Made by nmcil




Chapter Eleven:










Buffy opened her eyes to gaze at an unfamiliar ceiling. Xander's old room. They had had another round while taking a shower, and they'd ended up sleeping in the closest room to the bathroom. That second round had been nowhere near the sugar sweet of the first one, but she wasn't complaining. All she felt was the raging headache from the few hours of sleep. She looked around for a clock but found nothing, not that she knew when she had fallen asleep.

Her thoughts were churning as she tried to make sense of a few things that had suddenly crashed into each other in her brain. She’d had sex with Xander, twice, and that ought to change their relationship. When they'd first decided to become a couple, she hadn't really felt a great change in their dynamic. They had been sleeping in one bed for a week, but all they did was ramble about Andrea or whatever happened that day. They had gone out on dates and, again, all they did was ramble and joke. They were acting exactly the same as they had before they'd engaged in a relationship. Neither of them was brave enough to make it serious until Renée had pointed out the problem to Buffy.

Sex changed things and brought a dozen questions into her head. Did this mean their relationship in regard to Andrea would change at all? Did she make a mistake? She thought of her 'Ten Words to Describe Xander' list. Was Xander aware of her real feelings?

A sharp headache attacked her and made her moan. More sleep was definitely needed, and answering annoying questions had to be delayed. She looked at the ceiling again; she needed to be in her room. Dropping her feet to the floor, her body almost followed next, so she clutched the sheets to prevent herself from falling. She walked unsteadily to the door with a big yawn.

She grimaced when she was greeted by the sharp light coming from the living room, accompanied by Renée's loud squeals. She was gazing down at Andrea's crib, making cute baby faces. Noticing Buffy standing by the entrance, Renée turned her glittery eyes to her. "She's full of smiles today."

Buffy forced a smile of her own through her headache and didn't answer. She looked at the door leading to the kitchen and asked, "Where's Xander?"

"At work," Renée said, turning her attention to Andrea. "There are some pancakes left in the kitchen."

Buffy contorted her face at the mention of food. "No, I didn't get much sleep last night. Think I'm gonna head back to bed."

"Okay." Renée nodded without looking at her and kept on gushing and cooing at Andrea.

Buffy thought about peering down at her daughter before going to sleep, but felt it was too much of an effort. She'd been through sleepless nights before, but none of them left her feeling this tired.

"Oh, do you mind if I listen to some music?" Renée suddenly asked. "I don't have a stereo or a recorder at my apartment yet."

"As long as it's not loud," Buffy replied with an uneasy smile. "I don't think I can sleep with loud rock & roll."

"Oh, no rock & roll. Quiet pop music. Backstreet Boys pop music," Renée said with a blush.

Pop music. Last night's banter with Xander suddenly popped into her head, and instead of filling her insides with affection, it fell heavily on her chest. She glanced at their CD collection that was displayed on the cabinet shelf. "Maybe you'll find some of their old CDs here. Xander claims they're Dawn's, but I'm pretty sure he used to be a fan."

"I know," Renée said shyly, which earned her a frown from Buffy. Eventually, she decided to ignore it. Her bed called out for her.

A pleased smile rose to her lips when she was inside the Victorian-bedecked-but-Buffy-style room. Mr. Gordo was lying on the floor, scarred for life from the nasty he had witnessed last night. She couldn't bring herself to pick him off the floor –as an apology- because all she was able to do was flop herself down on the heaven of her bed.

She snuggled into her pillows and sheets when loud music jerked her out of her peacefulness. Buffy moaned and used her pillow to save her poor ears from the evil boy band. Renée the vixen, she thought with displeasure. If Buffy had any power left in her to stand up again, she would march out of her room and … probably just asked Renée politely to keep it low.

She squeezed her eyes shut and curled her body into a tight ball around the pillow, somehow feeling the pillow inside her bones. She didn't know how that happened, but it didn't matter. She shrank until she was the size of the pupils inside her closed eyes. She stared at both eyelids in suspense, unsure which eye she should enter. There was music playing inside the right eye, sweet and romantic. She could smell roses and flowers inside. It was attractive. She pushed herself to the right eye without considering even a glance to the left. Her body slammed against the thick wall of her eyelid. Why couldn't she go through?

She yelled and banged at the door with her fists, desperate for the roses and the harmonious music. She would sing along and write poems; she would do anything just to get inside.

Then, all of a sudden, she found herself sitting at a table embellished with red and pink roses. She laughed in delight, now inside the empty heaven. No one was in sight and it was dark, except for the faint light from stage where Xander stood. What was he doing in her world? He wasn't allowed in, unless she had walked into his world.

Xander pressed his lips to the mike and looked at her. He appeared sad when he was supposed to be happy in his world. A voice that didn't belong to Xander sang,

“When you come back, I won't be here.”
She said and gently pulled me near
“If you wanna talk, you can call
And, no, it's not your fault.”

His eyes narrowed at Buffy, and she sunk into her chair, looking around, trying to find the door to get out. This wasn't her empty heaven; occupied hell was more like it. Then she felt a tug on her arm, and turned around to meet a pair of crystal blue eyes.

… someone else steal my part?”
She said it's not my fault

She wanted to break down and yell. What were they doing here torturing her? Wasn't it enough they were doing it outside? She pushed Spike away and ran, her eyes not seeing a thing, light replacing darkness. She expected Spike's hand to grab her arm at any second and ran faster until she hit the stage in complete blindness. She only got her sight back when she raised her head to look up at Xander's pained face.

… did time in Siberia
Was waiting for the lie…

She shook her head and gripped Xander's leg, begging him to stop. She couldn't take it anymore.

… dark and mysterious
When the one you want doesn't want…

Buffy's eyes shot open, her breath caught inside. She was greeted by the sight of her medieval dresser, looking old and grim. Forcing herself to inhale and exhale, she heard Xander's song outside her room, loud and clear and painful. Though she was awake, Xander's face didn't leave. It was still there, with the microphone pressed to his lips. His eyes were sadder than ever.

I gave myself away completely
But you just couldn’t see me
Though I was sleeping in your bed
'Cause someone else was on your mind
And in your head

She cursed under her breath and sat straight up. One hand rubbed her head as she tried to keep her eyes open.

Now she didn't see Xander; she saw Spike, looking smug and glorious. Confused, she blinked her tears at him and wanted to pull out her hair in anger. The song coming from outside her room was too loud, so strong that it had mingled into her dream. It took her a second to remember that Renée had asked her permission to listen to some music.

My heart did time in Siberia
Was waiting for the lie to come true
'Cause it’s all so dark and mysterious
When the one you want doesn't want you, too





~*~*~*~






The harsh knocks left small cracks in the door. Her face hid inside the big collar of her jacket as she waited for him to answer. Her heart thudded in her throat, and she leaned against the door, forehead making a little thump, eyes closed and burning as she just stood there like a wino on a really cheap high. She sweated even though it was cool in the hallway.

She pulled her head back when the door finally opened and Spike's face appeared. "Buffy?" he asked, with an expression that implied he knew she was the one knocking on the door, yet he was still surprised she came at all. The fact that she was able to read his expression too well made her jump in with her question without thinking.

"Do you still love me?"

Spike looked even more surprised. "What?"

"Answer me, Spike," she said in desperation. "Do you still love me?"

He blinked his eyes at her and didn't answer. She didn't think much of his stare as she was disturbed by his silence.

"You don't, not anymore," she answered for him, thinking it would be less painful than if he said it.

"I love you," Spike whispered.

She shook her head, feeling her throat starting to lock. "I don't feel it."

He stared at her for a moment before he pushed the door open. "Come in." She looked warily inside before walking in. She stopped in the middle of the room, her eyes on the table where Spike had placed his legs offhandedly the last time she was here. The door creaked as it closed, and she spun around to gaze at him, taken aback by the emotions reflected on his face.

"My feelings for you didn't change, but I did," he said, looking calm and much weirder than usual. He padded across the room to sit in a chair and held a mug of blood to his lips. "Not the same lapdog I was. Don't follow you around like some bloody shadow."

She looked at his way of drinking, and there was something there. He was pretending to be cool, but his movements showed anxiety. Her presence made him tense. She still mattered.

"You know me, Buffy," he went on in gentler tones before placing the mug on the table. "Put Spike in some situation, he comes out a changed man." He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "That's what loving you did to me."

She could feel her eyes getting glassy and she sealed her lips shut, wanting to listen and not talk, desperately wanting to know how much he loved her.

A sweet smile rose to his lips. "It made me a champion."

She turned around to hide her teary eyes and pretended to walk to the other chair. It was the one her clothes had been placed on that dreadful morning. It hadn't moved an inch from its spot, and knowing that detail made her feel an urge to beat her pathetic self to a pulp. Taking a deep breath, she sat down and finally faced him. "That night… in the rain, when we…" She couldn't go on; the hurt was too deep for her to keep on.

"When we got hot and heavy," he continued with a teasing smirk.

She blinked at him before a laugh escaped her mouth at his playful tone. The feeling of amusement didn't last long when she realized he was joking about it. She looked at him with sad eyes and swallowed thickly. "You seemed different. Like you didn't care anymore. Like it was just sex for you."

Spike frowned in confusion. "It's never just sex with you, Buffy. You know that."

She shook her head. "It seemed like it… that night."

"Well, it wasn't," Spike said heatedly, making her wince slightly. He took his mug again and drank; his gulps were loud and his Adam's apple bobbed with each swallow. Buffy opened her mouth and closed it, unsure what to say next, but then Spike placed the mug on the table and swept a hand across his chin. Sighing, he whispered, "It shouldn't have happened."

Buffy stared at his downcast face, stung, and her eyes started to glisten at the edges. Spike appeared taken aback by her stricken features. His expression dissolved into a look of tenderness that reminded her of Sunnydale. "We're leading different lives now; it would just complicate things. Should've stopped it." He heaved another sigh. "But I was weak. Much as it pains me to admit it."

Buffy didn't have a reply to that. She had been there, losing herself to him in a moment of weakness. She'd craved him, knowing that it was wrong, that it shouldn't have happened, and that she had been using him. But that night hadn't been about that. It had been a desperate attempt to reach out for Spike when it seemed like he'd abandoned her.

From her silence, he must have suspected that she wasn't convinced because sadness and hurt warred in his eyes, and he directed his gaze downward. "I'm sorry that you didn't feel me loving you that night, because I was. My love for you weakened me, always does. Never doubt that." His voice was growing stronger with every word.

Different emotions started to clash together inside her. His admission sounded sincere, but his actions showed the opposite. Was she thinking too much about how he felt? Maybe she wasn't seeing it because her insecurity had blinded her. Maybe he was telling the truth. It was easier to believe that she'd been exaggerating. "You love me," she said, so low that he wouldn't have heard her if he wasn't a vampire.

"Yes." His tone was as low as hers.

"Then why…" Her voice faded, and he looked at her questioningly. "Why didn't you tell me you were back?"

He didn't answer right away. "I think… I wanted to make it on my own," he said. "I wanted to live up to my expectations. Not someone else's."

"You could've called me, Spike," she said. He could have saved her all those tears, all that anguish, and that one drunken night with Xander.

"And tell you what? I couldn't explain it to myself. I didn't want to come off as someone who's…"

Over you, Buffy thought he would say. She appreciated that he trailed off before finishing that sentence. "I understand."

A set of wide eyes looked at her and she returned that shocked stare with a sad, bitter smile. She understood. A little. She was having conflicting issues of her own. Big responsibilities, huge threats, and illegal solutions. She preferred not to think about them that much, because the mere thought of them made her want to hurl inside her mouth, reminding her of the awful person she’d become.

"I can't imagine you working for Angel, though," she joked to lighten the mood.

He smiled in response.

"Then again, I couldn't imagine Cordelia working for Angel, or Wesley for that matter." It had been years since she had seen both of them. She wasn't sure how they turned out to be but the Cordelia and Wesley she remembered ought to make Angel stake himself before the next apocalypse.

"Both dead," Spike said softly.

Every bone in her body felt like it had been stuffed with lead. Cordelia was dead? A flashback of her and Cordelia sitting at the cafeteria table back in high school swiftly sprung into her mind. She could remember the straight hair and the bangs that covered up Cordelia's forehead as she'd criticized Buffy's short hair while preparing her for a night at the frat house. Cordelia was dead?

Buffy had never been the one to ask about Angel and his crew. It had always been Willow who informed her of important details. Now that Willow was gone, there was no one to fill Buffy in. She felt a little out of the loop, more so ever since she was pregnant with Andrea.

They hadn't spoken a word since Spike's startling revelation. Spike started to light himself a cigarette while Buffy stared numbly at her thighs.

"So," she murmured. "No new advances on our witchy Slayer?" Her heart still pounded hard, images of Cordelia's confident smile and fashionable clothes never leaving her mind.

"Got complicated," Spike said between puffs of smoke.

"How? If you have her passport, she can't go anywhere."

"Oh, but she did." He tilted his head back and exhaled. "She disappeared."






~*~*~*~






Buffy peered down into her weapons chest, hastily selecting a couple of sharpened stakes instead of the swords or the crossbows. No need to attract eyes to them while they searched for Reem throughout Edinburgh.

The second she stood up, two warm arms enveloped her against a solid chest. An unwanted feeling of displeasure filled her as Xander's chin rested on her shoulder. "Hey," he said softly, kissing her neck lightly.

She pulled herself out of the embrace as gently as she could, trying to mask her real feelings with a forced smile. "Hey."

He gave a charming lopsided grin. "I couldn't stop thinking about last night."

"Yeah." Her foot tapped restlessly, and her eyes fell on the stakes in her hands. She tried to find the right words to end this conversation, so she could get back to Spike's before sunset.

Xander's hand cupped the back of her head and tenderly tried to pull her to his chest. She almost resisted, but then she found herself drawn into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around her again, hugging so tight that her throat locked and tears started to form. She stayed there reluctantly, clutching the stakes so hard they almost broke.

"You can't believe how…" He let go of her, and they looked at each other, his lonely eye shining with emotion, and Buffy's chest tightened. "And to avoid any chance of sounding too pathetically sentimental, I'm just gonna say this…"

The room suddenly got smaller, and Buffy seemed to forget how to breathe. Her expression pleaded for him not to say what she thought he was going to say.

Xander, obviously blinded by his happiness, didn't notice her distress. "I've never been this excited to get back home from work."

That sentence wasn't even better than the one she thought he'd say.

"That butterfly feeling in your stomach, the one everybody always talked about? Never felt it this intense until today." He grinned from ear to ear. "I'm just so happy, you know?"

And she felt so crappy, lowering her gaze down at her stakes before she looked at the door.

Xander touched her shoulder. "So…"

She jerked away from his hand, looking everywhere but at him. "There's something I gotta take care of."

Disappointment reflected on his face for a second before he seemed to understand. "Oh. Um… what? A new big bad?"

She considered lying, but feared he'd ask the Slayers at the castle. Not that she thought he'd be a skeptical, distrusting boyfriend, but she felt an unexplainable sense of paranoia. "No, it's that girl again."

"You mean Reem? You got some lead?"

"Not… exactly."

He frowned. "Then, what? Why all the sudden interest?"

"It's not a sudden interest," she said quietly.

"I know, but lately, you've never mentioned her name."

"She disappeared, Xander. I have to find her."

"But why tonight?" There was desperation in his tone, and his fingers trembled, wanting to touch her, maybe pull her into another hug.

"I have to go." She went past him, feeling at ease when the door got closer.

"Buffy, did something go wrong?" He said it so softly, so insecurely, that the thought of turning around to look at him scared her to the bone.

So, she walked out of the room, walked down the small hall to the living room where Renée was feeding Andrea.

"Mommy's off to work, let's say good…"

But Buffy didn't stop, didn't even glance, just wanting to be out of the apartment. Needing to breathe.


~*~*~*~