Chapter 16: Too Far

Buffy had hoped that the novelty of being allowed to stay home alone would distract her sister from the obvious absence of her favorite baby-sitter. No such luck. On the walk home from the Magic Box, Dawn peppered her with questions.

“What’s the matter with Spike?” When Buffy didn’t answer, she went on, “I know something happened. You wouldn’t let me stay by myself unless you really didn’t want Spike around.” She paused and glared at Buffy. “Did you two have a fight?”

The look on her face told Buffy in no uncertain terms that if they’d had a fight, Buffy was almost certainly to blame, and would face the wrath of Dawn for sending away her best friend. “Yeah,” Buffy admitted. “We – we kinda did.”

“Did you hit him?” Dawn asked in an accusing tone.

“No!” she retorted. “Well, yes. I guess I did, but –”

“He doesn't like that,” her sister mumbled.

“That's not the point, Dawn.”

Dawn folded her arms across her chest. “What was the fight about?”

Buffy sighed. “It was about… Spike – did something that was not okay, Dawnie,” she said carefully, avoiding the details of their near sexual encounter. She wanted to make Dawn understand, but she didn’t want to say anything that might tarnish her sister’s impressions of the vampire. Also – sex talk with Dawn? Permanently scarring. “I got upset, and he got upset, and, well, we're not… really speaking right now.”

Dawn scowled. “You don’t have to talk to me like I’m a child.” Then she glanced up in alarm. “He didn’t kill anyone, did he?”

“No! No, nothing like that.” Buffy put an arm around her sister. “He just… he went a little too far and he – well, I think it’s best if we stay away from each other.”

Dawn wondered what she meant by that. Went too far how? She remembered how he first expressed his love for Buffy – that was crazy – but Drusilla had been around then, and she probably made him a little insane. He’d never do anything like that again. She wondered if it had something to do with Jacob. Had he said something to Jacob? Done something? Dawn just couldn’t imagine the same vampire who sat on her couch and let her paint his nails while telling her how he’d always love Buffy and he’d always take care of her – she just couldn’t see him doing something to make Buffy cut him out of their lives.

“Buffy, he’d never hurt us! You know that!” Buffy could hear the hysterical tinge in her sister’s voice. “Just talk to him, Buffy!”

“Dawn! I don’t want to argue about this with you.”

“You are such a big stupid moron. I can’t believe you did this!” Dawn stormed into the house and stomped up the stairs. Her tantrum was punctuated by the slamming of her bedroom door, and Buffy sighed, feeling her sister’s words pierce her like the cool steel of a blade.

Why was she taking the blame for this? She’d been so careful to omit the fact that Spike had been the one who told her to go. But that was because she was protecting Dawn, right? She wasn’t… ashamed that he’d kicked her out, was she? This whole thing was his fault. Okay, maybe she’d gotten angry and been cruel to him, but he deserved it, right? For that damned love spell. For being so damned perceptive. For knowing what she wanted.

For being what she wanted.

Buffy shuddered and sank down in a chair in the living room. That was it – she was admitting it, the hard truth she hadn’t been able to express to Willow in the training room. She had feelings for Spike. She could scream about it, she could cry about it, she could pound demons until her fists ached, but that didn’t change things.

She couldn’t tell him, though. She didn’t think she’d be able to get the words out, even if she wanted to – which, let’s be clear, she did not want to. God, he’d be unbearable.

She heard his arguments over again in her head. You don’t want someone who just treats you like a normal girl. You want someone who loves all of you – the Slayer, too. She heard the unspoken conclusion: I love you. I love the Slayer. Love me, Buffy – choose me.

She absolutely hated the idea that he could love without a soul. If he could love her without one, why couldn’t Angel? It brought their entire relationship into harsh relief, and she couldn’t help wondering if Angel had ever really loved her. Maybe he’d just been in love with the idea of her. Innocent, pure, fighting for the triumph of good over evil – all things that appealed to the soul. But as her, the girl, Buffy… maybe he’d never – maybe that’s why it was so easy to leave her.

No. No no no no no no no.

It hurt. It hurt too much to think about, that maybe her one true love, her first great romance, her soul mate, hadn’t been that at all. It was the soul – it had to be the soul that changed things.

But… then there was Spike.

The feelings were there; she couldn’t deny that. He really did feel something, something strong enough to make him give up his evil ways, fight at her side, put up with her friends, become fiercely loyal to Dawn – all for her.

Maybe Willow was right, and normal wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. She’d tried normal, hadn’t she? Angel had left her so she’d have the chance at a normal life, and what did she get? A one-night stand that made her feel like a fool and the all-American boy who turned out to be part of some vast military conspiracy.

The thought of a lover who accepted the Slayer side of her was tempting. She shook her head, trying to imagine where her relationship with Jacob might have led. Sneaking off to patrol without him knowing, keeping him separate from the demons she interacted with every day, going back to the double life she’d led in high school before her mother knew. Keeping herself in check, being careful not to bruise the boy, as Spike so eloquently put it that one time. That wasn’t what she wanted. The burden she carried was hard enough, without the extra weight of keeping secrets from the ones she loved.

But if Spike was so damned perceptive, if he could tell her what was wrong with her life and what she really wanted, why couldn’t he tell how she felt? If she was honest with herself, wasn’t that what she wanted when she said she didn’t love him? Even if she didn’t want to hear it at the time, she’d expected him to fight back. She’d expected him to say – as he had so many times before – yes, she did love him, even if she didn’t realize it. Then, she wouldn’t have to say it. She wanted him to tell her about the heat and the passion they had. How their chemistry was overwhelming and even when they were trying to kill each other, they wanted each other. How every time they fought it was another move in their dance.

But he didn’t say any of that. He gave up and kicked her out. Maybe Willow was right about that, too. Maybe she’d wrecked him beyond repair. If he was so desperate that he was looking for a spell to cure his feelings, he must have truly given up. Buffy was starting to think that was what hurt the most. Now, she wasn’t sure which was worse, a vampire who loved her, or a vampire who didn’t want to.

There was only one salve for this ache. “Dawnie?” she called up the stairs. No answer. “I’m going out for patrol. I have my cell phone if you –”

She was cut off abruptly by the slamming of a door. Again. Buffy was pretty sure Dawn had just opened her bedroom door for the express purpose of slamming it again for emphasis. Well, she got the message.

“…need anything,” she finished, mostly to herself. She heaved another sigh, rummaged through her weapons chest for a few good stakes, and headed out the door for patrol.

*****

Buffy stopped short as she rounded the corner of the mausoleum. The vampire she’d been chasing was gone, and in his place was Spike, leaning casually against a gravestone, a post-slayage curl of smoke rising from his lips. His gaze was cast across the cemetery, away from her, but she could see the faint tremor that went through his body as he caught her scent. He turned slowly and fixed her with a closed, unreadable stare. Then, without a word, he pivoted on his heel and started walking in the opposite direction.

She ran after him, even though her heart felt like it had fallen out on the ground behind her. “Spike, wait!”

He stopped. “Oh, sorry,” he said, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and gesturing with it towards the pile of dust. “Did you want to do that? Didn't mean to step on any toes, love.” He said the pet name with such disdain it made her flinch. “I’ll be sure to let you have a go at him next time.”

Buffy glared at him, desperately fighting down her rising emotions. “Next time?” she asked, keeping her tone as haughty as his, not letting him see how much he hurt her. “I thought you wanted to stay away from me.”

“Yeah. Hence the walking away.” He turned to go again, but this time Buffy caught his arm.

“Wait – can we…?”

“Not really.” He shook off her grasp and began striding away without a second glance.

“I wasn’t looking for you,” she said to his retreating form. “I’m the Slayer. She who hangs out in cemeteries. You had to know I might show up.”

He spun back around with such force his leather coat whipped around his knees. “There are eleven other cemeteries in Sunnydale! Go hang out in one of those!” His expression was almost pleading as he said, softer, “This is my turf, Buffy. I live here.”

His turf. And she was intruding. “Fine,” she said, her tone much lighter than she felt. “I'll just leave you to your skulking.” She owed him that much, at least, to give him the distance he’d asked for. She turned and started toward the street, her head bowed, hands shoved in her pockets.

Spike watched her go, feeling his willpower seeping away with every step she took. The past few days had been hell without her. He’d told her to leave so he could have some space to clear his head, get himself sorted out.

But he couldn’t escape her.

If possible, things were even more muddled now than they’d been before. He still craved her with every fiber of his being, and hated himself for it all the while. He’d wrestled with himself so many times to keep from going to her, but seeing that tragic little face, the too-wide eyes glittering with tears, the slight pout she didn’t even know she was making – she was his undoing. He screwed up his mouth into a scowl, then threw his cigarette on the ground and stomped on it. Running after Buffy, he caught up to her in the street.

“Look, Buffy, I –” That was as far as he got when several vampires caught his eye about half a block down. “Trouble,” he warned her. She turned and saw the vamps, and without needing to communicate, they both started sprinting toward the gang.

They jumped right into the fray, but only got in a few punches each before they found themselves back to back, circling in place as the vampires surrounded them.

“You got a plan, pet?” Spike asked over his shoulder.

Buffy handed him a stake. “Don’t fall on this.”

Spike looked down at the pointy wood in his hand. “Right, then.” He shrugged and took a deep breath, then charged at the closest vampire, staking him instantly. Buffy followed his cue and started fighting furiously. She spun and kicked her way through the gang, staking three in quick succession.

Spike watched her out of the corner of his eye, and staked another vamp before it had the chance to grab him from behind. He was all too aware of how easy it was to get swept up in just watching her move. She was like quicksilver, fighting with a liquid grace enviable to even a preternatural creature like himself.

He soon realized he was about to get a demonstration, up close and personal. Having lost the element of surprise, their remaining opponents were driving Spike and Buffy towards one another, intending to surround them again. He glanced at her, only for a moment, but it was enough to meet her eyes in unspoken understanding.

His body tensed, waiting for her signal. “Switch!” she barked, and Spike immediately bent low, as Buffy launched herself onto his back, rolling across him and landing lightly on her feet on his other side. They moved together as though they’d always fought side-by-side, instead of the adversaries they’d once been. By the time he straightened up, she was already forcing his attacker away with sharp, powerful blows. Spike took on two vampires at once while they were still disoriented from the change-up he and Buffy had just pulled.

Always keeping one eye on the Slayer, even as he delivered sweeping kicks to his opponents with glee, he saw Buffy take a blow to the chest and smiled as she rolled out of the fall and sprang right back up. Couldn’t keep his girl down.

As she blocked punches from the vampire she was fighting, Buffy saw Spike stake one, only to be picked up by his leather coat and tossed in the air by the last remaining vamp. Her stomach seemed to drop as if she’d been the one thrown, and she let out a stream of curses that would’ve made Spike proud if he’d heard it. Spike smashed into the pavement several yards away and lay there, unmoving. With newfound urgency, Buffy cut right to the chase and staked her vamp, then took a running leap, hurtling onto the back of the last one before he could get to Spike. She wrestled the vampire to the ground and delivered a swift blow to the chest, the body beneath her turning to dust.

Spike sat up, rubbing his head, trying to shake off a potential concussion. When he lifted his gaze, Buffy was standing over him, her hand extended to help him up off the ground. He hesitated for a moment then accepted it with a nod of thanks.

“Good fight,” said Spike, once again in a vertical position.

“Yeah.” Her voice was a breathy whisper, her chest heaving from the exertion. Her face was glowing, as rivulets of sweat trickled down her hairline. The salty tang mixed with the scent of arousal coming off her in waves, and he had to fight down the desire to ravish her right there. A thoroughly male instinct drew his eyes to the rapid rise and fall of her breasts, but guilt quickly made him look away.

That was when Spike noticed she hadn’t let go of his hand.

He gently, almost reluctantly, withdrew from her grasp, unable to keep his fingers from winding through hers as he pulled away. He started to turn, gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder. “I should, uh, get going then…” He trailed off as Buffy captured his hand again and kept him from leaving.

“Spike…” she murmured, clinging to him. “Please – just… Don’t go.” He looked at her and was amazed to see her eyes burning with emotion, with everything she’d been holding inside before the fight.

“Buffy?” he asked, not quite believing his eyes as he watched the desperate plea flicker across her face. It was all he could manage before she lifted one hand to caress his cheek, a light, sensual touch that sent shivers down his spine.

Then, she was kissing him, and all coherent thoughts flew out of his brain.