Chapter 10

’she call me just to talk
she's my lover, she's a friend of mine
she says hey mister you wanna take a walk
in the wild west end sometime’
- “expresso love” by dire straits

Spike sat on his bed, his back against the far corner of the room. He leaned his head against the wall, his eyes closed. If his foot hadn’t been throbbing with searing pain, he would have thought himself to be dead. He might as well be.

During the last couple of years, he had spent hours, sometimes days like this. Just sitting there in the dark, trying not to think of anything in particular. Maybe the pain would go away eventually.

But it didn’t. Of course, it didn’t.

It even seemed as if the pain only got worse the more time passed, growing like a cancerous tumor inside him. Apparently, trying to get rid of one kind of pain only meant you got to delve into a whole new world of hurt.

He had tried to hurt Buffy so he’d gotten himself a soul. The soul had hurt so much that he’d tried to cut it out. After that, things had been good for a while. Then he’d died and returned, thinking about nothing other than Buffy. And when he’d tried to get rid of that pain as well… the easiest way out wasn’t always the best.

And still, even if this meant that he would feel the constant reminders of his actions day in and day out, he would do the same thing again. Without hesitation. He wouldn’t need a second to think, he wouldn’t even blink. For her, he’d do anything.


*

There was a hesitant knock on the door, and slowly, Spike opened his eyes.

“Yeah?” he growled.

The same girl who’d been to his room the other day poked her head in, a pink blush plastered on her face. “Excuse me, sir. Miss Summers would like to speak to you in her apartment.”

“Told you to the cut the ‘sir’, girl.” He knew that the young Slayer didn’t deserve his anger. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. “Buffy got an apartment?”

“Yes, she has the moved into the old principal’s office. It’s on the top floor. Would you like me to take you there?”

“No need to. Let her know I’ll be there in a minute.”

“As you wish, sir.” The girl had almost ducked halfway out the door when he called after her.

“Did she say what she wanted?”

This time, the girl fully opened the door, stepping halfway in. “No, she didn’t. But she seemed very upset.” She smiled almost apologetically. When he didn’t reply, she turned on her heel and left the room.

It took Spike almost five minutes to slip a new shirt over his head, his shoulder screaming in pain. Putting on his boot again was even worse.

Just as he walked – or limped for that matter – out of his room, he bumped into Andrew. The young man smiled sheepishly.

“Hey Spike. How’s the foot?”

The vampire blinked. “Is there anything that remains private around here?”

“Kinda not. It’s a house full of girls after all.” Andrew shrugged as though that explained it all.

“What else is running the rumor mill?” Spike nodded down the corridor, nudging the other man down the hall.

Andrew hesitated for a moment. “That you and Buffy had a… falling-out. That you’re acting weird. That sort of thing. But we don’t know any specifics.”

“That’s something then.” They stopped in front of the staircase. “You don’t happen to have an elevator, do you?”

“Nope, sorry.”

Spike shrugged. “Figures.” He started half-hopping, half-limping up the stairs.

“Spike?” Andrew called after him, and the vampire turned. “If you want to talk…”

A wry smirk tugged at Spike’s lips. “Thanks, kid. You got to wait until hell freezes over before I share my heart with you.”

“Actually,” Andrew shifted from one leg to the other. “That kind of happened last year. Well, it didn’t actually freeze but Willow cast a spell and it got pretty cold around there.”

Spike looked at him for a long, incredulous moment. And then he blinked. “No.” With that, he turned and continued up the stairs.


*

He found Buffy’s apartment without problems. It was the only apartment on that floor, and he could smell her almost immediately.

In front of her door, he stopped. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to happy that she wanted to see him. On the one hand, it might be a chance to – not make things right – but at least to make them better. On the other hand, she might tell him to get lost.

Hesitantly, he raised a hand and knocked.

“Come in,” Buffy called from the inside.

Slowly, he pushed the door open and entered the apartment. Buffy stood opposite the door, looking out the window into the night.

“You wanted to see me?” Spike leaned against the door, taking his weight off his foot.

“No,” Buffy replied coolly “But I need to show you something.” She turned to him, her eyes circled by a touch of red. “You want a beer?”

He looked at her for a moment, then shrugged his unwounded shoulder. “Sure.”

“Sit. Anna told you to go easy on the foot.” The Slayer disappeared into the kitchen while Spike limped over to the couch. She came back a moment later with two uncapped bottles of cool beer, condensation forming on the glass.

“You wanted to show me something?” He nodded his thanks while slight confusion marred his brows.

“Yeah,” Buffy set the bottles on the coffee table, turning to her TV set. “A couple of years ago, Andrew gave me this for my birthday. I don’t know how he made sure it survived the apocalypse but he said something about a server and a download or something.” She picked up an almost trashy adorned DVD case, all in pink with loads of glitter.

“Online storage. Got to give the kid some credit. He’s smarter than he looks.” Spike took a sip from his beer, thankful for at least some alcohol.

“Wait until you see this,” she replied dryly, her tone carrying both amusement and that underlying anger.

She popped the DVD into the player, switching on the TV. Then she sat down next to him, her hands fidgeting with the remote. And then she pressed play.


*

The music played before the pictures rolled, a song Spike remembered all too well. A song that had almost become his and Buffy’s wedding song.

“That little ponce,” he muttered under his breath, his hand darting up to his mouth, his fingers touching his lips.

The pictures that followed startled him more than anything. Some of them were shaky and little out of focus but all of them had the same theme. Him and Buffy.

Here she stood in the living room of the house, giving one of her infamous speeches. He stood behind her, leaning against the wall as her silent guard, looking at her from under hooded eyes.

In the next scene, Buffy sat at the kitchen counter, cleaning a slime-coated crossbow. Spike came up from the basement, a bright red mug in his hand. A few words were exchanged, dubbed with Bette Midler’s song. The vampire took a blood-bag from the fridge, emptied it into the mug, then put it into the microwave. Buffy’s face twisted in disgust, Spike said something, then she laughed, at total ease with the situation.

Up next came a scene Spike had replayed in his mind during lonely days and empty nights. The night after the dating fiasco when they had sat in the living-room and Buffy had told him to stay.

Others followed, most of them quite similar. Spike hadn’t even known that they had been filmed. All these moments had been quiet moments, moments of silence and almost peace. Just the two of them, caught in seconds of… yeah, of intimacy, even innocence.

Spike heard Buffy swallow beside him, not daring to look at her. He knew that she wouldn’t want him to see her crying.

An uneasy silence fell into the room when the video ended. If Spike’s heart had been beating, it would have skipped a couple of beats by now. He had never shy for words but right now, they failed him altogether.

When Buffy finally spoke, her voice was very quiet without a sign of tears.

“That’s the way you looked at me,” she said simply and it took him a moment to understand what she meant. “That’s the way you looked at me that night at my house, before I jumped off the tower. And when you first saw me after I got back. And when we… whenever we… I never wanted to see it back then. It’s the way you looked at me after you returned with your soul. Most of the time you thought I didn’t notice. But I did.” Her voice became even quieter, even a little shaky. “I needed it.”

She paused, recollecting her thoughts. For a second, Spike tried to say something but he knew that everything he’d try to say would come out wrong.

“You always had my back, always. If I wanted it or not, you were always there. I gave you every reason to leave but you didn’t. You’re the only part of my crazy world that I could always count on. Because at the end of the day I knew that you would look at me like that.” She swallowed hard as new tears started to rise inside her. “I can’t go through this without you. I need you to look at me like that again. I need it, Spike.”

Spike closed his eyes at the searing pain that coursed through him. He knew that she was right and he hated it. He wanted to tell her that he loved her but he knew that his words would carry no meaning, not to her, not even to himself. There was nothing he could possibly say but, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Buffy had swallowed some of her tears but her voice was still shaking a little. “You would do it again anytime anyway.”

He nodded weakly. “Yeah.”

“I wish I could hate you. But I can’t.” The Slayer let out a dry, little chuckle. “I just wish you wouldn’t have played the hero for once.”

“And I wish you wouldn’t forgive me.” He took another sip from his beer, its contents growing warmer even in his cold hands.

Again, she chuckled, this time even more dryly. “Yeah well, I guess that’s just what we do.” She picked up her bottle and took a swig. For a long while, they both remained silent. “So tell me, why the new haircut?”

Spike blinked in confusion. “What? That’s it? You show me the world’s most gruesome home video and things just go back to normal?” Not that he wasn’t happy with the turn of events but still…

Buffy looked at him as if he’d just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “Normal? There is no normal for us, don’t you know? There never has been and there never will. I’m not delusional. I’m just… I’m trying, okay? I thought you were dead for a decade, and now you’re back telling me that you can’t love me anymore. So I’m trying.”

Again, silence.

With an exhausted sigh, Spike leaned back against the cushion, balancing the bottle on his belt buckle. “Billy Idol did a Christmas album a while back. Sucked pretty badly. People started to give me strange looks because of the hair so I shaved it off. ‘Sides, thirty years with the same look… gets kinda old.”


***