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.