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Painful Discoveries
Painful Discoveries
Well, I'm back... Just couldn't wait any longer to start posting this. Bear in mind that I have not seen AtS Season 5, so references to it are used very loosely. Anyway, I hope you enjoy...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sometimes she really couldn’t stand this guy. Claudio. Known to most as The Immortal. She sometimes wondered if maybe he was called so because he outlived everyone he knew by boring them to death. He certainly liked the sound of his own voice. And he liked to tell her of the many wild adventures he’d had and the interesting people he’d met - and with over several hundred years of adventures to tell, he wasn’t running out anytime soon. And when he wasn’t talking, he was preening in a very Italian-like way. Sure, he was handsome but just not her type, even if he was a vampire.
A very Slayer-like urge in her was prompting her to wring his neck, but she kept her hands in tight fists under the table, plastering on the fake smile that had held his attention for the last few weeks. He had been more than pleased to meet The Slayer, the first, original One Girl In All The World. Another story to add to his repertoire, no doubt. And as long as she nodded along to his stories and pretended to show an interest, he lost none in her.
Which worked just fine for her. She had a job to do and with every word, he made it easier and easier for her to detach herself emotionally from the task at hand. Not that she had really been attaching emotions of late. Not since Sunnydale… Not since Spike… No, she couldn’t think about him. Not now, or she would never be able to sit through another moment of Claudio’s stories. He was gone. He had died so she could live. And now look what she got to do with her life.
She was certain she wasn’t the only one capable of doing the job - even if the original Slayer appeal had helped to lure Claudio. There were plenty of new Slayers out there who she was sure would have liked to be wined and dined for the job. At the same time, she knew she had been singled out for one very good reason: no-one wanted to watch her grieve and so, by throwing her back out into the field, they wouldn’t have to see it.
It didn’t stop because of their actions, of course – and it only made her charade even harder – but the theory back at Watcher HQ was out of sight, out of mind. They hadn’t said that, of course: Giles was far too British to be as forthcoming as that. They had given her some spiel about her being the only one experienced enough and how she would enjoy Italy. She didn’t buy it but had agreed, knowing there was no choice but to.
And, despite Claudio’s grating presence, she had fallen in love with Italy. So much so that her descriptions had brought Dawn to the country as well. It was a beautiful country, warm and friendly, and in some ways it helped to assuage just a small amount of the pain in her heart. And even though she was working, she felt freer than ever before. She no longer had the weight of the world on her shoulders and didn’t have to be worrying about demons every minute of the day.
Even here in Rome, there were two other slayers so that she could ‘focus on the task at hand’, in Giles’ words. She wasn’t exactly going to complain about having some of the work taken off her hands, although she still patrolled now and again, when the urge to fight something took her, or when Claudio had been particularly irritating.
She never made a habit of listening to what Claudio was talking about, only tuning in now and then to make sure she wasn’t missing anything important – and tonight was no exception. He sat opposite her, eating his spaghetti in that classy way all Italians seemed to have been born with, his latest story only interrupted for short moments as he ate.
She sat there, smiling and nodding, listlessly eating the food she had ordered but had no real appetite for. This was the second night this week she had had to put up with Claudio and she wasn’t sure it was good for her.
At least the other night, they had been in a club and so he hadn’t really been able to talk and she could just lose herself in the music and ignore him anyway. As she danced, she closed her eyes, imagining herself back at the Bronze again. And the illusion was helped by that slight tingle at the back of her neck that had alerted her to the presence of one - maybe two - vampires close by. She had shrugged, knowing one of the other slayers would deal with the problem, and had gone back to her dancing, nodding absentmindedly as Claudio attempted to talk to her over the thumping music.
Today, there was no blocking out what he was saying: the music in the restaurant was far too low to cover his voice. God, even his voice and the Italian accent that had set her fluttering during the first few days of her stay in Rome was starting to grate on her nerves. But her job was far from over – she still needed to gain his complete trust. Which wasn’t exactly easy, thanks to the paranoia that had become natural for someone with the number of enemies he had. He was talking about two enemies he had encountered recently now, but she was barely listening, as usual.
She smirked to herself and quickly hid her smile in a piece of garlic bread. Like many Italians, Claudio was very quick-tempered and would be sure to get angry if he thought she was laughing at him – something she had learnt very early on. Chewing idly on the garlic bread, a name suddenly had her ears pricked up.
“And this Angelus… pah. He is even worse now than he was without his soul. I just can not do business with the man.”
She sat up, suddenly listening more intently – not that he noticed her change in demeanour, too caught up in his own little monologue.
“Both of them. They drive me crazy,” he exclaimed, gesturing with his hands, “They come to my city and then try to beat me at my own game.”
He gave a little self-satisfied laugh.
“You were involved with Angelus, no?” he asked, turning to her with fleeting interest.
“Err… yeah,” she answered, not that her answer really bothered him. He nodded, took a thoughtful bite out of spaghetti, and then continued.
“William the Bloody has changed though.”
Her whole body froze up and her heart missed a beat as she heard that name.
“And those clothes… pah.” He gave a thoroughly Italian grimace. “The punk look was never one I admired. But now, in the twenty-first century…”
He shuddered at the thought but she could process nothing. No, no it couldn’t be him. He was dead. For once, Claudio must have noticed her lack of fake attention and he turned to her with a frown.
“Buffy, cara?”
“William the Bloody?” she repeated, trying to keep her voice from shaking even as she clenched the chair tightly.
“Yes.”
He gave her a strange look then, a knowing look that belied his age.
“Ah, you were involved with this vampire too,” he stated.
She nodded numbly and then shook her head, raising her eyes to his.
“When did you say you saw them?” she asked. Maybe she had missed the time of this story and he was talking about some encounter that had happened years ago.
“This week. They were both in Rome, trying to steal from me.”
He gave another self-satisfied smile.
“I guess it is only fair after I stole their women…”
She was still stunned and her next words tumbled out helplessly.
“Are… are you sure it was William the Bloody?”
“Yes,” he answered, a tone in his voice that showed how little he liked being doubted, “It was him. Spike, as he calls himself.”
She shook her head numbly.
“No. It- It can’t be. He’s dead.”
“You saw him die?”
“No… But he… There’s no way he could…”
She trailed off and suddenly pushed her chair back from the table.
“I’m sorry, Claudio. I have to go.”
Before he could answer, she grabbed her purse and raced out of the restaurant, receiving a few strange looks. As soon as she was out in the street, she sank against the nearest wall, her hands shaking helplessly.
“It can’t be true,” she whispered to herself, “It can’t.”
She felt like she was choking for breath and she pushed herself away from the wall, tripping along the cobbles in her high heels, one hand held to her chest.
Somehow, she made it home and stumbled through the door, shutting it blindly behind her. She went through to her bedroom and threw her bag down on the floor as she kicked off her shoes. She then sank to the bed, curling up in a ball, her hands fisted in the covers. It couldn’t be true. She knew it couldn’t be – there was no way he could have survived Sunnydale. She had been lucky to get out alive. And he had already been burning up from the inside when she had left him, her hand scorched from his touch.
“I love you.”
“No, you don’t, but thanks for saying it.”
With the memory, tears she had managed to hold in for the last few weeks came pouring out, her chest heaving with painful sobs as she buried her face in the covers. Every time, the pain of his loss seemed to hit her like new, crippling her and making it hard for her to breathe. She tugged one of her pillows down to her and buried her face in it, the tears dripping down onto it and no doubt staining it with mascara. She was beyond caring though and all she could do was sob with a helplessness she hadn’t felt for a least a month now. Hugging the pillow to her, she cried herself to sleep in the darkness of her room.
Well, I'm back... Just couldn't wait any longer to start posting this. Bear in mind that I have not seen AtS Season 5, so references to it are used very loosely. Anyway, I hope you enjoy...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sometimes she really couldn’t stand this guy. Claudio. Known to most as The Immortal. She sometimes wondered if maybe he was called so because he outlived everyone he knew by boring them to death. He certainly liked the sound of his own voice. And he liked to tell her of the many wild adventures he’d had and the interesting people he’d met - and with over several hundred years of adventures to tell, he wasn’t running out anytime soon. And when he wasn’t talking, he was preening in a very Italian-like way. Sure, he was handsome but just not her type, even if he was a vampire.
A very Slayer-like urge in her was prompting her to wring his neck, but she kept her hands in tight fists under the table, plastering on the fake smile that had held his attention for the last few weeks. He had been more than pleased to meet The Slayer, the first, original One Girl In All The World. Another story to add to his repertoire, no doubt. And as long as she nodded along to his stories and pretended to show an interest, he lost none in her.
Which worked just fine for her. She had a job to do and with every word, he made it easier and easier for her to detach herself emotionally from the task at hand. Not that she had really been attaching emotions of late. Not since Sunnydale… Not since Spike… No, she couldn’t think about him. Not now, or she would never be able to sit through another moment of Claudio’s stories. He was gone. He had died so she could live. And now look what she got to do with her life.
She was certain she wasn’t the only one capable of doing the job - even if the original Slayer appeal had helped to lure Claudio. There were plenty of new Slayers out there who she was sure would have liked to be wined and dined for the job. At the same time, she knew she had been singled out for one very good reason: no-one wanted to watch her grieve and so, by throwing her back out into the field, they wouldn’t have to see it.
It didn’t stop because of their actions, of course – and it only made her charade even harder – but the theory back at Watcher HQ was out of sight, out of mind. They hadn’t said that, of course: Giles was far too British to be as forthcoming as that. They had given her some spiel about her being the only one experienced enough and how she would enjoy Italy. She didn’t buy it but had agreed, knowing there was no choice but to.
And, despite Claudio’s grating presence, she had fallen in love with Italy. So much so that her descriptions had brought Dawn to the country as well. It was a beautiful country, warm and friendly, and in some ways it helped to assuage just a small amount of the pain in her heart. And even though she was working, she felt freer than ever before. She no longer had the weight of the world on her shoulders and didn’t have to be worrying about demons every minute of the day.
Even here in Rome, there were two other slayers so that she could ‘focus on the task at hand’, in Giles’ words. She wasn’t exactly going to complain about having some of the work taken off her hands, although she still patrolled now and again, when the urge to fight something took her, or when Claudio had been particularly irritating.
She never made a habit of listening to what Claudio was talking about, only tuning in now and then to make sure she wasn’t missing anything important – and tonight was no exception. He sat opposite her, eating his spaghetti in that classy way all Italians seemed to have been born with, his latest story only interrupted for short moments as he ate.
She sat there, smiling and nodding, listlessly eating the food she had ordered but had no real appetite for. This was the second night this week she had had to put up with Claudio and she wasn’t sure it was good for her.
At least the other night, they had been in a club and so he hadn’t really been able to talk and she could just lose herself in the music and ignore him anyway. As she danced, she closed her eyes, imagining herself back at the Bronze again. And the illusion was helped by that slight tingle at the back of her neck that had alerted her to the presence of one - maybe two - vampires close by. She had shrugged, knowing one of the other slayers would deal with the problem, and had gone back to her dancing, nodding absentmindedly as Claudio attempted to talk to her over the thumping music.
Today, there was no blocking out what he was saying: the music in the restaurant was far too low to cover his voice. God, even his voice and the Italian accent that had set her fluttering during the first few days of her stay in Rome was starting to grate on her nerves. But her job was far from over – she still needed to gain his complete trust. Which wasn’t exactly easy, thanks to the paranoia that had become natural for someone with the number of enemies he had. He was talking about two enemies he had encountered recently now, but she was barely listening, as usual.
She smirked to herself and quickly hid her smile in a piece of garlic bread. Like many Italians, Claudio was very quick-tempered and would be sure to get angry if he thought she was laughing at him – something she had learnt very early on. Chewing idly on the garlic bread, a name suddenly had her ears pricked up.
“And this Angelus… pah. He is even worse now than he was without his soul. I just can not do business with the man.”
She sat up, suddenly listening more intently – not that he noticed her change in demeanour, too caught up in his own little monologue.
“Both of them. They drive me crazy,” he exclaimed, gesturing with his hands, “They come to my city and then try to beat me at my own game.”
He gave a little self-satisfied laugh.
“You were involved with Angelus, no?” he asked, turning to her with fleeting interest.
“Err… yeah,” she answered, not that her answer really bothered him. He nodded, took a thoughtful bite out of spaghetti, and then continued.
“William the Bloody has changed though.”
Her whole body froze up and her heart missed a beat as she heard that name.
“And those clothes… pah.” He gave a thoroughly Italian grimace. “The punk look was never one I admired. But now, in the twenty-first century…”
He shuddered at the thought but she could process nothing. No, no it couldn’t be him. He was dead. For once, Claudio must have noticed her lack of fake attention and he turned to her with a frown.
“Buffy, cara?”
“William the Bloody?” she repeated, trying to keep her voice from shaking even as she clenched the chair tightly.
“Yes.”
He gave her a strange look then, a knowing look that belied his age.
“Ah, you were involved with this vampire too,” he stated.
She nodded numbly and then shook her head, raising her eyes to his.
“When did you say you saw them?” she asked. Maybe she had missed the time of this story and he was talking about some encounter that had happened years ago.
“This week. They were both in Rome, trying to steal from me.”
He gave another self-satisfied smile.
“I guess it is only fair after I stole their women…”
She was still stunned and her next words tumbled out helplessly.
“Are… are you sure it was William the Bloody?”
“Yes,” he answered, a tone in his voice that showed how little he liked being doubted, “It was him. Spike, as he calls himself.”
She shook her head numbly.
“No. It- It can’t be. He’s dead.”
“You saw him die?”
“No… But he… There’s no way he could…”
She trailed off and suddenly pushed her chair back from the table.
“I’m sorry, Claudio. I have to go.”
Before he could answer, she grabbed her purse and raced out of the restaurant, receiving a few strange looks. As soon as she was out in the street, she sank against the nearest wall, her hands shaking helplessly.
“It can’t be true,” she whispered to herself, “It can’t.”
She felt like she was choking for breath and she pushed herself away from the wall, tripping along the cobbles in her high heels, one hand held to her chest.
Somehow, she made it home and stumbled through the door, shutting it blindly behind her. She went through to her bedroom and threw her bag down on the floor as she kicked off her shoes. She then sank to the bed, curling up in a ball, her hands fisted in the covers. It couldn’t be true. She knew it couldn’t be – there was no way he could have survived Sunnydale. She had been lucky to get out alive. And he had already been burning up from the inside when she had left him, her hand scorched from his touch.
“I love you.”
“No, you don’t, but thanks for saying it.”
With the memory, tears she had managed to hold in for the last few weeks came pouring out, her chest heaving with painful sobs as she buried her face in the covers. Every time, the pain of his loss seemed to hit her like new, crippling her and making it hard for her to breathe. She tugged one of her pillows down to her and buried her face in it, the tears dripping down onto it and no doubt staining it with mascara. She was beyond caring though and all she could do was sob with a helplessness she hadn’t felt for a least a month now. Hugging the pillow to her, she cried herself to sleep in the darkness of her room.
Missing
Missing
A/N: Probably should have mentioned this at the beginning, but this story is going to alternate between Buffy's POV and Spike's POV (just in case it wasn't obvious). So Spike's up now...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I can’t believe she’s really moved on,” Spike repeated, not for the first time since their return from Rome.
“Her taste in men has really got bad. Point in case,” Angel commented with a smirk in his direction.
He frowned at his grandsire and sat back on the couch, arms crossed.
“Just didn’t think she’d move on so quickly.”
“You haven’t been together for two years, Spike. Get over it,” Angel said, sitting beside him and picking up the games controllers as he turned the television on.
“Yeah, we weren’t together together. But we had a connection.”
“And she’s supposed to hang around mourning that?” the other vampire asked, holding out the controller to him.
“Well…” he trailed off. Of course he couldn’t expect Buffy to sit around mourning him forever, but just some sign that she had been affected by his death would have been nice.
Seeing her dancing in the club had only showed him just how happy she was in her new life though. Even if it wasn’t quite as vampire-free as he might have liked for her.
“Well, at least she’s happy,” he got out, even if it pained him to do so.
“Yeah,” Angel answered absentmindedly, his attention on the television.
Rolling his eyes, he sat forward and forced his own attention to the game.
It was only when he was alone in his room that he could finally be alone with his thoughts. Thoughts, of course, of Buffy. He had thought he was doing just fine without her, fighting the good fight at Angel’s side – but one look at her in that club had him yearning for her in a way he hadn’t done since he’d become corporeal.
She had always called to him when she was dancing, right from that first moment he had laid eyes on her back in Sunnydale. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame when she was lit up so, her whole being focussed on the music, on the dance. They had been forced to leave though after their bag had been stolen and soon he had forgotten about her again, if only for a short moment.
Hearing the confirmation of her new relationship from Andrew had only made him force more painful thoughts of her from his mind. But now he was back in LA, all he could think about was her. What if he’d gone up to her? Would she have been happy to see him? Or would she – and this was definitely more likely – have punched him square in the nose, all righteous and angry and beautiful as anything?
Angel was right, they hadn’t been together at the end, but he liked to think those last few days of closeness had meant something to her too. They were friends if nothing more and he hoped she had at least mourned for him along with the other inevitable losses of that great battle. Especially after her last words to him. He sighed and flopped back on his bed, eyes swimming with images of Buffy. Groaning, he stripped off his clothes and slid under the covers, hiding his face in his pillow and willing sleep to come to him quickly.
“Spike, you’re alive!” she whispered in awe, one hand rising to touch his cheek, her skin so warm and soft against his.
“I am. I’m back, Buffy.”
“I missed you so much,” she got out tearfully, big hazel eyes looking up at him and sending a jolt right to his undead heart.
“I’m here now, love. Never gonna leave you again.”
“I know you won’t, Spike,” she murmured, but even as she spoke, she took a step backwards, “But you’re too late. I’m leaving you.”
Another form appeared beside her and wrapped a possessive arm around her waist. The Immortal.
“I’m sorry, Spike,” she said, giving The Immortal a smile and a look full of love, “I love him.”
He snapped awake with a groan and thumped his pillow. It had been bad enough when The Immortal had taken Drusilla… but Buffy? Buffy was too sweet, too pure for filth like him. And now he sounded like Tall, Dark and Forehead, thinking he knew what was best for Buffy. But she had never had the best luck in relationships and getting into one with a vampire even older than he and Angel put together, well it just didn’t seem like a good idea in his slightly biased opinion. Vampires hadn’t exactly done right by her in the past and the two who claimed to love her weren’t much better.
He frowned and sank back against his pillows, even though he wasn’t sure if he could sleep again. The dream of Buffy, however unpleasant it was towards the end, had still had the usual effect on him and made sleeping practically impossible now. How was it she still had this hold on him from thousands of miles away and despite the fact he hadn’t been near her, hadn’t talked to her in six months?
After deciding that any more sleep was out of the question, he dragged himself out of bed and after a quick shower, found himself in the lounge. Sitting in the dark, brooding. He really was getting as bad as Peaches. He switched the light on and decided to waste what little of the night hours there was left playing on the games console that had become his and Angel’s most prized possession. It probably wasn’t a good idea that they compete virtually – they were bad enough in real life – but at least it got his mind off things. Buffy-shaped things.
He looked up suddenly when he spotted a figure in the doorway.
“Peaches,” he remarked, “Not getting your beauty sleep?”
“I just got a call from the Rome office.”
His mind instantly screamed Buffy, danger and he pressed ‘pause’, turning to face his grandsire.
“What is it?”
Angel looked surprised and a little confused and it wasn’t exactly helping his state of mind.
“Peaches, tell me what they bloody said.”
“The Immortal’s dead.”
Not what he had been expecting.
“What?!”
“Someone killed The Immortal. Just last night. Rome wanted to know if we had anything to do with it.”
He didn’t care about Rome and he didn’t care that the bloody poofter was dead. Good riddance, if you asked him.
“And Buffy?”
Angel was silent for a long moment and then turned those dark, sorrowful eyes on him.
“She’s gone missing.”
A/N: Probably should have mentioned this at the beginning, but this story is going to alternate between Buffy's POV and Spike's POV (just in case it wasn't obvious). So Spike's up now...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I can’t believe she’s really moved on,” Spike repeated, not for the first time since their return from Rome.
“Her taste in men has really got bad. Point in case,” Angel commented with a smirk in his direction.
He frowned at his grandsire and sat back on the couch, arms crossed.
“Just didn’t think she’d move on so quickly.”
“You haven’t been together for two years, Spike. Get over it,” Angel said, sitting beside him and picking up the games controllers as he turned the television on.
“Yeah, we weren’t together together. But we had a connection.”
“And she’s supposed to hang around mourning that?” the other vampire asked, holding out the controller to him.
“Well…” he trailed off. Of course he couldn’t expect Buffy to sit around mourning him forever, but just some sign that she had been affected by his death would have been nice.
Seeing her dancing in the club had only showed him just how happy she was in her new life though. Even if it wasn’t quite as vampire-free as he might have liked for her.
“Well, at least she’s happy,” he got out, even if it pained him to do so.
“Yeah,” Angel answered absentmindedly, his attention on the television.
Rolling his eyes, he sat forward and forced his own attention to the game.
It was only when he was alone in his room that he could finally be alone with his thoughts. Thoughts, of course, of Buffy. He had thought he was doing just fine without her, fighting the good fight at Angel’s side – but one look at her in that club had him yearning for her in a way he hadn’t done since he’d become corporeal.
She had always called to him when she was dancing, right from that first moment he had laid eyes on her back in Sunnydale. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame when she was lit up so, her whole being focussed on the music, on the dance. They had been forced to leave though after their bag had been stolen and soon he had forgotten about her again, if only for a short moment.
Hearing the confirmation of her new relationship from Andrew had only made him force more painful thoughts of her from his mind. But now he was back in LA, all he could think about was her. What if he’d gone up to her? Would she have been happy to see him? Or would she – and this was definitely more likely – have punched him square in the nose, all righteous and angry and beautiful as anything?
Angel was right, they hadn’t been together at the end, but he liked to think those last few days of closeness had meant something to her too. They were friends if nothing more and he hoped she had at least mourned for him along with the other inevitable losses of that great battle. Especially after her last words to him. He sighed and flopped back on his bed, eyes swimming with images of Buffy. Groaning, he stripped off his clothes and slid under the covers, hiding his face in his pillow and willing sleep to come to him quickly.
“Spike, you’re alive!” she whispered in awe, one hand rising to touch his cheek, her skin so warm and soft against his.
“I am. I’m back, Buffy.”
“I missed you so much,” she got out tearfully, big hazel eyes looking up at him and sending a jolt right to his undead heart.
“I’m here now, love. Never gonna leave you again.”
“I know you won’t, Spike,” she murmured, but even as she spoke, she took a step backwards, “But you’re too late. I’m leaving you.”
Another form appeared beside her and wrapped a possessive arm around her waist. The Immortal.
“I’m sorry, Spike,” she said, giving The Immortal a smile and a look full of love, “I love him.”
He snapped awake with a groan and thumped his pillow. It had been bad enough when The Immortal had taken Drusilla… but Buffy? Buffy was too sweet, too pure for filth like him. And now he sounded like Tall, Dark and Forehead, thinking he knew what was best for Buffy. But she had never had the best luck in relationships and getting into one with a vampire even older than he and Angel put together, well it just didn’t seem like a good idea in his slightly biased opinion. Vampires hadn’t exactly done right by her in the past and the two who claimed to love her weren’t much better.
He frowned and sank back against his pillows, even though he wasn’t sure if he could sleep again. The dream of Buffy, however unpleasant it was towards the end, had still had the usual effect on him and made sleeping practically impossible now. How was it she still had this hold on him from thousands of miles away and despite the fact he hadn’t been near her, hadn’t talked to her in six months?
After deciding that any more sleep was out of the question, he dragged himself out of bed and after a quick shower, found himself in the lounge. Sitting in the dark, brooding. He really was getting as bad as Peaches. He switched the light on and decided to waste what little of the night hours there was left playing on the games console that had become his and Angel’s most prized possession. It probably wasn’t a good idea that they compete virtually – they were bad enough in real life – but at least it got his mind off things. Buffy-shaped things.
He looked up suddenly when he spotted a figure in the doorway.
“Peaches,” he remarked, “Not getting your beauty sleep?”
“I just got a call from the Rome office.”
His mind instantly screamed Buffy, danger and he pressed ‘pause’, turning to face his grandsire.
“What is it?”
Angel looked surprised and a little confused and it wasn’t exactly helping his state of mind.
“Peaches, tell me what they bloody said.”
“The Immortal’s dead.”
Not what he had been expecting.
“What?!”
“Someone killed The Immortal. Just last night. Rome wanted to know if we had anything to do with it.”
He didn’t care about Rome and he didn’t care that the bloody poofter was dead. Good riddance, if you asked him.
“And Buffy?”
Angel was silent for a long moment and then turned those dark, sorrowful eyes on him.
“She’s gone missing.”
Reality Hits
Reality Hits
Definitely some psychics around BSV of late...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She was only four hours into her fourteen hour flight from Rome to LA, and she was already getting edgy. She didn’t really know what she was doing. It felt like someone else had been controlling her body as she had arrived at the airport this morning and booked herself on the first available flight. Only Dawn knew that she was leaving the country at all - and didn’t know why. As far as anyone else knew, she was AWOL right now. But she just didn’t care.
She had to see and the only way to see was to go to LA. Maybe Claudio had been wrong or maybe she hadn’t been listening properly, but she needed to know, because the possibility that Spike could be alive and walking around and… She forced herself to stop going down that train of thought because if he wasn’t there and this had all been a mistake, an illusion… she didn’t know how she’d go back to Rome and carry on with her life.
She was just numbly counting down the hours until she could be in LA. Angel would know what was going on, whatever the matter. She sighed and rested her head against the seat back, hoping to get some rest during the flight, despite her racing thoughts. She was just going to visit LA, that was all. And maybe she’d drop in on the Slayer HQ at San Francisco, see how things were holding up. After all, Willow was there and she hadn’t seen her best friend in at least a month. So, she was really going to visit Willow. And if she did happen to find a vampire miraculously back from the dead – or back from the dust – then she would deal with that when she got to it.
When the plane finally touched down in LAX, she gave a sigh of relief, glad that it was over. She was the first off the plane and out of the airport, with no luggage to claim – everything she had was in a small carry-on. She got into a cab just outside the airport and soon enough, they were caught up in LA’s traffic. By now, her heart was hammering, her palms were sweating and she was fidgeting nervously, drumming her fingers against her knees. She just wanted to be there already. She had never been good at waiting but this was agony.
Just knowing that he might be there… And what if he was, she asked herself pointedly. What was she going to do? Just pretend that the last six months hadn’t happened? She didn’t even know what he had been through. Maybe he had been trapped in hell and had been brought back. Would he still know her? She didn’t even know how long he had been back. And just like that, a thought steeled into her mind that almost had her halting the cab. He hadn’t told her he was back. Maybe he didn’t even want her to know.
A cold icy hand encircled her heart but she shook it away angrily. If he didn’t want her to know, then he shouldn’t have come to Rome. If it even was him. If this wasn’t all some sort of horrible nightmare. And once again, her thoughts were going in circles and her head was beginning to hurt from it all. She was going to go crazy before she reached Wolfram & Hart at this rate.
Finally, they pulled up in front of the large building and somewhat hesitantly, she got out and looked up at the huge glass building in front of her. Wow, Angel really had gone up in the world. Literally, she mused, as she remembered his little basement flat in the hotel. Taking a deep breath, she strode down the main path and walked into the building. A vague ominous feeling settled around her as she stepped into the building but she shook it off and made for the reception desk.
A blonde woman – correction, vampire – was shuffling around in a low drawer but as she got to the desk, she righted herself and gave Buffy a wide smile. And just as quickly, her expression turned to one of shock as the two women recognised each other.
“Slayer!”
“Harmony!”
She stood there staring at the vampiress for a long moment of silence. Looked like Angel wasn’t the only one who’d gone up in the world.
“You can’t stake me!” Harmony got out, “I work for Angel.”
“I’m not going to stake you,” she answered numbly, shifting her bag between her hands awkwardly, “I’m here to see Angel.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll buzz up and ask him-“
“No,” she interrupted quickly on some unknown impulse, “Maybe you could just direct me?”
Harmony narrowed her eyes at her, one hand on the phone.
“I want it to be a surprise,” Buffy added with a smile and finally, Harmony moved her hand from the phone and nodded.
“Okay, well just go up to the twelfth floor. He should be in his office. It’s the big one at the end.”
“Right, thanks.”
She turned to move towards the elevators but paused for a moment, putting on a casual look of curiosity as she turned back to Harmony.
“Oh and Harmony… Is Spike in?”
Without even looking up from the file in front of her, Harmony nodded.
“He should be. He’s probably in Angel’s office too. They’ll probably be playing that stupid Z-Box thingy,” she added with a huff, “It’s all they ever seem to do.”
Her heart had stopped beating, she was sure. She turned away stiffly, forcing one foot in front of the other. She was half-tempted to pump Harmony for more information but now she knew he was really here… in the same building. She had to stop for a moment, leaning up against a wall and breathing heavily. He was really here. He was alive and playing some stupid game with Angel…
It hit her all of a sudden and she had to put all of her weight on the wall as the reality of it hit her. Spike, who had burned up on the Hellmouth, was back. The vampire she had declared her love to while everything was falling apart around them was alive – well, undead – and just a few floors above her head… And he hadn’t wanted her to know.
Definitely some psychics around BSV of late...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She was only four hours into her fourteen hour flight from Rome to LA, and she was already getting edgy. She didn’t really know what she was doing. It felt like someone else had been controlling her body as she had arrived at the airport this morning and booked herself on the first available flight. Only Dawn knew that she was leaving the country at all - and didn’t know why. As far as anyone else knew, she was AWOL right now. But she just didn’t care.
She had to see and the only way to see was to go to LA. Maybe Claudio had been wrong or maybe she hadn’t been listening properly, but she needed to know, because the possibility that Spike could be alive and walking around and… She forced herself to stop going down that train of thought because if he wasn’t there and this had all been a mistake, an illusion… she didn’t know how she’d go back to Rome and carry on with her life.
She was just numbly counting down the hours until she could be in LA. Angel would know what was going on, whatever the matter. She sighed and rested her head against the seat back, hoping to get some rest during the flight, despite her racing thoughts. She was just going to visit LA, that was all. And maybe she’d drop in on the Slayer HQ at San Francisco, see how things were holding up. After all, Willow was there and she hadn’t seen her best friend in at least a month. So, she was really going to visit Willow. And if she did happen to find a vampire miraculously back from the dead – or back from the dust – then she would deal with that when she got to it.
When the plane finally touched down in LAX, she gave a sigh of relief, glad that it was over. She was the first off the plane and out of the airport, with no luggage to claim – everything she had was in a small carry-on. She got into a cab just outside the airport and soon enough, they were caught up in LA’s traffic. By now, her heart was hammering, her palms were sweating and she was fidgeting nervously, drumming her fingers against her knees. She just wanted to be there already. She had never been good at waiting but this was agony.
Just knowing that he might be there… And what if he was, she asked herself pointedly. What was she going to do? Just pretend that the last six months hadn’t happened? She didn’t even know what he had been through. Maybe he had been trapped in hell and had been brought back. Would he still know her? She didn’t even know how long he had been back. And just like that, a thought steeled into her mind that almost had her halting the cab. He hadn’t told her he was back. Maybe he didn’t even want her to know.
A cold icy hand encircled her heart but she shook it away angrily. If he didn’t want her to know, then he shouldn’t have come to Rome. If it even was him. If this wasn’t all some sort of horrible nightmare. And once again, her thoughts were going in circles and her head was beginning to hurt from it all. She was going to go crazy before she reached Wolfram & Hart at this rate.
Finally, they pulled up in front of the large building and somewhat hesitantly, she got out and looked up at the huge glass building in front of her. Wow, Angel really had gone up in the world. Literally, she mused, as she remembered his little basement flat in the hotel. Taking a deep breath, she strode down the main path and walked into the building. A vague ominous feeling settled around her as she stepped into the building but she shook it off and made for the reception desk.
A blonde woman – correction, vampire – was shuffling around in a low drawer but as she got to the desk, she righted herself and gave Buffy a wide smile. And just as quickly, her expression turned to one of shock as the two women recognised each other.
“Slayer!”
“Harmony!”
She stood there staring at the vampiress for a long moment of silence. Looked like Angel wasn’t the only one who’d gone up in the world.
“You can’t stake me!” Harmony got out, “I work for Angel.”
“I’m not going to stake you,” she answered numbly, shifting her bag between her hands awkwardly, “I’m here to see Angel.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll buzz up and ask him-“
“No,” she interrupted quickly on some unknown impulse, “Maybe you could just direct me?”
Harmony narrowed her eyes at her, one hand on the phone.
“I want it to be a surprise,” Buffy added with a smile and finally, Harmony moved her hand from the phone and nodded.
“Okay, well just go up to the twelfth floor. He should be in his office. It’s the big one at the end.”
“Right, thanks.”
She turned to move towards the elevators but paused for a moment, putting on a casual look of curiosity as she turned back to Harmony.
“Oh and Harmony… Is Spike in?”
Without even looking up from the file in front of her, Harmony nodded.
“He should be. He’s probably in Angel’s office too. They’ll probably be playing that stupid Z-Box thingy,” she added with a huff, “It’s all they ever seem to do.”
Her heart had stopped beating, she was sure. She turned away stiffly, forcing one foot in front of the other. She was half-tempted to pump Harmony for more information but now she knew he was really here… in the same building. She had to stop for a moment, leaning up against a wall and breathing heavily. He was really here. He was alive and playing some stupid game with Angel…
It hit her all of a sudden and she had to put all of her weight on the wall as the reality of it hit her. Spike, who had burned up on the Hellmouth, was back. The vampire she had declared her love to while everything was falling apart around them was alive – well, undead – and just a few floors above her head… And he hadn’t wanted her to know.
Reunion
Reunion
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Well?” he asked his grandsire irritably, running a hand through his hair for about the millionth time since he’d heard of Buffy’s disappearance, “Anything?”
“The Rome office don’t know anything.”
“Did you try the Bit - Dawn?”
“If she knows anything, she’s not saying,” Angel answered with a slight hint of annoyance.
“I’m going to kill her!” he exclaimed, “I’m going to rip out her heart and eat it right in bloody front of her!”
“Spike, calm down.”
He glared at his grandsire but stopped pacing and flopped into Angel’s chair, putting his feet up on the desk even as Angel gave him a sour look.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Angel murmured, half to himself.
“If something could kill The bloody Immortal, it could finish her easy enough,” he answered grimly, hating himself for even voicing the thought. He ran his hand through his hair again.
“Stupid bloody woman,” he grumbled.
Angel stood at the window, looking out over the LA skyline.
They both looked up as there was a knock at the door and Angel turned towards the door.
“Come in,” he called.
Sinking back in Angel’s chair, not wanting to deal with one of the mindless Wolfram & Hart employees at a time like this, he swivelled the chair so that his back was to the door. He heard it open and close and rolled his eyes as the person stayed quiet. And then, her scent hit his nostrils and his eyes went wide. No, it couldn’t be. He swivelled round and froze.
Buffy stood there by the door, a tiny smile directed at his grandsire as she placed a bag down by her feet.
“Angel,” she got out calmly before turning those hazel eyes on him, “Spike.”
She’d known he would be here, he realised, as her gaze passed over him and back to Angel again. Somehow she had known and so she did not react in any of the million ways he might have imagined. She was cool as anything, only her thundering heartbeat betraying her nervousness. But that might have been Angel’s presence as much as anything else.
“Buffy,” Angel finally got out, taking a step towards her, “Are you okay? Everyone in Rome’s looking for you.”
“Your guy out of the hospital then?” she asked with a smile and he was pleased to see his grandsire look embarrassed.
“Next time, get someone a little less obvious,” she remarked, her gaze moving around the room. She kept darting looks at him but would not meet his eyes.
There was awkward silence in the room and he saw Buffy twisting her fingers together. He was just surprised she hadn’t broken anything yet, with all the tension in her. She moved to the sofa and perched on it delicately, her gaze sweeping over him and landing on Angel again. Angel threw him a worried look and then turned his attention back to Buffy again.
“I heard about The Immortal,” Angel said quietly, “I’m sorry.”
Buffy’s reaction was the last one he would have expected: she burst out laughing. It was a bitter, almost hysterical laugh and it sent a shiver through him. When she had got herself under control, she raised those bright eyes again and gave them a twisted smile.
“You should be congratulating me. I’m the one that killed him.”
He reeled with shock and turned fully to face her, studying the lines of her face.
“You killed him?” Angel asked, throwing another worried look at him.
“Yeah. Set fire to him while he slept.”
The first thing he thought of was Dawn’s threat to do the same to him. His second thought was of how cold his girl had grown cold of late. Callous, even. She had always hardened her heart against the successors to her precious Angel, but even with him, he didn’t think she would have been capable of such cruelty.
“But you were…” Angel choked out.
“Wouldn’t be the first time I sent a boyfriend to hell,” she commented lightly, flashing that twisted smile again as she shrugged.
“But it’s okay anyway. He wasn’t my boyfriend.”
They both turned wide eyes on her then as she smiled somewhat sadly.
“He wasn’t?” Angel asked, a little too hopefully for his own liking. He hoped the Poof didn’t think he had a chance again.
“No,” she answered, all-Slayer now, “I was… well, undercover, I guess. I had some information to get from Claudio.”
He couldn’t even begin to describe how good it felt to know that Buffy hadn’t really been with The Immoral. She didn’t look much happier than if she had been though: looking closer, he saw how thin she had gotten, how sunken her eyes were. His girl really hadn’t been looking after herself. She sighed, drawing his attention back to her, and brushed a hand through her hair- which he only just realised had grown long again, as it had loved it.
“Things went a bit wrong though,” she continued, “Giles is going to kill me when he finds out I killed Claudio without having everything we wanted.”
She gave a tiny smile and then her shoulders sagged, her eyes flitting over him.
“Oh, well, it’s done now.”
She was silent for a long time and then Angel spoke up, breaking the silence.
“You’re probably exhausted. Why don’t I show you one of the rooms and you can get some rest?”
Buffy raised her head and gave Angel a soft smile.
“That’d be… really great. It’s been, well, an emotional few days,” she added, her eyes just flicking to him and then back to Angel again. Angel smiled and she rose to her feet, picking up her discarded bag.
“Have you got a suitcase or anything else?”
“No, this is it. It’s, err… I don’t plan on staying long.”
So, his time with her was limited. He had to find some time alone with her before she ran out on him. To see if there was any chance she might still care, even if it seemed too much to hope. This Buffy that stood before him now was so very changed: so much older, it seemed, than the girl he had known in Sunnydale. In the space of six months, she had aged more than a year, her eyes even duller than he had seen them in a long time. Clearly, the freedom she had gained after the spell hadn’t eased her burden at all.
She and Angel were at the door before he could really process it and he rose uncertainly to his feet, watching helplessly as Angel opened the door and preceded her. He looked to the floor with a sigh – but he heard her pause and he looked up to find her, finally, meeting his eyes.
“I’m glad you’re back, Spike,” she murmured quietly, “You look… you look good.”
The next instant, she was gone, closing the door behind her. But in that split second that she had held his gaze, he had seen everything: her anger, her disappointment, her sadness. She had known he was alive and that he had hidden it from her – and now, he felt he could understand her behaviour of the last few minutes. She had been avoiding looking at him to control her temper, her emotions (something she had always struggled with). With a sigh, he dropped into Angel’s chair again and ran a hand through his hair. He needed a smoke – or three – and then he needed to speak to Buffy. Alone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Well?” he asked his grandsire irritably, running a hand through his hair for about the millionth time since he’d heard of Buffy’s disappearance, “Anything?”
“The Rome office don’t know anything.”
“Did you try the Bit - Dawn?”
“If she knows anything, she’s not saying,” Angel answered with a slight hint of annoyance.
“I’m going to kill her!” he exclaimed, “I’m going to rip out her heart and eat it right in bloody front of her!”
“Spike, calm down.”
He glared at his grandsire but stopped pacing and flopped into Angel’s chair, putting his feet up on the desk even as Angel gave him a sour look.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Angel murmured, half to himself.
“If something could kill The bloody Immortal, it could finish her easy enough,” he answered grimly, hating himself for even voicing the thought. He ran his hand through his hair again.
“Stupid bloody woman,” he grumbled.
Angel stood at the window, looking out over the LA skyline.
They both looked up as there was a knock at the door and Angel turned towards the door.
“Come in,” he called.
Sinking back in Angel’s chair, not wanting to deal with one of the mindless Wolfram & Hart employees at a time like this, he swivelled the chair so that his back was to the door. He heard it open and close and rolled his eyes as the person stayed quiet. And then, her scent hit his nostrils and his eyes went wide. No, it couldn’t be. He swivelled round and froze.
Buffy stood there by the door, a tiny smile directed at his grandsire as she placed a bag down by her feet.
“Angel,” she got out calmly before turning those hazel eyes on him, “Spike.”
She’d known he would be here, he realised, as her gaze passed over him and back to Angel again. Somehow she had known and so she did not react in any of the million ways he might have imagined. She was cool as anything, only her thundering heartbeat betraying her nervousness. But that might have been Angel’s presence as much as anything else.
“Buffy,” Angel finally got out, taking a step towards her, “Are you okay? Everyone in Rome’s looking for you.”
“Your guy out of the hospital then?” she asked with a smile and he was pleased to see his grandsire look embarrassed.
“Next time, get someone a little less obvious,” she remarked, her gaze moving around the room. She kept darting looks at him but would not meet his eyes.
There was awkward silence in the room and he saw Buffy twisting her fingers together. He was just surprised she hadn’t broken anything yet, with all the tension in her. She moved to the sofa and perched on it delicately, her gaze sweeping over him and landing on Angel again. Angel threw him a worried look and then turned his attention back to Buffy again.
“I heard about The Immortal,” Angel said quietly, “I’m sorry.”
Buffy’s reaction was the last one he would have expected: she burst out laughing. It was a bitter, almost hysterical laugh and it sent a shiver through him. When she had got herself under control, she raised those bright eyes again and gave them a twisted smile.
“You should be congratulating me. I’m the one that killed him.”
He reeled with shock and turned fully to face her, studying the lines of her face.
“You killed him?” Angel asked, throwing another worried look at him.
“Yeah. Set fire to him while he slept.”
The first thing he thought of was Dawn’s threat to do the same to him. His second thought was of how cold his girl had grown cold of late. Callous, even. She had always hardened her heart against the successors to her precious Angel, but even with him, he didn’t think she would have been capable of such cruelty.
“But you were…” Angel choked out.
“Wouldn’t be the first time I sent a boyfriend to hell,” she commented lightly, flashing that twisted smile again as she shrugged.
“But it’s okay anyway. He wasn’t my boyfriend.”
They both turned wide eyes on her then as she smiled somewhat sadly.
“He wasn’t?” Angel asked, a little too hopefully for his own liking. He hoped the Poof didn’t think he had a chance again.
“No,” she answered, all-Slayer now, “I was… well, undercover, I guess. I had some information to get from Claudio.”
He couldn’t even begin to describe how good it felt to know that Buffy hadn’t really been with The Immoral. She didn’t look much happier than if she had been though: looking closer, he saw how thin she had gotten, how sunken her eyes were. His girl really hadn’t been looking after herself. She sighed, drawing his attention back to her, and brushed a hand through her hair- which he only just realised had grown long again, as it had loved it.
“Things went a bit wrong though,” she continued, “Giles is going to kill me when he finds out I killed Claudio without having everything we wanted.”
She gave a tiny smile and then her shoulders sagged, her eyes flitting over him.
“Oh, well, it’s done now.”
She was silent for a long time and then Angel spoke up, breaking the silence.
“You’re probably exhausted. Why don’t I show you one of the rooms and you can get some rest?”
Buffy raised her head and gave Angel a soft smile.
“That’d be… really great. It’s been, well, an emotional few days,” she added, her eyes just flicking to him and then back to Angel again. Angel smiled and she rose to her feet, picking up her discarded bag.
“Have you got a suitcase or anything else?”
“No, this is it. It’s, err… I don’t plan on staying long.”
So, his time with her was limited. He had to find some time alone with her before she ran out on him. To see if there was any chance she might still care, even if it seemed too much to hope. This Buffy that stood before him now was so very changed: so much older, it seemed, than the girl he had known in Sunnydale. In the space of six months, she had aged more than a year, her eyes even duller than he had seen them in a long time. Clearly, the freedom she had gained after the spell hadn’t eased her burden at all.
She and Angel were at the door before he could really process it and he rose uncertainly to his feet, watching helplessly as Angel opened the door and preceded her. He looked to the floor with a sigh – but he heard her pause and he looked up to find her, finally, meeting his eyes.
“I’m glad you’re back, Spike,” she murmured quietly, “You look… you look good.”
The next instant, she was gone, closing the door behind her. But in that split second that she had held his gaze, he had seen everything: her anger, her disappointment, her sadness. She had known he was alive and that he had hidden it from her – and now, he felt he could understand her behaviour of the last few minutes. She had been avoiding looking at him to control her temper, her emotions (something she had always struggled with). With a sigh, he dropped into Angel’s chair again and ran a hand through his hair. He needed a smoke – or three – and then he needed to speak to Buffy. Alone.
Drained
Drained
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She shut the door behind her with a shaking hand and quickly caught up to Angel, putting on a tiny smile as he glanced at her. Her heart was still pounding and all she could see in front of her eyes was Spike. Spike, who was alive and very much the same as ever. She had worried she might have forgotten what he looked like in the long months since Sunnydale, but one look and she knew the image that had been seared into her brain was a true one. An image of Spike in all of his glory: black clothes, leather duster and bright hair. Shaking the thoughts away, she tried hard to pay attention to Angel’s words.
“We’ve got quite a few rooms. For visiting executives, you know.”
She nodded mindlessly, her gaze wandering over the rooms dotted either side of the corridor. Wolfram & Hart was a maze of offices, labs and mysterious-looking rooms.
“I know it must be hard,” Angel spoke up and her gaze flew to his, “I mean… you were close.”
“We really weren’t,” she murmured, “It was surprisingly easy to kill him.”
“I meant Spike.”
“Oh,” she got out in a whisper, falling silent, her gaze fixed on the floor.
It was hard- and Angel really had no idea just how much. It had taken her at least a full ten minutes to gather her wits downstairs and make her way up to his office. When she had opened the door and seen that blonde hair, it had taken all of her strength to keep her on her feet and to plaster a weak smile on her face. When he had turned to her, the surprise on his face told her everything she needed to know: he hadn’t wanted her to know he was alive.
“He’s doing a lot of good here,” Angel continued and she forced herself to listen to him again, “And I’m sure he would have called you-“
“So, how’s business here in LA?” she interrupted quickly, knowing it was rude but knowing too that if he started to talk about Spike, she might just break down and she was already struggling with her emotions as it was.
He gave her a worried, strained look and then seemed to concede defeat, much to her relief.
“It’s okay. We’ve had a few vampire gangs stirring up trouble lately, but nothing really bad.”
She nodded, her gaze still wandering as they headed up a flight of stairs and into a carpeted corridor.
“And there was Dana… the Slayer.”
“I heard about her,” Buffy answered absentmindedly, “Apparently she was crazy.”
“Yeah. Got that message when she hacked off Spike’s hands with a saw.”
Her eyes flew to his in surprise and he shrugged.
“As you saw, he got them re-attached.”
She nodded once again, forcing her mind away from thoughts of Spike’s hands. They fell awkwardly silent and she knew she should try to make an attempt at polite conversation, but she was exhausted, physically and emotionally.
She was glad, then, when they reached a door and Angel paused, opening it with a swipe card and beckoning her in. She went through into a large room with a bedroom visible through a door to the right.
“Some nice digs you got here.”
“Perks of a successful law firm,” Angel replied with a shrug.
She smiled slightly and moved to sit on a chair, her fourteen hour flight suddenly catching up on her.
“You look tired. You should rest,” Angel suggested.
“Yep, rest is of the good,” she quipped tiredly.
“The bedroom’s just through there.”
She nodded, getting tiredly to her feet.
“And there’s an ensuite.”
“Angel, I’ll be fine,” she spoke up with a smile.
He looked her over and then nodded.
“If you need anything, I’ll be in my office.”
She nodded again, just wishing he would hurry up and leave already. He lingered by the door and she forced a smile.
“It’s good to see you, Buffy.”
“You too.”
He gave her his usual sad smile and finally left, shutting the door behind him.
Seconds later, she was kicking her shoes off and climbing onto the large double bed. She lay down on top of the soft covers and closed her eyes with a sigh. Her mind was racing and once again, all she could see in her mind’s eye was Spike. This time though, she saw him as he was minutes before he had died on the Hellmouth. She saw their clasped hands and felt her mouth move with the words she had spoken. Then she saw that look of awe that had crossed his face, saw his blue eyes flooded with love.
She bit her lip to stifle the sob that tried to escape but was helpless to stop the tears that were already tracing down her cheeks. And the fact that she was crying as much because he was alive – something she had hoped and prayed for during many sleepless nights – just made her cry harder. His love had died along with him on the Hellmouth, she realised that now. That was why he hadn’t contacted her when he had come back. With this thought revolving around her head, she cried herself to sleep for the second time that week.
When she woke, it was late afternoon and she felt awful. For a moment, she had forgotten where she was but it only took a few seconds for the memory of that morning to return and then her heart was aching again. Which was only fitting really, added to the pain in her head and her sore, tired eyes. She forced herself off the bed and stumbled into the ensuite, turning on the shower and stripping off her clothes almost mechanically.
Under the shower’s warm spray, her tears threatened to return but she held them back. Spike didn’t love her anymore, but she couldn’t let that destroy her. They had had their chance in Sunnydale and they had missed it. She braced a hand against the wall, forcing her mind to the movements of her hand as she cleaned herself perfunctorily. Her stomach rumbled loudly, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since the previous night and she wondered idly if the perks of a successful law firm included room service.
Turning the shower off, she climbed out and wrapped herself in one of the large, fluffy towels before moving through to the bedroom again and dropping to the bed. The rest and the shower didn’t seem to have worked their restorative magic and she felt more drained than she had before as she sat on the end of the bed, staring blindly at the wall in front of her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She shut the door behind her with a shaking hand and quickly caught up to Angel, putting on a tiny smile as he glanced at her. Her heart was still pounding and all she could see in front of her eyes was Spike. Spike, who was alive and very much the same as ever. She had worried she might have forgotten what he looked like in the long months since Sunnydale, but one look and she knew the image that had been seared into her brain was a true one. An image of Spike in all of his glory: black clothes, leather duster and bright hair. Shaking the thoughts away, she tried hard to pay attention to Angel’s words.
“We’ve got quite a few rooms. For visiting executives, you know.”
She nodded mindlessly, her gaze wandering over the rooms dotted either side of the corridor. Wolfram & Hart was a maze of offices, labs and mysterious-looking rooms.
“I know it must be hard,” Angel spoke up and her gaze flew to his, “I mean… you were close.”
“We really weren’t,” she murmured, “It was surprisingly easy to kill him.”
“I meant Spike.”
“Oh,” she got out in a whisper, falling silent, her gaze fixed on the floor.
It was hard- and Angel really had no idea just how much. It had taken her at least a full ten minutes to gather her wits downstairs and make her way up to his office. When she had opened the door and seen that blonde hair, it had taken all of her strength to keep her on her feet and to plaster a weak smile on her face. When he had turned to her, the surprise on his face told her everything she needed to know: he hadn’t wanted her to know he was alive.
“He’s doing a lot of good here,” Angel continued and she forced herself to listen to him again, “And I’m sure he would have called you-“
“So, how’s business here in LA?” she interrupted quickly, knowing it was rude but knowing too that if he started to talk about Spike, she might just break down and she was already struggling with her emotions as it was.
He gave her a worried, strained look and then seemed to concede defeat, much to her relief.
“It’s okay. We’ve had a few vampire gangs stirring up trouble lately, but nothing really bad.”
She nodded, her gaze still wandering as they headed up a flight of stairs and into a carpeted corridor.
“And there was Dana… the Slayer.”
“I heard about her,” Buffy answered absentmindedly, “Apparently she was crazy.”
“Yeah. Got that message when she hacked off Spike’s hands with a saw.”
Her eyes flew to his in surprise and he shrugged.
“As you saw, he got them re-attached.”
She nodded once again, forcing her mind away from thoughts of Spike’s hands. They fell awkwardly silent and she knew she should try to make an attempt at polite conversation, but she was exhausted, physically and emotionally.
She was glad, then, when they reached a door and Angel paused, opening it with a swipe card and beckoning her in. She went through into a large room with a bedroom visible through a door to the right.
“Some nice digs you got here.”
“Perks of a successful law firm,” Angel replied with a shrug.
She smiled slightly and moved to sit on a chair, her fourteen hour flight suddenly catching up on her.
“You look tired. You should rest,” Angel suggested.
“Yep, rest is of the good,” she quipped tiredly.
“The bedroom’s just through there.”
She nodded, getting tiredly to her feet.
“And there’s an ensuite.”
“Angel, I’ll be fine,” she spoke up with a smile.
He looked her over and then nodded.
“If you need anything, I’ll be in my office.”
She nodded again, just wishing he would hurry up and leave already. He lingered by the door and she forced a smile.
“It’s good to see you, Buffy.”
“You too.”
He gave her his usual sad smile and finally left, shutting the door behind him.
Seconds later, she was kicking her shoes off and climbing onto the large double bed. She lay down on top of the soft covers and closed her eyes with a sigh. Her mind was racing and once again, all she could see in her mind’s eye was Spike. This time though, she saw him as he was minutes before he had died on the Hellmouth. She saw their clasped hands and felt her mouth move with the words she had spoken. Then she saw that look of awe that had crossed his face, saw his blue eyes flooded with love.
She bit her lip to stifle the sob that tried to escape but was helpless to stop the tears that were already tracing down her cheeks. And the fact that she was crying as much because he was alive – something she had hoped and prayed for during many sleepless nights – just made her cry harder. His love had died along with him on the Hellmouth, she realised that now. That was why he hadn’t contacted her when he had come back. With this thought revolving around her head, she cried herself to sleep for the second time that week.
When she woke, it was late afternoon and she felt awful. For a moment, she had forgotten where she was but it only took a few seconds for the memory of that morning to return and then her heart was aching again. Which was only fitting really, added to the pain in her head and her sore, tired eyes. She forced herself off the bed and stumbled into the ensuite, turning on the shower and stripping off her clothes almost mechanically.
Under the shower’s warm spray, her tears threatened to return but she held them back. Spike didn’t love her anymore, but she couldn’t let that destroy her. They had had their chance in Sunnydale and they had missed it. She braced a hand against the wall, forcing her mind to the movements of her hand as she cleaned herself perfunctorily. Her stomach rumbled loudly, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since the previous night and she wondered idly if the perks of a successful law firm included room service.
Turning the shower off, she climbed out and wrapped herself in one of the large, fluffy towels before moving through to the bedroom again and dropping to the bed. The rest and the shower didn’t seem to have worked their restorative magic and she felt more drained than she had before as she sat on the end of the bed, staring blindly at the wall in front of her.
In Your Eyes
In Your Eyes
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Miss a soppy love scene, did I?” he asked sarcastically, inwardly seething with jealousy, as soon as Angel returned to the office. Angel just rolled his eyes and settled into an armchair.
“She’s sleeping now.”
“She needs to. Doesn’t look like she has for a few days.”
He fell silent, frowning.
“She didn’t look well at all,” he continued, “Looked tired… and not the least bit happy.”
“Maybe life in Rome wasn’t so good for her,” Angel suggested, staring out of the window.
“Maybe,” he murmured half to himself, wondering just what had brought his beautiful Slayer so low. He was lost in his thoughts, remembering Buffy’s words to him just minutes ago, when there was a knock at the door. Both vampires looked up and smiled affectionately when it opened to reveal Fred.
“Hey guys! What y’all doing?” she asked with a smile.
Angel shrugged and she frowned, turning her gaze to him, brown eyes searching his.
“What’s up with you two? Did you have another fight?”
Before he could make any sort of sarcastic answer, Angel spoke up.
“Buffy’s here.”
“Oh,” Fred intoned, her expression turning serious, “What’s she doing in LA?”
“He means she’s here in the building,” Spike explained and the girl mouthed another silent ‘oh’, looking between them both worriedly.
“You’re not going to start, like, mud-wrestling for her affection or anything?”
He laughed but Angel just glared at her and she gave him a wide grin.
“Wow, the famous Buffy. I can’t wait to meet her.”
Fred’s wish was fulfilled about three hours later when there was a knock at the office again and Buffy entered, flashing a weak smile – her eyes avoiding his. Fred had returned not five minutes before and rose to her feet now, smiling widely at the other girl.
“Hi, I’m Fred! You must be Buffy.”
She stepped forward and shook the stunned Slayer’s hand.
“It’s so good to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you!” she gushed, smiling widely.
“Erm, thanks? It’s, err, nice to meet you too… Fred?”
“It’s short for Winifred.”
“Oh.”
The room was plunged into awkward silence but he couldn’t for the life of him spark up a conversation. All he could do was stare at his Slayer, studying her face intently. Finally, awkwardly, she spoke up, directing her question to Angel.
“So, erm, does this place have food? Some of us have only had plane food in the last twenty-four hours.”
“Sure,” Angel answered with a smile, “There’s a canteen downstairs. I’ll-“
“Let me!” Fred interrupted, turning to Buffy, “I’ll take you. Leave these boys to, you know, important things.”
The look on Buffy’s face showed an interesting mixture of surprise and amusement – clearly she wasn’t too convinced that they had anything important to do. She acquiesced though, turning to the brunette and murmuring a quiet ‘great’. With a wide smile, Fred ushered the slightly bewildered Slayer out of the room, leaving the two vampires alone.
“Don’t know what she’s playing at,” he grumbled.
“I guess she wanted Buffy to feel a bit more relaxed. Not surprising, with the way you were staring at her.”
“Like you weren’t staring too,” he retorted with a sneer, “Making moon eyes at her.”
Angel surprised him then by laughing.
“You can hardly throw stones, Spike. You looked like you were ready to drop to your knees and declare your love.”
He growled lowly at his grandsire and pushed himself out of the chair.
“Just give her some space, will you?” he snapped, leaving Angel’s office and slamming the door shut around him. He stormed off down the corridor, not really sure where he was going but just knowing he needed to get as far away from his poncy bloody grandsire as possible before he started throwing things at that stupid large forehead of his.
He growled to himself and found his feet leading him towards the canteen. Just like old times, he mused – stalking the Slayer in a desperate attempt to get close to her without getting body parts chopped off. Not that he thought she could take him in a fight, with how tired she looked at the moment. She needed a good looking after – he scolded himself before he could even go down that path. She may not have really been with The Immortal but she had still moved on, that much was obvious. She had a new life in Rome and she seemed, if not happy, then settled.
With a sigh, he reached the door of the canteen and lingered by it, scanning the crowd for that familiar blonde hair. He spotted her at a far table, sat side-on to him, smiling absentmindedly at whatever Fred was saying as she picked at her food. The little Texan was prattling away no doubt and he couldn’t help but smile affectionately. Her cheer didn’t seem to have infected her companion though and Buffy looked no livelier than she had in his and Angel’s presence. She almost looked ill, he thought with a frown.
Just at that moment, she stiffened and before he could hide, she turned her head in his direction and met his gaze. He was frozen, unable to make any kind of gesture of greeting, unable to move anywhere; all he could do was hold her gaze across the room, wishing he could run over there and take her in his arms. His girl wasn’t one for public displays though. Especially with him. And she wasn’t even his girl, he reminded himself. But she was looking at him with those big hazel eyes, tinged with sadness, and all he could do was stare back, trying to pour every emotion he had ever felt for her into his gaze. Suddenly, she seemed to jolt back into the present and she looked away quickly, her gaze moving to the table in front of her.
Turning on his heel, he fled from the canteen as swiftly as he had come, dodging an oncoming Gunn and striding all the way to the elevator, blind to anything happening around him. He descended to the basement, where he stole Angel’s beloved Viper and sped out into the darkening streets of LA. He needed to get away from her, clear his head before he did something stupid like beg her for her affection, for her forgiveness – for anything she might want to give him.
He growled and thumped the steering-wheel, pulling over by the side of the road and resting his head against the wheel. He had believed he was free of this, that he was no longer Love’s Bitch but it looked like he had never really been free. He wanted her as much now as he had ever done. He was distracted from his musings by the sound of a distant scream and with a sigh of relief and a silent thanks to the Powers That Be he jumped out of the car and headed out into the darkness.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Miss a soppy love scene, did I?” he asked sarcastically, inwardly seething with jealousy, as soon as Angel returned to the office. Angel just rolled his eyes and settled into an armchair.
“She’s sleeping now.”
“She needs to. Doesn’t look like she has for a few days.”
He fell silent, frowning.
“She didn’t look well at all,” he continued, “Looked tired… and not the least bit happy.”
“Maybe life in Rome wasn’t so good for her,” Angel suggested, staring out of the window.
“Maybe,” he murmured half to himself, wondering just what had brought his beautiful Slayer so low. He was lost in his thoughts, remembering Buffy’s words to him just minutes ago, when there was a knock at the door. Both vampires looked up and smiled affectionately when it opened to reveal Fred.
“Hey guys! What y’all doing?” she asked with a smile.
Angel shrugged and she frowned, turning her gaze to him, brown eyes searching his.
“What’s up with you two? Did you have another fight?”
Before he could make any sort of sarcastic answer, Angel spoke up.
“Buffy’s here.”
“Oh,” Fred intoned, her expression turning serious, “What’s she doing in LA?”
“He means she’s here in the building,” Spike explained and the girl mouthed another silent ‘oh’, looking between them both worriedly.
“You’re not going to start, like, mud-wrestling for her affection or anything?”
He laughed but Angel just glared at her and she gave him a wide grin.
“Wow, the famous Buffy. I can’t wait to meet her.”
Fred’s wish was fulfilled about three hours later when there was a knock at the office again and Buffy entered, flashing a weak smile – her eyes avoiding his. Fred had returned not five minutes before and rose to her feet now, smiling widely at the other girl.
“Hi, I’m Fred! You must be Buffy.”
She stepped forward and shook the stunned Slayer’s hand.
“It’s so good to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you!” she gushed, smiling widely.
“Erm, thanks? It’s, err, nice to meet you too… Fred?”
“It’s short for Winifred.”
“Oh.”
The room was plunged into awkward silence but he couldn’t for the life of him spark up a conversation. All he could do was stare at his Slayer, studying her face intently. Finally, awkwardly, she spoke up, directing her question to Angel.
“So, erm, does this place have food? Some of us have only had plane food in the last twenty-four hours.”
“Sure,” Angel answered with a smile, “There’s a canteen downstairs. I’ll-“
“Let me!” Fred interrupted, turning to Buffy, “I’ll take you. Leave these boys to, you know, important things.”
The look on Buffy’s face showed an interesting mixture of surprise and amusement – clearly she wasn’t too convinced that they had anything important to do. She acquiesced though, turning to the brunette and murmuring a quiet ‘great’. With a wide smile, Fred ushered the slightly bewildered Slayer out of the room, leaving the two vampires alone.
“Don’t know what she’s playing at,” he grumbled.
“I guess she wanted Buffy to feel a bit more relaxed. Not surprising, with the way you were staring at her.”
“Like you weren’t staring too,” he retorted with a sneer, “Making moon eyes at her.”
Angel surprised him then by laughing.
“You can hardly throw stones, Spike. You looked like you were ready to drop to your knees and declare your love.”
He growled lowly at his grandsire and pushed himself out of the chair.
“Just give her some space, will you?” he snapped, leaving Angel’s office and slamming the door shut around him. He stormed off down the corridor, not really sure where he was going but just knowing he needed to get as far away from his poncy bloody grandsire as possible before he started throwing things at that stupid large forehead of his.
He growled to himself and found his feet leading him towards the canteen. Just like old times, he mused – stalking the Slayer in a desperate attempt to get close to her without getting body parts chopped off. Not that he thought she could take him in a fight, with how tired she looked at the moment. She needed a good looking after – he scolded himself before he could even go down that path. She may not have really been with The Immortal but she had still moved on, that much was obvious. She had a new life in Rome and she seemed, if not happy, then settled.
With a sigh, he reached the door of the canteen and lingered by it, scanning the crowd for that familiar blonde hair. He spotted her at a far table, sat side-on to him, smiling absentmindedly at whatever Fred was saying as she picked at her food. The little Texan was prattling away no doubt and he couldn’t help but smile affectionately. Her cheer didn’t seem to have infected her companion though and Buffy looked no livelier than she had in his and Angel’s presence. She almost looked ill, he thought with a frown.
Just at that moment, she stiffened and before he could hide, she turned her head in his direction and met his gaze. He was frozen, unable to make any kind of gesture of greeting, unable to move anywhere; all he could do was hold her gaze across the room, wishing he could run over there and take her in his arms. His girl wasn’t one for public displays though. Especially with him. And she wasn’t even his girl, he reminded himself. But she was looking at him with those big hazel eyes, tinged with sadness, and all he could do was stare back, trying to pour every emotion he had ever felt for her into his gaze. Suddenly, she seemed to jolt back into the present and she looked away quickly, her gaze moving to the table in front of her.
Turning on his heel, he fled from the canteen as swiftly as he had come, dodging an oncoming Gunn and striding all the way to the elevator, blind to anything happening around him. He descended to the basement, where he stole Angel’s beloved Viper and sped out into the darkening streets of LA. He needed to get away from her, clear his head before he did something stupid like beg her for her affection, for her forgiveness – for anything she might want to give him.
He growled and thumped the steering-wheel, pulling over by the side of the road and resting his head against the wheel. He had believed he was free of this, that he was no longer Love’s Bitch but it looked like he had never really been free. He wanted her as much now as he had ever done. He was distracted from his musings by the sound of a distant scream and with a sigh of relief and a silent thanks to the Powers That Be he jumped out of the car and headed out into the darkness.
Missing You
Missing You
As an extra special treat, and because they are both fairly short, I'm giving you two chapters in a day. Enjoy...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I think he missed you,” Fred spoke up quietly, drawing her eyes abruptly from Spike’s. Her heart was thumping in her chest and it took a supreme effort to force back the tears that had been so close to falling. She forced her gaze to the table and took several deep breaths. When she raised her head again and glanced towards the door, Spike was gone. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or upset and she smiled sadly, turning back to Fred, remembering that she had spoken.
“Sorry, what?”
“Spike. I think he missed you.”
Her smile faded and she twined her fingers together nervously. She had to drop her eyes from Fred’s once more, fearing that she would give away just how much she had missed him.
She didn’t want the whole of Wolfram & Hart knowing that she had been moping over the vampire. She didn’t know what would be worse – the laughing that the Slayer had pined for a vampire, or the pity that she was still desperately hanging on to the memory of their time together.
“When he first got back, all he talked about was you.”
She raised her head involuntarily, searching the girl’s eyes for the truth of that statement. Bright, compassionate eyes met hers and she took a deep breath, averting her eyes again.
“I… I don’t really want to talk about that,” she murmured, picking at her dinner.
“It must be hard,” the girl said softly.
Funny, everyone around here seemed to be an empath demon of some sort.
Something about this girl called to her though, urging her to spill all her heart’s secrets. She raised her head, still unable to meet the other girl’s eyes, and focussed on a spot just over her shoulder.
“I saw him start to burn,” she whispered, her mind taking her back to those last moments in Sunnydale, “I… I felt it.”
She paused and her fingers went to the palm of her left hand, to the scar that had never properly healed.
“I left him down there to die.”
She forced her eyes to the other girl’s and gave her a twisted smile.
“And now he’s walking around, good as new… I guess it’s just a bit much to take in.”
Fred nodded sympathetically, wide eyes full of compassion. She averted her eyes uncomfortably and gave a forced laugh.
“Guess it shouldn’t be too much of a surprise. None of us seem to stay dead long.”
She smiled wryly and twisted her fingers together, her thumb skimming over the raised skin of her scar.
“You… you died too, didn’t you?” Fred asked quietly.
“Yeah,” she murmured, nodding.
“I remember when Angel found out you were alive… He was… well, he was about as happy as I’ve ever seen him,” she explained with a smile.
Fred fell silent for a moment and then giggled.
“I’m not sure he was quite as happy when Spike came back.”
She smiled weakly and turned back to her dinner, her heart aching with all the talk of Spike. Luckily, the other girl seemed to sense this and left her in peace.
Some time later, Fred escorted her back to Angel’s office and left with a little wave and a smile. Gathering her courage, she knocked and went into the room, breathing a sigh of relief when she only spotted Angel.
“Hey,” she said quietly.
“Hey.”
He gestured toward the sofa and she moved to sit on it, smiling as he settled beside her.
“How are you, Buffy?”
She gave a tiny laugh before glancing up at him.
“I’ve definitely been better.”
She smiled softly and met his worried gaze.
“Is it weird that I kind of miss Sunnydale?”
He smiled and took her hand in his large one, squeezing it slightly.
“I mean, technically I’m an LA girl… but Sunnydale was… well, a lot of stuff happened there. A lot of memories, you know?”
“Yeah,” he answered softly, dark eyes watching her carefully.
Feeling awkward, she extracted her hand from his grip, her gaze falling to the floor.
“So, things seem to be going well here in LA. Nice little set-up… a good team…”
“I know.”
He laughed, a strange sound for the Angel she knew.
“I never would have thought I could work with Spike and not murder him within the first few minutes.”
At the sound of the other vampire’s name, she jumped up, arms crossed tightly across her as she went to the window, heart beating quickly as she trained her gaze on the brightly lit buildings. Why couldn’t anyone here go five minutes without talking about Spike?
“Buffy,” Angel called quietly and she knew he knew exactly why she had reacted that way.
“I can’t, Angel. I can’t talk about him.”
The whole room was silent and she bit her lip to keep it from trembling. Why couldn’t she control her emotions lately?
“Buffy, I-“
Before Angel could finish his sentence, the door burst open and she tensed as she sensed Spike even before he spoke.
“Bloody vampires,” he grumbled, kicking out at something, before falling silent. She turned towards him, eyes skimming over his wounded arm and bloodied forehead. She glanced at Angel, before moving quickly past Spike and out of the room. As she closed the door behind her, she just heard him ask:
“What did I do?”
She fled to the relative safety of the guest room, curling up on the bed once more, her head spinning. Why couldn’t she just make these feelings go away? She was so angry with him and at the same time, she just wanted to throw herself at him and have him hold her in his arms. She wanted him so much but she knew that she really wanted a Spike that didn’t exist anymore. This Spike wasn’t hers. No matter what anyone said about him missing her, he hadn’t called her and that was proof enough that his feelings had changed in the last six months.
So why couldn’t her heart understand that? Why couldn’t it let go? She laughed bitterly, tears streaking down her cheeks. Is this what he had felt all those long months? Loving her desperately, but knowing it would never be returned. Karma at its worst, she mused. This was the punishment she got for declaring her love too late. She hated feeling like this, feeling so weak, but what could she do?
As an extra special treat, and because they are both fairly short, I'm giving you two chapters in a day. Enjoy...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I think he missed you,” Fred spoke up quietly, drawing her eyes abruptly from Spike’s. Her heart was thumping in her chest and it took a supreme effort to force back the tears that had been so close to falling. She forced her gaze to the table and took several deep breaths. When she raised her head again and glanced towards the door, Spike was gone. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or upset and she smiled sadly, turning back to Fred, remembering that she had spoken.
“Sorry, what?”
“Spike. I think he missed you.”
Her smile faded and she twined her fingers together nervously. She had to drop her eyes from Fred’s once more, fearing that she would give away just how much she had missed him.
She didn’t want the whole of Wolfram & Hart knowing that she had been moping over the vampire. She didn’t know what would be worse – the laughing that the Slayer had pined for a vampire, or the pity that she was still desperately hanging on to the memory of their time together.
“When he first got back, all he talked about was you.”
She raised her head involuntarily, searching the girl’s eyes for the truth of that statement. Bright, compassionate eyes met hers and she took a deep breath, averting her eyes again.
“I… I don’t really want to talk about that,” she murmured, picking at her dinner.
“It must be hard,” the girl said softly.
Funny, everyone around here seemed to be an empath demon of some sort.
Something about this girl called to her though, urging her to spill all her heart’s secrets. She raised her head, still unable to meet the other girl’s eyes, and focussed on a spot just over her shoulder.
“I saw him start to burn,” she whispered, her mind taking her back to those last moments in Sunnydale, “I… I felt it.”
She paused and her fingers went to the palm of her left hand, to the scar that had never properly healed.
“I left him down there to die.”
She forced her eyes to the other girl’s and gave her a twisted smile.
“And now he’s walking around, good as new… I guess it’s just a bit much to take in.”
Fred nodded sympathetically, wide eyes full of compassion. She averted her eyes uncomfortably and gave a forced laugh.
“Guess it shouldn’t be too much of a surprise. None of us seem to stay dead long.”
She smiled wryly and twisted her fingers together, her thumb skimming over the raised skin of her scar.
“You… you died too, didn’t you?” Fred asked quietly.
“Yeah,” she murmured, nodding.
“I remember when Angel found out you were alive… He was… well, he was about as happy as I’ve ever seen him,” she explained with a smile.
Fred fell silent for a moment and then giggled.
“I’m not sure he was quite as happy when Spike came back.”
She smiled weakly and turned back to her dinner, her heart aching with all the talk of Spike. Luckily, the other girl seemed to sense this and left her in peace.
Some time later, Fred escorted her back to Angel’s office and left with a little wave and a smile. Gathering her courage, she knocked and went into the room, breathing a sigh of relief when she only spotted Angel.
“Hey,” she said quietly.
“Hey.”
He gestured toward the sofa and she moved to sit on it, smiling as he settled beside her.
“How are you, Buffy?”
She gave a tiny laugh before glancing up at him.
“I’ve definitely been better.”
She smiled softly and met his worried gaze.
“Is it weird that I kind of miss Sunnydale?”
He smiled and took her hand in his large one, squeezing it slightly.
“I mean, technically I’m an LA girl… but Sunnydale was… well, a lot of stuff happened there. A lot of memories, you know?”
“Yeah,” he answered softly, dark eyes watching her carefully.
Feeling awkward, she extracted her hand from his grip, her gaze falling to the floor.
“So, things seem to be going well here in LA. Nice little set-up… a good team…”
“I know.”
He laughed, a strange sound for the Angel she knew.
“I never would have thought I could work with Spike and not murder him within the first few minutes.”
At the sound of the other vampire’s name, she jumped up, arms crossed tightly across her as she went to the window, heart beating quickly as she trained her gaze on the brightly lit buildings. Why couldn’t anyone here go five minutes without talking about Spike?
“Buffy,” Angel called quietly and she knew he knew exactly why she had reacted that way.
“I can’t, Angel. I can’t talk about him.”
The whole room was silent and she bit her lip to keep it from trembling. Why couldn’t she control her emotions lately?
“Buffy, I-“
Before Angel could finish his sentence, the door burst open and she tensed as she sensed Spike even before he spoke.
“Bloody vampires,” he grumbled, kicking out at something, before falling silent. She turned towards him, eyes skimming over his wounded arm and bloodied forehead. She glanced at Angel, before moving quickly past Spike and out of the room. As she closed the door behind her, she just heard him ask:
“What did I do?”
She fled to the relative safety of the guest room, curling up on the bed once more, her head spinning. Why couldn’t she just make these feelings go away? She was so angry with him and at the same time, she just wanted to throw herself at him and have him hold her in his arms. She wanted him so much but she knew that she really wanted a Spike that didn’t exist anymore. This Spike wasn’t hers. No matter what anyone said about him missing her, he hadn’t called her and that was proof enough that his feelings had changed in the last six months.
So why couldn’t her heart understand that? Why couldn’t it let go? She laughed bitterly, tears streaking down her cheeks. Is this what he had felt all those long months? Loving her desperately, but knowing it would never be returned. Karma at its worst, she mused. This was the punishment she got for declaring her love too late. She hated feeling like this, feeling so weak, but what could she do?
Progress
Progress
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She was going to drive him out of his mind, he was sure of it. She’d been here for under twenty-four hours and already, he was going crazy. Most of it was the way she was being with him, refusing to speak to him or even look at him, but part of it was the sheer agony of being close to her and wanting to be closer. She said she wasn’t staying long and so he might lose her again but he found that the thought brought with it equal amounts of relief and pain. If she would just let him speak to her, explain. But she obviously didn’t want anything to do with him. Some things never changed, he guessed.
With a grim smile, he threw off his duster and went through to the ensuite in his room, grabbing up a cloth and wetting it. The encounter with the vampires had allowed him to let off some steam but as a result, he had a slashed arm and a bloody head. He perched on the edge of the bath and took to cleaning the blood as best he could by touch.
He wondered if he would be plagued by his love for Buffy Summers for the rest of his long life. He sighed and threw the bloodied cloth into the sink before reaching for a new one. It would be a lifetime at least before he could forget Buffy. If not three. She was everything he wasn’t – especially in the days when he had been evil – but he was drawn to her light, to her goodness. He was kidding himself if he thought his time here in LA had changed anything. He loved her just as much now than he ever had back in Sunnydale. Maybe even more, when he saw that lost look in her eyes. She was only half the girl she had been back then and he would do anything to see the light returned to her eyes.
He was interrupted in his thoughts by a knock at the door and he frowned, draping the cloth over the side of the sink. He rarely had visitors here and more often than not, it was Angel. He wasn’t exactly up for a mope-fest and he got to his feet with a frown, making his way through into the living room. He threw open the door but his biting remark froze on the tip of his tongue when he saw not Angel, but Buffy. Buffy, looking up at him with those sad eyes and attempting a smile.
“Hi,” she got out quietly, her eyes darting all over the place, as if she couldn’t bear to meet his eyes.
He said nothing – unable to – and just stared at her, wondering what god had brought her here to his door, where she so clearly didn’t want to be.
“Can I… can I come in?”
Still silent, he took a step backwards, watching her intently as she moved into the room, eyes taking in the very plain decoration. It was definitely minimalist compared to the heaps of possessions, furniture and rugs that had littered his crypt in Sunnydale.
He closed the door behind her and just stood there, watching her in a mixture of confusion and anticipation as she hovered by the table, hand brushing over the book there. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but the words she spoke next weren’t it. She glanced back at him over her shoulder and gave him a wry smile.
“You’ve still got blood on your face.”
He raised a hand to his face almost in a daze, his eyes never leaving her face.
“Got into a brawl with a couple of vampires,” he explained, still in a daze.
She was silent for a moment but then she turned her bright gaze on him.
“Are you badly hurt?” she asked softly.
He was even more surprised by this sudden worry and he frowned slightly, just shaking his head.
“I’m fine.”
He was truly confused now. He had no idea what Buffy was doing here in his room and he had even less of an idea what to say to her.
“Look… Buffy-“
“I grieved for you,” she blurted out, her back turned to him again. But then, his girl had never been good at talking face-to-face, always too scared of her emotions – or his. Before he could make any reply, she turned towards him and he was taken aback by the pain in her eyes.
“Which is kinda stupid, because you were here all along.”
“Buffy-“
“Don’t,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, “Don’t make excuses. It’ll just make things worse.”
And now he was truly speechless. His Buffy was standing just a few feet away from him, eyes tearing up, and she was talking about her emotions. He finally gathered himself together and answered her.
“Haven’t got a good excuse anyway,” he joked lamely, but that was definitely the wrong thing to say because her whole face crumpled and she turned her back on him once again. He saw her shake with a suppressed sob and it was like a knife to the heart. Barely five minutes alone and he had made her cry. His feet drew him towards her of their own accord and he paused just inches from her back.
“Love, please…”
“I tried so hard,” she whispered, “I tried and I tried but it won’t go away, no matter what I do.”
He had no idea what she was talking about but the raw emotion in her voice urged him forward and he reached out to place a hand against her arm.
She tensed at his touch but then relaxed, turning towards him. She raised her tearful gaze to his and he just wanted to throw himself at her feet and beg her for forgiveness. She reached out a shaking hand and brought it to rest on his chest, biting her lip to suppress a sob.
“You’re real. You’re really real,” she whispered, seemingly to herself as her gaze was fixed on her hand where it rested against him. He was too stunned at such an emotional display to say anything in reply, especially when she raised those wide eyes to his once more. She stared at him in silence for a long time, searching his eyes for something.
Whether she found it or not, he didn’t know because in the next instant, her lips were on his, trembling as she kissed him. He knew he should pull back, find out what this was all about but he had been too long deprived of her taste, of the feel of her and so he couldn’t help himself from wrapping his arms around her tightly and dragging her against him as he kissed her back hungrily.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She was going to drive him out of his mind, he was sure of it. She’d been here for under twenty-four hours and already, he was going crazy. Most of it was the way she was being with him, refusing to speak to him or even look at him, but part of it was the sheer agony of being close to her and wanting to be closer. She said she wasn’t staying long and so he might lose her again but he found that the thought brought with it equal amounts of relief and pain. If she would just let him speak to her, explain. But she obviously didn’t want anything to do with him. Some things never changed, he guessed.
With a grim smile, he threw off his duster and went through to the ensuite in his room, grabbing up a cloth and wetting it. The encounter with the vampires had allowed him to let off some steam but as a result, he had a slashed arm and a bloody head. He perched on the edge of the bath and took to cleaning the blood as best he could by touch.
He wondered if he would be plagued by his love for Buffy Summers for the rest of his long life. He sighed and threw the bloodied cloth into the sink before reaching for a new one. It would be a lifetime at least before he could forget Buffy. If not three. She was everything he wasn’t – especially in the days when he had been evil – but he was drawn to her light, to her goodness. He was kidding himself if he thought his time here in LA had changed anything. He loved her just as much now than he ever had back in Sunnydale. Maybe even more, when he saw that lost look in her eyes. She was only half the girl she had been back then and he would do anything to see the light returned to her eyes.
He was interrupted in his thoughts by a knock at the door and he frowned, draping the cloth over the side of the sink. He rarely had visitors here and more often than not, it was Angel. He wasn’t exactly up for a mope-fest and he got to his feet with a frown, making his way through into the living room. He threw open the door but his biting remark froze on the tip of his tongue when he saw not Angel, but Buffy. Buffy, looking up at him with those sad eyes and attempting a smile.
“Hi,” she got out quietly, her eyes darting all over the place, as if she couldn’t bear to meet his eyes.
He said nothing – unable to – and just stared at her, wondering what god had brought her here to his door, where she so clearly didn’t want to be.
“Can I… can I come in?”
Still silent, he took a step backwards, watching her intently as she moved into the room, eyes taking in the very plain decoration. It was definitely minimalist compared to the heaps of possessions, furniture and rugs that had littered his crypt in Sunnydale.
He closed the door behind her and just stood there, watching her in a mixture of confusion and anticipation as she hovered by the table, hand brushing over the book there. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but the words she spoke next weren’t it. She glanced back at him over her shoulder and gave him a wry smile.
“You’ve still got blood on your face.”
He raised a hand to his face almost in a daze, his eyes never leaving her face.
“Got into a brawl with a couple of vampires,” he explained, still in a daze.
She was silent for a moment but then she turned her bright gaze on him.
“Are you badly hurt?” she asked softly.
He was even more surprised by this sudden worry and he frowned slightly, just shaking his head.
“I’m fine.”
He was truly confused now. He had no idea what Buffy was doing here in his room and he had even less of an idea what to say to her.
“Look… Buffy-“
“I grieved for you,” she blurted out, her back turned to him again. But then, his girl had never been good at talking face-to-face, always too scared of her emotions – or his. Before he could make any reply, she turned towards him and he was taken aback by the pain in her eyes.
“Which is kinda stupid, because you were here all along.”
“Buffy-“
“Don’t,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, “Don’t make excuses. It’ll just make things worse.”
And now he was truly speechless. His Buffy was standing just a few feet away from him, eyes tearing up, and she was talking about her emotions. He finally gathered himself together and answered her.
“Haven’t got a good excuse anyway,” he joked lamely, but that was definitely the wrong thing to say because her whole face crumpled and she turned her back on him once again. He saw her shake with a suppressed sob and it was like a knife to the heart. Barely five minutes alone and he had made her cry. His feet drew him towards her of their own accord and he paused just inches from her back.
“Love, please…”
“I tried so hard,” she whispered, “I tried and I tried but it won’t go away, no matter what I do.”
He had no idea what she was talking about but the raw emotion in her voice urged him forward and he reached out to place a hand against her arm.
She tensed at his touch but then relaxed, turning towards him. She raised her tearful gaze to his and he just wanted to throw himself at her feet and beg her for forgiveness. She reached out a shaking hand and brought it to rest on his chest, biting her lip to suppress a sob.
“You’re real. You’re really real,” she whispered, seemingly to herself as her gaze was fixed on her hand where it rested against him. He was too stunned at such an emotional display to say anything in reply, especially when she raised those wide eyes to his once more. She stared at him in silence for a long time, searching his eyes for something.
Whether she found it or not, he didn’t know because in the next instant, her lips were on his, trembling as she kissed him. He knew he should pull back, find out what this was all about but he had been too long deprived of her taste, of the feel of her and so he couldn’t help himself from wrapping his arms around her tightly and dragging her against him as he kissed her back hungrily.
For The Best?
For The Best?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When his arms wound round her and tugged her against him, she sagged against him helplessly, her heart singing with a mixture of joy and sweet agony. He may not love her anymore but he was not cruel enough to deny her this, her last chance to taste him, to give herself to him. She twined her arms around him, one hand gripping the lapel of his duster as she pushed herself against him, desperately striving for closeness. His hands cupped her cheeks and then buried in her hair and she let out a strangled sob against him, jerking back from him. Tears flowed unchecked down her cheeks now, blurring his features.
“Don’t cry, love,” he murmured, his voice husky and low.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his hands cupping her cheeks again as he brushed a thumb over her tear-stained cheeks.
“Don’t cry.”
She swallowed back her sob and gripped the back of his neck, pulling him in close again and meeting his lips in a soft kiss. He twined one arm around her, one hand still cupping her cheek, and tugged her close again, his belt digging into her stomach.
She kissed him back desperately, pouring all of her pain into the kiss, urging him closer and closer. He tasted just as she had remembered and when she ran her hand down his back, he felt just the same too. He deepened their kiss and she moaned helplessly, both hands slipping under his coat now, needing to touch him. She tugged his T-shirt out of his jeans and slipped one hand underneath, splaying her fingers on his cool skin. She felt him gasp but then his mouth was on hers again, soft lips urging hers apart as he dipped his tongue inside.
When one hesitant hand ran down her side, she felt the tears threatening to return and clung to him even tighter. He pulled away, breathing just as heavily as her but she couldn’t bring herself to move away, her forehead resting against his chin.
“Please,” she pleaded, hands gripping him tightly.
She didn’t care that she was begging- she just wanted him. Wanted him to work that old magic and take away her pain.
“Shh,” he murmured softly, his breath brushing her forehead before he dipped his head and caught her mouth again in a hungry kiss. She didn’t realise they had moved until she felt the sofa against the backs of her knees and she broke their kiss for a brief few seconds to sink onto it, catching his hand and drawing him with her.
She lay back on the sofa, watching him with fearful eyes as he settled beside her, blue eyes studying her. She closed her eyes against that piercing look, praying to every god she knew that he wouldn’t get up and leave her now. She didn’t think her heart would survive if he did. She tensed when she felt him move but he only shifted closer, one hand ghosting over her face and down over her arm.
“Look at me,” he urged quietly and she forced her eyes open.
He was watching her with that look of awe she remembered so well as he traced his fingers over her inner arm. He looked like he wanted to say something else but then he shook his head slightly and lowered his head to hers again, kissing her gently. Well, they always had been better at communicating with actions rather than words.
She guided his duster from his shoulders and ran her hands over his back, moulding him against her as she kissed him harder. His mouth dropped to her neck and she gasped, hands slipping under his T-shirt again. Why was it only him that could make her feel alive like this? He was the only one who had ever made her body sing in this maddening way. Even if her heart was breaking with every moment in his arms, knowing this could be the last time.
With that thought, she guided his mouth back to hers, needing the reassurance of his kiss. When she broke away for breath, his hands worked their way under her light top and she wriggled, trying to help him as he stripped it off. He threw it to the floor and then stopped to look at her for a long moment.
“Spike,” she whispered, drawing his eyes back to hers, pleading him silently to touch her.
He kissed her again, gently, as his hands moved over her skin with feather-light touches. And all she could think was more, more, more. She arched against him, urging him closer, gasping with his gentle touches. One hand found its way to his belt and she struggled with it one-handed, her other hand buried in his hair, holding his mouth to hers.
There was no way she could get enough of the taste of him.
When she managed to tug his belt off and her hand went to the zip of his jeans, their passion went into overload. They shimmied out of their clothes as quickly as possible and then it was just them, poised, silent. She thought the tears might return again but forced them back as he kissed her softly and slid home.
She woke to the silky feel of warm sheets on her body and couldn’t help but smile softly. She opened her eyes and her smile faded as her eyes moved to the figure next to her. They had made it to his bed after that first time on the sofa and he was now curled up under the covers beside her, his head resting on his arm. She felt her heart leap at the sight of him and couldn’t stop herself from reaching out and touching one of the loose curls on his head. He shifted in his sleep and she froze, fearing that she had woken him. She should have known better than that though: Spike slept, of course, like the dead.
Looking at him now in the soft morning light, she knew that she was never going to be free of this feeling. But she would not burden him with it. She would go away, head onto San Francisco just like she had planned, and leave him to get on with the life he so obviously preferred. With the thought, her tears almost returned but she wiped them away quickly. She didn’t want her last moments with him to be tinged with sadness. She just wanted to remember everything about his taste, his smell, the feel of his skin and the texture of his hair.
She didn’t know how she forced herself out of his bed but she did, dressing quickly but lingering in the doorway, drinking in the sight of him. Finally, she forced herself away, letting herself out of the suite quietly.
After a quick shower and a change of clothes, she packed up her meagre belongings and found her way to Angel’s office. Despite the early hour, the vampire was up and she gave him a weak smile as she moved into the room. He took a step forward but then paused and she knew in that moment that he had smelt Spike on her. Well, at least this would go a bit easier.
“I just wanted to say goodbye,” she murmured with a sad smile.
“You’re leaving already?” he asked in obvious surprise.
“Yeah,” she answered, avoiding his gaze, “I… Well, I came to see… and I saw. It’s time I got going.”
“Buffy, are you sure?” he asked and she raised her eyes to his.
She nodded, swallowing hard.
“Yeah. I mean, they’ll be waiting for me in San Francisco already,” she lied.
Angel said nothing but nodded and she smiled sadly.
“Well, erm, I should get going.”
“Yeah.”
He stepped forward and placed a hand on each shoulder, dark eyes taking her in.
“It was good to see you, Buffy.”
“You too.”
“You take care.”
She nodded, forcing a weak smile. He held onto her for a moment longer but then released her and she moved towards the door. He followed her, holding the door for her as she lingered.
Taking a deep breath, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper and held it out towards him.
“Can you… can you give this to Spike?”
“Buffy, I don’t know. I mean-“
“Please. It’s just a… Can you give it to him?”
Hesitantly, he took the piece of paper and held it listlessly, glancing at it before turning his gaze on her.
“Goodbye, Angel,” she murmured, some of that old affection creeping into her heart. She leant up and pressed a kiss to his cheek and then stepped back.
“Goodbye, Buffy.”
She gave him another weak smile and then turned, making her way over to the elevators, forcing herself to keep going.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: Okay, please don't hate me and keep reading... you know I'm not going to let her get away with it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When his arms wound round her and tugged her against him, she sagged against him helplessly, her heart singing with a mixture of joy and sweet agony. He may not love her anymore but he was not cruel enough to deny her this, her last chance to taste him, to give herself to him. She twined her arms around him, one hand gripping the lapel of his duster as she pushed herself against him, desperately striving for closeness. His hands cupped her cheeks and then buried in her hair and she let out a strangled sob against him, jerking back from him. Tears flowed unchecked down her cheeks now, blurring his features.
“Don’t cry, love,” he murmured, his voice husky and low.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his hands cupping her cheeks again as he brushed a thumb over her tear-stained cheeks.
“Don’t cry.”
She swallowed back her sob and gripped the back of his neck, pulling him in close again and meeting his lips in a soft kiss. He twined one arm around her, one hand still cupping her cheek, and tugged her close again, his belt digging into her stomach.
She kissed him back desperately, pouring all of her pain into the kiss, urging him closer and closer. He tasted just as she had remembered and when she ran her hand down his back, he felt just the same too. He deepened their kiss and she moaned helplessly, both hands slipping under his coat now, needing to touch him. She tugged his T-shirt out of his jeans and slipped one hand underneath, splaying her fingers on his cool skin. She felt him gasp but then his mouth was on hers again, soft lips urging hers apart as he dipped his tongue inside.
When one hesitant hand ran down her side, she felt the tears threatening to return and clung to him even tighter. He pulled away, breathing just as heavily as her but she couldn’t bring herself to move away, her forehead resting against his chin.
“Please,” she pleaded, hands gripping him tightly.
She didn’t care that she was begging- she just wanted him. Wanted him to work that old magic and take away her pain.
“Shh,” he murmured softly, his breath brushing her forehead before he dipped his head and caught her mouth again in a hungry kiss. She didn’t realise they had moved until she felt the sofa against the backs of her knees and she broke their kiss for a brief few seconds to sink onto it, catching his hand and drawing him with her.
She lay back on the sofa, watching him with fearful eyes as he settled beside her, blue eyes studying her. She closed her eyes against that piercing look, praying to every god she knew that he wouldn’t get up and leave her now. She didn’t think her heart would survive if he did. She tensed when she felt him move but he only shifted closer, one hand ghosting over her face and down over her arm.
“Look at me,” he urged quietly and she forced her eyes open.
He was watching her with that look of awe she remembered so well as he traced his fingers over her inner arm. He looked like he wanted to say something else but then he shook his head slightly and lowered his head to hers again, kissing her gently. Well, they always had been better at communicating with actions rather than words.
She guided his duster from his shoulders and ran her hands over his back, moulding him against her as she kissed him harder. His mouth dropped to her neck and she gasped, hands slipping under his T-shirt again. Why was it only him that could make her feel alive like this? He was the only one who had ever made her body sing in this maddening way. Even if her heart was breaking with every moment in his arms, knowing this could be the last time.
With that thought, she guided his mouth back to hers, needing the reassurance of his kiss. When she broke away for breath, his hands worked their way under her light top and she wriggled, trying to help him as he stripped it off. He threw it to the floor and then stopped to look at her for a long moment.
“Spike,” she whispered, drawing his eyes back to hers, pleading him silently to touch her.
He kissed her again, gently, as his hands moved over her skin with feather-light touches. And all she could think was more, more, more. She arched against him, urging him closer, gasping with his gentle touches. One hand found its way to his belt and she struggled with it one-handed, her other hand buried in his hair, holding his mouth to hers.
There was no way she could get enough of the taste of him.
When she managed to tug his belt off and her hand went to the zip of his jeans, their passion went into overload. They shimmied out of their clothes as quickly as possible and then it was just them, poised, silent. She thought the tears might return again but forced them back as he kissed her softly and slid home.
She woke to the silky feel of warm sheets on her body and couldn’t help but smile softly. She opened her eyes and her smile faded as her eyes moved to the figure next to her. They had made it to his bed after that first time on the sofa and he was now curled up under the covers beside her, his head resting on his arm. She felt her heart leap at the sight of him and couldn’t stop herself from reaching out and touching one of the loose curls on his head. He shifted in his sleep and she froze, fearing that she had woken him. She should have known better than that though: Spike slept, of course, like the dead.
Looking at him now in the soft morning light, she knew that she was never going to be free of this feeling. But she would not burden him with it. She would go away, head onto San Francisco just like she had planned, and leave him to get on with the life he so obviously preferred. With the thought, her tears almost returned but she wiped them away quickly. She didn’t want her last moments with him to be tinged with sadness. She just wanted to remember everything about his taste, his smell, the feel of his skin and the texture of his hair.
She didn’t know how she forced herself out of his bed but she did, dressing quickly but lingering in the doorway, drinking in the sight of him. Finally, she forced herself away, letting herself out of the suite quietly.
After a quick shower and a change of clothes, she packed up her meagre belongings and found her way to Angel’s office. Despite the early hour, the vampire was up and she gave him a weak smile as she moved into the room. He took a step forward but then paused and she knew in that moment that he had smelt Spike on her. Well, at least this would go a bit easier.
“I just wanted to say goodbye,” she murmured with a sad smile.
“You’re leaving already?” he asked in obvious surprise.
“Yeah,” she answered, avoiding his gaze, “I… Well, I came to see… and I saw. It’s time I got going.”
“Buffy, are you sure?” he asked and she raised her eyes to his.
She nodded, swallowing hard.
“Yeah. I mean, they’ll be waiting for me in San Francisco already,” she lied.
Angel said nothing but nodded and she smiled sadly.
“Well, erm, I should get going.”
“Yeah.”
He stepped forward and placed a hand on each shoulder, dark eyes taking her in.
“It was good to see you, Buffy.”
“You too.”
“You take care.”
She nodded, forcing a weak smile. He held onto her for a moment longer but then released her and she moved towards the door. He followed her, holding the door for her as she lingered.
Taking a deep breath, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper and held it out towards him.
“Can you… can you give this to Spike?”
“Buffy, I don’t know. I mean-“
“Please. It’s just a… Can you give it to him?”
Hesitantly, he took the piece of paper and held it listlessly, glancing at it before turning his gaze on her.
“Goodbye, Angel,” she murmured, some of that old affection creeping into her heart. She leant up and pressed a kiss to his cheek and then stepped back.
“Goodbye, Buffy.”
She gave him another weak smile and then turned, making her way over to the elevators, forcing herself to keep going.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: Okay, please don't hate me and keep reading... you know I'm not going to let her get away with it.
The Chase
The Chase
A/N: Okay, I'm a wimp. I couldn't wait to put up the next chapter and prevent the hate!
My thanks for the next few chapters go to SanityFair, dawnofme and 'Guest' for helping me to figure out the journey from LA to San Francisco.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He woke to find himself cocooned in warmth and breathing in the delicious scent of Buffy. And for a minute, he thought it might have been a dream, until a very vivid memory of the night before came to him. He smiled widely and rolled over – only to find himself the only occupant of his bed. He frowned and sat up a little, forcing the sleep away. He knew Buffy had been here – could still smell her scent all over his sheets – but judging by the warmth of the bed beside him, or lack thereof, she was long gone.
He sat up fully, wiping a hand across his face and looking around for any clues as to her whereabouts. There was no sign that she was still in his room and he sighed. He wouldn’t have minded waking up with her in his arms. Going by the amount of light he could see behind the thick drapes though, it was late morning and it was no surprise the Slayer had been up and out early. She also had those weird ideas about propriety and he wouldn’t be surprised if she thought sleeping with him under Angel’s roof was wrong.
He smiled to himself and threw his legs over the side of the bed. Well, he’d just go find her and let her know how silly an idea that was. A perverse sense of pride kept him from having a shower, mainly so that his grandsire could have no doubts about which vampire Buffy preferred. Still smiling, he pulled on his clothes, slicked back his hair and left the room.
He barged through the door of Angel’s office and found him, as usual, sat in his chair, staring out at the skyline, brooding of course. Angel turned to him as he came in and frowned slightly. Spike moved towards his grandsire’s desk and leant against it casually, fiddling with the name plate.
“So, seen the Slayer this morning?” he asked, struggling to keep from crowing with triumph.
“Spike, she’s gone.”
“Gone out for the day?” he asked, replacing the pen he had been playing with, “Should have guessed. LA girl at heart and all that, probably-“
“No, Spike. She left.”
He frowned and really looked at his grandsire.
“What do you mean she left?”
“She’s on her way to San Francisco as we speak.”
He moved away from the desk and sank into a chair mindlessly, brain racing with thoughts.
“Wow, she’s really upped her game,” he remarked idly, “Used to be she’d just leave the crypt the morning after… now she’s leaving the city.”
He was silent for a moment and then he burst out laughing, surprising his silent grandsire.
“This is bloody brilliant!”
Angel frowned, watching him as if he’d gone crazy, seemingly not understanding his logic. He laughed again harder and slapped the arm of the chair he was in.
“Classic Slayer, this is.”
“Spike, what the hell are you going on about?”
He raised his gaze to his grandsire and smirked triumphantly.
“Bint only runs when she’s scared. She felt something, so she ran.”
He laughed again.
“This is brilliant!”
He jumped to his feet quickly and turned to his grandsire.
“I need to borrow the Viper.”
“What?!”
“Need to borrow the car. Got a little road trip to make,” he explained with a wide smile.
“Spike, don’t you think-“
“You know I’m gonna take the car whether you let me or not.”
He saw Angel’s shoulders sag and smiled widely.
“When did she leave?” he asked.
“About two hours ago.”
Nodding, he turned towards the door.
“Spike, wait.”
He paused at his grandsire’s voice and turned back to him impatiently.
“What?” he bit out.
With a pained look, Angel moved towards him and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket.
“She asked me to give you this.”
He took the piece of paper with a slight frown and looked at it for a few short seconds, before shoving it in his pocket.
“Thanks.”
He turned back to the door and threw it open.
“Aren’t you going to read it?” Angel called after him.
“Doesn’t matter what it says. I’m going after her.”
Before his grandsire could make any reply, he was halfway to the elevators, still grinning and getting some strange looks from the people he passed.
In no time, he was in the basement garage and with a silent thanks to Wolfram & Hart for their special tinted glass, he guided the Viper out of the garage and onto the streets of LA, heading for the freeway and the road to San Francisco.
About two hours into his journey, he had to stop for petrol, but luckily the forecourt was shaded enough so there was no danger of him going up in flames. He grabbed a few refreshments and as he was paying, his hand closed around the folded piece of paper in his pocket. He pulled it out and held it in one hand as he paid and returned to the car. He sat at the wheel, unmoving, for several long moments before he finally got up the courage to unfold the piece of paper.
Spike,
I always regretted not making the most of our last night together in Sunnydale. At least I got a chance to make that right. I’m really glad you’re back and I hope you’ll be happy. I’m sure you’ll do a lot of good with Angel.
Buffy
With a sigh, he crumpled up the note and sank his head back against the head rest. So last night was just a way of her taking what she thought she should have had back in Sunnydale? There was something about the carefully-worded note though, something that made him pause when he thought about turning back.
Finally, he pulled the door shut and turned the ignition on. Like he’d told Angel, he would go to her, no matter what the note said. Now though, it was anger and some sadness that was prompting him more than the joy that had filled his unbeating heart earlier. Slayer thought she could mess with him? After everything they had been through, he’d have thought she’d have stopped thinking of him as her personal sex toy. He screeched out of the forecourt and tore along the road, his sudden anger making him heavy on the gas. He was going to wring her bloody neck.
A/N: Okay, I'm a wimp. I couldn't wait to put up the next chapter and prevent the hate!
My thanks for the next few chapters go to SanityFair, dawnofme and 'Guest' for helping me to figure out the journey from LA to San Francisco.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He woke to find himself cocooned in warmth and breathing in the delicious scent of Buffy. And for a minute, he thought it might have been a dream, until a very vivid memory of the night before came to him. He smiled widely and rolled over – only to find himself the only occupant of his bed. He frowned and sat up a little, forcing the sleep away. He knew Buffy had been here – could still smell her scent all over his sheets – but judging by the warmth of the bed beside him, or lack thereof, she was long gone.
He sat up fully, wiping a hand across his face and looking around for any clues as to her whereabouts. There was no sign that she was still in his room and he sighed. He wouldn’t have minded waking up with her in his arms. Going by the amount of light he could see behind the thick drapes though, it was late morning and it was no surprise the Slayer had been up and out early. She also had those weird ideas about propriety and he wouldn’t be surprised if she thought sleeping with him under Angel’s roof was wrong.
He smiled to himself and threw his legs over the side of the bed. Well, he’d just go find her and let her know how silly an idea that was. A perverse sense of pride kept him from having a shower, mainly so that his grandsire could have no doubts about which vampire Buffy preferred. Still smiling, he pulled on his clothes, slicked back his hair and left the room.
He barged through the door of Angel’s office and found him, as usual, sat in his chair, staring out at the skyline, brooding of course. Angel turned to him as he came in and frowned slightly. Spike moved towards his grandsire’s desk and leant against it casually, fiddling with the name plate.
“So, seen the Slayer this morning?” he asked, struggling to keep from crowing with triumph.
“Spike, she’s gone.”
“Gone out for the day?” he asked, replacing the pen he had been playing with, “Should have guessed. LA girl at heart and all that, probably-“
“No, Spike. She left.”
He frowned and really looked at his grandsire.
“What do you mean she left?”
“She’s on her way to San Francisco as we speak.”
He moved away from the desk and sank into a chair mindlessly, brain racing with thoughts.
“Wow, she’s really upped her game,” he remarked idly, “Used to be she’d just leave the crypt the morning after… now she’s leaving the city.”
He was silent for a moment and then he burst out laughing, surprising his silent grandsire.
“This is bloody brilliant!”
Angel frowned, watching him as if he’d gone crazy, seemingly not understanding his logic. He laughed again harder and slapped the arm of the chair he was in.
“Classic Slayer, this is.”
“Spike, what the hell are you going on about?”
He raised his gaze to his grandsire and smirked triumphantly.
“Bint only runs when she’s scared. She felt something, so she ran.”
He laughed again.
“This is brilliant!”
He jumped to his feet quickly and turned to his grandsire.
“I need to borrow the Viper.”
“What?!”
“Need to borrow the car. Got a little road trip to make,” he explained with a wide smile.
“Spike, don’t you think-“
“You know I’m gonna take the car whether you let me or not.”
He saw Angel’s shoulders sag and smiled widely.
“When did she leave?” he asked.
“About two hours ago.”
Nodding, he turned towards the door.
“Spike, wait.”
He paused at his grandsire’s voice and turned back to him impatiently.
“What?” he bit out.
With a pained look, Angel moved towards him and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket.
“She asked me to give you this.”
He took the piece of paper with a slight frown and looked at it for a few short seconds, before shoving it in his pocket.
“Thanks.”
He turned back to the door and threw it open.
“Aren’t you going to read it?” Angel called after him.
“Doesn’t matter what it says. I’m going after her.”
Before his grandsire could make any reply, he was halfway to the elevators, still grinning and getting some strange looks from the people he passed.
In no time, he was in the basement garage and with a silent thanks to Wolfram & Hart for their special tinted glass, he guided the Viper out of the garage and onto the streets of LA, heading for the freeway and the road to San Francisco.
About two hours into his journey, he had to stop for petrol, but luckily the forecourt was shaded enough so there was no danger of him going up in flames. He grabbed a few refreshments and as he was paying, his hand closed around the folded piece of paper in his pocket. He pulled it out and held it in one hand as he paid and returned to the car. He sat at the wheel, unmoving, for several long moments before he finally got up the courage to unfold the piece of paper.
Spike,
I always regretted not making the most of our last night together in Sunnydale. At least I got a chance to make that right. I’m really glad you’re back and I hope you’ll be happy. I’m sure you’ll do a lot of good with Angel.
Buffy
With a sigh, he crumpled up the note and sank his head back against the head rest. So last night was just a way of her taking what she thought she should have had back in Sunnydale? There was something about the carefully-worded note though, something that made him pause when he thought about turning back.
Finally, he pulled the door shut and turned the ignition on. Like he’d told Angel, he would go to her, no matter what the note said. Now though, it was anger and some sadness that was prompting him more than the joy that had filled his unbeating heart earlier. Slayer thought she could mess with him? After everything they had been through, he’d have thought she’d have stopped thinking of him as her personal sex toy. He screeched out of the forecourt and tore along the road, his sudden anger making him heavy on the gas. He was going to wring her bloody neck.
The Support Of A Friend
The Support Of A Friend
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After her transatlantic flight just yesterday, she wasn’t exactly keen to be on a plane again so soon, but even with a wait at check-in it was the quickest way to get to San Francisco – and the quickest way to get away from LA. And from Spike, much as it pained her with every mile she got away from the city. She would have given everything to stay with him, but she would not force her love on him. She loved him, and respected him, too much for that.
So she had left, cursing herself with every metre she got away from Wolfram & Hart. At least she had the memory of last night to cling onto. She could hide it away in her heart and treasure it. It had almost been like old times, minus the violence of course. But the look in his eyes… she almost wanted to hope it was the love that had always been present in his expression before. But she wasn’t foolish enough to hope that. The Spike she had loved in Sunnydale was gone and she would have to learn to live with that.
She was more than in need of a little R&R with her best friend right about now… and probably some ice-cream too. She was at the Council building in no time and almost as soon as she got through the door, Willow was summoned and appeared moments later, overjoyed to see her.
“Buffy! What are you doing here?”
Willow pulled her into a hug and helplessly, she broke down in her friend’s arms, the tears she had been holding back for the last three hours since she had left Wolfram & Hart now flowing freely.
Willow had guided her away from the curious gazes of a crowd of slayers and up to her room, setting her down on a little couch and sitting beside her, one arm around her shoulders and her free hand gripping hers.
“What is it, Buffy? What’s happened?”
“He’s alive,” she choked out helplessly.
“Who?”
“Spike,” she whispered, brushing her cheeks impatiently.
She felt Willow tense and she raised her head to meet her friend’s shocked look.
“What?! How?”
“I don’t know,” she sobbed, shaking her head, “He’s… he’s in LA. And God, I…”
She couldn’t finish her sentence as she burst into tears again, burying her head in her hands, her whole body racked with her sobs.
Willow rubbed a hand against her back gently, soothing her with soft words. When she had calmed down some more, she raised her teary eyes to her friend’s again.
“Will, I still love him. I… I tried to stop but I…”
A sob burst from her again and she rested her face in her hand, helplessly trying to hold back her tears. Willow said nothing but wrapped both arms around her and she buried her head against her friend’s shoulder, letting the tears come. At least Willow understood what it was like to lose the one you loved. And she had realised after his death that Willow had never hated Spike as much as the others.
After she had calmed down, she was exhausted and Willow had urged her to rest. Sleep had come easily after the day – and night- she had had. She didn’t know how long she dozed for but when she woke, she found Willow at her desk, reading a book. She sat up, groaning at the pain in her neck and drawing Willow’s attention to her.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’ve been better,” she replied with a wry smile, wiping a hand across her tired face, “I don’t think I’ve cried so much in years.”
Willow frowned slightly and turned to her fully, placing the book down on her desk.
“What you reading?” Buffy asked quietly, hoping to distract herself for a little while at least.
“It’s, erm, it’s about the amulet.”
“Oh.”
“I just thought I’d see if I could find anything… But I… I’ll stop if you don’t want-“
“I don’t know what I want,” she admitted softly, brushing her hair back from her face.
She dropped her gaze to the floor, her face heating up.
“We, erm, we slept together,” she admitted, “Last night.”
“And you ran away this morning? I thought you were past all that, Buffy.”
She and Willow had grown closer since the end of Sunnydale, making up for the two years of distance, and one late night she had told her friend all the details of her relationship with Spike. That was probably another reason why Willow understood her grief a lot better than anyone else, except maybe Dawn. She raised her head and nodded sadly.
“I am. But Will, he… he doesn’t love me anymore.”
“Did he say that?” Willow asked, surprise and a dash of anger in her tone.
“No. He just… I know he doesn’t, Will. If he did, he would have told me he was back,” she said quietly, eyes drifting to the window.
They fell into a comfortable silence and she curled up on the couch, watching as her friend went back to the book.
They dined later and returned to Willow’s room, Buffy more than happy to avoid all the curious stares. Not thirty minutes later though, all hell broke loose, alarms whining throughout the building. She got to her feet in surprise, turning to Willow.
“What’s going on?” she shouted over the noise.
“The barrier’s been breached. There’s a demon in the building.”
She was in Slayer mode and ready to go on the hunt when suddenly the alarms fell silent and Willow’s phone rang. She answered it, spoke to the person on the other end and then hung up, turning back to her.
“They caught a vampire,” she explained, “He’s only alive because he said he wanted to talk to you.”
She frowned and nodded to Willow, following her out of the door, having no idea what vampire in San Francisco might be barging into a Slayer Headquarters and demanding to see her. She could do with a good fight though.
Willow led her down through the maze of corridors and opened a large door leading into one of the training rooms. At first, she could see nothing but the crowd of girls with crossbows pointed at one corner, but then they shifted slightly and she froze, eyes going wide.
“Spike?” she whispered.
She heard a buzz go through the girls - apparently the rumours had spread far beyond the Sunnydale girls – and at a signal from Willow, they lowered their weapons as one. She glanced at her friend, who tore her wide eyes away from the vampire and sent her an encouraging smile.
“We’ll leave you two alone,” she murmured, following the Slayers and shutting the door behind her, leaving the two of them in tense silence.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After her transatlantic flight just yesterday, she wasn’t exactly keen to be on a plane again so soon, but even with a wait at check-in it was the quickest way to get to San Francisco – and the quickest way to get away from LA. And from Spike, much as it pained her with every mile she got away from the city. She would have given everything to stay with him, but she would not force her love on him. She loved him, and respected him, too much for that.
So she had left, cursing herself with every metre she got away from Wolfram & Hart. At least she had the memory of last night to cling onto. She could hide it away in her heart and treasure it. It had almost been like old times, minus the violence of course. But the look in his eyes… she almost wanted to hope it was the love that had always been present in his expression before. But she wasn’t foolish enough to hope that. The Spike she had loved in Sunnydale was gone and she would have to learn to live with that.
She was more than in need of a little R&R with her best friend right about now… and probably some ice-cream too. She was at the Council building in no time and almost as soon as she got through the door, Willow was summoned and appeared moments later, overjoyed to see her.
“Buffy! What are you doing here?”
Willow pulled her into a hug and helplessly, she broke down in her friend’s arms, the tears she had been holding back for the last three hours since she had left Wolfram & Hart now flowing freely.
Willow had guided her away from the curious gazes of a crowd of slayers and up to her room, setting her down on a little couch and sitting beside her, one arm around her shoulders and her free hand gripping hers.
“What is it, Buffy? What’s happened?”
“He’s alive,” she choked out helplessly.
“Who?”
“Spike,” she whispered, brushing her cheeks impatiently.
She felt Willow tense and she raised her head to meet her friend’s shocked look.
“What?! How?”
“I don’t know,” she sobbed, shaking her head, “He’s… he’s in LA. And God, I…”
She couldn’t finish her sentence as she burst into tears again, burying her head in her hands, her whole body racked with her sobs.
Willow rubbed a hand against her back gently, soothing her with soft words. When she had calmed down some more, she raised her teary eyes to her friend’s again.
“Will, I still love him. I… I tried to stop but I…”
A sob burst from her again and she rested her face in her hand, helplessly trying to hold back her tears. Willow said nothing but wrapped both arms around her and she buried her head against her friend’s shoulder, letting the tears come. At least Willow understood what it was like to lose the one you loved. And she had realised after his death that Willow had never hated Spike as much as the others.
After she had calmed down, she was exhausted and Willow had urged her to rest. Sleep had come easily after the day – and night- she had had. She didn’t know how long she dozed for but when she woke, she found Willow at her desk, reading a book. She sat up, groaning at the pain in her neck and drawing Willow’s attention to her.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’ve been better,” she replied with a wry smile, wiping a hand across her tired face, “I don’t think I’ve cried so much in years.”
Willow frowned slightly and turned to her fully, placing the book down on her desk.
“What you reading?” Buffy asked quietly, hoping to distract herself for a little while at least.
“It’s, erm, it’s about the amulet.”
“Oh.”
“I just thought I’d see if I could find anything… But I… I’ll stop if you don’t want-“
“I don’t know what I want,” she admitted softly, brushing her hair back from her face.
She dropped her gaze to the floor, her face heating up.
“We, erm, we slept together,” she admitted, “Last night.”
“And you ran away this morning? I thought you were past all that, Buffy.”
She and Willow had grown closer since the end of Sunnydale, making up for the two years of distance, and one late night she had told her friend all the details of her relationship with Spike. That was probably another reason why Willow understood her grief a lot better than anyone else, except maybe Dawn. She raised her head and nodded sadly.
“I am. But Will, he… he doesn’t love me anymore.”
“Did he say that?” Willow asked, surprise and a dash of anger in her tone.
“No. He just… I know he doesn’t, Will. If he did, he would have told me he was back,” she said quietly, eyes drifting to the window.
They fell into a comfortable silence and she curled up on the couch, watching as her friend went back to the book.
They dined later and returned to Willow’s room, Buffy more than happy to avoid all the curious stares. Not thirty minutes later though, all hell broke loose, alarms whining throughout the building. She got to her feet in surprise, turning to Willow.
“What’s going on?” she shouted over the noise.
“The barrier’s been breached. There’s a demon in the building.”
She was in Slayer mode and ready to go on the hunt when suddenly the alarms fell silent and Willow’s phone rang. She answered it, spoke to the person on the other end and then hung up, turning back to her.
“They caught a vampire,” she explained, “He’s only alive because he said he wanted to talk to you.”
She frowned and nodded to Willow, following her out of the door, having no idea what vampire in San Francisco might be barging into a Slayer Headquarters and demanding to see her. She could do with a good fight though.
Willow led her down through the maze of corridors and opened a large door leading into one of the training rooms. At first, she could see nothing but the crowd of girls with crossbows pointed at one corner, but then they shifted slightly and she froze, eyes going wide.
“Spike?” she whispered.
She heard a buzz go through the girls - apparently the rumours had spread far beyond the Sunnydale girls – and at a signal from Willow, they lowered their weapons as one. She glanced at her friend, who tore her wide eyes away from the vampire and sent her an encouraging smile.
“We’ll leave you two alone,” she murmured, following the Slayers and shutting the door behind her, leaving the two of them in tense silence.
The Moment Of Truth
The Moment Of Truth
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Luckily for the Slayers who had caught him, most of his anger had dissipated during the last two hours of his six hour journey and so he had surrendered without a fight. Now, when he looked at Buffy - who looked for all the world like a cornered animal - it disappeared completely and he was inclined to go with his first instinct on the reasons for her fleeing. He wasn’t going to make it easy for her though.
He leant back against the wall, at ease now without twenty crossbows pointed at him, and crossed his legs, thumbs hooked in his belt loops.
“You know,” he started, “I was starting to forget what it felt like…”
Her head snapped up, red-rimmed eyes fixed on his. She looked even worse than she had yesterday and he softened a little as he watched her tense, waiting for him to continue.
“Being used by you, that is,” he finished, “S’been a while.”
Her mouth fell open, ready to protest, but something halted her and she dropped her eyes from his.
“Stings a bit more, with the soul,” he continued, hoping to goad some sort of reply out of her, “But I just wanted to know…”
She raised her eyes again and he continued, eyes holding hers.
“What was the reason this time? Were you feeling bad about The Immortal?” he asked, “Or maybe it was being around Peaches but not being able to do anything about it? Decided to find the next best vampire?”
“How dare you!” she burst out, eyes flashing with brief anger before she turned her back on him, arms wrapped around herself tightly.
Well, at least he’d got a reaction out of her.
“How dare I?!” he retorted, on a roll now, “You know how I feel about you and you still treat me like something you scraped off your shoe. Not good enough to stay with when the sun comes up and you realise what you’ve done.”
“You don’t know what it was like!” she answered angrily, still refusing to look at him.
“Why don’t you tell me then, Buffy? I thought maybe I might be more to you than a quick tumble but I guess I was wrong.”
He could practically see her seething but she made no answer.
“Just like old times, eh? Here’s me, loving you with everything I’ve got, and there’s you, not giving two figs about it.”
He heard her gasp and then she turned to him, eyes shining with tears and lit up with anger.
“Oh, yeah, you really showed how much you loved me when you forgot to mention that you were back from the dead!” she almost screeched at him, her voice thick with emotion.
And that stunned him into silence. He studied her for a long moment but she refused to meet his gaze.
“Is that what you thought, Buffy?” he asked quietly, “You thought I didn’t tell you because I didn’t love you?”
She turned her back on him again and was silent for a long pause, before he heard her quiet voice.
“What was I supposed to think, Spike?” she asked tiredly.
And now he truly was stunned. Is this why she had been so off with him? Because she thought his love had been buried with him in the Hellmouth? It would certainly explain her strange behaviour… partly.
“Used to be you didn’t care too much if I loved you or not. In fact, you preferred it not.”
He saw her tense at his words and watched her carefully, trying desperately to read her.
“People change, Spike.”
“Not me though, you should know that by now.”
She gave a choked laugh and he realised then that she was fighting tears. Feeling his triumph within his grasp, he took a step towards her and continued in a low voice.
“’Specially not when it comes to love. And even more so when it comes to you, Slayer. Should know that death doesn’t change the way I feel about you. Whether its yours or mine.”
She was almost rigid now, trembling slightly as he took another cautious step forward.
“Love you just as much now as I did two, three years ago. Popped out of that amulet and you were the first thing I thought of. ‘Course, being a ghost made it a bit hard to get in contact.”
He heard a distinct sniffle and continued to press his advantage.
“Then got my body back and, yeah, got a bit sidetracked… then before I know it I’m in Rome, watching you dance with that wanker. Didn’t exactly prompt a reunion.”
“Spike,” she got out and he paused, “Shut up.”
He froze and frowned, watching her back.
“’Scuse me?” he got out, slightly put out.
She turned to him then, eyes swimming with tears, lip trembling as she looked up at him.
“Just stop talking and kiss me already.”
He didn’t need to be asked twice and in two strides, he was in front of her, dragging her into his embrace and kissing her hungrily. He felt her sob against his mouth and her arms twined around him tightly, clinging to him. He pulled back though slightly, raising one hand to brush the tears from her cheeks.
“Got plenty of tears for me lately, sweetheart.”
She bit back a sob and nodded, watery eyes rising to his. He stroked his hand now over her hair, hardly able to believe it as she leaned into his touch.
“Oh, my sweet girl. How could you think I would ever stop loving you?” he murmured, his heart ready to burst with all the love he had carried for this woman.
Before she could make any reply, he kissed her again, drawing her close. And there was his Buffy, little hands in an iron grip around his arms, reaching up on tiptoes to press herself against him, kissing him back urgently. This time, it was she who pulled back, the tears still ever present as she focussed her bright eyes on him.
“You have to know… I-I meant what I said down in the Hellmouth,” she choked out, “I love you. And please don’t say you don’t believe me again… because I don’t think I-“
He cut her off by placing a finger over her lips.
“I believe you, sweetheart. Wanted to believed you back then too, but had to get you out of there, didn’t I?”
For a brief second, he saw anger flash across her face and he braced himself, expecting her punch. Instead though, she threw herself against him once more, burying her head in his shoulder and wrapping her arms around him tightly. He wound his arms around her and rested his mouth against her hair with a tiny smile.
“I love you,” she murmured tearfully, hugging him almost painfully tightly, “And I never… I never wanted to hurt you. I just wanted to be with you… but I thought you didn’t care, so I-”
“Shhh,” he soothed, running a hand over her soft hair and drawing her tighter against him as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “It doesn’t matter. I’m here, aren’t I?”
They stood wrapped up in each other’s arms for a long few minutes, until finally he heard her tears come to a halt and she raised a hand to brush over her cheeks. He drew back and stroked his fingers over her cheek.
“I love you, Buffy Summers,” he pronounced, holding her gaze with his own, “And don’t you ever think otherwise.”
She nodded and he smiled ever so slightly, brushing a hand through her hair.
“Come back to LA with me?” he whispered, tilting her chin so he could meet her eyes better.
“I… I don’t know. I mean, Dawn’s in Rome and…”
“Get her to come here.”
She was silent for a moment but then she gave him a weak smile.
“I don’t think Angel would like that very much.”
“Don’t care,” he answered boldly, “I’ll get my own place. Just for the three of us. Hate staying in that place anyway.”
She was silent again and he hoped he hadn’t gone and gotten too over-eager and scared her off. When she wrapped her arms around him again and rested her head against his shoulder though, he breathed a sigh of relief.
“I’m just glad you’re back,” she whispered, “We’ll sort all that later. I just want to enjoy the fact that you’re here.”
“Thought you did the enjoying last night,” he murmured and he could practically hear the blood rush to her cheeks. She raised wide pained eyes to his then, one hand twisted in the sleeve of his coat.
“It wasn’t just about the… the sex, you know,” she whispered awkwardly.
“No?”
“No. I wanted to be with you. I wanted to remember what it felt like.”
He smiled and brushed a hand over her hair once again.
“Won’t let you ever forget again.”
She blushed even deeper but smiled and tilted her head up, hazel eyes watching him as he studied her for a moment, and then finally dipped his head and caught her lips in his.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Luckily for the Slayers who had caught him, most of his anger had dissipated during the last two hours of his six hour journey and so he had surrendered without a fight. Now, when he looked at Buffy - who looked for all the world like a cornered animal - it disappeared completely and he was inclined to go with his first instinct on the reasons for her fleeing. He wasn’t going to make it easy for her though.
He leant back against the wall, at ease now without twenty crossbows pointed at him, and crossed his legs, thumbs hooked in his belt loops.
“You know,” he started, “I was starting to forget what it felt like…”
Her head snapped up, red-rimmed eyes fixed on his. She looked even worse than she had yesterday and he softened a little as he watched her tense, waiting for him to continue.
“Being used by you, that is,” he finished, “S’been a while.”
Her mouth fell open, ready to protest, but something halted her and she dropped her eyes from his.
“Stings a bit more, with the soul,” he continued, hoping to goad some sort of reply out of her, “But I just wanted to know…”
She raised her eyes again and he continued, eyes holding hers.
“What was the reason this time? Were you feeling bad about The Immortal?” he asked, “Or maybe it was being around Peaches but not being able to do anything about it? Decided to find the next best vampire?”
“How dare you!” she burst out, eyes flashing with brief anger before she turned her back on him, arms wrapped around herself tightly.
Well, at least he’d got a reaction out of her.
“How dare I?!” he retorted, on a roll now, “You know how I feel about you and you still treat me like something you scraped off your shoe. Not good enough to stay with when the sun comes up and you realise what you’ve done.”
“You don’t know what it was like!” she answered angrily, still refusing to look at him.
“Why don’t you tell me then, Buffy? I thought maybe I might be more to you than a quick tumble but I guess I was wrong.”
He could practically see her seething but she made no answer.
“Just like old times, eh? Here’s me, loving you with everything I’ve got, and there’s you, not giving two figs about it.”
He heard her gasp and then she turned to him, eyes shining with tears and lit up with anger.
“Oh, yeah, you really showed how much you loved me when you forgot to mention that you were back from the dead!” she almost screeched at him, her voice thick with emotion.
And that stunned him into silence. He studied her for a long moment but she refused to meet his gaze.
“Is that what you thought, Buffy?” he asked quietly, “You thought I didn’t tell you because I didn’t love you?”
She turned her back on him again and was silent for a long pause, before he heard her quiet voice.
“What was I supposed to think, Spike?” she asked tiredly.
And now he truly was stunned. Is this why she had been so off with him? Because she thought his love had been buried with him in the Hellmouth? It would certainly explain her strange behaviour… partly.
“Used to be you didn’t care too much if I loved you or not. In fact, you preferred it not.”
He saw her tense at his words and watched her carefully, trying desperately to read her.
“People change, Spike.”
“Not me though, you should know that by now.”
She gave a choked laugh and he realised then that she was fighting tears. Feeling his triumph within his grasp, he took a step towards her and continued in a low voice.
“’Specially not when it comes to love. And even more so when it comes to you, Slayer. Should know that death doesn’t change the way I feel about you. Whether its yours or mine.”
She was almost rigid now, trembling slightly as he took another cautious step forward.
“Love you just as much now as I did two, three years ago. Popped out of that amulet and you were the first thing I thought of. ‘Course, being a ghost made it a bit hard to get in contact.”
He heard a distinct sniffle and continued to press his advantage.
“Then got my body back and, yeah, got a bit sidetracked… then before I know it I’m in Rome, watching you dance with that wanker. Didn’t exactly prompt a reunion.”
“Spike,” she got out and he paused, “Shut up.”
He froze and frowned, watching her back.
“’Scuse me?” he got out, slightly put out.
She turned to him then, eyes swimming with tears, lip trembling as she looked up at him.
“Just stop talking and kiss me already.”
He didn’t need to be asked twice and in two strides, he was in front of her, dragging her into his embrace and kissing her hungrily. He felt her sob against his mouth and her arms twined around him tightly, clinging to him. He pulled back though slightly, raising one hand to brush the tears from her cheeks.
“Got plenty of tears for me lately, sweetheart.”
She bit back a sob and nodded, watery eyes rising to his. He stroked his hand now over her hair, hardly able to believe it as she leaned into his touch.
“Oh, my sweet girl. How could you think I would ever stop loving you?” he murmured, his heart ready to burst with all the love he had carried for this woman.
Before she could make any reply, he kissed her again, drawing her close. And there was his Buffy, little hands in an iron grip around his arms, reaching up on tiptoes to press herself against him, kissing him back urgently. This time, it was she who pulled back, the tears still ever present as she focussed her bright eyes on him.
“You have to know… I-I meant what I said down in the Hellmouth,” she choked out, “I love you. And please don’t say you don’t believe me again… because I don’t think I-“
He cut her off by placing a finger over her lips.
“I believe you, sweetheart. Wanted to believed you back then too, but had to get you out of there, didn’t I?”
For a brief second, he saw anger flash across her face and he braced himself, expecting her punch. Instead though, she threw herself against him once more, burying her head in his shoulder and wrapping her arms around him tightly. He wound his arms around her and rested his mouth against her hair with a tiny smile.
“I love you,” she murmured tearfully, hugging him almost painfully tightly, “And I never… I never wanted to hurt you. I just wanted to be with you… but I thought you didn’t care, so I-”
“Shhh,” he soothed, running a hand over her soft hair and drawing her tighter against him as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “It doesn’t matter. I’m here, aren’t I?”
They stood wrapped up in each other’s arms for a long few minutes, until finally he heard her tears come to a halt and she raised a hand to brush over her cheeks. He drew back and stroked his fingers over her cheek.
“I love you, Buffy Summers,” he pronounced, holding her gaze with his own, “And don’t you ever think otherwise.”
She nodded and he smiled ever so slightly, brushing a hand through her hair.
“Come back to LA with me?” he whispered, tilting her chin so he could meet her eyes better.
“I… I don’t know. I mean, Dawn’s in Rome and…”
“Get her to come here.”
She was silent for a moment but then she gave him a weak smile.
“I don’t think Angel would like that very much.”
“Don’t care,” he answered boldly, “I’ll get my own place. Just for the three of us. Hate staying in that place anyway.”
She was silent again and he hoped he hadn’t gone and gotten too over-eager and scared her off. When she wrapped her arms around him again and rested her head against his shoulder though, he breathed a sigh of relief.
“I’m just glad you’re back,” she whispered, “We’ll sort all that later. I just want to enjoy the fact that you’re here.”
“Thought you did the enjoying last night,” he murmured and he could practically hear the blood rush to her cheeks. She raised wide pained eyes to his then, one hand twisted in the sleeve of his coat.
“It wasn’t just about the… the sex, you know,” she whispered awkwardly.
“No?”
“No. I wanted to be with you. I wanted to remember what it felt like.”
He smiled and brushed a hand over her hair once again.
“Won’t let you ever forget again.”
She blushed even deeper but smiled and tilted her head up, hazel eyes watching him as he studied her for a moment, and then finally dipped his head and caught her lips in his.
Making Up Is Hard To Do
Making Up Is Hard To Do
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The anger came later. After they had spent a good half hour reacquainting themselves with the taste of each other, it suddenly returned in a flash. She shoved the vampire away and glared at him as he stumbled back, giving her an astonished look. Before he could even open his mouth to speak, she was pointing at him angrily, eyes narrowed.
“You are such a… an idiot! Why didn’t you tell me you were back?!” she exclaimed.
“Told you, got sidetracked.”
“That’s a lame excuse, Spike. You claim to still love me but you don’t think I’d want to know that you were alive.”
“I’m not alive,” he answered with a little smile and she gritted her teeth. He thought he was so cute.
“I’m not playing now,” she replied tautly, still pointing at him. He smiled though and moved towards her again, reaching out to encircle her in his arms.
“No,” she ground out, taking a step back before he could reach her, “You’re not just going to kiss me and make me forget this. Do you have any idea what I went through?!”
His expression turned serious then and he stopped in his advance.
“What did you go through, pet?”
“Oh no, don’t think I’m gonna stroke your ego by telling you how miserable I was thinking you were dead.”
She took a deep breath and started again, calmer this time.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Spike? It could have saved us both a lot of heartache.”
He was silent for a long moment as he ran a hand through his hair, but then he caught her gaze again and spoke.
“Was scared, alright.”
“Scared?” she repeated, softening slightly.
“Yes. Scared. I went out in a blaze of glory, Buffy. Hero’s death and all that. How was I supposed to come back to you after that?”
Oh God, him and his ego. She almost wanted to strangle him.
“You think I’d care? Do you know how many times I dreamed that you’d come back?”
She fell silent, once again struggling to restrain her emotions. He stepped forward now and this time she didn’t stop him as he pulled her into his embrace, strong arms lacing around her.
“Didn’t think you cared,” he murmured against her hair.
“You just said you believed me back in Sunnydale!” she exclaimed, pulling back to look at him.
“Wanted to, really did…” he trailed off awkwardly, eyes avoiding hers, “But then Angel said I should just let you be happy.”
“Angel!” she burst out, pushing him away again, arms crossing over her chest angrily, “Angel told you to stay away… and you did! Since when did you listen to him?!”
Oh, she was really angry now. It was only with supreme effort that she was stopping herself from lashing out at him.
“How could you be so stupid?!”
He at least looked ashamed and his eyes rose to hers hesitantly.
“Just wanted you to be happy, Buffy. And then when I came to Rome and found you with The Immortal… well, seemed like it was all for the best.”
“You weren’t even going to try and fight for me?” she asked sadly.
“Know what The Immortal’s like, love. Managed to take Dru from me once… didn’t reckon he’d lost any of his charm over a century.”
She sighed and turned from him, hardly knowing whether to be angry with him or whether to kiss the ridiculous thoughts from his head. She turned back to him with a soft smile and saw him watching her warily, no doubt waiting for another angry reaction. Instead, she took a step forward and wrapped her arms around him once again, resting her head against his shoulder.
“I don’t want to fight anymore,” she murmured, “It’s been too long and I don’t want to waste time arguing.”
She heard him chuckle and his arms wrapped around her, holding her close against him.
“You’ve definitely changed your tune, Slayer.”
“You better believe it, mister. Although I’m still going to kick your ass… just as soon as I get my fill of being with you again.”
He chuckled again and raised a hand to her chin, tilting her face towards his.
“Look forward to it, darling. Haven’t had a good fight in too long.”
She narrowed her eyes at him but then they fluttered closed as his lips met hers again. She wasn’t sure how she had gone long months without kissing him in Sunnydale. It had certainly been on her mind, but all that bad history and the weight of his soul had held her back. Now, she couldn’t care less – she was just too happy to see him to stop kissing him, touching him, holding him close.
It was then that Willow decided to make her return and she let out a little surprised ‘eep’ as she caught them. They parted embarrassedly but when Buffy finally looked at her friend, she was grinning.
“So, you skipped the arguing and just went straight to the making up?” she teased and Buffy laughed.
“Something like that.”
“Guess you’ll be wanting somewhere to stay then,” she commented, “Unless you’re running away together into the sunset or something like that?”
Buffy smiled and reached out to twine her fingers in the vampire’s.
“A room would be good.”
Willow nodded and then smiled cheekily.
“Just remember this place is full of young, impressionable girls, okay?”
“Willow!” she protested, even as Spike laughed.
By this time, they had joined Willow at the door and vampire and witch took a moment to size each other up.
“You’re blooming, Red. Getting out of Sunnydale’s done you good.”
“Thanks. You- you too,” she stuttered, blushing slightly.
With another smile at Buffy, she then ushered them out of the room and along the long corridors until they reached one of the bedrooms. Leaving them with another comment about keeping the noise down and a grin, Willow disappeared along the corridor and they went into the room together.
With their hands twined, they moved to sit on the bed and she turned to him, releasing his hand to run her fingers over his arm.
“I still can hardly believe you’re here,” she whispered, “You were gone and now… I feel like I must be dreaming.”
“Know the feeling well, love, trust me.”
They shared a smile and then she couldn’t help but yawn, a combination of jetlag, lack of sleep and emotional exertion making her suddenly exhausted.
“You need to rest,” Spike commented, brushing a hand over her hair.
“Don’t want to sleep,” she answered sleepily, even as she kicked off her boots, “I might wake up and you’ll be gone.”
“That’s your thing, love, not mine.”
She winced and he grimaced, reaching out to take her hand.
“Sorry, love.”
“No, you’re right. I… I’m sorry about earlier. I just had to get away.”
“Leaving the city was a bit drastic though, wasn’t it?” he asked with a smile.
“I guess so,” she admitted, smiling back softly.
She could just bask in this, she thought. Sitting here with Spike, laughing, joking, his hand in hers. Another yawn pulled her out of her thoughts and with a sheepish smile, she scooted back on the bed, curling up against the pillows.
“Spike?”
“Yeah.”
“Will you hold me?”
He said nothing but smiled softly, throwing off his jacket and boots and moving to her side. He settled beside her and pulled her into his arms and she let out a sigh of content, letting herself relax in the arms of the man she had so nearly lost for a second time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Originally, I was going to end it there... but then I added a couple chapters of fluff to counterbalance all that angst! :-)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The anger came later. After they had spent a good half hour reacquainting themselves with the taste of each other, it suddenly returned in a flash. She shoved the vampire away and glared at him as he stumbled back, giving her an astonished look. Before he could even open his mouth to speak, she was pointing at him angrily, eyes narrowed.
“You are such a… an idiot! Why didn’t you tell me you were back?!” she exclaimed.
“Told you, got sidetracked.”
“That’s a lame excuse, Spike. You claim to still love me but you don’t think I’d want to know that you were alive.”
“I’m not alive,” he answered with a little smile and she gritted her teeth. He thought he was so cute.
“I’m not playing now,” she replied tautly, still pointing at him. He smiled though and moved towards her again, reaching out to encircle her in his arms.
“No,” she ground out, taking a step back before he could reach her, “You’re not just going to kiss me and make me forget this. Do you have any idea what I went through?!”
His expression turned serious then and he stopped in his advance.
“What did you go through, pet?”
“Oh no, don’t think I’m gonna stroke your ego by telling you how miserable I was thinking you were dead.”
She took a deep breath and started again, calmer this time.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Spike? It could have saved us both a lot of heartache.”
He was silent for a long moment as he ran a hand through his hair, but then he caught her gaze again and spoke.
“Was scared, alright.”
“Scared?” she repeated, softening slightly.
“Yes. Scared. I went out in a blaze of glory, Buffy. Hero’s death and all that. How was I supposed to come back to you after that?”
Oh God, him and his ego. She almost wanted to strangle him.
“You think I’d care? Do you know how many times I dreamed that you’d come back?”
She fell silent, once again struggling to restrain her emotions. He stepped forward now and this time she didn’t stop him as he pulled her into his embrace, strong arms lacing around her.
“Didn’t think you cared,” he murmured against her hair.
“You just said you believed me back in Sunnydale!” she exclaimed, pulling back to look at him.
“Wanted to, really did…” he trailed off awkwardly, eyes avoiding hers, “But then Angel said I should just let you be happy.”
“Angel!” she burst out, pushing him away again, arms crossing over her chest angrily, “Angel told you to stay away… and you did! Since when did you listen to him?!”
Oh, she was really angry now. It was only with supreme effort that she was stopping herself from lashing out at him.
“How could you be so stupid?!”
He at least looked ashamed and his eyes rose to hers hesitantly.
“Just wanted you to be happy, Buffy. And then when I came to Rome and found you with The Immortal… well, seemed like it was all for the best.”
“You weren’t even going to try and fight for me?” she asked sadly.
“Know what The Immortal’s like, love. Managed to take Dru from me once… didn’t reckon he’d lost any of his charm over a century.”
She sighed and turned from him, hardly knowing whether to be angry with him or whether to kiss the ridiculous thoughts from his head. She turned back to him with a soft smile and saw him watching her warily, no doubt waiting for another angry reaction. Instead, she took a step forward and wrapped her arms around him once again, resting her head against his shoulder.
“I don’t want to fight anymore,” she murmured, “It’s been too long and I don’t want to waste time arguing.”
She heard him chuckle and his arms wrapped around her, holding her close against him.
“You’ve definitely changed your tune, Slayer.”
“You better believe it, mister. Although I’m still going to kick your ass… just as soon as I get my fill of being with you again.”
He chuckled again and raised a hand to her chin, tilting her face towards his.
“Look forward to it, darling. Haven’t had a good fight in too long.”
She narrowed her eyes at him but then they fluttered closed as his lips met hers again. She wasn’t sure how she had gone long months without kissing him in Sunnydale. It had certainly been on her mind, but all that bad history and the weight of his soul had held her back. Now, she couldn’t care less – she was just too happy to see him to stop kissing him, touching him, holding him close.
It was then that Willow decided to make her return and she let out a little surprised ‘eep’ as she caught them. They parted embarrassedly but when Buffy finally looked at her friend, she was grinning.
“So, you skipped the arguing and just went straight to the making up?” she teased and Buffy laughed.
“Something like that.”
“Guess you’ll be wanting somewhere to stay then,” she commented, “Unless you’re running away together into the sunset or something like that?”
Buffy smiled and reached out to twine her fingers in the vampire’s.
“A room would be good.”
Willow nodded and then smiled cheekily.
“Just remember this place is full of young, impressionable girls, okay?”
“Willow!” she protested, even as Spike laughed.
By this time, they had joined Willow at the door and vampire and witch took a moment to size each other up.
“You’re blooming, Red. Getting out of Sunnydale’s done you good.”
“Thanks. You- you too,” she stuttered, blushing slightly.
With another smile at Buffy, she then ushered them out of the room and along the long corridors until they reached one of the bedrooms. Leaving them with another comment about keeping the noise down and a grin, Willow disappeared along the corridor and they went into the room together.
With their hands twined, they moved to sit on the bed and she turned to him, releasing his hand to run her fingers over his arm.
“I still can hardly believe you’re here,” she whispered, “You were gone and now… I feel like I must be dreaming.”
“Know the feeling well, love, trust me.”
They shared a smile and then she couldn’t help but yawn, a combination of jetlag, lack of sleep and emotional exertion making her suddenly exhausted.
“You need to rest,” Spike commented, brushing a hand over her hair.
“Don’t want to sleep,” she answered sleepily, even as she kicked off her boots, “I might wake up and you’ll be gone.”
“That’s your thing, love, not mine.”
She winced and he grimaced, reaching out to take her hand.
“Sorry, love.”
“No, you’re right. I… I’m sorry about earlier. I just had to get away.”
“Leaving the city was a bit drastic though, wasn’t it?” he asked with a smile.
“I guess so,” she admitted, smiling back softly.
She could just bask in this, she thought. Sitting here with Spike, laughing, joking, his hand in hers. Another yawn pulled her out of her thoughts and with a sheepish smile, she scooted back on the bed, curling up against the pillows.
“Spike?”
“Yeah.”
“Will you hold me?”
He said nothing but smiled softly, throwing off his jacket and boots and moving to her side. He settled beside her and pulled her into his arms and she let out a sigh of content, letting herself relax in the arms of the man she had so nearly lost for a second time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Originally, I was going to end it there... but then I added a couple chapters of fluff to counterbalance all that angst! :-)
Moving In
Moving In
More fluff... Thanks to everyone reviewing. I appreciate it all, even if I've been very bad at replying lately.
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Two weeks later
If someone had told him just a month ago that he would soon be sharing a flat with the woman he loved, he wouldn’t have believed it. But here he was and she was on a flight to LA, having spent the last week in Rome. He had been worried after she had dismissed the idea, fearing that it was not really what she wanted, but on the drive back to LA, she had asked him if he had meant it. After assuring her that he did, she had smiled that soft, affectionate smile that he was still getting used to, and had started deciding what furniture she wanted.
The biggest surprise in the whole thing though had been Angel’s reaction. His grandsire had completely thrown him for a loop when he had wished him luck and had even offered to keep him on the payroll at Wolfram & Hart. Obviously noticing his surprise, Angel had given him that half-sad smile and explained that seeing Buffy that happy was all that he wanted. Slightly unused to such gentleness, the two vampires had shared an awkward hug and then Spike had gone straight to Buffy to tell her the good news.
She flew back to Rome a few days later to collect her stuff and talk to her sister, and now she was coming back to him to live in their new place. Their new place.
She was just as nervous as he was about it, he realised as he watched her go into the living room, bag in one hand. He closed the door behind him and set her suitcase down beside it, turning to watch her. He could hardly believe this was real: that Buffy was standing just a few metres away from him and this was to be their first day of cohabitation. It all seemed a bit too good to be true. She turned to him then and gave him one of those soft, happy smiles that made him melt in an entirely unmanly way. Surely, he had to be dreaming this.
“You just going to stand there all day, or are you going to show me our place?” she asked with a smile, snapping him back into the present.
Oh, he’d get to the tour, but right now he was thinking it had been far too long since he’d kissed her. Their rather heated reunion at the airport had been interrupted by a pointed cough from an old lady nearby and he really needed to make amends for that.
He strode towards her and caught her to him, lips finding hers as his arm wound round her waist. Just being able to do this and know he wouldn’t get a punch in the nose for it felt like bliss. Good job his soul didn’t come with any of the nasty small print Angel’s did. She sighed against him and dropped her handbag to the floor, arms wrapping around him and drawing him close as he pressed her against the back of the sofa.
He worked at the knot holding her jacket and shoved it back over her shoulders, breathing in the wonderful scent of her as his mouth went to her neck. Small, warm hands found their way under his T-shirt, tracing over his back.
“Bed,” she gasped against his ear and he found her mouth with his again, burying one hand in her hair. It had been too long since he’d done plenty of things.
“Bed later,” he growled back, hitching up her skirt and guiding it over her knees.
She let out a little giggle and kissed him harder, wrapping her legs tightly around him as one small hand smoothed down over his abdomen to his belt.
“Missed you,” he murmured against her, pressing kisses to her eyes and cheeks before returning to her mouth.
“Missed you too,” she whispered, arching against him and tightening her grip as his hand slipped up her thigh.
He kissed her again, drawing in the taste of her and delighting in every little gasp, every moan. Just like he had remembered it during those long lonely months without her. To think he had been such a fool, not contacting her because he thought it was best. That would teach him for listening to his grandsire. He was dragged back to the present as blunt teeth caught his bottom lip, teasing him as she slipped one hand down the front of his jeans. It was lucky the Bit wasn’t going to be moving in for another week.
They were sprawled out on the sofa now and he was glad he had thought to cover it with a throw, which they were now wrapped up in, legs tangled and her head resting on his chest.
“Mmm, you really missed me,” she murmured lazily.
“Every minute,” he answered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “Want to spend every second with you, now I’ve got you…”
He knew he sounded uncertain as he trailed off and she tilted her head, hazel eyes meeting his.
“You’ve got me. I thought you might have realised that.”
“Still getting used to it,” he admitted, brushing a hand over her bare shoulder.
She smiled and snuggled up against him, brushing a kiss against his neck. If he wanted real proof that things between them now were what he had always wished for, this was it: Buffy in his arms, not going anywhere. She had rarely let him hold her in the past - not until those last two nights – and now she seemed to initiate it more often than not. He hugged her tighter against him and pressed another kiss to hair, breathing in her scent and wished he could capture this moment forever.
“I love you.”
“I love you,” she whispered back, arms wrapping around him.
He closed his eyes in bliss, absorbing the wonderful sensation that those words created in him. Buffy loved him. He remembered well how he had despaired of that ever happening and now, here she was, giving him everything he’d ever hoped for.
“You’re quiet,” she murmured, raising her head and searching his eyes.
He smiled and reached out to run his fingers through her hair.
“Thinking about how lucky I am.”
His fingers traced over her cheek, eyes absorbing every little detail of her beautiful face, every nuance of expression.
“You don’t know how long I wished for this, Buffy,” he continued huskily.
“And you obviously don’t realise just how long I wanted the same but was too afraid to admit it.”
He was silent and she dropped her gaze for a moment before meeting his eyes again.
“I don’t want to bring up the past because it’s done and I can’t change that… but you do know, when we… before…”
She trailed off, bright eyes on his, her fingers tracing unconscious patterns against his shoulder.
“I treated you so bad-”
“Buffy-“
“I did,” she interrupted and he decided to let her speak – obviously she wanted to get this off her chest. “I was so bad to you… but I want you to know, it wasn’t because of you. It was me. I was wrong and I… I didn’t have it in me to-“
“I know, love,” he cut in softly as he saw her getting more tongue-tied, her eyes tearing up.
“You always did,” she whispered with a tearful smile.
He brushed his hand over her hair again, cupping her face in his hands as he studied her. After a few moments though, he leant forward and kissed her softly.
More fluff... Thanks to everyone reviewing. I appreciate it all, even if I've been very bad at replying lately.
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Two weeks later
If someone had told him just a month ago that he would soon be sharing a flat with the woman he loved, he wouldn’t have believed it. But here he was and she was on a flight to LA, having spent the last week in Rome. He had been worried after she had dismissed the idea, fearing that it was not really what she wanted, but on the drive back to LA, she had asked him if he had meant it. After assuring her that he did, she had smiled that soft, affectionate smile that he was still getting used to, and had started deciding what furniture she wanted.
The biggest surprise in the whole thing though had been Angel’s reaction. His grandsire had completely thrown him for a loop when he had wished him luck and had even offered to keep him on the payroll at Wolfram & Hart. Obviously noticing his surprise, Angel had given him that half-sad smile and explained that seeing Buffy that happy was all that he wanted. Slightly unused to such gentleness, the two vampires had shared an awkward hug and then Spike had gone straight to Buffy to tell her the good news.
She flew back to Rome a few days later to collect her stuff and talk to her sister, and now she was coming back to him to live in their new place. Their new place.
She was just as nervous as he was about it, he realised as he watched her go into the living room, bag in one hand. He closed the door behind him and set her suitcase down beside it, turning to watch her. He could hardly believe this was real: that Buffy was standing just a few metres away from him and this was to be their first day of cohabitation. It all seemed a bit too good to be true. She turned to him then and gave him one of those soft, happy smiles that made him melt in an entirely unmanly way. Surely, he had to be dreaming this.
“You just going to stand there all day, or are you going to show me our place?” she asked with a smile, snapping him back into the present.
Oh, he’d get to the tour, but right now he was thinking it had been far too long since he’d kissed her. Their rather heated reunion at the airport had been interrupted by a pointed cough from an old lady nearby and he really needed to make amends for that.
He strode towards her and caught her to him, lips finding hers as his arm wound round her waist. Just being able to do this and know he wouldn’t get a punch in the nose for it felt like bliss. Good job his soul didn’t come with any of the nasty small print Angel’s did. She sighed against him and dropped her handbag to the floor, arms wrapping around him and drawing him close as he pressed her against the back of the sofa.
He worked at the knot holding her jacket and shoved it back over her shoulders, breathing in the wonderful scent of her as his mouth went to her neck. Small, warm hands found their way under his T-shirt, tracing over his back.
“Bed,” she gasped against his ear and he found her mouth with his again, burying one hand in her hair. It had been too long since he’d done plenty of things.
“Bed later,” he growled back, hitching up her skirt and guiding it over her knees.
She let out a little giggle and kissed him harder, wrapping her legs tightly around him as one small hand smoothed down over his abdomen to his belt.
“Missed you,” he murmured against her, pressing kisses to her eyes and cheeks before returning to her mouth.
“Missed you too,” she whispered, arching against him and tightening her grip as his hand slipped up her thigh.
He kissed her again, drawing in the taste of her and delighting in every little gasp, every moan. Just like he had remembered it during those long lonely months without her. To think he had been such a fool, not contacting her because he thought it was best. That would teach him for listening to his grandsire. He was dragged back to the present as blunt teeth caught his bottom lip, teasing him as she slipped one hand down the front of his jeans. It was lucky the Bit wasn’t going to be moving in for another week.
They were sprawled out on the sofa now and he was glad he had thought to cover it with a throw, which they were now wrapped up in, legs tangled and her head resting on his chest.
“Mmm, you really missed me,” she murmured lazily.
“Every minute,” he answered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “Want to spend every second with you, now I’ve got you…”
He knew he sounded uncertain as he trailed off and she tilted her head, hazel eyes meeting his.
“You’ve got me. I thought you might have realised that.”
“Still getting used to it,” he admitted, brushing a hand over her bare shoulder.
She smiled and snuggled up against him, brushing a kiss against his neck. If he wanted real proof that things between them now were what he had always wished for, this was it: Buffy in his arms, not going anywhere. She had rarely let him hold her in the past - not until those last two nights – and now she seemed to initiate it more often than not. He hugged her tighter against him and pressed another kiss to hair, breathing in her scent and wished he could capture this moment forever.
“I love you.”
“I love you,” she whispered back, arms wrapping around him.
He closed his eyes in bliss, absorbing the wonderful sensation that those words created in him. Buffy loved him. He remembered well how he had despaired of that ever happening and now, here she was, giving him everything he’d ever hoped for.
“You’re quiet,” she murmured, raising her head and searching his eyes.
He smiled and reached out to run his fingers through her hair.
“Thinking about how lucky I am.”
His fingers traced over her cheek, eyes absorbing every little detail of her beautiful face, every nuance of expression.
“You don’t know how long I wished for this, Buffy,” he continued huskily.
“And you obviously don’t realise just how long I wanted the same but was too afraid to admit it.”
He was silent and she dropped her gaze for a moment before meeting his eyes again.
“I don’t want to bring up the past because it’s done and I can’t change that… but you do know, when we… before…”
She trailed off, bright eyes on his, her fingers tracing unconscious patterns against his shoulder.
“I treated you so bad-”
“Buffy-“
“I did,” she interrupted and he decided to let her speak – obviously she wanted to get this off her chest. “I was so bad to you… but I want you to know, it wasn’t because of you. It was me. I was wrong and I… I didn’t have it in me to-“
“I know, love,” he cut in softly as he saw her getting more tongue-tied, her eyes tearing up.
“You always did,” she whispered with a tearful smile.
He brushed his hand over her hair again, cupping her face in his hands as he studied her. After a few moments though, he leant forward and kissed her softly.
Side By Side
Side By Side
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There was something very surreal about playing happy couples with Spike but then they had shared everything else in the gamut of human experience, why shouldn’t they have this? Sometimes it would seem like the most natural thing in the world but at times, she would be struck by just how far they had come together.
Coming home from a day out to find Spike cooking dinner was still something that her brain struggled to cope with: it was so domestic, so very like old-marrieds. When she mentioned it to Spike though, he gave her a very active demonstration of how very unlike old-marrieds they were. And of course that was the best thing about this apartment: Spike on tap. And after a six month drought, she was making up for it whenever she got the opportunity. Not that this relationship was just about the sex, because they had been there, done that. Well, she had anyway.
That was the most surreal thing about this: curling up with Spike on the sofa in the evenings and watching television. It was just so very… normal. But she wouldn’t change it for the world: she had been miserable after Sunnydale and now she was happier than she had been in a long time. She noticed it in her appearance: her eyes were brighter, her hair shinier, and she no longer had bags under her eyes. Which was a little surprising with the lack of sleep she currently enjoyed, but for much better reasons. She couldn’t ask for anything more.
And adding Dawn to the equation had gone even better than she had thought. When she had returned to Rome and explained the situation to her sister, Dawn had been outraged at the vampire but then her yearning to see him in the flesh had grown and she had finally shyly asked if maybe she could come visit. When Buffy had explained that there was a spare room for her, she had lit up and they sat down to organise when she could get out.
Her sister’s reunion with the vampire had been almost as emotional as her own and for a moment, when Dawn had entered the apartment and caught sight of the vampire, she had feared it would be much more violent. But after a full few minutes of staring at him, Dawn had rushed the vampire and thrown her arms around him. She had railed at him for being an idiot and not calling them, but she could clearly see her sister’s joy at seeing him again. She knew her sister had always regretted not making her peace with the vampire and now, they both seemed to be doing better with the past behind them.
She was even surprised by how close they grew in the space of a few weeks. When she caught them in the middle of a particularly sibling-like moment, it made her smile and she wondered if this was what they had been like when she had been dead and buried in the ground. She felt a small pang of guilt for keeping them apart but Spike dismissed her guilt, as always defending her, even against herself.
Luckily for her, she had an ally in her sister in one important area: being angry at Angel. She had confronted him after their return from San Francisco and he had been taken aback at her vehemence.
“How could you do that to me?” she cried, “You knew what he meant to me. Why do you always think you know what’s best for me?”
“I only wanted you to be happy, Buffy.”
“If you wanted me to be happy, you wouldn’t have kept Spike being back a secret. I saw you right after the battle and you knew how I felt.”
The vampire had the good sense to look abashed and luckily for him, before she could continue her tirade, Spike interrupted, one hand on the small of her back.
“He just wanted you to live your life, love,” he soothed, thumb stroking over her back.
She didn’t know who was more surprised by his comment, her or Angel, but both were dumbfounded. She looked up at him with wide eyes and he smirked.
“He was wrong, but it was my fault for listening to him in the first place.”
“Well, that’s true,” she conceded, frowning at Angel and turning her gaze back to him, “You’re both idiots.”
He laughed and drew her close, pressing a kiss to her temple. She wasn’t completely ready to forgive the older vampire though and was glad she could spend a good few hours bitching about him with her sister.
All in all, life here in LA was turning out well. But that didn’t mean they didn’t have their fair share of drama. As well as the day-to-day drama of living with a teenager, supernatural activity was always present in LA. Even for a semi-retired Slayer, there was plenty of work, even if Wolfram & Hart did have a monopoly. Despite Spike’s attempts at persuasion, she simply refused to work for Angel but she would help occasionally on big projects. During these, she got to know the people Angel had been working with and more than any, Fred, who had reached out to her on that first day. If it wasn’t for Fred, she wasn’t sure she would ever have got up the courage to go to Spike and would most likely have continued to think him indifferent.
Needless to say, she wasn’t the only one that mourned when the sweet girl was killed and her body invaded with some sort of hell god. Not exactly having had good experiences with hell gods before, she was more wary of Illyria than the others. She missed Fred and she knew Spike felt the same. When he had found out, he had been so unusually quiet and it was only when they were in their room later that she realised the true extent of his grief. At first she had been astonished by his silent tears, but then she had wrapped her arms around him tightly, crying with him for the sweet Texan. It was even harder to see the god prance around in her body, occasionally mimicking her mannerisms. But she seemed to have been accepted into the group, if not for her fighting skill at least.
Not long after Fred’s death and Illyria’s arrival, they were all summoned to Angel’s office and something in her knew it was not good news. She looked around the familiar faces and got a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. Fingers twined tightly around Spike’s where he leant against the wall next to her, she watched Angel intently. She knew that look too well: he had something planned.
“I want to take out every member of the Black Thorn,” he announced suddenly, his voice echoing in the large room.
She hadn’t been here long, but long enough to know that what he was proposing was a suicide mission, probably even more dangerous than her own fight against the First Evil.
“You need to decide if it’s worth dying for,” he continued.
Not quite the line she would have gone for, but maybe it would work. She looked around at the faces surrounding her and suddenly, her heart jerked as she felt Spike’s hand slip from hers. She knew what he would say almost before he said it.
“I’m in.”
She turned to him in horror and could feel all eyes on them as he turned back to her.
“Do I even get a say in this?” she asked, trying hard to keep a voice from shaking.
He said nothing but she knew it was no good. Dragging her eyes away from him, she stormed out of the office, her heart thrumming in her ears.
As she had expected, Spike caught up to her halfway down the corridor and grabbed her, pinning her against the corridor and forcing her eyes to his with firm pressure to her chin.
“Buffy…”
“You’re just throwing yourself straight in there. It’s suicide, Spike. You really think I can lose you again?” she whispered, her voice breaking on her last words.
He stepped closer, his body brushing against hers, his mouth coming to rest against her forehead.
“This is what we do, love. We’re made to fight. You think I’m gonna sit by and watch my friends go into battle?”
She sighed and grasped at his arms, fighting back the headache and the tears.
“I can’t lose you again, Spike.”
“You won’t. Not if you’re fighting by my side.”
She raised her eyes to his and knew that he was right. They were made to fight, it was in their blood. They would be at Angel’s side on judgement day because it was what they were made to do, champions both.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you,” he answered, dipping his head and kissing her softly.
There was no stopping the motions of the impending fight, but come what may, this was what was important: love.
THE END
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: Well, we've come to the end. And with exams looming, this may be the last you hear from me for a while... then again, with my supreme powers of procrastination [see 'I'm Your Baby Tonight', 'Taking The Edge Off'] who knows... Thanks to you all for reading!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There was something very surreal about playing happy couples with Spike but then they had shared everything else in the gamut of human experience, why shouldn’t they have this? Sometimes it would seem like the most natural thing in the world but at times, she would be struck by just how far they had come together.
Coming home from a day out to find Spike cooking dinner was still something that her brain struggled to cope with: it was so domestic, so very like old-marrieds. When she mentioned it to Spike though, he gave her a very active demonstration of how very unlike old-marrieds they were. And of course that was the best thing about this apartment: Spike on tap. And after a six month drought, she was making up for it whenever she got the opportunity. Not that this relationship was just about the sex, because they had been there, done that. Well, she had anyway.
That was the most surreal thing about this: curling up with Spike on the sofa in the evenings and watching television. It was just so very… normal. But she wouldn’t change it for the world: she had been miserable after Sunnydale and now she was happier than she had been in a long time. She noticed it in her appearance: her eyes were brighter, her hair shinier, and she no longer had bags under her eyes. Which was a little surprising with the lack of sleep she currently enjoyed, but for much better reasons. She couldn’t ask for anything more.
And adding Dawn to the equation had gone even better than she had thought. When she had returned to Rome and explained the situation to her sister, Dawn had been outraged at the vampire but then her yearning to see him in the flesh had grown and she had finally shyly asked if maybe she could come visit. When Buffy had explained that there was a spare room for her, she had lit up and they sat down to organise when she could get out.
Her sister’s reunion with the vampire had been almost as emotional as her own and for a moment, when Dawn had entered the apartment and caught sight of the vampire, she had feared it would be much more violent. But after a full few minutes of staring at him, Dawn had rushed the vampire and thrown her arms around him. She had railed at him for being an idiot and not calling them, but she could clearly see her sister’s joy at seeing him again. She knew her sister had always regretted not making her peace with the vampire and now, they both seemed to be doing better with the past behind them.
She was even surprised by how close they grew in the space of a few weeks. When she caught them in the middle of a particularly sibling-like moment, it made her smile and she wondered if this was what they had been like when she had been dead and buried in the ground. She felt a small pang of guilt for keeping them apart but Spike dismissed her guilt, as always defending her, even against herself.
Luckily for her, she had an ally in her sister in one important area: being angry at Angel. She had confronted him after their return from San Francisco and he had been taken aback at her vehemence.
“How could you do that to me?” she cried, “You knew what he meant to me. Why do you always think you know what’s best for me?”
“I only wanted you to be happy, Buffy.”
“If you wanted me to be happy, you wouldn’t have kept Spike being back a secret. I saw you right after the battle and you knew how I felt.”
The vampire had the good sense to look abashed and luckily for him, before she could continue her tirade, Spike interrupted, one hand on the small of her back.
“He just wanted you to live your life, love,” he soothed, thumb stroking over her back.
She didn’t know who was more surprised by his comment, her or Angel, but both were dumbfounded. She looked up at him with wide eyes and he smirked.
“He was wrong, but it was my fault for listening to him in the first place.”
“Well, that’s true,” she conceded, frowning at Angel and turning her gaze back to him, “You’re both idiots.”
He laughed and drew her close, pressing a kiss to her temple. She wasn’t completely ready to forgive the older vampire though and was glad she could spend a good few hours bitching about him with her sister.
All in all, life here in LA was turning out well. But that didn’t mean they didn’t have their fair share of drama. As well as the day-to-day drama of living with a teenager, supernatural activity was always present in LA. Even for a semi-retired Slayer, there was plenty of work, even if Wolfram & Hart did have a monopoly. Despite Spike’s attempts at persuasion, she simply refused to work for Angel but she would help occasionally on big projects. During these, she got to know the people Angel had been working with and more than any, Fred, who had reached out to her on that first day. If it wasn’t for Fred, she wasn’t sure she would ever have got up the courage to go to Spike and would most likely have continued to think him indifferent.
Needless to say, she wasn’t the only one that mourned when the sweet girl was killed and her body invaded with some sort of hell god. Not exactly having had good experiences with hell gods before, she was more wary of Illyria than the others. She missed Fred and she knew Spike felt the same. When he had found out, he had been so unusually quiet and it was only when they were in their room later that she realised the true extent of his grief. At first she had been astonished by his silent tears, but then she had wrapped her arms around him tightly, crying with him for the sweet Texan. It was even harder to see the god prance around in her body, occasionally mimicking her mannerisms. But she seemed to have been accepted into the group, if not for her fighting skill at least.
Not long after Fred’s death and Illyria’s arrival, they were all summoned to Angel’s office and something in her knew it was not good news. She looked around the familiar faces and got a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. Fingers twined tightly around Spike’s where he leant against the wall next to her, she watched Angel intently. She knew that look too well: he had something planned.
“I want to take out every member of the Black Thorn,” he announced suddenly, his voice echoing in the large room.
She hadn’t been here long, but long enough to know that what he was proposing was a suicide mission, probably even more dangerous than her own fight against the First Evil.
“You need to decide if it’s worth dying for,” he continued.
Not quite the line she would have gone for, but maybe it would work. She looked around at the faces surrounding her and suddenly, her heart jerked as she felt Spike’s hand slip from hers. She knew what he would say almost before he said it.
“I’m in.”
She turned to him in horror and could feel all eyes on them as he turned back to her.
“Do I even get a say in this?” she asked, trying hard to keep a voice from shaking.
He said nothing but she knew it was no good. Dragging her eyes away from him, she stormed out of the office, her heart thrumming in her ears.
As she had expected, Spike caught up to her halfway down the corridor and grabbed her, pinning her against the corridor and forcing her eyes to his with firm pressure to her chin.
“Buffy…”
“You’re just throwing yourself straight in there. It’s suicide, Spike. You really think I can lose you again?” she whispered, her voice breaking on her last words.
He stepped closer, his body brushing against hers, his mouth coming to rest against her forehead.
“This is what we do, love. We’re made to fight. You think I’m gonna sit by and watch my friends go into battle?”
She sighed and grasped at his arms, fighting back the headache and the tears.
“I can’t lose you again, Spike.”
“You won’t. Not if you’re fighting by my side.”
She raised her eyes to his and knew that he was right. They were made to fight, it was in their blood. They would be at Angel’s side on judgement day because it was what they were made to do, champions both.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you,” he answered, dipping his head and kissing her softly.
There was no stopping the motions of the impending fight, but come what may, this was what was important: love.
THE END
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: Well, we've come to the end. And with exams looming, this may be the last you hear from me for a while... then again, with my supreme powers of procrastination [see 'I'm Your Baby Tonight', 'Taking The Edge Off'] who knows... Thanks to you all for reading!
If you are under the age of 17, please use your head and do not read fics that are labeled "NC-17". Parents, I cannot control what your children are reading, so please be advised that the majority of the fics archived here are NOT suitable for those under the age of 17.
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