Made by nmcil






Chapter Twenty-Two:





The second Xander and Spike disappeared out of Central Command, Buffy found herself padding after them. The hall appeared empty and soundless; they couldn't have gone too far- they'd just left. Xander couldn't be throwing Spike out now, could he? She shivered slightly in her light hospital gown, taken aback by how cold it was, which shouldn't surprise her. Her castle had always been cold. She'd gotten used to the hot cell where she'd hold her hair up willing some air to her sweating neck and wishing for a rubber band.

Suddenly, she heard Xander's voice talking to Spike in the next room. She peered from the slightly ajar door into the room and found Xander standing in the middle. Spike was giving him his back, his neck was tilted to the side where both of his hands were holding something to his face; he was lighting a cigarette. She clutched the door tighter and wondered why these two were in the same room together. What did Xander want to say to Spike?

Spike blew smoke in the air before turning around to face Xander, ridicule so clear in his eyes. "Haven't you considered a glass eye like normal folks?" he asked, putting the cigarette to the side of his mouth.

"The day you consider looking your age," Xander shot back levelly.

Buffy held back a groan. Those two would never change. Spike's eyes gleamed at Xander's comeback. Unlike her, he seemed to be enjoying the exchange of insults.

"Haven't got all day. Chit I want is finally in my hands, time to arrange a flight to LA. So on with it," Spike said through the cigarette in his mouth that went up and down.

"Right." Xander stuffed his hand in his pocket and brought out a pack of money.

Spike's narrowed his eyes at it. "Where did you get that?"

Xander scoffed. "Like I'd tell you about the secret hiding place."

Spike's mouth dropped open slightly, his cigarette tilting downward. "Secret hiding place?"

Xander shrugged. "We live in a castle. It's a given." He rubbed his temple. "I know. Kinda lame. I've wanted a Money Bin, but we don't have enough money to dive in." He extended his hand towards Spike, offering him the cash.

Spike shook his head with disgust. "I'm not taking stolen money."

Xander's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "Whoa, how do you know about that?"

Spike dropped his cigarette to the ground and squished out the fading light with his boot. "I helped get Buffy back because I wanted to. Keep your filthy dosh stocked. I've got a flight to catch." Spike strode to the door, and Buffy instantly glued herself to the wall behind the door.

"So, now you're leaving?" Xander's voice reached her ears, loud and hard.

Buffy held her breath as she heard Spike reply, "Sorry to disappoint you so."

"What about Buffy?"

She bit her lip, deciding to peek again. She peered at the inside. Now Spike was giving her his back, and Xander was staring him down; the money pack was no longer in his hand.

"Doesn't concern you." Spike already lit another cigarette, bringing it to his lips, and inhaling. He held the cigarette away from his mouth and blew clouds of smoke in the air. "'Sides, why talk it with you knowing how blinkered of a bloke you are?" He leaned a little, blocking Xander's face from her view.

"She loves you," Xander said softly. Buffy's bare feet rubbed each other, not just to seek heat, but out of anxiousness as well. She tried to sense the way he said it - was he disappointed or jealous or just plain sad? His voice was so low she couldn't figure out the tone.

"She does, doesn't she?" Spike whispered indecorously.

"You weren't here, Spike, but I was." Spike kept his cigarette away from his mouth and crossed one arm around his chest, probably casting Xander one of his bored looks. She knew how tired he was from hearing that he wasn't here. "I was there through every sob, every drink, every gaze that wandered aimlessly in the room. I saw Buffy grieve like I never did before. She loves you," he stressed.

Buffy swallowed a lump throughout Xander's speech. She never thought she'd hear him say that to Spike. Something tight swelled in her chest when she realized that once again she'd been unfair to him due to false anticipation.

"And you love her," Spike said pointedly.

Xander winced. There was an indignant level to his posture. "I don't. At least not in the way you're implying."

Spike scoffed. "Please."

"I don't," Xander insisted. "And even if I did, it won't matter."

Spike threw his cigarette butt to the floor, put out his foot and grinded it out. "Why not?

"You're here."

Buffy wished she could see Spike's expression. Her fingers tightened their hold on the door with frustration.

"Take it from someone who hated your guts, Spike. Buffy loves you." Xander approached Spike but didn't stand quite near him. "And I think you still love her, too."

Spike looked away from Xander. Buffy could see the side of his face clearly; a tiny smile formed on his lips. "How could you tell?"

"You haven't left Edinburgh." Making his point clear, Xander walked around Spike and headed for the door. Buffy hid behind it again.

There was a heavy silence and no more words were exchanged. Buffy willed her ears to listen to any movement, any whisper, but her raging heartbeat was all she could hear. Her heart twisted painfully with guilt when Xander left the room, shoulders slumped dejectedly. She watched him walk away, pieces of her heart falling with each step he took.

"You know," Spike's voice startled her once Xander vanished from her sight. "It's not polite to eavesdrop on adult conversations."

She tilted her head, casting him an uninterested stare.

He leaned back against the door frame and smugly waited for her to talk. He would wait forever because while the Buffy he knew talked to him sometimes, this Buffy lost her ability to say a letter. She guessed he figured that out because his lips twitched.

"You're cold."

She trembled more at his comment, but her face was rigidly solid. "I'm fine."

"You're stubborn."

"I'm not wearing your coat."

He pursed his lips in a thin line. "Suit yourself."

She fought the urge not to rub on her freezing arms, forcing her shaking body to remain calm.

"Those were some pricks you're fighting, eh?"

"We don't want to fight them," she said tiredly. It was bad enough having demons and all forces of evil after her and her own, now they had to deal with humans wanting them dead, too?

He nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor. It was getting so uncomfortable that she wanted to excuse herself to check on Reem –and change into something warm. But then Spike looked up at her again. She gazed desperately into his eyes, wanting something, knowing that he was the only one who could give it to her. He always did. Now he was barely trying.

"I hate this," she said, shoulders heaving with defeat.

"Hmmm?"

"I hate how far we've grown apart."

Spike let out a sigh, reaching into his pockets and cursing when he found his pack of cigarettes empty. "That's life. People spend years, centuries, even months apart… they come back different." He tossed the empty packet away and ran an exasperated hand over his head.

"Especially from dead," she said with a knowing smile.

He smiled back. "Especially." The corners of his lips dropped a bit. "I hate this, too."

Her heart throbbed a little and desperation ran through her in waves. "What was it like? Being back from dead?" She was glad her voice sounded calm and normal, not as interested and eager as she felt.

Spike shrugged, hands in pockets, eyes glazing over then directing themselves toward the floor. "Bloody awful at first, but then it got all right."

Buffy lowered her gaze to his boots as well. "I could've helped you through it. After all, I've been there." With a slight headshake, she looked up at his downcast face. "And, this is not me accusing you of not calling me… I'm just… I wish I was there for you, you know."

Their eyes met, her pulse quickening as she caught the passion and longing that had been missing in the past few months. Her heart skipped a beat when his lips curled into that familiar soft smile. "I know."

She swallowed hard, feeling her cheeks heating; her eyes focused on him entirely.

"When I said I loved all of you, that night, that I've seen the worst of you and still love you," he said in a low voice. "It still applies."

Buffy's throat closed over any response she could have made.

"I was shocked at first." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I remembered when I offered to get you money, when you were working at that cow fast food restaurant. You rejected my offer because you knew I'd steal it." He inclined his head, lips pursed a little, then looked at her again. "I was struck by how much you changed. Then I got to stay here for a while and I was able to see why you did it."

Her eyes burned as her heart beat faster with each word he said; each understanding phrase made an unbound strain of relief wind through her body.

"They look up to you, every single one of them. They respect you; expect you to have all the answers, to lead them, to protect them. Yet you don't give up." Anguish flared briefly in his gaze. "That's one strong woman I admire. One I want to be like."

The masked pained expression startled Buffy for a second, but she figured she could ask him about it later. "You wanna be a woman?" she joked to lighten the mood instead.

"Only you," he chuckled. "Someone who doesn't crack under all that pressure."

"Really?" Her chest tightened, and she felt angry all of a sudden. "You think I got it all sorted out, Spike. I don't. I'm as lost as a pop star going for the reality show hype as a last resort."

An expression of confusion wisped across Spike's face at her outburst; it melted down into a realization that made Buffy feel a huge lump in her throat. "I've spent this whole year trying to figure out who should I be. Should I be a mother? A girlfriend? The Slayer? I was so confused, I kept stumbling alone. Couldn't talk about it with anyone, ‘cause I was so scared to hurt their feelings."

Her eyes were glistening at the edges and before he could say a word, she went on,
"You were my biggest obstacle, Spike. I couldn't figure you out. I was scared of how…" she trailed off, too ashamed to admit it.

"Of how independent I got?"

She glanced away, meeting his eyes for a moment before looking away once more.

"I'm sorry you don’t like the man I became."

"I didn't say that," she said defensively, still unable to look at him. "I'm just… I'm not used to you… like this." She scrunched her eyes shut, cursing inwardly, and then looked at him. "I wish I could say something better. I know how stupid and selfish I sound, but, for the first time in awhile, I'm glad to say how I really feel."

"Go on then."

She frowned. "What?"

"Go on. Speak. Let it out… tell me how you feel."

She stared at his face, speechless, before heaving a weary sigh. She turned her attention to the brick wall. How much she wanted to be one, how much it damaged her when she tried. She was as hard on the outside, but the inside would crumble a little with each passing day until there would be nothing left. She was aware of how much of herself she was sacrificing for… for all of this.

"How do you feel about leading so many Slayers?"

Her heart twisted, she squeezed her eyes shut. "I don't…"

"Tell me," he said, voice rough with emotion.

She opened her eyes, looking right at the brick wall, slightly creasing her eyebrows together and forming her lips in a thin line. "Burdened. Scared. Disconnected." Confessions went out with an effort; she felt exhaustion taking over as she pushed the words out. "It was all much easier when we were all back in Sunnydale. I wish we could go back to those days. I wish it was like old times."

"You used to feel the same way before," he said. "But you've always managed to get the job done."

"I know I can get the job done." Her arms wrapped themselves around her mechanically. "I'm just tired of being alone."

"You're not alone."

She let a bitter laugh; the brick wall disappearing through the fog of her tears. "I am. Always am. Leading those girls…"

"I know, Buffy." She returned her gaze to him at last, surprised to see pain and understanding in his features.

"It's just…" she swallowed thickly. "Nothing is the same. Every single one of them… different."

"You've changed the world and along with that everybody else had to. I did and so did your friends." He shook his head, a small but implacable refute. "Just stop living in Sunnydale."

"I'm not," her voice shook along with her body. Her feet rubbed against each other again. "You know, I kept comparing this to the past, how different everything is. I longed to get back to those days. Not anymore, though."

"Yeah?"

"It only took a trip home to realize I'm done with it. Time to move on." Her hands rubbed madly on her arms; if she didn't change clothes now, she'd freeze to death.

"Move on, eh?" The forced smile on his lips couldn't hide the melancholy clouding his face. It confused her as much as it annoyed her, what did Spike want? He'd obviously moved on. He obviously wanted nothing to do with her anymore. He was part of Angel's crew now, he made it very clear which team he was working for.

Suddenly, she stopped shivering as her body started vibrating with anger. She gave one lengthy gaze before she made her way back to Central Command.

"Buffy? Did I say something?"

She kept walking, but answered in a firm voice, "I already made up my mind, Spike. The ball is in your court now."

If he responded to that, she didn't hear him. She was halfway through the mass of squealing, gleeful Slayers heading towards Andrea, determined not to look back.

She took her from Willow's arms gently and smiled down at her blinking face. "I already made up my mind," she whispered and planted a tender kiss on Andrea's forehead.



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