Chapter 24

“Come in,” Riley said, standing back to let her into his room, now mostly barren except for the numerous cardboard boxes scattered across the floor.

“You’re leaving already?” she asked with surprise.

“Yeah, we’re closing down as soon as finals are over. Just packing up the last of it.”

“Wow, I – I didn’t realize it was so soon.”

Riley nodded, his expression solemn, their recent history still weighing on him. “Listen, Buffy, I know I’ve said it before, but I want you to know, I really am sorry… about everything. I wish I’d done a lot of things differently with you.”

“It’s okay,” she replied. “It just wasn’t meant to be, I guess. You and I.” She wondered sometimes if things would’ve been different between them, without the rape, but she knew in her heart that if it hadn’t been that, it would’ve been something else that came between them, and they’d still be just another failed attempt at “normal.”

“Maybe I can make it up to you. You said you needed a favor?”

“Yeah.” She rubbed her hands over her face, pushing her hair back. “God, I don’t even know how to say this. Do you, um, do you still have access to the security footage from the Initiative?”

He shook his head. “Most of it’s boxed up in storage. Might even have been shipped out already.”

“Oh,” Buffy said, crestfallen. “Oh, well, it was worth a shot…”

“Wait.” Riley bent down and rummaged through a drawer, unearthing a video tape. “Is this what you’re looking for?”

Her eyes widened. “Is that…?”

“You and Spike. Don’t look at me like that; I haven’t been watching it. All of the footage from the bedrooms was erased from the official record to protect the soldiers’ privacy, but I figured, at some point, you might want to see it, so…”

Buffy gave him a dubious half-smile. “That’s either very sweet or incredibly creepy. Possibly both.”

“Well, it’s all yours,” he replied, handing the tape over.

“Thanks,” she said, as she pulled him into a hug. “You came through when it counted, Riley,” she said softly in his ear. “That’s what I’ll remember.”

“You’re an amazing woman, Buffy,” he told her. “I’m really going to miss you.”

*****

With a sense of apprehension and a strangely voyeuristic feeling, Buffy settled down on the sofa, tucking her legs beneath her. She stared at the remote in her hand, tracing her thumb over the “play” button. She’d waited until her mother was at the gallery, so that she’d be sure to have total privacy to watch one of the most intimate moments of her life.

Despite already hearing Spike’s account of the events, the prospect of watching the tape provoked a confusing jumble of emotions. What if it opened the floodgates to her memories, and she was able to recall not only her time with Spike, but the horrible encounter with Forrest as well? Or what if it wasn’t the way Spike had described it? What if she didn’t like what she saw?

What if she did?

Would she be ready to take that step, to let Spike back into her life? She couldn’t deny how much she’d missed him, but she’d needed time to heal. And still, she needed closure.

Drawing in a deep breath and holding it, she pressed the button and the television screen flickered to life.

*****

He sensed her arrival before she even knocked on the door, her presence vibrating through his body like a tuning fork that had just been struck. He could feel her, hear her, smell her, hesitating on his doorstep, and for a moment, he dared to hope.

He quickly dashed the thought as he strode across the crypt to answer the timid rapping of her knuckles. Too many days he’d hoped, and too many days he’d been disappointed.

Sure enough, when he opened the door, she was standing there with the clothes she’d borrowed from him the other night, freshly washed and neatly folded, tucked under one arm.

“I just… wanted to bring your stuff back,” she said, holding them out to him.

Instead of accepting them from her, he took a step back, nodding in invitation. Part of him was afraid she would thrust the laundry at him and run, but she gamely crossed the threshold, hugging the borrowed clothes to her chest.

As he closed the door behind her, she spun around to face him, expression determined, lips parted as though about to say something. But before she could even get a word out, she seemed to lose her nerve, snapping her mouth shut as she deflated a little. Awkward now, she stared at him in silence, and he stared back, each other waiting for the other to speak.

“So, uh, the Initiative’s moving out soon,” Buffy said finally.

“Yeah?” Spike quirked an eyebrow, though his curiosity was more toward Buffy’s reasons for making small talk, rather than the Initiative itself.

“Yeah, I just talked to Riley, and, uh, he said they were packing up.”

“Heard some rumors along those lines. Demon world’s been buzzing about the soldier boys for weeks now.”

“Things are changing,” she said solemnly.

He tilted his head a bit, with the fleeting thought that perhaps her words encompassed more than just the Initiative. He searched her expression for some deeper meaning, but her face was shuttered.

“Anyway,” she went on, her tone forcibly lighter. “I just came to give you these.” Again, she held out the clothes, and this time Spike took them from her, fingering the fabric thoughtfully for a second before tossing them onto his easy chair. No need to get sentimental about a bleeding t-shirt she’d only worn once. Didn’t even smell like her anymore.

“Thanks,” he said, trying to keep the defeat out of his voice. “Listen… you need help with anything, demons or what have you… you know I’m always willing.”

“I know.” She glanced down at her feet, chewing on her lower lip. “There’s… one more thing…” She looked back up, trembling, and met his eyes. “Today’s the day.”

A moment of confusion flickered across his face, followed closely by disbelief, which quickly faded into awe. “You – you mean that?”

“You… hurt me,” Buffy started, her voice wavering with tears, “in a way I didn’t even realize I could be hurt. And for a long time, I didn’t know if I could ever get past it. I trusted you, more than I’ve ever trusted anyone, and you betrayed me.”

“Buffy –”

She shook her head, determined to get out what she needed to say. “I know. That’s not – I didn’t come here to – You’ve said everything you could possibly –” She took a deep breath, trying to clear her head and get past the false starts. “The thing is, I wanted to be mad at you. I wanted to just – cut you out of my life. I tried. But you…” She gently cuffed his shoulder, a teary smile on her face. “You made me care about you, you stupid vampire, and I need you. I just –”

She broke down, overcome with sobs as Spike’s arms encircled her and drew her close against his chest. Clinging to his t-shirt, she let out everything she’d been bottling up for the past month, feeling the anger and the confusion and the longing seeping out of her.

“Buffy, love, don’t cry,” Spike consoled her, stroking her hair. “Hate to see you cry.”

When her sobs had quieted to a soft snuffling, she raised her head, swiping the back of her hand across her tear-stained cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m a mess. I – I wanted you to know that I forgive you, and I miss you, and now that I’ve said it, I really should just –”

Before she could finish her sentence, he’d pulled her back into his arms and was pressing his lips to hers with a month’s worth of pent-up desire. She kissed him back desperately, a fervent need welling up inside her, the intensity of it drowning out all the conflicting feelings she’d been trying to balance. She knew that someday, Spike would hurt her again, and undoubtedly, she would hurt him, too, but all that mattered in that moment was that she loved him.

“…go,” she breathed, when he finally released her.

“Don’t you dare,” he murmured, tangling his hands in her hair, just holding her in place and drinking her in. “Don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Buffy replied, only partly teasing. “Giles told me something once. He said you don’t forgive someone because they deserve it. You forgive them because they need it.” He opened his mouth to speak, but she silenced him with a finger to his lips. “We need it.”

“Wise fellow, your Watcher.”

His head dipped toward hers again, but just before their lips met, she put up a hand between them.

“That doesn’t mean I can forget,” she whispered, her soft breath caressing his cheek. Hurt, Spike took an abrupt step away from her, but Buffy caught him by the arm and drew him back in.

“Trust isn’t something that just happens like that,” she explained, with a snap of her fingers. “It has to be earned. It takes time to build – and I want to, Spike,” she rushed on, seeing his troubled expression. “I want to build that trust with you again.”

“But we can’t just go back to the way it was before,” Spike finished for her.

She shook her head. “But we can start over – no secrets, no lies – and take it one step at a time, see where it leads us.”

He nodded slowly. “I can do that.”

Buffy ducked her head, as though trying to hide the smile creeping across her face. Brushing her hand against his, she let their fingers intertwine, gently lacing them together. As if in response, his other hand closed around hers, rubbing small circles on the inside of her wrist with the pad of his thumb.

She glanced up to find him gazing at her, and once she met his eyes, she couldn’t look away. He inclined his head toward her until their foreheads were almost touching, his lips slightly parted in silent invitation. The moment stretched on as they lingered there, just shy of a kiss, until Buffy closed the distance between them.

“I love you,” she whispered, her mouth just grazing his cheek. “I missed you so much.”

Before Spike could respond, their lips met in a feather-light kiss, and the words caught in his throat. As the kiss deepened, his hands skated over her back and then grasped her shoulders, drawing her close, her body molding to his like pieces of a puzzle locking together.

Much as their separation had pained him, it was worth it to have her come back to him like this. When he’d fallen in love with her, she’d been a broken, fragile victim, but the Buffy who loved him back was well on the road to healing and forgiveness. He had always been hesitant, seeking reassurance from her that he wasn’t overstepping any bounds, but he could see now that was no longer necessary.

Buffy turned her head, letting his lips trail down her throat before pulling away. “We should probably take it slow,” she said reluctantly, fingering one of the buttons on his shirt.

“Right, yeah.” Spike let her go and ran a hand through his hair, trying to quell the lust that threatened to overtake him. “Starting over.”

“One step at a time.” Eyes sparkling, Buffy licked her lips and glanced toward the door of the crypt. “You wanna go kill something?”

“God, yes.”

*****

the end