What A Girl Wants

Chapter 11—Torn

Buffy raised her tear-stained face to look at him. He didn’t look angry, confused, or evil. He looked…curious. “What do you mean, who I am? I’m Buffy, the woman who loves you, who wants to be with you, who died for you. At least once. Why did you ask me that, Spike?”

He looked down at her, shaking his head. “No doubt in my mind that you’re the Slayer. You look and smell and taste like her. But with you, pet, there’s something more. Something else. You knew that wanker was going to show up in our backyard today, or some day, at least. And the two nerdy types that Rupert had by the scruff of the neck? You invited them, and you act like you know a lot about the both of them. Spike’s not a smart one, but he can add, and two and two are not making four this time around, love.”

She almost cried. “Please don’t make me tell you. It’ll kill me to tell you.”

“Confession is good for the soul, love. So ‘fess up.”

“I made a wish,” she started, her fingers twisting in her lap. “I made a wish, and it sent me back before all the hell that our lives became, and I wanted—I—Spike, I can’t!” She did cry, in earnest, for what had been, what had changed, what still needed to be done, and his heart cracked, but he had to find out what was what. It was just something…he was supposed to do.

“So what did we all miss?”

“God, God! Don’t make me—I don’t want to relive—please, baby!” Her sobs shook them both with sheer force, but he shook his head at her.

“Buffy, tell me.”

“We—we started a relationship—but it was dirty, and abusive, and we hurt each other—then Riley came—and we broke up—and you tried to rape me, then left.” The tears were slowing, and her voice became passionless and emotionless, completely devoid of all feelings. “You went and earned your soul, and came back to me insane. We got you—fixed, and we came under attack from the First Evil. Lots of potential Slayers died, Tara died, Anya died, Xander lost one eye, and the last—the last time I saw you—we were in the Hellmouth—and you were my champion—and you were turning to dust right before my eyes. I wished…and I was here, and I could fix it, make it right. For us. For Tara, and Anya, and Xander.”

“Magic has consequences.”

“I know that. I have been watching for them, every day. What did I do by changing this or that? The only thing that I really did, Spike, was admit that I love you when I knew I loved you, and didn’t wait—for the last second.”

“And do you?”

She looked into blue eyes that were deeper than the ocean, more fathomless than space, bluer than sapphires, and breathed, “Oh, Spike, I love you more than I have ever loved anyone in my whole life.”

She threw herself against him, and he patted her hair and shoulder soothingly. “There, there, pet, that wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

“Do you love me, Spike? Do you still love me?”

He pulled her away from where she was buried in his shirt, and gave her a little shake. “Buffy, I could never stop loving you. I love you until I’m dust.”

She was shaking so hard, she thought she would fall off his lap. Then he spoke again. “You can’t just go around fixing everyone’s life, though, pet. You have to fix yourself first. And you are pretty bollixed up right now.” He put her to one side, and stood, grabbing his duster. “I don’t want to be here. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“Spike, why?”

He turned, and his eyes were icy cool and distant. “You’ve always known that I love you. I’ve never hidden my feelings. From what you say, you not only hid them; you almost let me die not knowing. From where I stand, you’re a liar. Lie to yourself, lie to the others. Never lie to me, Buffy. If you loved me, you should have told me, when there was a chance we could be happy.”

“Spike, we can still be happy.”

“No, I don’t know right now if I can. Knowing that you let me hang on for that long—then regretted it? Maybe this is the consequence. I don’t know if I can trust you anymore, Buffy. You or me either one.”

He didn’t even kiss her. She heard the front door slam, and he was gone.