And I am done with my graceless heart
So tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart
'Cause I like to keep my issues drawn
It's always darkest before the dawn
Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa
Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa
And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back
So shake him off, oh whoa
And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back
And given half the chance would I take any of it back
It's a fine romance but it's left me so undone
It's always darkest before the dawn
~ Florence + The Machine ~
Chapter 22 – Shake It Out
Scrolling through the tracks on her iPod, Buffy picked an appropriately inspirational song before sticking it in the docking station. Turning up the volume, she spun back around and took a deep breath as she looked about her surroundings.
Her room looked as though a hurricane had taken a couple of spins in it. She hadn't bothered to do any cleaning for a while, and now the chaotic state of her room was a perfect personification of her inner emotions. Random articles of belongings were scattered everywhere and it was getting difficult to find what she needed amidst all the clutter.
It was out of sheer necessity that pushed her on a quest to get her stuff sorted and cleared up. Consoling herself that even if internally she was a wreck, at the very least, her room would be in a better condition than she was. Indeed it was a blessing that the task itself could provide her with some much needed temporary distraction from those miserable thoughts about him.
Most of the mess was easy enough to sort out, either storing them away in their rightful place or throwing them out with the rest of the trash, but she kept her notes and books for last since it was the biggest pile she'd accumulated over the weeks. As she slowly worked her way through the dwindling mountain of folders, paper and books, she eventually came across the last draft of her Sonnet paper. This was the version that Spike had worked on hardest. His beautifully handwritten notes were scrawled all over the original printed sheet and she couldn't help but take a moment out of her mission to read it.
She sat at the edge of her bed and recited the verses with a heavy heart.
When true love transpires between two souls,
Such rare events should be celebrated
Even life's obstructions have no control
And each other's flaws loved and accepted
It is the guiding beacon, never lost;
Unwavering in its navigation,
An undying faith to lovers star-crossed
To become one another's salvation
Love is ageless, immune to changing seasons
Past worship of perceptible beauty
Spirit effulgent, brighter than the sun
Till the end of days, it stands fearlessly
If this theory proves wrong, so help me Lord,
Man has failed love and life's but a discord.
When she came to the end of it, Buffy couldn't help but tear up. Even if she wasn't entirely sure whether or not they got the technical part of it written flawlessly, the sincerity and emotion of the sonnet itself was enthralling and poignant. It had been written based on both of their personal experiences, their respective journeys of living through failed relationships and coming together after gave them perspective on what real love should be.
She thought back to when she was at his apartment, watching him across the bed, leaning back against the pillows that kept his head propped up as the pencil occasionally moved rapidly across the paper pad that rested on his bent up knees. Occasionally he would look up and ask her for her thoughts and opinions, before quickly jotting down her answers that would later be integrated with the sonnet.
At the time, she had failed to see the significance behind the finished poem. She couldn't appreciate the fact that this was very much a creation of their labor and love together, even if he did do most of the composition. She thought it was funny how he always said he couldn't write well, and yet there he was, helping her to form expressive lines with words that she hadn't even heard of. She recalled him having to explain to her what effulgent meant the first time she read it. She smiled at the memory of how he bashful he actually looked when she replied that it was indeed the most fitting and perfect word for that line in the sonnet.
But the smile vanished the instant she remembered that all of it might have been lies for his personal gain. Even though it was hard for her to believe that he would deliberately hurt her, what she saw made it pretty difficult to think otherwise.
And yet as heartbreaking as that was, it still didn't stop her from missing him like crazy.
Looking at the sheet in her hand, she wondered if real love was meant to be so complicated as a matter of fact, or if she was simply being an idiot who was overthinking everything. Even if a part of her felt like punching him in the face for what happened, there was another part of her that also wanted to kiss him for every good thing he had done and was still doing for her.
The more she thought about it, the more Buffy didn't know what to do. The only thing she was certain about at this point was that she was finally ready and willing to hear his side of things.
Regardless of whether or not this would bring them back together or make her hate him for eternity, at least it was a chance for her to get some closure on the matter.
Aptly neglecting the rest of her spring cleaning, Buffy sent out a text to Willow to see if the Dingoes would be performing at The Bronze later before hopping into the shower. After getting dressed, she checked her cell and read Willow's reply, "Hey Buff! The band had to cancel tonight as Spike's been really sick this whole week. The rest of us are gonna catch a movie later, so just let me know if you wanna come with. We miss you heaps!"
A sense of worry came over her when she read that. For someone who was supposed to be pissed off at the guy, she certainly was feeling excessively concerned over his wellbeing. She grabbed the keys to her mother's jeep and decided to make a quick stop to the supermarket along the way before heading over to his place.
Whether she was doing this for him or for herself, she had no idea. She just knew that she wanted to help him feel better. The funny thing about it was that she'd never actually made it before. She had no clue what the exact ingredients and proportions were, but she'd seen her mother make it enough times in the past to have at least a rough idea of what the main components were.
By the time she procured everything that she thought was needed, the sun was just starting to set. Hurriedly, she got back into the jeep and drove over to his apartment. Carrying two large bags of groceries with her, she made the tedious climb up the stairs before dumping them right in front of his door.
"Ugh, how can a couple of meat and veggies be so heavy?" She exclaimed, with her hands on her hips, she bent over slightly, taking a brief moment to catch her breath.
Just then the door flew open, and a hoarse voice croaked, "Buffy?"
Snapping her head back up, her eyes widened at the sight before her, "Oh, holy mother of..."
When Willow said he'd been sick, she couldn't imagine the extent of that statement. Dressed in several layers of clothing, his usually slicked back hair was now sticking out in wild curls all over the place. His once vibrant blue eyes looked watery and bloodshot, and his nose looked almost as red as Rudolph the reindeer.
They regarded each other for a moment, before he asked, "I suppose you didn't just come here to climb up that flight of stairs and gawk at me, right?"
Biting her lower lip, she replied, "I've been thinking about what you said that time and I think I'm ready to hear your side of things…And then I heard from Willow that you were under the weather, so I got a little worried and umm, here I am."
"Under the weather would be an understatement, pet. I think I'm drowning in it."
"Well, you certainly look the part."
"Thanks, and seriously, as much as I appreciate what you're doing, you should go home. Don't want you getting sick too now, would we?"
"But I was hoping we could talk, and I also bought some stuff…I wanted to make something that's supposed to be good for curing the flu."
Spike narrowed his eyes, "Make what?"
She glanced to where the bags were and he followed her line of sight.
When they looked at each other again, he said, "Buffy, while I'm happy that you're ready to listen to what I've got to say and I'm deeply thankful for your concern, I'm not sure if this is the right time now. I just took my meds and I might not be able to even speak coherently in a few minutes, much less keeping you from getting my kitchen blown up."
"C'mon, don't be ridiculous, I'm not that bad of a cook."
He gave her a look and she pouted, "Really, I'm not!"
"Sure you are." He grinned.
She folded her arms, "Don't be such an ass."
"Buffy, I just don't want you catching a cold because of me."
"Don't worry about that, I've actually got a pretty good immune system when it comes to germs of the flu and such."
"Are you sure? Don't know how this nasty bugger of a bug got me, since I'm usually pretty impervious to such illnesses myself."
She nodded, "Promise, I'll be okay. Now will you please let me in?"
Spike sighed at her persistence, "Fine, but don't come punching me in the face when you get the runny nose and all, alright?"
Even in his current sickly state, Spike managed to lift both the grocery bags off the floor easily, carrying them into the kitchen without any trouble, other than a sneeze that almost caused him to drop both bags.
"So what's all this food for?"
"I was going to make you chicken noodle soup," she confessed.
He looked at her with an odd expression.
"Hey, I can make soup!"
He chuckled, "Buffy the only time you've ever cooked was when you put hot water into a cup of instant ramen."
"Well I've seen mom make this a dozen times so I'm pretty sure I know how to make it myself." She started taking the items out of the bags until Spike placed a hand over one of hers.
"Luv, could you tell me what's really going on though? I thought you never wanted to see me again."
"Frankly I…" The look he gave was so intense that she had to cast her own gaze downwards. She had to make sure that she could state her intent clearly, "Like I said earlier, I've been thinking about everything that happened and I think I'm finally ready to listen to that explanation you were talking about, that is if you're still willing to offer it."
"You know I am, luv. I never wanted things to be over between us in the first place."
"And just so you know, if I'm being honest with myself, then I must admit that I still think a lot about us and I do miss you."
Spike felt his heart pounding at the admission. Since that night at Avon, this was the closest thing to a term of affection coming from her.
She glanced up at him, and when he didn't speak, continued on, "But that also doesn't mean I'm in any way less upset at what you did. I just want to hear your explanation before deciding anything further and hopefully get some closure on the matter."
He understood that while this was a huge improvement, it didn't automatically mean that she was ready to forgive him and patch things between them just yet. The only reply his slightly fuzzy brain could muster was, "I see."
"That aside, this happened when I heard you got sick." She waved a hand over the various food supplies scattered all over the counter.
He gave a wry smile, "Like I said, as much as I appreciate this gesture of chicken noodle soup, I won't have you causing an explosion in my kitchen."
"Hey! I'm not going to cause a fire."
He bit back a laugh, "Sure luv, now scoot over and let me take a look at what we have here."
"This is so not how I imagined the making of my chicken noodle soup to go," she muttered, moving over to give him room.
"Well I was hoping to get a proper siesta after popping those meds which I suspect is made from the same thing they use for horse tranquilizers, so this isn't exactly how I imagined my siesta would go either."
She scowled at him, "I'll leave if that's what you really want."
He sighed in defeat, "No, that's not what I want. And I'm sorry pet, but as you can see, I'm feeling quite shitty now from the flu and everything, so you'll have to forgive my crankiness."
When he put it that way, she felt guilty for snapping at him, "I'm sorry too, Spike, I didn't mean to put you in more pain and suffering."
He chuckled, "That's okay. I know you only meant well. Look, how about a compromise. Since this is my kitchen and your ingredients, we'll do this together, okay?"
A grin spread across her face, "Deal."
Seeing that expression, he couldn't help but break into a smile himself.
Nearly two hours later, a delicious scent was wafting throughout the apartment.
Tasting the soup with a small spoon, Buffy beamed in satisfaction, "This is quite yummy!"
Despite the challenges of working with a woman who was so clueless in the realm of culinary arts, she managed to follow his instructions well enough and they worked great together as a team in the kitchen. It was almost as if they were still a happy couple and Spike found it increasingly difficult to constantly restrain himself from getting too carried away in the moment.
Towards the last stages of the process, she noticed that he looked as though he was about to pass out from both exhaustion and the meds.
"Spike, I can take it from here. Go sit over by the dining table and I'll bring over some soup for you."
She must have been right because to her surprise, he didn't resist or make any of his usual commentaries about her being a bossy bint. He merely nodded in reply and left the kitchen.
She got a bowl of soup over to him as promised and because she was also feeling quite hungry at this point, got a bowl for herself as well and took the seat opposite him.
They ate in silence for several minutes, with Buffy frequently looking over at him in concern. She wasn't sure now if her coming over was making him get better or worse.
"Thanks, but I'm alright," he finally said between mouthfuls of soup, without even looking up at her, "I'm just a bit knackered from all that work and being sick."
Buffy couldn't help but feel a little guilty, "You know, if you really need some rest, we can talk tomorrow."
He shook his head and looked up at her, "Compared to what we just did in the kitchen, talking is going to be a piece of cake, luv."
"Don't be so dramatic."
"Besides, it took you long enough to finally be ready to hear my side of things, isn't it?"
Although he did his best to give her a grin, inside he was sick to his stomach and it wasn't from the virus. He wanted to grab her free hand with his, but was afraid that if he did so, he would never let it go. Because he knew that after tonight, it was very likely that he would never get the chance to be a part of her life again.