A/N: This was originally written for the Free Verse Challenge on LJ (my prompts being the lines of poetry at the beginning of the fic). Season six, in my opinion, was way too angsty and things would have been so much better if Buffy had just told everyone she was in Heaven earlier on.

I’m also planning on using this as the beginning of a series of one-shots I’m working on, if anyone is interested in reading them. It’d most likely be detailing Buffy and Spike’s trip around the country, or something to that effect. Huh. Who knows.

Also, the title comes from the Tori Amos song "Wednesday".




Secrets We’ve Been Keeping




Every night lying came easier &

easier, until
dawn broke pale over us,

leaving pockmarks in the road.
We were always trying to save ourselves for something.

---

She wonders, sometimes, if they even care that she had died at all.

Oh, they’re happy she is back – there’s no doubt about that. But some part of her, deep inside, wonders if it is for their own selfish reasons. She wonders, too, what they would do if they knew they had torn her from Heaven. Somehow she thinks that they would deny it and that cuts into her more than she would like.

For the life of her, she can’t understand how her friends – the people she had loved so dearly, the people she had died for – had thought she was in hell. She wants to hate them for that, for thinking she was so bad that she had to be condemned to fiery pits of despair and torture. God, how she wants to hate them. She wants nothing more than to shake them as hard as she can and show them what they’ done.

You tore me from Heaven, she wants to scream, and you brought me to Hell.

Bright and loud and garish and painful is the world she is forced to live in. Full of fake smiles and forced cheeriness and lies to make them feel better. Hell is supposed to be the clichéd burning fire, cackling devils, and screaming sinners. It is not supposed to be the faces of her loved ones.

But it is. Oh, how it is.

---

She catches Willow watching her out of the corner of her eye one day. Buffy tenses, waiting for an intervention and when the inevitable question comes she smiles and nods her head firmly, her usual lie of reassurance spilling out.

“I’m fine, Willow. It’s just going to take some time.”

Willow pauses and studies her best friend, unsure. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“Huh?” Buffy pretends she doesn’t know what is being insinuated. She doesn’t want to dole out any more lies. She’s begun to spit out lies as easily as she kills off vampires and she knows that with each lie she is burying herself deeper into the hole she’s been digging.

“I rescued you from Hell,” Willow says, her tone proud. “I thought that would have made you happy, Buffy.”

A mixture of guilt and anger pools in Buffy’s stomach as she looks away from the redhead. The afternoon sun streams into the kitchen and Buffy squints against the harsh light, wishing she had some way to block it out. She stares at the sunlight and hopes that if she ignores Willow long enough her question will be forgotten.

She knows it won’t be, though, when she hears Willow clear her throat quietly.

“Sometimes,” Buffy begins, her eyes still trained on the sun. “It just takes time.”

Willow frowns and watches her, wondering just how much time Buffy means.

---

She’s sitting on the back steps of her house when she hears the door squeak open. She knows it’s him even before he sits down beside her. She’s been back only a couple of days, but she has already found a strange sense of comfort from him. She finds it ironic that he is the only beacon of light in her cold, dark world and that he, of all people, understands her plight.

She turns her head slightly and studies him, grateful that he is the one person who knows the truth about where she was. She’s never felt anything other than hatred towards Spike and this new feeling of gratitude surprises her. As they sit in a companionable silence she can’t help but wonder if her feelings towards him may be changing. She doesn’t really know, though, and she doesn’t honestly think she’s in the right frame of mind to start analyzing her relationship with him. She’s tired and weary and just wants to sit and savor the silence. She sighs and closes her eyes, breathing in the night air.

Buffy murmurs something unintelligible and even Spike’s vampire hearing can’t pick up her words. He looks over at her, his eyebrow raised. “What was that, pet?”

“I never said thank you,” Buffy says slowly, as if the simple process of forming words is difficult.

“What for?” he asks quietly. He knows what she means, but some part of him – some small, selfish part - wants to hear the words anyway. She never compliments him and he can’t help but like the warm glow that invades his body because of it.

“For staying,” she replies, looking away. “And for taking care of Dawn. You kept your promise and…and you stayed, even when I was…”

Her voice hitches at the end and she curses herself silently for being unable to talk of her recent death. Spike understands, however, and he has to fight the urge to take her into his arms and kiss away all her pain. It pains him to see his Slayer so broken and desolate and he wants nothing more than to try and make her whole again – to make her the happy, lively girl she once used to be.

He clears his throat and smiles gently at her. “I always keep my promises, pet.”

She nods slightly and lapses into a thoughtful silence. She stares off into the night sky as Spike studies her and is surprised by the sudden feeling of contentment that washes over her.

“Spike?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you promise me something?”

As she watches him tense, Buffy realizes that this is the second time she has entrusted Spike with something important to her. The first time it was Dawn’s life, this time it’s hers. She twists her hands nervously as she looks at him somberly, waiting for his answer.

“Anything, Buffy,” he breathes out, and she feels shivers run down her spine.

“Can you take me away?” she asks softly. She has the overwhelming urge to look away from his piercing gaze, but she swallows her fears and meets his eyes. “Someday, when things get too much…when I finally tell them, do you think you could take me somewhere? I don’t care where….anywhere but California , really. I just…”

She trails off with a sigh and breaks his gaze. She starts when she feels his cool hand lifting her chin so that she meets his eyes. He’s silent for a moment, his blue eyes searching her hazel ones intently, and she’s slightly startled by the intensity of his gaze. She opens her mouth to say something – to possibly take it back – when he speaks.

“If you want me to, I will. I’d do anything Buffy, anything .”

She smiles slightly – the first one she’s managed since she’s come back – and can’t help but think that things might just work in her favor.

---


Giles finally arrives in Sunnydale at dawn, tired and anxious. He arrives at Revello Drive and he stares at the house for a moment before knocking, his mind reeling. He still cannot comprehend that Buffy – his beloved, surrogate daughter – is alive. He doesn’t know whether to be overjoyed or furious with Willow for attempting such powerful magic.

But as he knocks and the door opens to reveal a very much alive Buffy, joy wins out and he gathers her into a tight, fierce hug.

“I missed you,” he hears her whisper and Giles steps back slightly to take her in, tears in his eyes.

“I missed you, too. Dear lord, Buffy, this…you are a miracle.” She blushes slightly at his words and steps back, letting him enter the house. A sleepy-eyed Dawn is sitting at the kitchen table, blinking owlishly at him, and he offers her a slight smile.

“I’m glad you came back,” she says and Giles feel a momentary guilt for ever leaving her in the first place. He hears Buffy come into the kitchen and he watches silently as she sits beside Dawn. He wants to break the awkward silence that has suddenly fallen between them, but for the life of him, he can’t figure out how to.

He settles on asking her how she is, inwardly wincing at how cliché it sounds. He knows she is not okay. Anyone could possibly see that Buffy is far from okay.

“I’m fine,” she lies and looks away from him. She hates having to lie, especially to Giles and Dawn. She knows that they can see right through her, just as Spike can. But, despite it, she still lies. She has spit so many of them out in the short time she has been back and somehow each one makes her feel slightly better.

Giles raises an eyebrow. “Are you really? Buffy, you don’t have to lie. I wouldn’t expect you to be fine after what you’ve been through.”

“I am. Fine, that is.” She wants to tell them where she was – that she was in Heaven – but she knows it’s not the right time. “Listen, I’m tired. Do you mind if I go to sleep? We can…um…talk tomorrow or something. It’s nice to see you again, though.”

She smiles almost nervously and slips out of the kitchen. When the sounds of her footsteps fade away, Dawn turns to Giles with a frown.

“She’s not okay, you know. She’s been detached since she’s been back.”

“I’d imagine she would be. I didn’t expect her to come back from the dead and instantly be fine. It might take her some time to adjust to life again.” He takes off his glasses and starts to polish them furiously and Dawn can’t help but smile at his actions. She sobers, though, when a thought flashes through her mind.

“Giles,” she begins hesitantly, wondering if she should bring up the question that has been in her mind for weeks. After a short internal battle, she forces herself to spit it out. “Do you think Buffy was really in Hell?”

Giles freezes. He thinks back to the nights after Buffy’s death where he had contemplated the same thing over bottles of whiskey and he feels a sudden chill rush down his spine. He knows, in his heart, that there is no possible way that the Powers That Be would ever allow their chosen warrior to suffer in the bowels of hell. However, even as he dismisses the thought, he knows that there are no set laws in the universe and that for all he knows, Buffy could have very well been trapped in Hell. But, as he looks over at Dawn’s innocent, pleading face, he suddenly knows that his Slayer could have never been in Hell, laws of the universe be damned.

Oh, Willow , he thinks bitterly, what have you done? You foolish, foolish girl, what the devil have you done?

He looks at Dawn, bitterness and anger etched into the lines on his face and shakes his head. “I don’t know, Dawn. I don’t believe she was, but we won’t know until she tells us.”

“If she ever decides to tell us,” Dawn whispers in a voice so quiet that Giles almost misses it.

He places a hand reassuringly on her shoulder and squeezes it softly. “Give her time, Dawn. We just need to be patient.”

Even as Giles says it, he wonders how much longer the truth can wait before it ends up killing them all.

---

She hates the noise. God, how she hates the noise.

Loud, sharp sounds that invade her head and cause her to flinch. She hears the voices invading her head and she wants to scream and scream and make it all go away. She wants to crawl back upstairs to curl up in a ball and savor the silence.

She can’t stand the sound of their voices. Willow ’s pleased laugh, Anya’s blunt statements, Xander’s loud jokes – they’re so loud, so painful. So full of emotions that she can’t process – worry and excitement and happiness. Emotions for her. Emotions she doesn’t want.

She feels so lost in the sounds, overwhelmed and anxious to escape. She almost begins to look for a way to escape when she feels a hand touch her arm hesitantly.

Tara is looking at her with concern, biting her lip nervously. Buffy sighs and gives her a shaky smile, answering the unasked question with her usual lie.

“I’m fine, Tara . Really.”

“Of course she’s fine,” Xander interrupts from across the room. “She’s the Buffster! She always pulls through.”

He nods as if his statement confirms that Buffy’s going to be fine. She knows that he means well – that they all do – but she still can’t help but hate them for all they’ve done. She hates the cheerful lies they keep feeding themselves, trying desperately to convince each other that everything will be fine. She knows it won’t be fine and that it will be a long time before their lives even begin to resemble what they used to.

She tries to drown out the sounds around her and looks at the people gathered in her living room. She feels so detached from them and it isn’t until she feels the familiar tingle on the back of her neck that she’s startled back into reality.

Spike.

She turns to see him lounging in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets, his scarred eyebrow raised. Dawn has gotten up and is flitting around him like a hyperactive moth, trying to pull him into the living room with the others.

“Spike, what are you doing here? I don’t think you were invited.” Xander’s voice is laced with obvious annoyance as he glares at the vampire.

Spike shrugs. “Nibblet asked me to come.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think Buffy wants you here. He shakes his head stubbornly and Buffy wonders where he got the audacity to speak for her.

“No, it’s okay,” Buffy says softly, not sure that she can handle the impending argument that’s hanging in the air. “Spike can stay. I don’t mind.”

She is rewarded with a surprised, shy smile from Spike who moves further into the room. Dawn gives her a bright smile, apparently pleased, and she can feel Giles studying her from across the room.

“Buffy, are you sure?” Willow asks, eyeing Spike as if he might start attacking them any moment.

“Yes.” Her answer is firm and she tenses slightly.

“I don’t think having the evil undead around is a good thing, Buffy. Doesn’t he remind you of where you were? Of Hell?” Xander asks, his voice hard as he gives Spike a pointed glance.

If it’s possible to tense more than she already has, Buffy does it. She feels as if her bones are going to snap from the pressure and she wants to bolt out of the room to avoid the confrontation that she now knows is inevitable. She doesn’t know what to say – her mouth has gone dry – and she has never felt a stronger longing for Heaven than she does at that moment. She sees them staring, waiting for her answer and looks away, unable to answer.

Oh God, oh god, oh god, oh god. Her mind keeps repeating the mantra, trying to regain some semblance of coherency. Not Hell. God, not Hell. I was in Heaven, Xander. He reminds me of Heaven. Of peace and quiet and everything calm and caring. Of Heaven. Not Hell.

Even as her mind thinks it, she can hear Xander shouting triumphantly.

“See? She hasn’t denied it! I knew he reminded her of Hell!” He smirks at Spike who is visibly shaking with restrained fury. “I think you’d better go, Fang face.”

“Xander!” Giles cuts in sharply. “This is uncalled for.”

Willow waves her hand, dismissing Giles’ words. “But if he brings back memories of Hell and torture and everything, isn’t it better if he goes?”

Giles sighs and takes off his glasses. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he replies wearily. “Willow , Buffy never actually stated that he reminded her of Hell. And as far as I am concerned, this is Buffy’s house and as much as I may disagree with him being her, it is her choice.” He sighs again and looks around the room. “There is really no use arguing over this anymore, might I add. We have more important things to discuss.”

“Oh, I think the issue of deadboy is important enough,” Xander cuts in, his anger rising. “He’s just going to start up is obsession with Buffy again. It’s the last thing she needs.”

“And who are you to decide what she needs?” Dawn demands, her voice shrill. “Why do you get to make all the decisions suddenly? You didn’t even tell me you were bringing her back! And I’m her sister!”

Dawn struggles to hold back tears and Xander’s anger fades slightly. “Dawnie, we did what we thought was best. Please don’t be mad. Look how it turned out! We rescued Buffy from Hell and there’s no harm done. Everything’s fine!”

A fierce growl escapes Spike’s throat Xander’s words and everyone turns to stare at him. “You’re bloody fools. The lot of you. You have no idea what you’ve really done.” He gestures around the room, his face stony and for a moment Buffy thinks that he’s going to reveal her secret. But he doesn’t. Instead he turns to Willow and Xander, his eyes blazing. “You did your magic and you’re bloody proud of what you’ve done, aren’t you? But there are consequences. That’s the problem with magic, there are always fuckin’ consequences.”

He stalks out of the room in an angry swirl of black leather and Buffy has a fierce urge to run after him. She stares after him and she can hear the arguing start up again. In a daze she turns to look at her friends and she has a moment a surprising clarity as she realizes that the longer she keeps up her lies and happy pretenses, the worse everything’s going to become.

She shakes her head as she comes back to focus on the conversation flitting around her. She hears Dawn defending Spike and she wants to chime in, but she doesn’t know how to. She feels like she doesn’t even know how to talk to her friends anymore – she can only sit and watch as they argue about her as if she wasn’t even in the room. And she doesn’t want to be. She wants to be miles and miles away where there’s nothing but peace and quiet and nothing that reminds her of this life.

She looks around the room and she realizes, with a painful ache, that she can’t stand to be around her friends. They’re suffocating her and for a moment she feels like she can’t breathe. As if through a haze she hears Xander trying to comfort Dawn.

“She was in Hell, Dawnie, and he probably reminds her of the demons and the pain and…” Xander keeps rambling and at that moment Buffy feels something inside her break.

“There was no pain,” she whispers so softly that she thinks they might not have heard. But they have.

A deathly silence has stolen over the room as everyone stares at Buffy. She swallows and looks up at the faces of her loved ones. She closes her eyes and speaks again:

“There was no pain. Wherever I was, there was no pain.”

Willow opens her mouth, her eyes wide in shock. “But Buffy, you were in Hell! How can there not have been pain? Was there no physical pain? Was it psychological?”

“No. There was just…no pain.” Buffy stares straight ahead, her hazel eyes unfocussed. “I knew you were trying to bring me back. I saw you talking about it. I saw and I tried to tell you to stop. I tried but you didn’t listen. You didn’t hear me. You brought me back anyway.”

She hears Giles’ sharp intake of breath and she knows that he has figured out the meaning of her words.

“Dear Lord, Buffy. Are you saying that you…?” he trails off, looking at her intently. Buffy just stares at him, trying to hold back the tears that want to form in her eyes. He closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face tiredly. “Oh, Buffy, if I had known…”

He trails off and buries his face in his hands. Xander’s eyes flit between her and Giles, narrowing in confusion.

“What’s going on?” he demands, looking between the weary forms of Buffy and Giles. “Where were you? And what do you mean you tried to tell us to stop?”

“I was happy,” she says slowly. It hurts her to talk of Heaven; it makes her heart twist and tighten and ache as if it has been pierced with thousands of shards of glass. “I was happy there. It was warm and calm and I could finally rest. I wanted to rest, but you…you wouldn’t let me.”

She sees Tara ’s eyes widen and watches as the girl’s hands begin to shake slightly. “Oh, Buffy. I’m so sorry,” she whispers, her voice breaking as she covers her mouth in shock.

Willow turns to look at her girlfriend, her brow furrowed in confusion. “Buffy, I don’t understand.”

Buffy sighs tiredly. “Heaven,” she says softly. “I think I was in Heaven.”

---

Half a pack of cigarettes litters the ground behind her house and Buffy almost wants to smile as she watches Spike pacing back and forth, smoking furiously. He stops abruptly as she comes into view and he stares at her intently, his blue eyes boring into her hazel ones.

“Told them, did you?”

She nods and moves to sit on the steps. She looks at him, asking him without words to sit beside her and somehow he knows what she wants. He hesitates for a moment before he flicks his cigarette on the ground and slinks over to sit next to her, his thigh brushing against hers.

“How’d they take it?”

She shakes her head. “Not very well.”

Not very well is an understatement, in her opinion. She doesn’t want to think of their reactions. Dawn had burst into tears and run from the room, Anya had been shocked into silence, Tara had looked on the verge of a breakdown, and Xander had begun to furiously deny her words. Willow had started rambling about how the spell couldn’t have gone wrong until Giles had silenced her with a sharp, bitter remark.

She sighs, hating the feeling of desperation that has come over her.

“Alright, pet?” Spike studies her carefully. He reaches out with the intent to brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear and feels his undead heart constrict as she sighs again, slow and weary.

“I’m tired, Spike. I’ve been back hardly a week and I’m so, so tired.” She wants everything to go away. She never asked to be sent back. She has given her life twice to save the world and the world has given her nothing in return. It knows nothing of her sacrifices and she’s so very tired of it.

She closes her eyes, trying to block out everything around her, and starts to speak.

“I used to love my life. But since I’ve been back, I can’t stand to live here anymore. Everywhere I go I have memories. Memories of what it was like before I died, before I knew Heaven. And now when I see those places they’re not the same. They’re different somehow. They hurt and they burn and when I look at them I see a past life. I see what used to be, not what is.”

She opens her eyes and looks at him almost desperately. She’s not one for deep, meaningful thoughts and she’s trying to be as coherent as possible. She only hopes that he can understand what she’s trying to say. “I don’t know how to live in this world, Spike. I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

Spike knows that if he had a heart, it would be broken into a thousand tiny pieces at the moment. He wants to storm back into the house and scream and Willow and Xander and Anya and Tara and show them what they’ve done. He wants them to know that they – her dear friends – have broken the Slayer. Instead, he strokes Buffy’s hair softly, trying to comfort her and is amazed when she doesn’t pull away from his touch.

He swallows the lump in his throat as he stares at her. He knows, in that moment, that he will do everything in his power to bring her back to life. He takes a deep breath and carefully considers what he’s about to say.

“Buffy? Remember what you asked me the other night?” He watches her nod, a small frown appearing slightly. “My offer still stands. Anything you want, anywhere you want. Say the word and we’ll go.”

Buffy’s silent for a long time and Spike begins to worry that she has ignored what she’s said. He wants to ask her again, but she starts to speak softly.

“I’ve never been out of California , you know.”

All of Spike’s fears vanish and he can’t stop the wide grin that spreads over his face. “I’ll show you the country, kitten. The world even. I’ll settle everything and then we’ll go so far away that no one will ever find us. Everything will be okay.”

Buffy looks at him and she can feel a weight being lifted off her shoulders. She knows that she has to take care of things before they leave – that she has to get Dawn settled and talk to Giles – but she doesn’t care. She knows that she’ll leave even if they try and stop her. She won’t be pulled back again. She can’t be pulled back again. She thinks it might kill her if she is.

Spike is rambling on about cities they are going to visit and places he wants to show her and Buffy smiles inwardly. He stops talking for a moment and looks softly at her. “Everything is going to be okay, luv.” He gives her a soft, shy smile as he speaks and Buffy graces him with one of her own.

She reaches over and takes his hand, squeezing it gently. “Yes. I think it is.”

And she does. For the first time in what feels like forever, she thinks that things really are going to be okay.