enough to give her pause as he lit up.
He noticed and exhaled smoke, saying, "Glinda gave 'em to me. Left 'em in the room after we went to sleep last night. Thought it was odd too, but didn't question it at the time."
She nodded and continued, wondering when Tara had spoken to him, "When I came back I hated myself, I hated my friends, and I hated life. I hated being alive, Spike. Everything I wanted to take out on the world I took out on you. I used you when all you really wanted to do was make it easier. Better." She wiped a hand down her face and it dropped at her side. "You couldn't fix me. No one could. I had to want to fix myself and I... I didn't want to, I think.
"I didn't owe you—anyone—anything. I didn't have to love you, but I did. And I didn't have to sleep with you, but I did. But I... we didn't have to do it the way we did. Violently—all the time." She swallowed. "I'm sorry."
He still didn't say anything. Had she not said enough? What did it mean? Buffy found herself staring at a stack of books along the wall, hands on her hips, as she prayed it was enough.
"We did hurt each other, pet. An' to be honest, it's hard for me to believe that we can be better than what we were. Love isn't enough; I've figured that out—did in Africa on the way to get the tech removed and my soul returned."
"Spike—."
He stood up then and stalked across the room towards her. "No, you said your bit. S'my turn now." He reached past her, flicking ash from his cigarette into a tray on the table behind her. Then he took another inhale, exhaled smoke, and spoke. The whole time his eyes were locked on hers. "I almost raped you, Buffy. Raped you. An' I'm not blaming you for my lack of control. But we got to that place together, didn't we? Pushed, and fuckin' pushed—bled into one another while ripping at another wound. Didn't we? Can you deny it?"
"...No."
He saw the tears pricking at her eyes, but somehow that only served to make him angrier. And he hated that too—hated that he wasn't fit for her to be around. But this is what they did to one another, wasn't? All that passion... always misdirected because of too much baggage they could even begin to pull apart.
Even the cigarette wasn't helping to calm his nerves. He turned away from her, digging nails into his scalp with his one free hand.
"We can be better, Spike. I can be better. I have been."
"With William," he muttered.
"With you. William is you, Spike."
He whirled back around, jaw flexing. "'M not so stupid to think you didn't just put that act on to break the curse, luv." He didn't let her argue and he immediately continued. "Don't blame you either. So don't go accusin' me of that." He pointed a finger at her and then dropped it. "Point is, I don't think you know how to let anyone in, Slayer."
"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked, finally looking angry—eyes narrowed and hands moving to form fists beside her.
"Exactly what I said," he snapped, reacting to fire in her eyes. "Angel hurt you so bad that you don't know how to let anyone in again. Oh, you tried with Captain Cardboard—tried the best you bloody could. But in the end even he figured out you weren't givin' it your all. And I thought it was just him; that he was just a damned moron for letting the vamps suck on him—cheating' on you—an' walking away. An' he was wrong for doin' that to you, but he didn't do it for the hell of it—it happened because you both built it up to that just like we built it all up to the bathroom.
"Hell... I didn't want to walk away, m'self. Hate doing it," he snapped, his eyes shutting. "But you didn't let me in either. You were dead set on being the slayer all the time, even to kid sis. Thought it was the only way of living. I thought if I gave you time it'd help, luv. Really did. But it didn't. Just made the shit storm that much worse.
"I let you hurt me because I thought you needed it. You did, in your own way. And I hurt you back because I thought you wanted it. Hated that too," he said gently, a snap in his voice. "But you... hell, luv... Buffy," he amended. "You can't love me without lovin' yourself first. And I sure as fuck can't go on trying to love enough for the both of us."
Buffy was silenced. Her body trembled with both rage, anguish, and tears. He wasn't wrong though, was he? She'd never really considered the way she'd been left to pick up the pieces after Angel; she had never really considered how that might have affected her relationship with Riley. With anyone.
But that's not how she'd been treating him. Not for a while. "Do you..." she started, voice soft, "... do you really think I pretended to love you to break the curse?"
"Got no reason not to think it."
"I told you I loved you last night. You... you can't honestly believe that I would..."
"Even if you did... S'easy to love William. S'not easy lovin' me, pet."
She'd been looking at the floor, but her eyes suddenly snapped to his. "Spike... you are William. You're still that man and you always will be—some part of you will always be him. Falling in love with you then, in effect, is falling in love with him. There is no difference. At all."
He sighed.
"But you don't think I've changed... you don't think we can be as great as we were when you were him. Nothing I say right now is going to change that."
"...Right," he replied, all of a sudden wondering why she was acting so amicable—agreeable. And he had a right to be; she had an expression on her face that oddly resembled Willow's resolve face. "What?"
"Then I'll prove it to you," she told him as she stepped towards him. He had to catch himself before he stepped back. As her hands reached up, both palms to either of his cheeks, he gasped as she pressed her forehead against his. And for a moment... all he could smell was sunshine.
"Buff—."
"I love you, William Ambrose Pratt, Lord Broderick. And I am going to prove it to you. I promise you that. Wait for me. Just you wait." He barely had time to process her words as she swept out of the room like a war-ready valkyrie.
"Bloody hell."
AN :: I wasn't gonna give this to you guys, but I had to after the last chapter. Especially considering how long you waited for me to update at all. I don't really have words to describe this release, but I hope it lived up to your expectations. It was both easy and difficult to capture the dialogue of both Buffy and Spike and allow their feelings to be reflected well in those words.
Thanks for any R&R.
—Blade