---------
She felt her heart being shattered to a million tiny, irreparable pieces. Never in her life had she ever imagined that she could feel this way. And never, in the time that she knew the man in front of her, had she imagined that he would be the reason that her life seemed to be falling apart in front of her eyes.

“But… I love you,” she whispered, barely audible. The wind carried her words like an echo of the past and she felt her eyes start to water. She hated how vulnerable she sounded… how vulnerable she felt. He blew out the smoke slowly from his nose and flicked his cigarette butt away.

“You don’t know what love is,” he said firmly, leaving no room for questions. Those words hurt her the most, breaking down the resolve that she had somehow harbored until this moment. She took a step back and ran into the wall of the porch and leaned back on it. How could he say that… her pain turned to frustration.

“How dare you,…” she hissed, ripped between trying to tear him apart and trying to grab onto him for her dear life. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “where do you get off saying that? How can you say that like what we had was nothing. How can – why… “

She broke off. She couldn’t finish. He closed his eyes for a long while, stuffing his hands deep into the black leather duster.

“Don’t think this is easy for me, Buffy,” he refused to look at her. “I’m not doing it just for me… it’s for the best. It… It’s complicated, love.”

“Then uncomplicated it!” She fisted her hands, trying to contain the emotions threatening to spill out of her. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry, pound on something, hurt something, just as he was hurting her from the inside. She needed an outlet, but she didn’t want to give him that satisfaction. She didn’t want to seem weak when she needed to be strong. But it hurts… so much. “God… you’re so…”

She growled in frustration. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t even look at her. Because, he knew if he had, everything would melt. He’d break and he couldn’t break. The tears were now coming out of her eyes in steady, silent torrents. Her breathing became staggered and she struggled to control herself.

“You once told me…” she tried again, closing her eyes, “you once told me that you’d never leave me. That you were here for the long haul. Here to stay.”

“You’re young, pet” he said quietly, studying the beat-up toe of his Doc Martins. “You’ve got your life ahead of you. You’ve still got places to go, people you’re going to want to meet. Love, you couldn’t have expected this to be forever.”

“I want you, Spike…” she was pleading. But, she knew it was no use. She knew it wasn’t really about her. It was him and his need for freedom. He wanted to leave with no strings attached – nothing holding him back. His life was about to start and he didn’t want any memory of the past… didn’t want her.

She turned her back to him and leaned her arm on the doorframe.

“Tell me… that you don’t love me,” she whispered. “I know that you’re leaving… but give me a reason to keep hoping that some day – “

Her voice trailed off into the starry night. It was a beautiful night. There were no clouds blocking the millions of stars that sparkled in the clear night sky and the moon was a perfect crescent. It was a romantic night – one that lovers dreamed of. It stilled the world and amplified emotions. Pain.

He turned to stare at her back, knowing that this was her ultimatum. It wasn’t meant to be a test or a challenge. It wasn’t meant to prove this thing, but this was as close to an ultimatum that she had ever gotten. The only ultimatum that she had ever thrown his way. He could give her hope that someday he’d come back for her.

“I don’t love you.”

With that, he turned, walked down the porch steps, into his Desoto, and out of her life forever.


.........
.........


“I’m sorry… It must feel horrible.”

“I think horrible is still coming. Right now, it's worse. Right now, I'm just trying to keep from dying.“ Buffy sobbed her heart out into her best friend’s lap, trying to let out the unbearable pain that was drowning her heart. Willow stroked her hair, trying to soothe her, tears glistening in her own eyes.

“I can’t breathe, Will. I feel like I can’t breathe.”


.........
.........


One Year Ago

The door swung open and there, right in front of her, was a pair of big black combat boots. Followed by tight, black jeans… black t-shirt, black leather duster. Her eyes landed on a pale face with peroxide blonde hair, razor-sharp cheekbones, and blue blue .. extra blue eyes. He had a bored expression on his face as he studied the blushing, mousy, brown-haired girl who was open-mouth gaping at him. He raised a brow at her, waiting for her to start talking.

“If you’re done drooling, … who are you?” he asked flatly, startling Buffy. Ohh… British accent. She opened her mouth and no sound came out. He raised a bored eyebrow and rolled his eyes. “Any time today would be nice.”

“Uh… Mr. Giles?” she asked, meekly, knowing that her face was probably the color of a ripe tomato.

“Oh, right,” he stepped back to let her into the house, then shouted out “Uncle Rupes! Some short chit here to see you!”

Chit? Buffy was confused and beginning to really dislike the guy standing in front of her… now walking away from her. She nervously stood in the foyer, not sure what to do.

“Well, come on then,” the bleached guy turned around, glaring at her, “Not all of us have all day.”

Buffy followed him through the hallway and into a room with two grand pianos in it. One wooden lined wall had certificates and photos covering it and the other three were decorated with various odds and ends throughout the century. The two pianos were Steinways, one a concert grande and the other one a size L – living room sized. The guy she was following told her to wait and exited the room with a swirl of his duster.

She walked up to the concert grand and ran a finger down it’s edge. She sat herself down and let her fingers ghost along the tops of the keys. The piano was old – ivory keys already turning yellow and the black paint chipped here and there. Buffy closed her eyes and dared to play.

It wasn’t planned, exactly, she just played whatever came to mind. It was the Saint Saens second concerto, a piece that she tried teaching herself.

Outside of the room, Spike froze. He had heard the girl sit down at the piano and caught the very first octave of the song she played. She captured him at the very first sound. It was obvious to him that the formal training the girl had had in the past was poor, but there was a quality to her playing that made him yearn for more. It was the sound she made… her ability to manipulate the piano so it spoke to him. Told him of the cloudy path as she played the misty, slow arpeggios.

.........
.........

Present Day

Buffy lay flat on her bed, too tired to do anything else. The week had worn her out, emotionally and physically. In the course of two days, she had lost the two things she treasured most in life. Her virginity and her first love. Of course, she should have known. But it wasn’t supposed to be like this. What if he hadn’t gotten that offer? Would he have stayed with her? She doubted it. Despite all his promises of forever and beyond, she always held onto a seed of doubt… the seed that would shield her heart from inevitable breakage. And a week ago, … on a particularly memorable night, she had buried the seed so deep that it was forgotten.

The irony was almost poetic. It was beautifully devised. Of course she would lose him the second she stopped worrying about losing him. Some higher being must have had it in for her. Buffy snorted, the closest thing to laughter in a while.

One week passed since that fateful night and all she could do was cry. When there were no more tears, she poured her aching heart out in her music. Beethoven, Chopin, Schumann, she finally understood how they did it. Years of life and pain… now that was good music. Giles, her piano teacher, had always told her to put more emotion in her playing… be more expressive… be consumed. She knew what he wanted and she tried… she really did. But only after her life was shattered brutally did she finally really get it. And Giles had not celebrated. He knew how the heart-wrenching element of music had finally been added and it was nothing to be celebrated for.

Buffy felt the warm liquid start rising in her eyes again and she fought them.

“No,” she whispered and shuddered at the sound of her own voice.

How did we get here? Spike… how did we get here?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

One Year Ago

“Buffy?” Spike snorted in disbelief. “You’re parents must have been pissed off their rockers. Buffy… what were they thinking?”

“Oh yeah? Like Spike is so much better,” Buffy spat out in annoyance. She had known this guy for a whole of two minutes not counting their encounter the day before and already, she wished he was that cockroach that was currently scurrying across the room, trying to go unnoticed.

“What? It’s a nickname,” he defended. “Besides, it’s rather manly… just like Buffy.”

“Right… I don’t even want to ask how you got that nickname,” she shook the image out of her head. Spike smirked and leaned closer.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, pet?” he curled his tongue against his teeth and laughed when she blushed, disgusted and embarrassed.

“A world of no,” she shuddered. Spikey Spike parts… Absolutely disgusting. She was horrified and blocked the image from her mind. She muttered something along the lines of ‘perverted’ and ‘disgusting’ and Spike just laughed at her.

“Remember, it’s your own brain that conjured up those naughty thoughts,” Spike tsked, shaking a head at her.

“Don’t you have an elsewhere to be?” Buffy couldn’t believe that she had actually thought this guy was good-looking the other day. Well… there was no denying his hotness factor, but the lack of a decent personality allowed for one to overlook that little detail. He was the most infuriating, annoying, irritating, … and he was smirking at her.

“’Course not,” he plopped himself down at the piano bench next to her. “My house, innit?”

“I must say, William, it’s rather refreshing that you’ve finally decided to adjust and refer to this as your home,” an unmistakably British voice came from the door at the end of the room and both teenagers looked up in time to see Rupert Giles walk into the room, nose still buried inside the book he was clutching with one hand.

“I said house?” Spike rolled his eyes. “Never said this was my home now, did I?”

“Well in that case,” Giles lifted his head and closed his book, placing it on top of the closed lid of the Steinway, “I suggest you leave, as this is my home and I have a lesson. The door’s that way. See yourself to it.”

Spike glowered and slowly got up to his feet. Muttering unintelligible words under his breath, he exited the room with a swift swirl of his leather duster. Buffy felt the tension that had been building with that particularly crude conversation leave her body and she sighed in relief.

“Now, Miss Summers,” Giles smiled warmly at her and pulled up a chair next to her piano bench. “I hope you’ll excuse my nephew. He never did learn his manners.”

“It’s no problem, he’s fine,” she reassured him. Yeah… right. It was ‘fine’ to have one lousy conversation with a guy and have your hands turn into prunes from the profuse sweating from said conversation.

“So, Buffy… is it?” Giles asked her for the second time since he met her the day before. She nodded and he continued. “What would you like to start with this afternoon?”

“Um…” she bit her lip, suddenly nervous. “Would the Beethoven be okay?”

“Ah, Ludwig Van Beethoven, just the man I was reading up on!” Giles gestured towards the closed book on the piano. “Very well.”

He sat back to listen to her and she took a few deep breaths. If it were possible, her palms were sweating even more now. Buffy wasn’t one who liked to perform in front of an audience. She was most comfortable when she was alone in the privacy of her own home and was allowed to just play for herself. She lifted her trembling hands to the keys, closed her eyes, then started playing the Beethoven sonata that she had prepared for the lesson.

The first note startled her and she stifled the urge to groan. It had come out harshly, nothing like the quiet suspense that she had practiced for days on out. From there, it only got worse. Her dynamic range was nothing to be proud of, her notes choppy, her scales and runs had holes in them as she tripped over her own fingers. By the time she was finished, she wanted to crawl under the piano and die.

At the last chord of torture, she put her cold hands down on her lap and glanced quickly at Giles. He had his glasses off and was taking his time cleaning them. When he put them back on, he frowned, took them off, and cleaned them again.

She held her breath when he opened his mouth.

“It was very good, Buffy,” he muttered, “very good indeed. You play with command, you seem to know all the notes, you do everything that is written very well.” he paused and thought for a moment. “Tell me, Buffy, what do you feel when you play this composition?”

“Um… I don’t… I’m not sure,” she stammered.

“Tell me, what is it supposed to sound like here, in the beginning?” he pointed to the first line of music.

“Soft?” she ventured into the most logical answer. He shook his head.

“Yes, the dynamic level should be soft, but what does it sound like to you? Thunder? Lightning? A bird? An airplane? What feeling does it give you?”

“It’s… moving fast…” she tried again, but he interrupted her.

“Listen to this music in your head and picture what is happening. Just close your eyes and listen for a moment, Buffy,” he instructed her, closing his eyes himself.

Relenting, she closed her eyes and heard the beginnings of the soft drumming. Suspense. Thrill. Something lurking, sneaking around… It suddenly clicked into place.

“Now… start again,” he said, softly, eyes still closed.

………………………..

Present Day

The rest of the summer came and went. The days were blurred into each other and they floated past Buffy like a dream. A very unpleasant, sickly-feeling dream. Buffy felt like some kind of machine, waking up each morning, doing chores, walking around thinking about nothing in particular, smiling whenever someone talked to her but not hearing the words that were coming out of their mouths. The first few weeks were horrible – absolutely excruciating. She couldn’t even turn on the radio or walk past the music store without her stomach twisting and her eyes watering.

At first, her parents didn’t say anything about it and just avoided her. But soon, her mom had had enough and decided that it was time Buffy got over her loss and faced the real world. The world where she would study, go to a great college, become a lawyer, be rich and happy and die with millions of dollars. It was a morning three weeks before school was going to start when her mother marched up to her bedroom in the morning, yanked the sheets off, and threw an SAT study guidebook at her.

“God, Mom… We don’t take those for another year!” Buffy mumbled when she saw what had landed on her stomach.

“Stop it, Buffy,” her mother shook her head, “I’ve sat around and watched you mope about all summer. You’re in high school and you don’t have an entire to sit around and do nothing! Colleges will frown upon that. Now, I expect you to get up in ten minutes and I want a test done every week, understood?”

Buffy turned away and felt the tears start running down her face.

“Honey, you have to let the boy go,” her mom sat on the edge of her bed and ran her hand through her hair. “Remember what I told you when you started seeing him? It was his last year in high school and it was your first. What did you think he was going to do when he graduated? Sit around and wait for you?”

“Really… not helping mom,” Buffy muttered, wiping at her eyes. “It’s not that… it’s just that I always thought that… I don’t know.”

“That he’d be there?” Joyce sighed, pained that her daughter had to feel such hurt at such an early age.

“Yeah.”

“If it were real… he would have waited and given you the world.”

“I guess… I never was much for reality, was I?”


Buffy stood in front of her mirror, gazing blankly at the emotionless eyes staring back at her. Her hair was tied up and her bangs swept to the side. She fingered the collar of her white button-down uniform absently. The last time she had worn the uniform was the last day of school when Spike had practically grabbed her and swung her around, excited at the news he had for. The news that a record company was interested in the band and was going to fund a trip around the nation. She was excited for him that day and he had taken her out to dinner to celebrate graduation, happily detailing their future together with him being a rock star.

He had once told her that he loved the uniform, especially on her, and she had always blushed, pushing the thought aside as some sort of kinky fantasy that only he could conjure up in his mind. But, ever since he had told her that, she always felt excited when putting on the blue sweater, plaid skirt, and knee-high socks. Now, she felt empty. Numb.

Tearing her eyes away from the mirror, she grabbed her backpack and went downstairs; ready to face the public on her first day back in school.

Chapter 3

One year ago.
First day of school.

“I heard the upperclassmen hate freshmen,” Willow whispered, shuddering when a group of senior girls gave her a look of disgust. In Sunnydale Academy, it was easy to separate the upper and under classmen aside from the few feet of height difference. For starters, the older girls liked wearing their skirts hiked up, barely concealing their butts and the older guys refused to tuck in their polos. They roamed the halls with a swagger and a head held high, intimidating anyone who dared get in their way. Couples were intertwined, pressed up against lockers, connected at the hips or the arms or the lips. They were everywhere. Sunnydale Academy seemed like a mating ground of juniors and seniors while the freshmen timidly stood around, sticking out like a sore thumb: gawkish, knobby-kneed, and misplaced.

Buffy and Willow had heard all the scary rumors in eighth grade. Everything from the social caste system of the rich and their minions to the pranks played on the new kids in school. Looking around at the wide hallway, all their worst fears were confirmed. This place was hell. Buffy had begged her parents to let her go to the public school but they wouldn’t hear of it and insisted that this Academy gave her a guaranteed entry into law school. Well… I guess all you really need to get into law school is lots and lots of money. Functioning brain not required. Buffy thought to herself. There was no need to look twice to see that this place was more money than smarts.

And the poor were massacred. The ones who arrived on scholarships were taunted. This was the reason why Willow was trembling beside her and she suddenly felt the urge to comfort her friend.

“Can’t be that bad,” Buffy reassured her.

“I’m serious! I heard that…” Willow looked around then leaned in to whisper “…they threw sardines at the freshmen for the first pep rally!”

Buffy laughed at the horrified look on Willow’s face.

They stopped when they were in front of room 330-B. It was English, first class of the day. The problem now was the couple that was tongue wrestling in front of the door. Buffy and Willow shifted uncomfortably and looked away, waiting for them to finish.

“Are you just going to stand there all day?”

Buffy was startled and jumped at the sound of the smooth accented voice coming from behind her. Spike was suddenly next to her, hands casually stuffed in the pockets of his khakis and his unconventional black polo halfway untucked, looking annoyed and amused at the same time. He laughed at the surprised look on Buffy’s face and the mortified Willow who was getting redder every second.

“You’re in our way,” he grabbed the boy’s shoulder, forcing him to separate from his girlfriend. “And you need to let the bird breathe for a moment.”

The boy glared at Spike and silently measured him up before speaking.

“You’re wearing black.” Spike raised his eyebrow at the obvious statement.

“And you’re wearing blue,” he returned, “glad to get that clarified. Now move.”

“But you’re supposed to be wearing blue,” the boy replied, unfazed. Spike rolled his eyes.

“And nothing gets passed that little brain of yours, does it?” he pushed his way through the couple and held the door open as Buffy and Willow hurriedly followed him into the classroom.

……………………..

Present Day

Buffy closed her eyes and took a deep breath before stepping out of the safe confines of the van. The front of the building looked the same as it had the year before. Students walking arm in arm, students shouting at each other from across the quad, students desperately catching up with each other. There was the same crowd of girls in unbelievably tight blouses and dangerously short skirts, the same group of boys that ogled them from afar, the book nerds were hooking up their calculators and downloading games they had acquired over the summer, the rich junkies blatantly lighting up under a tree without a care in the world. Nothing had changed. Out of habit, her head turned towards the edge of the steps and she half expected a certain blonde male to be there waiting for her with a grin on his lips and a twinkle in his eye.

She sighed and slowly ambled towards the wide entranceway of the school when something in the air caught her attention.

…and Sunnydale’s very own “Dingoes ate my baby” will be playing in L.A. this weekend! Call 1-800-BUY-TIKS to reserve tickets! This is an event you do not want to miss! It’s this lucky band’s world premier! Call now! Here’s the weather for -

The girls sitting in the grass a couple of yards away from her were fiddling with a radio. Some of them started talking in excitement at the mention of “Dingoes ate my baby”. Suddenly, a brunette looked up and caught Buffy’s stare. She sent a sympathetic look in her direction and immediately leaned in towards her friends and started speaking frantically in a hushed voice.

Buffy turned away, knowing what she was probably saying.

…………………………..

Back to the first day last year

Buffy caught Spike staring in her direction as she was stuffing her books in her bag. He was casually leaning against the chalkboard with a stack of papers in his hands. The second their eyes connected, her heart skipped a beat and she quickly looked away.

“S-so! You’re the assistant teacher, right? Th-that’s cool!” Willow piped up, making excited gestures with her hands. Spike turned his gaze to the redhead and smiled.

“Yeah, that’s right. Teacher’s little helper.”

“But I thought you were a student and everything! I didn’t know you could help a teacher when you were still a student!”

“Had a few extra class periods,” He drawled out, shrugging, “and what’s your name, Red?”

“I-it’s Willow! Willow like… a willow tree!” he chuckled and gave her a nod. He returned his gaze to the mousy brunette who was quietly standing next to her friend, fidgeting with her bag and looking everywhere but at him. He tilted his head to study her face and noticed that her teeth were furiously biting down on her lower lip. Quickly, he decided that it was the cutest thing he had ever seen in his life.

“You might want to get going,” he gestured to the clock and grabbed his own backpack. Buffy jerked her head up and made a beeline for the door. Or.. floor. She tripped over a desk and felt herself diving for a nice ‘hello’ to the hard, cold,… two arms that caught her.

“Careful, love,” he raised an eyebrow, amused. Feeling her face flame up, she quickly pulled out of his grasp and smoothed down the front of her shirt to try saving her dignity.

“Uh.. thanks,” she stammered and turned towards Willow for support. Support that she was not getting as Willow was simply staring at her with a constipated expression, giving her the impression that her friend was trying very hard not to burst out laughing.

“Just a bit of a klutz now, aren’t we?” his hands went back into his pockets and Buffy glared at him. Without another word, she stormed out of the classroom and blended into the current of students, rushing to beat the tardy bell for their next class period.

Willow let our her laughter, shook her head, and followed her friend into the hallway leaving Spike alone in the classroom. He scratched his head, freeing some curls from the slick gel holding his hair back, trying to suss out what had just happened.

…………………

Back to present

“How are you doing?”

Buffy vaguely heard the question directed to her from a concerned Willow. The entire morning had been … hell, personified. Students kept shooting her sympathetic looks and asking her if she was all right to the point when she felt like screaming. There were hushed whispers whenever she entered a classroom and couples would stop holding hands when they saw her, obviously trying to ease her apparent pain. It wasn’t everyday that the one couple everyone thought would last forever broke apart. And in such a way, too… with him taking up a trail to fame and fortune and her stuck in a high school, alone and desolate.

“I’ll be fine,” she mumbled. Xander and Willow glanced at each other, feeling their friend’s pain. They knew that whatever they said wouldn’t be a comfort to her. Xander seethed as he thought about the idiot who had left her like this.

“So…” he tried, “Same old Sunnyhell Academy! Filled with teachers of evil and books of torture. Look – “ he held up his sagging hamburger “ – they even managed to make the All-American food look wicked!”

Buffy and Willow forced their laugh and Xander sat back, pleased with himself.

“I don’t even know if I want that going anywhere near my mouth,” he eyed the hamburger, suspiciously.

“Oh, please,” Cordelia’s voice rang out as she took a seat next to him, “that’s the only thing that would ever go into your mouth besides your foot. And that’s only because it doesn’t have free will.”

Xander glared at her and took a huge bite out the burger in his hand. Cordelia flipped her hand at him, brushing him off before turning to Buffy.

“So I just heard that Spike broke up with you this summer,” she patted her hand as Xander and Willow froze, mortified, “and I just wanted to say that with my help, you’ll find another guy to replace him immediately! Even though… this other guy probably wont ever be as hot… or as good looking… and Spike’s now got millions of girls at his feet – “

“Really… not helping, Cordy,” Buffy cut her off, not wanting to hear anything else. Cordelia looked up at the angry gazes at the table.

“What? I was just trying to help!”

Chapter 4

Still the first day of school – Last year.
Bronze.

Spike surveyed the pool table, contemplating his next move. He was with Angel O’Connor and David Osbourne, better known as Oz. This was the first night they had brought him over to the teen club called ‘The Bronze’. He had immediately scoffed at the name.

“ Of course in America, you’d name a club ‘The Bronze’. Just like you half assed Yanks always do things… never go for the gold or silver. Always settling for mediocrity”

“When’s the last time you watched the Olympics…?”

“That’s only because you cheated!”

It wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be, though. Yes, it was filled with bunches of teenyboppers who didn’t know real music from trash, but it had a nice feel. The ambiance was pleasant enough and he was starting to enjoy himself. Positioning himself for his next shot, something in the corner of his eye caught his attention and his stick went flying across the pool table.

“Whoa, there,” Angel laughed, nearly spilling his sizzling drink. “You said you were good at this?”

Spike ignored his comment and stared out at the dance floor. There was a girl in the middle of the floor, dancing without a care in the world, oozing sex and sensuality with every sway of her hips. Her back was facing him and … what a back. She was wearing a glittery, backless shirt and it put him into a mindless trance.

Who is that?

She moved with grace, she moved with command, power, she was an angel, she was heaven, she was the apple of every man’s eye, and Goddammit, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. And all he had seen was her back… her long blonde hair, spilling over her slim, bronzed shoulders, tanned arms raised above her head… lowering… moving across her side, gliding across her skin… how he wished he were those hands.

He didn’t even realize that he had moved until he noticed that the girl was now standing in front of him, within arm’s reach. His breath got caught in his throat when she slowly began to turn around. He took a step back to admire her beauty as her face was slowly revealed to him and he saw…

Buffy.

He nearly fell forward in surprise as his feet slid back and he stumbled over some dancers that were dancing off to a side. They gave him a nasty look that he promptly dismissed and without a second glance at the golden girl in front of him, he rushed back into the other room, into Oz and Angel’s amused glances.

“Looks like you just met Buffy,” Angel snorted at the hazy, disheveled expression of his friend.

“Um, yeah,” he smoothed his hair back. “Was… just, uh, going to see why she was wearing that piece of thread she calls a shirt!”

“Uh… huh.”

“Bloody thin that shirt is, too,” Spike swiveled and looked back at Buffy. “Where does she come off wearing something like that? It barely covers anything! Look… is that man ogling her? Does her mom know what kind of shirt she’s wearing?” he turned back to Angel, “I’ll bet she doesn’t, no way would she have let that chit out of the house if she saw she was wearing that.”

“And you were by no means ogling as well,” Angel stated, sarcastically.

“She’s not a natural blonde! Her hair was a different color just this morning!”

“The captain of peroxide is accusing Buffy of dying her hair… how sweet,” Angel shared a look with Oz and they went back to their game of pool, leaving Spike to continue staring at Buffy.

………………….

Present – Still first day of school – nighttime.

Buffy was sitting on the piano bench, thinking about nothing in particular. She had been there for over an hour and made no move to play anything. The day had wiped her out, making her feel positively tired, and she had told Willow that she had rather stay at home than spend the night out in the Bronze.

“You go… go have fun.”

“I’m worried about you, Buffy”

“Don’t. It’s best if.. if I stay home. I have to practice before my parents get home, anyways. You know how they get annoyed when they hear me playing since ‘piano is such a ridiculous waste of time!’ to them.”

Willow was sympathetic and they said their goodbyes.

Now, over an hour had gone by and she made no attempts at practicing. Buffy closed her eyes and imagined a time when Spike had sat with her on this very bench and held her while she played for him.

“You’re my everything, my love,” she sang, softly, lightly pressing down on a few keys. She paused and ghosted her fingers over the keys. When she pressed down, an unknown melody came to her ears. She loved doing this, playing nonsense to herself, trying to make her own music.

“You’re my everything…” she repeated again. With more conviction, her fingers played another harmony. “Lifted me up in my love. Heart soaring, heat inducing, stomach aching, love.”

Her voice was hoarse and choked with emotion. She felt raw and naked with her emotions lying out in the open for anyone to see if they happened to walk in on her.

“Your ugly face, your fucking voice, your oversized ego, I hate you I hate you I hate you,” Buffy slammed her fingers down on the keyboard with all her might. She banged at the keys until she was sobbing and rested her forehead to the piano. “I can’t help it if I think that whatever’s ugly is beautiful… beautiful because it’s you. Why can’t I stop loving you?”

……………….

Flashback.

It had been a few weeks since he had seen Buffy dancing out in the middle of the Bronze, but Spike hadn’t forgotten any detail of the pleasant memory. He pulled into his driveway and automatically smiled when he saw that the object of said memory was sitting on his porch steps, chin rested in her hands.

“Well, you’re here early,” he called out to her as he got out of his car. “Rupes isn’t coming back from the university until another half hour, love.”

He was annoyed when she ignored him and continued to stare blankly out to the street at nothing in particular. He opened his mouth and was about to snap an insult at her when he noticed her tear-stained face. Startled, he closed his mouth and took a step closer to her.

She suddenly seemed to realize he was standing there and her head snapped up. She quickly wiped at her eyes and turned away from him.

“Have you been crying?” he asked, softly, taking another step towards her. She didn’t answer and he came to the steps and took a seat next to her. “Anything you want to talk about?”

She shook her head and sniffed. Spike wasn’t sure what to do in this situation, so he tentatively lifted his arms and awkwardly patted her shoulder, trying to provide whatever comfort he could. They sat in silence for a few moments with him rubbing circles over her back. It was a warm afternoon, no clouds and a bright sun shining merrily down on earth. But despite the happy, friendly surroundings, the moment was strained with tension.

Suddenly, she spoke.

“Dad left again,” she said, not trusting her own voice. Spike’s heart swelled for her and he scooted closer, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

“I’m sorry, pet,” he murmured into her hair. She leaned into his chest and silently cried as he held her tight, comforting her.

“It’s not the first time…” she choked. “But it never gets easier.”

“I know,” Spike whispered. “My dad left us too, back in London. Put my mom in a right state, he did. She went crazy until she – “ he stopped, not wanting to go into details. He couldn’t think or even talk about his mother’s suicide without watering up and right now he had to be strong for the girl in his arms.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

They held each other for what seemed to be a eternity. The time didn’t pass and the world was frozen. Neither of them made an effort to break the bond that had been created from their embrace and neither stopped to think about what it might mean. They were just living in the moment and right then, the only thing that mattered was arms wrapped around their bodies and the comfort those arms had to offer. It was such a tender gesture that it had temporarily melted all barriers in both hearts. Neither of them felt the sleep approach as they slowly drifted off together into a world of dreams under the peaceful afternoon sun.

That was how Rupert Giles found them when he pulled up in his little red sports car, briefcase in hand, ready to let Buffy in for their weekly piano lesson. He looked a little flustered when he saw the couple, holding each other on the porch steps, fast asleep.

“Oh dear,” he muttered to himself, dropping his briefcase and frantically searching his pocket for a handkerchief. He was in quite the predicament when he cleaned his glasses and coughed a few times, hoping that they would wake up without noticing that he had witnessed their compromising position.

After a few minutes of endless coughing fits, he decided he had had enough.

“For the love of God!” he cried out and shook at his nephew’s shoulders. The two finally stirred, showing the signs of wakefulness.

“Five more minutes,” Spike mumbled, then shifted in his sleep, inadvertently causing himself to fall down the porch steps. He sat erect, eyes shocked open and wide awake. “Bloody hell! ”

At his shout, Buffy awoke and her cheeks turned crimson when she realized what had happened.

“Oh…”

“Right, Buffy, I will be in the study whenever you’re ready to start your lesson,” Giles said, satisfied with his accomplishment. With that, he grabbed his briefcase and marched into the house.

The two teenagers sat still, taking in their environment before slowly getting up.

“Um..” Buffy started, then stopped.

“Right.. then,” Spike nodded, running his hand through his hair. “That… was nothing. Don’t worry about that. Just a bit of cold comfort from good ol’ Spike here.”

“Okay, yeah.” Buffy agreed and started towards the open door for her piano lesson. Suddenly she stopped and turned back to Spike. “Spike?”

“Yeah?” Spike looked up at her, eyes shining of… something. Hope?

“Um… thanks.”

She ran the rest of the way indoors.

Chapter 5 – Effulgent.

Flashback

Buffy sat in English class, chewing on her blonde hair of two months - she still wasn’t used to it - and gazing out the window. Often times, she found that if she didn’t stare out the window, her eyes would always land on Spike and would stay there until he looked up and caught her gaze. Ever since the afternoon on Giles’s porch, he would send her little half-smiles whenever their eyes met, causing her to blush and turn away. So, to be safe, she stared out the window at the football team running and going through their everyday drills.

“Poetry,” Ms. Calendar announced. The entire class groaned in unison at the one word. She eyed her students with a smile. “Poetry, first and foremost, speaks the heart and the mind. It is an art form. In this new unit, we will all be writing an original poem. Yes Mr. Finn?”

The tall and bulky Riley Finn had his hands raised and was now asking a question. “Like a rhyming poem?”

“It doesn’t have to rhyme. You kids are really going to have to separate poetry from rhyme in your vocabulary,” she seemed annoyed and turned to Spike. “William, your father told me that you’re quite the poet. Do you care to share any of your works to the class?”

Spike looked horrified at the idea and vigorously shook his head. “Bugger that. What I write is my own business.”

“Come on, don’t be shy!” Ms. Calendar grinned, unrelenting and insistent. “What if I told you that your grade depended on it?”

“I’d say sod it all and go to hell.”

“Dude, come on!” a guy shouted from the back. A couple of girls giggled and soon the class was full of hooting laughter as the students cheered Spike on. His face contorted in annoyance, frustration, and a trace of nervous fear.

“Grow up,” he growled, looking around the classroom until his eyes suddenly latched onto a pair of impassive, green ones. The second they made contact, Buffy’s eyes lit up and smiled encouragement. After a long moment, he finally sighed in defeat. “All right, all right, shut your blubbering traps already. I’ll read something and I don’t want a word from any of you afterwards, got it?”

The class shut up and leaned forward, eager to hear his poetry. Buffy was slightly irritated when she noticed that the girls in the class paid extra attention to him. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a black, tattered notebook and recited the first page.

“Soul resplendent,
My body responds,
My heart expands,
‘tis grown a bulge in it,
inspired by your beauty,
effulgent”

When he was done, the room was dead silent. He put the book away without even sparing the class a glance and stood, facing the wall. The girls were trying to muffle their giggle in their hands and the jocks in the back of the room were on the verge of keeling over in laughter. Buffy’s heart soared out to him and she longed to hold him until the embarrassing moment passed.

Ms. Calendar stood stock still with her hand rubbing her temple. She cleared her throat and nodded towards Spike.

“Thank you, William, that was… “ she paused “… very inspirational. Now, class please turn to page three hundred and …” The rest of the class period passed by in a blur and before Buffy knew it, the bell had rung and she was getting ready to leave. She approached the door and paused when she was just a few feet from Spike. He turned around as if he knew she was standing there and looked at her with a strange expression in his eyes.

“Effulgent, huh?” she smiled softly, teasing him gently out of his closed off mood. He gave her his usual half smile and shrugged.

“Yeah… that’s what she thought, too.” he replied, thinking back to a certain beautiful brunette named Cecily’s earth shattering rejection that now seemed like ages ago.

………………

Present Day

Willow was nervous as she paced the length of Buffy’s porch. She stuffed the two tickets that she was holding into her back pockets and took a deep breath. It had been almost three months since she talked to Oz and when he sent her the tickets to his band’s concert, she had jumped around in glee, planning to ask Buffy to go along with her. That was until she remembered the man who had broken her friend’s heart. She had smacked herself on the head for not remembering this and immediately started to look for another person to go with her.

Xander didn’t want to have anything to do with the band because of Spike’s treatment to Buffy and nobody else had the time to go. The more Willow thought about it, the more she thought that Buffy should be the one going with her. In the three months since Spike had broken up with her, she had been more depressed than anything Willow could have imagined. What she needed was a closure, and the tickets to L.A. were the key.

The green van pulled up onto the driveway and Willow braced herself. Buffy jumped out of the vehicle and waved to her, smiling a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Joyce called out a hello and entered the house, leaving the two girls standing on the porch.

“Hey, Willow…” Buffy started, then frowned, “what’s wrong?”

“Oh! Nothing! No wrong, whatsoever. There is no wrong that is being done here,” Willow babbled on, eyes wide. Buffy squinted.

“I know that look on your face. Spill.”

“Okay, um…” Willow stammered, “willyougotoLAwithmethisweekendtoseedingoesatemybaby? ”

“What?! NO!”

Willow took a deep breath, ready to put up a fight.

“Come on, Buffy… it’s been so long…”

“Absolutely not, Will. You know what it will do to me if I see Spike! Every time I hear him in the radio, I feel like tearing my inside out, what do you think will happen if I –“

“But that’s exactly the point, Buffy!” Willow pleaded, “this will be good for you. It’ll be like .. a closure thingy.”

“No.”

“Please…. Buffy.”

……………..

It had taken Willow a lot of begging and eventually a lot of money, but she finally managed to convince Buffy that going to the concert would be the best for her. Though she was happy and relieved at first, after half an hour of Buffy’s incessant grumbling and complaints, she was quickly wondering if going alone would have been a better idea.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Buffy glared at her best friend before hauling her overnight bag onto the Greyhound bus.

“We’ve been over this already!”

“Yeah, but still.”

They settled in a seat close to the back and Buffy noticed a group of girls who were obviously going to the same concert. They were clad in “Dingoes ate my Baby” shirts and had written messages to the band members all over their bodies. She narrowed her eyes when she saw one girl who had written ‘Spike loves me! ’ up her arm.

“Idiots, ” she growled. Willow looked over and caught a ‘Oz is my boyfriend! ’ on another one of the girls.

“Yeah,” she fervently agreed.


The bus moved forward and Buffy found herself with her forehead pressed up against the glass window. In a few hours… I’ll be in the same room with him… she silently thought, staring out at the buildings that flew by her in a blur.

Chapter 6 I love you…
L.A.

The lights were dimly lit and Buffy felt the heat of all the sweaty bodies brushing passed her, bumping into her, closing in around her. With each second that passed, she felt like throwing up. In a few minutes, she would be facing the love of her life, the man that took her then rejected her and she didn’t know what she would do. Had no clue what she would feel.

“Willow…” she gasped, clinging on to her friend’s arm. “I- I don’t think I can do this… let’s get out of here.”

“It’s okay, Buffy,” her friend soothed, putting an arm around her. “We can leave if you really want to.”

Buffy numbly nodded and they turned around. There were bodies everywhere, jumping up, shouting, muffling all sounds. The more she looked around, the dizzier she felt until the world seemed to swirl and dance and twirl around her. The faces became a hazy blur and the sounds all meshed into one, great siren.

Until she heard his voice.

“HELLO LOS ANGELOS!”

Suddenly, everything cleared up. She wasn’t surprised that he still held that effect over her. He could still stop her heart from beating by his mere presence and make the world stop spinning at one word. One welcoming phrase.

She didn’t remember or even think she heard a word coming out of his mouth after that, she was too caught up in the smile of his face, the gleam of his blue eyes. Everything became a vacuum and all that was there was him. She couldn’t decide whether to cry or laugh, the emotions were too strong. Her body was overjoyed at being in his presence, but her heart ached at his last words to her. I don’t love you…

She wasn’t sure exactly when he started singing, but familiar words suddenly filled her ears, ringing through the shouting of the hundred fans.

sing me a song
with your voice like silver
you'll right all my wrongs
with your golden touch

Buffy’s heart soared when she heard the first few words and recognized the song immediately. He had written it for her and sang it to her on her fifteenth birthday. The instant she closed her eyes, she was pulled back into the beautiful memory of what seemed to be so long ago…

Flashback

All sounds and movements stilled at the first words that came out of his mouth. Buffy felt her insides melt together and her love for him expanded beyond the barriers of the Bronze’s walls. She had been completely taken by surprised when he began a dedication into the microphone. “This is for the one person that I’ll love forever and beyond…” Every syllable he sang confirmed her place in her life and warmed her from head to toe.

take me along
when you walk by the river
then sing me my song
that I love so much


Spike saw the girl sitting at the corner booth, looking up at him with adoration in her eyes and everything that had been holding him dissolved into thin air. Where had she been all his life? he wondered as he continued to sing.

fill me with might
I’m resisting my pride
I’ve put up a fight
so I can be by your side

He smiled, lovingly, and she smiled back. The simple gesture warmed him. She had come into his life when he was blocking out the world and seen him for who he was. Since he had recited his poem for his childhood infatuation to her, she had regarded him with a sense of wonder. Made him feel like it was okay to write, okay to pour thoughts out on paper. Made what he wrote seem beautiful and worthy of her.

now give me the strength
to give you all that I can
go longer lengths
let my feet stay on land

He realized at that moment that he loved her. There was no question about it. He was absolutely, positively, head over heels, church bells ringing, diamond ring, soul bound, can’t live without her in love. With Buffy Anne Summers.

you sang me my song
you lay me in sand
you righted my wrongs
monster waves all banned

He marveled at his newfound knowledge and another revelation came to him. She loved him, too. She had told him once before and he had taken it lightly, not really believing. But now there was no if, and, or buts about it.

you took me along
secured me on land
then you sang me my song
I know I’m safe in your hands

Buffy felt her eyes begin to tear as he sang his last words. He looked straight at her and smiled.

“I know I’m not a perfect person,” he said in a low, reverent voice and held her gaze. “Before you came along, I was lost. I gave up on life, love, everything that mattered. I didn’t care about anything anymore. But then, I met you… a saint dressed up in girl’s clothes. You saved me and I saw what it was that I was missing for so long. You’re my everything… my song, my muse, my love. I love you,…”

Back to Present

The present-day Spike had saw Buffy the instant he stepped out on stage. She wasn’t even facing him and he could feel her. He had swallowed deeply and looked away… looked at anything but her. What’s she even doing here? It hurt him to think about her… to think about the way he had hurt her when he denied his love for her. The love he had had for her… the old love. No matter how many times you lie to her,… you can’t lie to yourself, you sodding git, his mind scolded him. But she was another part of his life that he had to set aside. She didn’t belong in the world that he was now in and he had to let her go. He had to make sure that she knew this and wouldn’t come running back to him. It was the best for both of them. As he started out the concert with their song, he knew at that moment that his heart would break and break hers in the process. …That is, if it wasn’t already broken beyond repair, you bloody wanker.

He ended the song with the same speech. The same declaration of love…

…my song, my muse, my love. I love you… “…Drusilla,” he finished. The instant the foreign name came out of his mouth, his heart dropped to his feet. Buffy’s eyes fluttered open.

That was when the world collapsed on itself.

Chapter 7 Love and Betrayal

”…my song, my muse, my love. I love you, Drusilla”

The world went black.

Flashback – “Let me show you how much I love you”

Buffy sat on the edge of his bed, watching him pack his bags. She sighed, knowing that in a week, he’d be gone. Pushing the thought to the back of her mind, she went through the events of the past evening. Spike had gone out of his way to prove himself for what seemed to be the millionth time that he was the greatest, absolute perfectest man that ever lived. Smiling softly, she remembered how he had held her in the veranda of Sunnydale’s most romantic restaurant and whispered promises in her ear.

Spike turned from the closet with a armful of clothes and caught Buffy’s dreamy stare. I can’t believe she’s mine… all mine he thought to himself as he lost himself in her beauty once more. Setting the clothing aside, he made his way to her side and wrapped ran a finger gently down her jawline. He leaned closer until their faces were centimeters apart. At his touch, she closed her eyes and relaxed into him.

“What are you thinking about, love?” he whispered in her ear and kissed her earlobe. She smelled of faint vanilla and strawberries – a scent that he had grown to know and love more than anything in the world. She shifted her body around until her legs were wrapped around his waist.

“You,” she smiled into the hollow of his cheeks and gently dropped a kiss there. “You, and how much I love you.”

Spike felt the excitement and thrill in his heart start to tingle and warm his entire body when he heard her words.

“Just think, pet,” he cupped her cheeks and brought her forehead to rest on his own. “You and me… we’ll explore the whole world. Anywhere your heart desires. Just name it and I’ll bring it to you.”

Buffy’s heart skipped a beat as it always did whenever he talked about their future. “First we’ll go to London,” she kissed his lips lightly. “I want to see the place where they grow guys like you.” Spike frowned at her teasing and she giggled. “And then, we’ll go to Egypt and we can run around in the pyramids, then we’ll go to China so I can learn how to fly on trees. There’s always Italy… I can eat spaghetti to my heart’s desi-“

Her surprised squeak was muffled when Spike’s lips suddenly descended to hers, shutting her up. She closed her eyes and melted into him, enjoying the shivers that took over her body, amazed that he still could still do that to her ever since their first kiss. His lips played with hers, gently, slowly, taking their time and exploring as if it were the first time they had met. She opened her mouth, inviting him in, but his tongue traveled lazily as if it had all the time in the world, dancing here and there until they were both hungry for more.

Buffy pulled away first, panting, having been caught in mid-sentence and not really prepared. “God, you’re so…” she attacked him, pushing him backwards onto the bed. There was no playing this time, no dancing or fooling around. Their kiss was heated and full of passion that they couldn’t get enough of. Each time their tongue slid against each other, they delved in for more and more, wanting to get closer and closer.

This time it was Spike who broke the contact. He gazed at her, amazed at the angel in front of him. He gently pulled her head down and traced her jawline with his tongue, nipping and kissing down her throat to her collarbone.

“I love you, Buffy,” he said into the crook of her neck. In an instant, he had her flipped under him and continued showering her with light kisses. “You’re with me every second, you know that? Everywhere I look, it’s you. I look into my future and I see you, you’re in all my bloody dreams, all the time. I’m drowning in you, Summers, I’m drowning in you.”

His words left her breathless and she pulled his head towards hers, her lips seeking his. She couldn’t stop the tears that she had been holding back fall down her face. Spike saw the wet trail glistening down her cheeks and he kissed them, tasting the salt of her tears.

“Don’t cry, baby,” he nuzzled her, “please don’t cry.” She hiccupped and smiled sadly at him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as he kissed both her eyelids. “It just finally hit me that… I might not see you for over a month.”

“Shh… don’t worry, love,” he comforted her. “I’ll be in L.A. most of the time, and you can visit every weekend. And when we tour, I’ll send you postcards, you can call, write,… then when I come back it’ll be like I never left.”

But they both knew that he was wrong. They both knew that the distance would be unbearable.

“What if you meet someone? You’ll have groupies wherever you go … you’ll never want to come back to lil’ old me,” she crinkled up her nose as if the thought disgusted her. Spike pulled away suddenly and looked surprised, if not a little angry.

“Is that how you think of me, Buffy?” he spit out at her, bitter. Relieved at his violent reaction, she propped herself up on her elbows to close the space between them.

“Sorry,” she kissed his nose, “I just don’t think I’m used to the idea that you actually love me.”

Spike relaxed and rolled to the side, pulling her against his chest. “How can I not love you? You’re my bloody world, you are. Beautiful, talented, amazing, smart – “

Buffy lightly smacked his chest, “Oh please. Don’t make me blush.” She giggled. He growled and moved until he was crouching over her, hands on the bed, trapping her between his arms.

“Let me show you how much I love you…” he teased. She laughed at this and swiftly lifted her head to kiss him. His eyes slowly lost their teasing gleam and grew sober and serious. “Buffy… please?”

Her breath caught in her throat when she looked up to see his eyes dark with love, lust, desire.

“I never – “

“I know.” He hushed her with a soft, gentle kiss. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He continued to kiss her without pressuring her and impressing upon her his apparent need. Buffy closed her eyes and she realized that she did want to. They had never been intimate together, though she always wondered what it’d be like. He had never pressured her into anything, either, and that made her love him even more. Pushing him gently away, she took a deep breath and looked into his eyes.

“I want to”

Stunned at her unexpected words, Spike suddenly felt light-headed and his heart soared. He couldn’t contain his ecstatic grin and decided that this… right then… would be a memory that would be etched out in his mind forever. He would forever remember the innocent angel looking up at him with the yearning and the promise in her eyes.

“You’re sure?” he couldn’t believe he was questioning her, but he wanted her to be certain. No regrets.

“Uh huh,” she nodded. “I want you.”

“Oh, baby,” he nuzzled her neck. “You don’t know how happy that makes me. Happy you make me. I’m gonna make this so good for you… just wait.”

She was suddenly nervous… Oh God, this is really happening… She was excited.. her entire body quivering in anticipation.

Spike decided he’d go slow even though he wanted to just rip all her clothing off and have his wicked way with her. He had to make her first time memorable and treat her like the princess she was. His hands slowly ran down her sides and he felt her shiver against them as he whispered nonsense into her ear. They stopped at the edge of her shirt and slowly slipped under it. Her skin felt hot as he slowly lifted her shirt up, following them with light kisses.

Buffy couldn’t contain the sensory overload that his hands were bringing her. She kept her hands at her sides, but the moment his lips touched her stomach, she gripped the sheets tightly, trying to control the eclectic tingles shooting all over – down her legs, her arms, her stomach, her chest, …down there. She was embarrassed just thinking about it.

She constricted her stomach muscles, lifting her torso slightly up from the bed so he could take off her shirt. He tossed it aside and the second it hit the ground, she felt her face flush. Spike saw her discomfort and smiled.

“Nothing to be ashamed of, kitten,” his hands wandered down the expanse of her flat stomach, “you’re beautiful. Perfect.” His words comforted her and excited her, but she still wasn’t sure what to do, so she just stayed still, looking deeply into his eyes, hoping he understood.

He pulled off his own black t-shirt and she gasped, admiring the sight of his muscular chest and perfect abs displayed in front of her.

“See something you like, love?” he smirked, pleased at her reaction. Impulsively, she reached up and ran her hands down over his chest, slowly. He leaned down and kissed her long and languidly, slowly working them both up until she was pushing up at him, grabbing the back of his neck and panting. As they were kissing, his hands made their way down to the hem of her jeans and unbuttoned them.

When she didn’t hesitate or try to draw back, he pulled down the zipper and eased them down to her knees. He pulled back until he was kneeling on his knees, marveling at her beauty lying there before him clad only in a black bra and a pair of matching panties.

“God, Buffy,” he breathed, “do you realize how gorgeous you are?”

“I’m not,” she blushed, trying to cover more of herself with her arms. He stopped them and held them above her head.

“But you are beautiful,” he whispered, “so beautiful… and you’re mine.”

“All yours,” she giggled, “and you’re all mine.”

He growled playfully at the possessive word and nipped her earlobe. “Yours,” he agreed.

……….

Present

All yours… always yours… yours forever until eternity…Buffy opened her eyes to see Willow hovering over her with a concerned frown. She realized that she was lying down on a sagging couch and quickly moved to sit up. When her whole body ached at the effort, she groaned and fell back down.

“What happened?” she asked her friend, who was now wiping a wet towel on her forehead.

“You fainted after the first song,” Willow informed her, gently. Looking around, she added “.. must have been from the heat and all the bodies and you weren’t feeling too great in the first place.”

“Oh…” The memory of what had just happened zoomed back into her mind, too quickly for her taste. “Oh… god. Willow, get me out of here.”

She rolled over, anxious to get back on the bus to Sunnydale and snuggle in her own warm bed where she could let the tears flow freely. When she fell to the ground, Willow immediately was kneeling down, helping her sit up.

“How could I have been so stupid…”

Willow heard her whispered words and mentally kicked herself for the hundredth time this night. She couldn’t believe her own tactlessness and selfishness, letting Buffy go through this ordeal. When Spike started singing, she knew that coming here had been a bad idea and tried leading Buffy away, but her friend had been too captivated to budge. Now, they were both paying the consequences.

“I’m sorry, Buffy, I’m so sorry,” she held her trembling friend who was trying so hard not to cry.

“No, it’s not your fault, Willow,” Buffy said, quietly. “I needed that. I was so blind when I thought that he loved me. I should have known… I would lose him the minute I gave myself to him. That’s all he wanted from me.”

Willow’s eyes widened at the confession. She had no idea that they had actually done it. Sex was something people only talked about.. especially in their sophomore year of high school. This made her anger towards Spike stronger and she wished she could have five minutes alone in a room with him and inflict as much damage as possible.

“You know that’s not true.”

Buffy’s head whipped around so fast her neck nearly snapped. Spike was leaning against the doorframe, halfway in the room, studying a stain on the rug. All the pain that she had previously felt melted away and was replaced by anger. Rage. Loathing.

“Oh yeah?” she challenged, visibly trying to control the tone of her voice. Inside, she was fuming. Her inner self wanted to lash out at him and hurt him as much as physically and emotionally possible. “Tell me, Spike, how long did it take you to find someone to replace me?”

Spike didn’t look up. She wasn’t even sure if he heard the question.

“Come on, baby” she seethed, clenching her fists until her nails felt like they were cutting through her skin. “A day? a week? a month?” When he closed his eyes and looked away, realization dawned on her.

“You son of a bitch…” she gasped, bringing her hands up to her mouth. Willow’s face was turning red as she finally understood what Buffy now realized. A brief moment passed and Spike turned to look at Buffy. This made something in Willow snap, and she stood up in front of her friend.

“Don’t you dare look at her. You don’t deserve her. You lying, cheating… asshole. If you ever even think of - ” she stopped when Buffy lightly pulled on her pant leg. Willow helped her to her feet.

“I just want to know… did you ever love me? even just a little?” Buffy asked quietly. She had reined in her emotions and all she felt now was blank. Erased. Like there was nothing in her heart anymore – no more pain or agony to suffer through.

“With all my heart,” he said, his tone of voice pleading. Tears made his eyes glassy and his breathing was rugged. He took a sharp intake of breath. “Please… Buffy, I didn’t – I never meant to hurt you. It wasn’t .. I really- “

“Don’t” she held out her hand to stop the words from coming out of his mouth. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t ever want to hear from you ever again.”

She grabbed Willow’s arm and dragged her to the door. Spike moved to get out of their way as they were exiting.

Pausing a few feet from him and not bothering to look in his face, she said her final words to him – words that would remain with him always and would slowly burn a hole through his heart as the years went by until he was nothing anymore.

“You’re beneath me.”


…………………………

A/N: Please please please don’t kill me for this. After this is one more flashback and some more angst – everything will come together and I think after the next chapter, when you hear Spike’s side of the story and understand Drusilla’s role in his life, your anger at Spike might subside… just a little.

One or two more chapters until the end of Part 1. Part 2 will start with the rebuilding. It’ll be brighter, I promise. Revenge is sweet and turnabout’s fair play. All that jazz. Just be patient!!!

Another note… yeah, I didn’t get into detail in the sex. I just don’t feel really comfortable doing it… saying “cock” and “pussy” and “suck me off, Spike, please!” just don’t really do it for me. I think I might have to get into detail in Part 2 for the story to work, but I think it flowed fine without the smut here. Gives more room f or imagination… and it’ll make the next chapter more effective. I might rewrite it, who knows.

Chapter 8 Dear Buffy

Present Day

Spike sat at his desk in the small, dingy apartment that he shared with the band members and their new manager. It was one of the rare moments when everyone was out or asleep except him and he had the peace and quiet that he needed to get his thoughts together.

And at the moment, his thoughts were on the one girl who had changed his life. The girl that he had hurt. His heart ached for her and he fought a losing battle with the tears that were brimming his eyes.

He fumbled around the desk drawers until he found what he wanted – the unused black journal that she had bought for him as a good-bye present. Before he went and decided to be a complete ass. He opened it to the first page and wrote the date - September 2.

His hands paused when he reached the first line and he chewed at the edge of his pen.

Dear Buffy,

He had to get it out… his reasoning, his thoughts. He wanted to tell her everything, but he knew he never would. Settling for what he considered as the next best thing, he wrote her a letter in his journal. A letter that he knew he would never send.

Dear Buffy,

You hate me right now. I deserve it. I’ve been a right git and I deserve whatever hatred and despise you can send my way. You know… I lied when I said I didn’t love you. Truth is, love,… you’re my world. You’ve always been. It wasn’t about being your first – as you seem to think it was.

Thing about it is that I can’t tell you why I did what I did. You wouldn’t understand. Hell, I don’t think I even understand. But it was for the best. It was because you deserve the best. This might hurt right now, but in the end, you’ll be better. You’ll have better.

Maybe I should start at the beginning. But where is the beginning? When we first met? When I first realized that I loved you? Is it the night we made our love complete? I’ll start the day after.

Waking up in your arms was a bloody revelation. I wanted to ask you to marry me right then and there. I had so many dreams… you, me, two and a half children in a house with a white picket fence. But you’re only fifteen so I thought I would wait for another two or three years.

It all went to hell that night when the band went to meet the manager…

Flashback – Betrayal

Spike entered the crowded bar with Oz and Angel. The instant the stale, musky scent of smoke and alcohol reached his nose, he felt that something was off. All he wanted was to see his girlfriend and hold her. But, first things were first and right now, they were off to meet their new manager. In ‘Willy’s Bar’, the sleaziest, dirtiest bar in town.

“You can get anything at this place,” Angel grinned as they walked past the line of stools already filled with drunk men. He gawked at a waitress that crossed the restaurant in front of him wearing fishnets, garters, a piece of cloth she called a skirt, and a shirt that barely covered her essentials. “Holy shit”

“Reign it in, Peaches,” Spike slapped his back and looked around for a place to say. “Your cheerleader might not like you slobbering over yourself for some naked chit at a bar.” Angel closed his mouth as he was reminded of his girlfriend, Cordelia.

“Just because some of us are whipped, doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t have eyes,” he retorted, but kept his wandering eyes off the waitresses.

“Over there,” Oz pointed out an empty booth and they made their way over. Halfway there, Spike spotted the crooked sign pointing out the men’s room.

“Order me a bloomin’ onion,” he told his friends, nodding in the direction of the sign, “I have to use the loo.” Angel and Oz nodded and sat down without him while he started towards the bathrooms.

The bathroom had a repugnant odor and was dirtier than anything Spike had ever seen in his life. The mirror was grimy to the point where the reflection was lost and the sinks looked more likely to spread bacteria than to wash it off. He felt like retching over the floor at the smell and sheer grossness of the place. He was about to unzip his pants to relieve himself when he suddenly felt himself jerked backwards by the arms.

His cry was muffled by a forceful hand and he was dragged out of the bathroom. The bar was too full of slimy people for anyone to take notice when a boy was being manhandled by two large men in uniform black, wearing sunglasses in a dimmed building. Spike felt himself being forced into a barstool and tried flailing his arms and legs to no avail.

“You’re not being kidnapped, boy,” one of the men snarled, “so shut the hell up and nobody need be hurt.”

Spike stopped moving and when the men were certain that he wouldn’t try to do anything bold and stupid, they loosened their hold and sat in barstools on both sides him. He looked around, confused.

“What the hell is this?” he snapped, feeling too brave for his own good. They remained silent, ignoring him, and watching the bar with hawk’s eyes. Suddenly, he heard a voice behind him that made every single hair on his body stand on end.

“My prince has finally arrived!” a dark, sultry voice floated in his direction, and he turned around to face a pale woman with dark hair and a coy smile. She was dressed in black and red lace and she seemed to tear him apart with her eyes.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” he asked her, cocking his head. The morbidly beautiful woman was alluring and she excited him in a way he never knew. “Who are you?”

“Naughty,” she gave him a short slap to his shoulder, “trying to win the princess with sticks and stones when she wants lollipops and daffodils.” Spike decided she was insane and uncomfortably looked around for an escape route. The dark woman paid him no mind and continued with her charade, “But fear not, my dear William. The princess will have you, yet.”

Spike looked at her in surprise when he heard his name coming from her blood red lips. “What do you want with me?”

“None of that, Miss Edith wont have it,” she snapped and turned to the bartender. She smiled sweetly, “Fix your special drink for the pretty prince.” She pulled the stool closer to Spike’s and sat in it, purposefully brushing his knees with hers. At the contact, Spike felt the hair on the back of his neck rise in warning and he gulped. He tried looking for Angel and Oz but they weren’t in his line of sight.

“The prince wants to make it big, does he not?” she covered his hand with her cold one. “Playing triangles and tambourines, making pretty notes here and there. You want to be the star and I will be the one who takes you there. Mummy will take care of you and make you magnificent!”

Spike pulled his hand away and scratched his head, not sure what she was talking about. With a slow flip of her hair, she kept going, “I am Drusilla and I will be the one to manage your music group.” Oh… now that’s who she is! … Oh, balls. Spike wasn’t sure whether to cringe or make nice with the manager. When he heard that the manager’s name was Drusilla… he didn’t actually expect a vampire wannabe to show up by his side.

“Oh, um, hello,” he faltered. The bartender placed their drinks in front of them and Spike eyed his tall glass suspiciously. Drusilla raised her glass in a toast and he followed suit.

“To a bright, beautiful future dear William,” she drank and watched him carefully as he timidly swallow his own beverage. “That’s a good boy.”

After the first sip, he immediately felt dizzy. Bad… bad bad bad bad bad His brain sent him on overdrive and shouted at him to stop drinking and walk away… walk away and not look back.

“Ungh,” he groaned as the rush in his head blurred everything around him. He heard Drusilla in the distance, encouraging him to down another mouthful and he did without question. STOP. But he couldn’t stop. The more he drank, the more his body would refuse his mind and as each second passed, he felt increasingly detached to the world and any concrete surrounding.

He dimly felt himself being pulled up from the stool and led across the bar. His body followed the person leading him blindly and he wondered what was going on. Drowsy and disoriented, he slowly fell into the pitch blackness that was beckoning him and suddenly looking oh so pleasant.

…………

Something smelled funny. His nose twitched as it caught onto a scent that was strangely familiar. Slowly, his senses began to alert themselves and the first thing he noticed when his eyes popped open was that he was in a strange room. The only thing he could see without moving his body was the red ceiling, red walls, and cracked ceiling fan. Where… what? He attempted to turn his head and his aching neck shouted a protest. Then, he noticed that an arm was draped around his bare stomach. Smiling, he turned around, ignoring the pains in his neck, to look at the blonde sleeping next to him. To look at the… brunette who was… not sleeping next to him, he realized. Bloody hell…

Everything in his body screamed to get away from the despicable body and he leapt from the bed as quick as he can, falling onto the hard floor naked. The dark haired woman slowly sat up in the bed and smiled wickedly at him.

“Get away from me,” he shouted, crawling backwards when she moved towards him.

“That’s not what you told me last night,” she smirked, letting the sheet fall from her bare torso. Suddenly, Spike felt a sharp pain course through his brain and blurry images took over his mind. Images and memories that he didn’t want to see and didn’t want to remember… Drusilla, arching under him. Drusilla, screaming out his name. Drusilla, licking her way south from his navel, Drusilla… Drusilla… Drusilla.

“What the fuck did you do to me!?” he grabbed his head, trying to shake the images from his brain.

“Nothing that you didn’t want, my lovely prince,” she laughed. “You begged me and I gave you what you wanted. You told me to take you under my arm and lead you to the darkness and away from the horrid sunshine and I did. I made you mine.”

“What?! No!” he scrambled to his feet. “I’m not yours. I’ll never be yours. God… Buffy… Oh… What did you do… what did you make me… ” he felt like throwing up. “Fuck!”

“Don’t say her name,” Drusilla sharply commanded, flying across the room to stand in front of William. “Go to the table over there and look in the envelope.”

Spike gave her a look of pure disgust and loathing and stalked over to the table to pick up a large, brown envelope. Slowly, he pulled out what seemed to be photographs… His yell of fury was drowned in his throat from the shock of the images he had just pulled out. Hard, tangible images. Not the blurry and vague kinds that were in his mind, but hard, clear, detailed, incredibly gruesome pictures. Pictures that he wanted to burn. The first one he saw was of Drusilla on top of him, head thrown back in ecstatic pleasure. Quickly, he flipped it and he saw another one of Drusilla lying back on the bed with his tongue deep inside her heat. He threw the picture to the ground… and the one after it,… and the one after that. The faster he flipped and threw, the blurrier his eyes grew. Picture after picture of the erotic positions they were in flew past his head and landed on the floor until he reached the last one. This one made his insides flip and his veins run cold. He was taking Drusilla from the behind and in her hands was a white sheet of paper with words written in red lipstick… “Hi, Buffy.”

Letting out a mangled cry, he tore it in half… quarters… eighths… until he couldn’t tear it anymore.

“By all means, destroy them,” Drusilla looked on half-amused with a smug smile on her lips. “I have the negatives.”

“You think a cheap trick like this will get in between me and Buffy?” he snarled. “You insane bitch…”

“I don’t think so. I have a proposition for you that you’d be wise to accept.”

“Not bloody likely.”

“You must end things with the sunshine girl. Or I give her the pictures. And believe me when I say that those aren’t the only ones. My photographers can get very… close up… if you understand what I am saying.”

“Buffy loves me,” he stated, flatly. “I’ll tell her you had me drugged and this will all be over.”

“You’d think that,” she scoffed. “It plants doubt. She’ll need to recover and I really don’t think she will be able to, my dear.”

“She loves me.”

“What does she know about love?” Drusilla took a step towards him and he backed up. “What can a fifteen year old girl possibly know about love? Passion? Tell me, does she satisfy you?”

“Of course she does. She’s everything I want, everything I need.”

“That’s not what you said yesterday.”

“Sod what I said yesterday.”

“She’s young, my William,” Drusilla sadly shook her head. “She doesn’t know the way of the world and who are you to show it to her? Do you think you are what she wants?”

“I know I’m what she wants… I love her. She loves me.” he insisted. But her words worked. She had planted something in him… something dark and vile. Doubt.

“You’re what she wants… “ Drusilla gave him a cruel laugh. “Yet you’re so faithful to her and run to another woman after only one drink… not even an entire drink.”

“You put something in there! I knew there was something wrong with it!”

“Yet you drank from it anyways?”

“Shut up. Just stop. I’m leaving now. I’m explaining everything to her. You can go to hell.”

“You leave now and your band can say goodbye to a future. You’re a dark cloud, your girlfriend is the sun. She has a future that doesn’t involve you. One month away and she’ll forget you and wish she never knew you.”

The words slapped Spike in the face. Drusilla caught the look and went on.

“Imagine someone sending you those pictures. Imagine Buffy as me and you as some other man. She comes home and tells you she was drugged… she really didn’t mean it. One drink with one man and this happens. How do you feel?”

“I’d kill – “

“And it will hit her ten times worse. Because she is young. She’s innocent… she has her life. She hasn’t seen anything yet… has never been betrayed and cheated on. Are you going to break her? Are you going to let down your friends, who have wanted this big break since they picked up an instrument? Is that what you really want, William?”

He fell back on the bed and put his hands in his head. Too tired to fight, he gave in to the tempting words. Let her be happy. Let her live. Go be a rock star. Famous.

“She doesn’t love you. She thinks she does. But she doesn’t. She’s too bright for you who belong in the dark… with me. Tell me, William. What do you want?”

“For her… to be happy,” he whispered. Drusilla knelt in front of him and lifted his chin.

“Then let her go.”

He nodded, numbly. He didn’t want to let her go, but he was too sore to try,… to worn out to hold out.

“Tell me what to do,” he looked into the dark beauty’s eyes. She slowly smiled and crushed her lips to his. He didn’t kiss her back but he didn’t pull back. He just stayed still and let things happen to him. He lacked the strength to care.

“Do everything I tell you to do, and you’ll be perfect,” she cooed in his ear. “Don’t worry… Mummy will take care of you.”

…………

It was the evening of the same day and Spike found himself walking by the beach, watching the silent tide wash away the shore. His heart was heavy and his eyes were dry. He had cried so much that there was nothing left. In a few minutes, he would have to see Buffy. Tell her what Drusilla had told him to tell her. Do what Drusilla had told him to do. Let her go.

Memories flooded into his brain… the happy ones. The ones where Buffy was giggling, clinging onto his arm as if it were her lifeline. Memories of her gazing up at him with a ridiculously wide smile upon her face – happier than life itself. Memories when he was in her arms and they had clung to each other like it would be the last time. Suddenly, less than pleasant memories also invaded his brain. Memories of her crying after a fight. Her telling him to never talk to her again, never touch her again. Memories of the cutting words they had said to each other in anger throughout the past year. Memories of the pain that hurt more than any type of physical pain possible. Drusilla was right. They had fought more than they had loved, snapped at each other more than they had kissed, cut more than they had caressed and healed.

This was the right thing to do. He got into his Desoto and slowly drove to Revello Drive. Slowly drove to say goodbye to the only good thing that had ever been brought to him.

…………

Present Day

“What is this!” A voice snapped him out of his reverie and Spike jumped. His seemingly schizophrenic ‘girlfriend’ materialized behind him and snatched up the book from his hands. In a high, mocking voice, she read aloud “Dear Buffy… oh my, Dear Buffy! Really, William, you’re starting to go soft.”

“What do you want, Dru,” he glowered at her, “I did everything you told me to do. Publicly announced us and all that rot. What else do you want?”

“Oh, nothing else at the moment,” she clapped her hands, gleefully, “You have been such a good boy, William. My prince will be rewarded.” She took a small bag of white powder from her pocket and held it out to Spike.

“Keep your damn drugs,” he pushed her hand away and walked passed her to the door. Grabbing his leather duster, he slammed the door behind him and walked down the hall, into the elevator, and out of the apartment building.

He breathed deeply at the cool, crisp night air and looked up into the sky. The crescent moon cast a silvery gleam on the tops of the cars and the stars blinked at him from above. The orange glow of a streetlamp flickered then went dead, leaving him alone with the moon. It was shining sadly down at him, broken and crying.

He walked down the deserted sidewalk, hands stuffed in the pockets of his duster, and watched the white wisps leave his mouth as he breathed out in the uncharacteristic cool of the Los Angeles night. The cars driving by became a steady rhythm as he continued to walk aimlessly.

He didn’t notice when it started to rain.

…………

A few hours away in a town called Sunnydale, a girl opened her back door and stepped out into her backyard. The yelling voices of her parents were drowned out as she closed the door on them and hugged herself with both arms. It was raining, but she didn’t care. She lifted her head and let the water drip down her face, blending in with and washing away her tears.

…………

Both hearts were beaten so badly that they now felt numb and were impervious to any of the harsh realities and tribulations that the world had yet to bring them.




END PART ONE

Part Two



Chapter 9 Young Hearts

Los Angeles

The clouds were low, fog hiding everything on the trail, lingering around, heavily, like a cold screen blocking the world from an observer. He couldn’t even see his fingertips when he held out his hands. Squinting, he barely made out the path he was on and took a careful step forward.

The wind howled and blew against him, making him stumble to the side and he grabbed onto a tree, only to jump back when his hands were pricked with thorns. The stinging brought involuntary tears to his eyes and he quickly brushed them aside.

The world grew colder and the angry wind wailed louder and louder until he fell to his knees and brought his hands to his ears.

Just when he thought he couldn’t bare it anymore, the world went dark. Confused, he raised his head and stared out in the pitch blackness. Gone was the trail he was fighting to stay on, gone was the thorn-tree, gone was the hateful wind.

Hushed, a single whisper brushed by his ear…

“Kill the girl…”

Spike woke up in a cold sweat, panting.

…………

Two years later – 1997
Sunnydale

The interesting thing about young hearts is their ability to heal cleanly. The wounds made to tender flesh mend and scar, leaving in it’s place a rough edge, hardened to future rips and tears. Such was the state of Buffy’s heart. The first year had been hard; the internal aching almost unbearable. The sacred place that had been held by the man of her life was now a void. Blank. The pain had tried to fill in the empty hole, but it had been sown up and over time, had become impenetrable. Over time, the aching subsided to a throbbing hum and eventually, the fire flickered out and was replaced by ashes. Buffy’s young heart learned to forget. It was a slow, callous process, but it had worked.

Eventually, Buffy learned to laugh again. The sunshine was tired of being hidden behind clouds and it emerged once more, gracing it’s viewers with a dose of warmth and happiness. Buffy learned to dance. She no longer cried over lost love and no longer wondered where he was or how he was doing. Anyone who met her a few years after her heart was broken would never had guessed what she had been through. They would have found a smiling, happy woman, open and welcoming the world.

Until they heard her music. Her music hadn’t lost all the emotions that she had buried with her lover’s name. When she was at the piano, the lid to Pandora’s box was lifted and the passion rushed out with no limitation and no boundary. It revealed a completely different side from the seemingly carefree girl who everyone loved. It revealed a passionate and worldly woman, a woman who had once loved without abandon and had been crushed with the cruelty of a thousand deaths.

It was this side of her that Julliard had seen and the members of the board nodded their heads in approval. Yes, they wanted Buffy Summers in their conservatory.

Buffy Summer’s parents thought otherwise.

…………

“Well, they certainly think you’re very good,” Hank observed, quickly scanning the letter in his hand, then tossed it aside as if it were trash. Buffy snatched it up, tense and angry. The kitchen table was littered with various pieces of papers, bills, letters,… acceptance letters from three colleges. She could feel the rising tension through the coffee aroma and the fresh morning rays shining through the window.

“That’s because I am good,” she raised her chin slightly. Her father merely shrugged, took a sip from his coffee mug, then reached out to pull another letter out from the pile.

“That’s nice, dear,” he dismissed. “It’s always good to have little hobbies, but it’s time you start living in the real world.” He waved the letter from UCLA in front of her face. “You’re going to love UCLA. That’s where I went, so you should have absolutely no problem getting around.”

Buffy looked down, defeated, as her father started his rambling about his alma mater. She had already made her decision and it seemed like telling her parents would be the hardest part. Carelessly fiddling with the table cloth, she took a deep breath, trying to prepare herself for the fight that was inevitably heading her way. Even the chirping bird outside the window and the carefree sun couldn’t make the day better.

“I’m not going,” she stated flatly, interrupting her father’s speech. His hand stopped mid-wave and his mouth paused in the middle of a word. At first, he seemed shocked and confused, then what she said fully registered in his mind and his confusion turned to anger.

“Excuse me?” he asked, threateningly, setting the mug and the letter down on the table slowly. Buffy closed her eyes and prayed for some divine intervention. None came and only the sound of their neighbor’s dog barking cut through the silence.

“I’m going to Julliard,” she focused on the pattern of the tablecloth. Hank’s eyes narrowed and silently threw daggers at her.

“You think you can afford to throw your life out like that?” he spat out, his voice starting to rise. She looked up to meet his eyes. If looks could kill…

“Daddy,” she tried to appeal to him, “this is what I love.” She held out the letter and he glared at it. “This is what I want to do. It’s how I want to live the rest of my life. Please, daddy.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have let your mom talk you into those ridiculous piano lessons,” he was angry and there was a tight edge in his voice. “While you live under my roof, you’ll do what I say. And I’m forbidding you to even touch that piano.” He pointed to the adjoining room. “I’m selling it tomorrow. And you will go to UCLA and make something of yourself. Is that clear?”

She sighed, knowing it would come to this. If she choose to follow her dream, her father wouldn’t give her the time of day. He wouldn’t support her, wouldn’t help her, wouldn’t even acknowledge her.

“It’s clear.” she said, softly.

“Good,” he picked up his coffee mug again. Buffy turned and headed out of the kitchen. She paused at the door and turned around to look at her father once again.

“That’s why I’m moving out.”

…………

Los Angeles

Spike sat in a large, black armchair and looked around the office uneasily. He wasn’t sure what had brought him here or what exactly he was doing. When Oz had recommended this to him, he refused, adamant about people messing with his brain. Yet, here he was, sitting in an uncomfortably soft chair, staring at the numerous certificates and awards decorating the wood panel walls. To his right was a huge window overlooking the gray city. The skies were overcast – it seemed to always be around him nowadays. The overhead rain threatened to pour down at any time and he forced his eyes away from the depressing outer world.

The door opened and he quickly stood to face a short man with a receding gray hairline in a gray suit. The man walked over and held out his hand, which Spike shook.

“Dr. Travers,” the man said, then looked at the clipboard he was holding, “and William Giles, I presume?”

“It’s Spike,” he corrected him, stuffing his hands in his pockets nervously.

“Yes, of course, .. Spike,” the doctor smiled, then held out a hand towards the chair that Spike had gotten out of. “Please, have a seat.”

They both sat.

“Tell me about yourself, Spike,” Dr. Travers said, crossing his legs and looking directly at Spike’s face which was scanning the room and resting his eyes on everything but the doctor sitting across from him.

“Uh, not sure, where do you want me to start?”

“How about… how you got the name ‘Spike’” he asked.

“Funny story, that one.”

Spike laughed unsteadily, still nervous, and twiddled his thumbs as he started to talk.

…………

A/N: Dr. Travers (Quintin Travers) is a psychologist… there’s a reason why he’s seeing him, but I’d like all that to reveal slowly,.. just like the dream. Unlike how most fanfictions portray him, Travers isn’t the bad guy in this story. He’s kinda just… neutral bordering on helpful.

Chapter 10 Why We Hurt

Los Angeles

He smiled down at the young blonde in his arm. As all the previous dreams before, he was once again on the misty trail, but this time there was a girl in his arms who made the fog seem to lift and the sun peer out from behind the cloud. She was giggling, eyes dancing around and smile filling up her face.

Suddenly, it began to snow. Soft, white flakes floating down the sky slowly and teasingly. A few flecks landed on her eyelashes and impulsively, he bent down to kiss them away.

Before his lips could graze across her eyelids, she leapt out of his embrace, darting forward. She laughed and twirled in the falling snow and he reached out for her.

“I love you, Spike,” she called out to him, grinning from ear to ear. Her voice was muted in the cold air and sounded distant and far away. He couldn’t stop the smile from spreading at her words and he took a step towards her to take her in his arms. Again, she danced away, spinning out of his reach.

“Now why would you do that?” her voice ghosted around him, sounding like it was everywhere yet nowhere. She was drifting further and further as the snow fell harder and harder. He squinted, and held out his arm, trying to close the distance between them. She laughed at his attempt and turned to run further down the trail. The cold air was biting and he started to shiver. He looked up at the sky and saw that the sun was slowly making it’s way back behind the clouds. Looking back at the girl, he saw that she was beckoning him with a curled finger and he ran to catch up. She would let him chase her until he came within reaching distance, then she would skip away, playfully.

The snow came down faster and more insistent and the cold air cut through his throat, making it hard for him to breathe. The wind started to pick up and it swirled the snow everywhere. He couldn’t see her anymore. With every step that he took, the fainter she seemed until he couldn’t see her at all.

“Where are you?” he shouted out, desperately. Silence. Except for the loud, angry whistling of the wind as it raged down on the earth.

“William…” an eerie voice whispered into his ear. He whirled around and fell into blackness.

…………

“Have you ever hurt someone, William?”

The question snapped Spike back to reality and he turned to see Dr. Travers walking into the office with a clipboard in his hand. He swiftly wiped the dribble from his mouth with the back of his hand. It was apparent that he had dozed off for a few minutes before the doctor was ready for his session.

“Not sure if I understand the question, doc,” he replied. This was their fourth meeting together and Spike found himself taking a liking to the elderly man that he was starting to view as more of a counselor or a friend than a doctor. Dr. Travers took his usual seat across from him and crossed his legs.

“There’s not much to understand, William,” he chuckled and repeated himself, “have you ever hurt someone? In any way?”

“Well, I punched Peach – I mean, Angel – in the nose a few weeks ago. I’d wager that hurt quite a bit.”

“And why did you punch him in the nose?”

“He, uh,” Spike paused and took a moment to think about what brought about the punch, “he said something to piss me off, I’d reckon.”

“Something that hurt you?”

Angel was angry, “So here you go, running off again. That’s all you ever do when there’s a fucking problem. You run away and hurt everyone. Like with Buffy when – “ he didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence when a fist came flying into his face.

“Suppose so.”

“Did you punch him because of him or because of the pain he caused you?” Dr. Travers wasn’t about to let the issue slide so easily.

“What’s the difference? He was being a git, I didn’t like it, so I decked him one in the nose,” Spike was irritated and not liking the direction of the conversation. “Don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Why, because it hurts?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“Why don’t you want to?”

“I just don’t,” Spike raised his voice, his eyes flashing dangerously. Dr. Travers sat back in his couch and nodded.

“Do you know why we hurt people, William?” he asked the blonde that was tapping his foot urgently and twisting his fingers.

“Because we don’t like them and we want to see them in pain.”

“Do you really think that?”

Spike closed his eyes. No, he didn’t really think that. Loved her with all of my heart, didn’t I? Never wanted to hurt the girl. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

“Okay, I will,” Dr. Travers folded his hand and closed his eyes. “Instinct. When someone hurts us, we hurt them back. Protection. Revenge. It’s all personal, it’s all self satisfaction. We either do it so others can feel what we’re feeling or we do it to protect ourselves. A dog gets attacked, he wants to fight back. You get punched, you fight back. Something hurts you, you hurt it. That’s one reason.”

“Is that right?” Spike raised an eyebrow. She never hurt me…

“Yes, but that’s only one reason. Remember when I said we hurt to protect ourselves? That’s not only a physical hurt. Emotional hurt. That’s the worse kind and the hardest to avoid. Yes. You’re afraid, so you lash out. The person you hurt might not even know why, but pride and personal feelings make it hard for you to explain. You can’t explain, so you hurt them. You kill them with your emotions. It’s in the head, William. You’re afraid, so you hurt someone. Self protection. As I said – all self-centered.”

“What am I afraid of?” Spike scoffed, bothered by the doctor’s words and feeling self defensive.

“Only you can know that.”

………..

New York

“Thank you so much, Giles,” Buffy said for the millionth time after dropping a suitcase in her suite in the Winchester Resident Hall, “for everything, you can’t begin to understand how much I appreciate this.”

“For the hundredth time, it’s nothing, Buffy,” Giles repeated, wiping his brow after carrying two suitcases from the taxi cab. “All I did was pull a few strings, it was nothing special. It was the very least I could do.”

Buffy gave the flustered Giles a hug. He patted her awkwardly on the head and smiled. Suddenly, the door behind them burst open and a dark haired girl fell in, arms full of boxes.

“Faith,” she gasped out, taking a moment to catch a breath. She bent down with her hands on her knees. “And you are?”

“It’s Buffy, nice to meet you,” Buffy held out her hand politely. Faith stared at it for a few seconds before reaching out to squeeze it quickly.

“Nice meeting you, too, B,” she turned around and to see a black girl walk in, rolling a simple pink luggage bag. “This is Kendra. Met her downstairs in the lobby. I guess we’re rooming together.”

“Should be fun.”

………

Los Angeles

Spike opened the door of the apartment and was greeted with a sad sight of cigarette butts thrown carelessly in random sections of the floor, staining the carpet black, empty beer bottles tossed aside, clothes strewn randomly across the entire room. He winced at the odor that wafted towards him – vomit, alcohol, smoke – not a pleasant odor. Everybody from the party the night before was gone. But they didn’t take their things with them and they didn’t bother cleaning up.

A voice coming from the bathroom caught his attention.

“You realize this can’t happen every night, right?” Angel sounded irritated and emerged from the bathroom with a bucket and a sponge. “You’re not the only one who lives here.”

“I didn’t have the party,” Spike said, his voice showing no emotion at all.

“Oh right, Drusilla had the party,” Angel sneered, throwing the sponge at his feet. Spike merely looked at it then looked away. Angel had had enough – enough of the depressed Spike that brooded around, something that he had done a lot after meeting the deranged Drusilla, enough of the drunken parties, the drugs, the stink that followed these binges of alcohol. He had enough of Spike running away from his own problems, seeking refuge with his girlfriend who only seemed to magnify everything that was wrong with him. “I’m done with this, Spike.”

“Sing me a new one, Peaches,” Spike muttered. “You can leave any time, you know. You don’t care about the band anyways.”

“Goddammit, Spike,” Angel shouted, flinging the bucket of water across the room, angrily. “It’s not about the band anymore, don’t you know that? It’s about you. It’s about you and your screwed up life, your screwed up girlfriend who fucks with your head. You and your fucking self pity.”

“You have no clue what I’ve been through,” Spike snarled, eyes narrowing on his furious friend. “You don’t know how it feels to have your insides ripped out from inside you. Sometimes what I need is a break where I don’t have to think about these things. And that’s what Dru gives me. She lets me be whatever I feel like being.”

“She gives you drugs, you idiotic son of a bitch. That’s not who you are and that’s not who you feel like being. And you did it to yourself. You let the one thing good that happened to you go… you hurt her. And now you’re paying for it.”

“I did it for you guys! The band… our futures…”

“You did it for yourself.” Angel held up his hand to stop the words that were coming out of Spike’s mouth. “You keep telling yourself that you did it for us, but you’re just trying to convince yourself. Because neither me nor Oz are convinced yet. There’s nothing in it for us. You did it for your own goddamn selfish self.”

Spike looked down at his feet and didn’t respond. Angel continued.

“I don’t know you anymore, Spike. You’re not who you used to be. Call me when he’s back, Spike.”

Angel shook his head and headed towards the exit, planning to never see his friend again. His one friend who could be happy and funny, who cared so much about life and the people around him. He had turned into something dark and it was scary. It was scary to see the life in someone drain away until the person was absolutely… nothing.

“I’m seeing someone,” Spike suddenly said, making Angel pause halfway through the door. Spike turned to face his back, “a therapist … psychologist … whatever you call them these days. Oz made me do it and I think… I think it might be helping.”

Angel turned to look Spike in the eyes. He was running his hand nervously down his blonde hair and he looked anxious and lost. He opened his mouth to say more.

“I know… I’m a bad person. Sometimes I hate myself. But – this – this isn’t me. I know there’s a part of me… somewhere that still knows who I am. Who I can be. But… I hurt. I hurt – god – I hurt everyone. I hurt the –“ he broke off with a sob and fell to his knees. Angel took a step towards him and he grabbed onto his legs.

“I’m here,” Angel kneeled down to hold his sobbing friend. “I’ll help you. I’ll help.”

Chapter 11 She's been Burnt

Los Angeles

It was a few weeks later when Spike had moved into the apartment that Oz shared with his fiancé Willow. Willow had argued against the transition to no end, but Oz wouldn’t hear of it. He told her that his friend needed help and if she didn’t like it, he would move out.

”I know what he did,” Oz told her. “I don’t support it… I never will. But Will, he’s my friend. And he’s in pain… lots of pain. He needs help and if he can’t go to his friends, who can he go to?”

“There was a time when he could have gone to her for anything.”

“But that was a long time ago and that’s the reason he’s the way he is. He’s going to kill himself with all this… garbage that’s going through his head. You have to understand – it’s better this way. I’ll never forgive him for what he did, but I can’t just let him destroy himself.”

“I don’t like it.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.”

“But he’s your friend… just know that I’m not going to be nice to him.”

“I know.”

“And I’m not making him his meals… and he doesn’t get to sleep on my bed.”

“He’ll get the couch.”

“Good.”

Now, Spike was sitting on the fire escape in their apartment and staring off into the starry night. As a cool breeze washed over him, blowing around his messy hair, he wondered what she was doing, how she was feeling. He knew he’d see her again … in time, he didn’t know any other way. Whenever he looked into his future, all he could see was her face. Her face smiling up at him and he knew there was nothing else.

“You okay?” the voice behind him startled him and he nearly fell backwards. He turned to look at Oz, climbing out the window to join him.

“Yeah,” he nodded and looked back out. Silence passed between the two old friends; silence that said more to both of them that a million words could say. Spike was the first to break it.

“Is it bad that the only thing I want right now is to forget?” he asked, still looking out into the backyard of the apartment building behind them. Oz pondered the question for a few seconds and shrugged.

“Depends.”

“On..?” He turned to look at the man next to him.

“On what you’re trying to forget.”

“The past two bloody years..” he muttered, looking back out into nothing.

“Then I guess it can be both. Good because you’re finally coming to realize that the two past years were a mistake. Bad because I’m not sure how exactly you’re planning to forget it.”

Spike let out a harsh laugh into the cool air and observed the white steam coming from his mouth. He reached into his pocket to pull out a cigarette and a lighter.

“Never doubted it was a mistake,” he lit his cigarette and brought it to his mouth. He took a long drag and let out the smoke slowly and watched it lift up and fade away towards the full moon. “Just don’t know if I can right the wrong. Don’t know if I even deserve to right the wrong.”

“Once in a while, everyone screws up,” Oz pulled himself onto the railing and swung his legs over. “We’re always on this rail of stability… this balance. When you’re not steady, it takes one push in the wrong direction to fall off the edge. That’s when we screw up. Sometimes you fall too hard and you die.” Spike snorted and swung his legs a little. “- that’s when you’ve gone too deep to be put back into the balance. But it looks like you’re still here with us. It might be barely, but you’re still here. It’ll take a lot of work- hard work - but you have some people who believe in you.”

“I sure as hell feel like I’ve died. Am I in hell?”

Oz laughed and shook his head. “Not yet, buddy. Not yet.”

They fell back into the comfortable silence and lost themselves into the serenity of the night. Finally, Oz swung himself back and slapped Spike lightly on the back.

“Close the window when you come in. And don’t let Willow catch you smoking.”

With that, he climbed back through the window and let Spike sit and ponder their discussion as he sat, waiting for the sunrise by himself.

…………

New York City

The city was both frightening and fascinating for Buffy, who grew up as a small town girl in Sunnydale. The swarms of people constantly pushing past her, into her, moving her forward like a fast river rapid overwhelmed her and she frequently felt the need to grab onto something firm that would ensure her of her own stability. Crossing streets were a challenge, and she fought to remain upright whenever the red hand disappeared and the green walking man appeared – Good ole’ Bob, as Faith called him. The tall buildings felt like they were closing in on her as more and more people crowded her, threatening to smother her completely. For the first time – or actually, second time – in her life, she felt completely helpless. Small and insignificant in a completely unknown world of wonders. How she could have lived for so long without experiencing the exhilaration of walking down 42nd street in the big city, she did not know.

Another thing she never experienced as a small town girl was the night lights of Time Square. The glittering lights that lit up the city at night was overwhelming in a completely breathtaking way. New York City was truly alive when the sun went down and the lights lit up. Brilliant flashes of color everywhere, blinking signs, neon signs, blinking neon signs were all the rage and the smothering crowd of people became insignificant as Buffy drowned in the magnificent awe of the night’s illumination. In Sunnydale, she had always marveled at the moon and the stars, but here, they seemed unimportant. The vibrant Broadway advertisements were far more eye-catching than any full moon could ever be.

“Bob says go,” Faith grinned and linked arms with Buffy and Kendra when the red hand at the intersection turned green. Buffy laughed and ran to keep up with Faith. A variety of people crossed the crosswalk with them: businessmen, college students, families, tourists, all these people at one little intersection. The mixing of cultures and backgrounds was refreshing to the mundane sameness of the quiet town she had come from.

Kendra and Faith kept up their lively chatter and Buffy smiled, joining in from time to time. They were heading down 45th street to the Blue’s Club, a name that they had picked up along the grapevine through whispers and conversations of the other students. The pounding sound of music playing grew louder and louder as they approached the club’s crowded entrance.

“Damn,” Faith whistled as they passed a dark-haired man in a white wifebeater walking out of the club as they entered it, “I was starting to wonder if all that walking around in five inch heels was worth it …” She turned her head to stare at the guy’s retreating back, “.. and if all their asses look like that –“ Kendra slapped her lightly in the arm, then pulled her I.D. out of her wallet to flash to the bouncer standing at by the entrance with his beefy arms crossed over his chest. The two other girls followed suit as they walked in.

The heat from the many bodies bumping around and grinding in the lower deck was the first thing that hit them. The obscure entrance had hidden the club from the outside world and as a passerby judging the door, one could have easily mistaken it for a dirty bar or storage room. Once inside, you found yourself on a second floor balcony looking down at a large dance floor which was quickly filling up as more and more young people streamed in. The balcony seemed more relaxed, with lounge chairs and couches mixed in with tables and booth chairs. The lights were dimmed and the air smelled of smoke and sweat.

The beat of the fast-paced hip hop shook the entire crowd and seemed to escalate as the girls descended down the stairs.

“I’ve never been to a place like this before,” Kendra said loudly with a thick African accent, trying to talk over the music and looking a little uneasy. Buffy nodded and shouted back. “Tell me about it, this is nothing like the club back at home.”

Faith put her arms around both of their shoulders and laughed.

“You’re in the Big Apple now, girls,” she whooped and moved her hips to the music while leading her friends to the center of the dance floor. “Let’s show you how to party with the big kids.”

The sweaty bodies moving against her nearly suffocated her, but Buffy slowly felt herself succumbing to the heat of the moment. Loud music pounded against her eardrums and she raised her hands above her head, letting herself go. She felt better than she had in two years as she let her hips roll sensually with the beat. Never before had she ever danced like this – purposefully enticing the people around her and moving with sexual abandon.

Faith and Kendra’s presence did wonders for her. She felt safe and secured knowing that they were by her side.

The next thing she knew, two strong hands slid down her waist and rested themselves on her hips, sending a shocked wave of shivers down her body. She whirled around to face the dark-haired man that Faith had admired on the way in. Feeling a little uncomfortable, Buffy backed away, turning her head to search for her friends. Faith and Kendra had both drawn a crowd of boys and didn’t seem aware of her discomfort.

“Uh…” She wasn’t sure what to say. Get a grip, Buffy. You came to a club, of course you should expect guys to dance with you… The man smiled down at her and stuck out his hand.

“I’m Parker,” he offered. She tentatively reached her hand out to shake his and was surprised when he pulled it up to meet his lips. The familiar gesture stirred up memories of a certain boy that had been buried long ago. The instant his lips touched her skin, she hastily pulled her hand back, her mind suddenly filling with visions of a face she hadn’t thought about or seen in years. Okay… maybe not ‘years’. And maybe I didn’t completely not think about him… Parker seemed unfazed by her gestured and continued to smile.

“Hi, I’m – “ Buffy started but Parker beat her to it.

“Buffy… I know,” he finished for her. At her puzzled look, he explained, “I’ve seen you around campus. I saw you come in here tonight and I knew I couldn’t just leave without having a dance, first.”

He gave her a smile meant to dazzle, but the clenching in her stomach made her feel sick. There was just something about him…

“Yeah, um, sorry if this seems rude, but – “ she looked around for her friends again, wishing she had support. I wish Willow was here… Faith caught her eye and winked. “I’m not feeling that well… and I think I have to go.”

With that, she turned her back on a puzzled Parker and fled from the club as fast as her legs could carry her. Her head was dizzy and her body felt numb. The dim, blinking lights and hot, lulling atmosphere was making her nauseous and she craved for the fresh air outside the doors of Blue’s Club. The second she escaped the tightening confines of the inner walls, she felt herself fall back onto the outer building. Resting and leaning into the brick, she looked up at the sky and took a deep breath.

She received short glances from different people as they walked by her and one man even stopped to ask “You alright, lady?”. She nodded and they went on, forgetting about her as they went about their nightly business.

Inside the club, Faith and Kendra saw Buffy exit the club a little worried and a little confused.

“What’s with her?” Kendra asked.

“If I didn’t know any better,” Faith commented, raising an eyebrow, “I’d say she’s been burnt.”

They followed their roommate out of the club to see if she was alright.

…………

Los Angeles

The pathway in the woods was still foggy and he was alone. The trees surrounding him were bare and loomed above him, deathly intimidating. The white mist clouded their tops and the light breeze blew dead leaves around his feet. The air was damp and cool, fresh yet stale. He couldn’t tell if it was early morning or late in the evening. There was no time.

He took a step forward and heard a faint humming. The sound was so soft and light, he was afraid it was a part of his imagination. He tilted his head and he strained his ear to listen for the soft, sweet sound.

‘Monsters crawl,
Under my bed,
Babies crawl,
Then they’re dead’

He followed the little, high-pitched voice of a young girl. The farther he walked down the clouded path, the more distinct the voice grew until he was standing a few feet away from little girl, sitting in the middle of the trail. She had blonde pigtails and was in a pink jumper; she was playing with a stuffed animal she clutched in her lap. Leaning closer, he saw it was a battered little pig.

“Do you want to play with me?” she turned around to look at him and he was greeted with little, wide, green eyes and a bright, toothy grin.

“Sure, pet,” he kneeled down beside her, “what do you want to play?”

“Monster, monster,” she smiled, handing him her stuffed toy. He took the old pig that he knew too well into his hands and ran his thumbs down it lovingly.

“How do we play that, niblet?”

“It’s easy!” she giggled, taking her pig back and standing up. “I’m the little girl and you have to protect me from the monster!”

“Is that right, little bit?” he looked up into her shining face.

“Yep,” she nodded vigorously and held out her hand. He stood up and covered her little one with his.

“Now where would this monster be?”

She grew serious and looked ahead down the trail that was getting less visible as the fog settled down. He leaned down so she could whisper in his ear.

“You’re supposed to know. You need to find it and protect me.”

He looked up, shocked, and saw that there was nobody there. Nobody on the trail. It was just him, the heavy fog, and the ever growing wind.

Another voice rang out, coming from all around him.

“Protect…”




...................................

A/N: When I talked about Spike being drugged in the last chapter, I wasn't really talking about any serious, mind-controlling drug and whatnot. I was trying to illustrate his weakness and how he succumbs to temptations just for a moment of euphoria to forget his problems.

Chapter 12 Questions

“You look tired today, William,” Dr. Travers commented, noting the dark rings under Spike’s eyes and the way he sagged into his usual couch.

“Didn’t sleep well, is all,” Spike yawned and stretched his arms out. The older man nodded and started writing something into his notepad. “What’s that you’re scribbling, doc?”

“Notes,” he simply replied, not offering to explain or go deeper and Spike didn’t bother to ask. He just shrugged and looked out the window. The sun was finally out and the clouds seemed to have disappeared. The yellow rays of light warmed the city up and suddenly, Los Angeles lost its gloom.

Travers studied his patient’s ragged facial features. The pale skin looked curiously gray today and his normally alert features seemed slacking. He eyed the tattered and wrinkled black clothing suspiciously, having the feeling that they hadn’t been changed since their last meeting. Spike’s body gave away all the signs of someone physically and emotionally worn out.

Suddenly, Spike turned his head to look at Travers curiously.

“What do you make of dreams, doc?” he asked, unexpectedly. Dr. Travers was taken aback for a moment, but gained his senses in no time.

“Well, dreams are generally known as the trash in your mind,” he said, “they’re generated form information stored in your brain and processed when you least expect it.”

“So it would be rubbish to think that a dream might be trying to tell you something, yeah?”

“No, not rubbish” he answered, raising both eyebrows. “I think dreams can be a form of subconscience, maybe like an inner voice. Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering, is all,” Spike tapped his armrests with his thumbs.

“Did you have a dream, Spike?” the doctor pressed on, putting his hands together, “would you like to talk about it?”

“Nothing to worry about, mate,” he brushed off the issue and changed the subject. “Did you know that onions were an aphrodisiac?”

…………
…………
…………

“If it were up to me, you’d be begging on the streets,” Willow nearly growled while she grabbed another dirty plate to scrub. God knows I don’t need this. College… work… and two hungry mouths to feed.

“I know,” Spike hung his head, taking the bowl she had handed him and placing it on a rack in the dishwasher.

“If it were up to me, you’d be chained up to a wall and beaten to a pulp every day, fixed up at night, then beaten again the following morning.”

“I know,” he repeated himself, wondering when Oz’s fiancé had gotten so scary.

“If it were up to me, you’d have your throat ripped out so you could never sing another word again.”

“I know,” he said again, then muttered to himself “…good thing it’s not up to you, then.” Willow either didn’t hear him or ignored him.

“If it were up to me, you’d be the one with your heart shredded to pieces,” she continued, annoyed at his compliance and wanting to strike up an argument.

He paused for a fraction of a second.

“It already is.”

At that, Willow threw down the ceramic mug she had been washing into the sink and it cracked into three pieces.

“Don’t you dare tell me that,” she hissed, flinging her rag into his chest. “You broke my best friend’s heart and you dare tell me that you’re in pain? You are lucky I promised Oz I wouldn’t kill you, so help me Goddess, you’d be – “

“I’m sorry,” he backed away, placing the wet rag onto the kitchen counter.

“You’re sorry? Oh, well that makes it all better!” Willow threw her hands up in the air, grabbed the rag and resumed washing dishes.

Spike muttered to himself again, “It was two bloody years ago…”, but this time, Willow caught him and slapped him hard across the face.

“That makes it all right? That it was two years ago? You think I’ll just sit back and forget all the nights I held her in my arms? All those tears?” She hadn’t been this angry since the night of the one fateful concert two years ago in the same city they were in right now.

“No, I don’t think time makes it all right,” he fisted his hands in frustration, “I just think that the only person who has a right to be mad at me is the person I hurt. I didn’t expect it from you.”

“You’re unbelievable,” she fumed at him, face turning red to match her hair. “You broke her and I picked up the pieces. Have you ever really loved somebody, Spike? I don’t think you ever had.”

Spike opened his mouth to protest, angrily, but Willow cut him off before he could make a sound.

“If you ever felt half the love that I have for my best friend for anybody who was ever in your life, you would know that when they hurt, you hurt. Tell me, who have you ever loved, Spike? And I don’t mean as a lover. I’m saying love. Pure, true, no if and or buts about it love. Simple as that. Tell me.”

An unintelligible word fluttered from his mouth as he looked down at the floor. Willow bent her head and asked him, “What was that?”

“My mum,” he breathed out, closing his eyes. She nodded her head.

“What would you do to anybody who would hurt your mom? Just sit back and not be mad at them? Or would you try and kill them, Spike? Kill whoever hurt the ones you love.”

She didn’t wait for him to answer and left the kitchen, leaving Spike standing in the middle of the tiled floor alone with his hands clenched in his pockets. He remembered his mother’s face: so kind, so loving. Trusting. Then he remembered her last spiteful words and he couldn’t stop the tears from flowing.

“I’d kill them…”
…………
…………
…………

“Why do you do it, William?”

The sun was out again and it followed Spike and Dr. Travers as they ambled along the sidewalk of a moderately busy street. Neither of them had felt like talking in the cold, air-conditioned building and had decided to take their discussion outdoors where it was warm, sunny, and inviting.

“Do what, doc?”

“The drugs.”

Travers sighed at Spike’s shocked expression.

“Of course I know about it. I have your medical records and you forget that I am quite good friends with Daniel Osbourne. Now, explain to me. Why the small doses of this and that every so often? I don’t see a trend here, William, and I’m not condemning you. From what I gather, you get – what is it called, yes, high - once a few weeks and it’s different every time. Heroin, ecstasy, marijuana, all very different, Mr. Giles. I just want to know why?”

“Bit of fun. A good tumble here and there,” Spike kept his eyes forward and kept walking.

“I don’t buy it.”

“Well you better because that’s all I’m giving you,” he snapped and reached into his pocket to pull out a cigarette with shaking hands. Travers turned to look at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

“See there,” he motioned at Spike’s hand, lighting the cigarette. “That’s an addiction. But it isn’t only an addiction. You crave it when you’re nervous. When you’re uneasy. There’s always a reason behind actions.”

“I do it because I like the taste, so sod off.”

“You know better, William.”

“What of it, doc? Believe me when I say you’re not the first one to try stopping me.”

“I’m not trying to get you to stop,” Dr. Travers shook his head, sadly, “I’m trying to get you to understand why you’re doing it.”

“Well, you’re the doctor aren’t you? With all the schooling, medals, and all that rot. Why don’t you explain it to me. Please, I’d really like to hear what you have to say,” Spike scoffed, sarcastically.

“What’s the difference between doing something for fun once in a while and being addicted to something?”

“Again… you’re the one with all the degrees. Put it to good use, now.” Travers resisted rolling his eyes to Spike’s stubbornness and refusal to cooperate.

“I’m no expert at this, but this is what I think. I think that right now, you’re walking on a path – we can call it the path of life or perhaps the path of reality for our own sake. You’re snorting whatever rubbish is around at that time and it takes you off that path, leads you into some state of euphoria so you can forget about reality. Once or twice might not seem to be any harm, you always wake up on the same path and walk by the same path day by day.”

Spike remained silent and Travers continued.

“Then one day, you come to a fork in the road. One is marked reality, one is marked dream. You have a choice, William. You always have a choice. You choose reality and set the heroine or whatever you’re doing aside. You choose a blissful dream and you become an addict.”

Travers stopped as they crossed an intersection. People pushed passed them, hurriedly, in a rush to meet some appointment in another part of the city. There were a few venders out in the street, holding out signs and merchandise to entice them into buying something. The new shoes of businessmen clipped by them and the stiletto heels of classy woman clicked away quickly as the world went along on it’s daily business. They rounded a corner and turned into a park.

“So you’re saying I don’t face reality,” Spike took a puff from his cigarette and blew through his nose. An old lady walking her dog gave him a disgusted look and went the other direction.

“Why don’t you tell me?” Travers asked him. “What is it about your life that you’re trying to get away from?”

“The people. All the people wandering about their little lives with not a worry in the world. I hate them. I hate all of them.” Spike waved the cigarette into the air, gesturing wildly at the handful of people around them, some walking their dogs through the park, some jogging with headphones on, some just strolling around like they were.

“I can assure you, you’ll never get away from the people. Unless you strand yourself on an isolated island. Even then, the world tends to find a way to rescue you and bring you back.” Travers chuckled and Spike hiccupped. They wandered off the path and cut through the green grass towards a bench by the fountain, a short walk away.

“Nobody recognizes me,” Spike observed, flicking the butt of his cigarette into the filthy ashtray by the benches.

“Should they?”

“Dunno. Probably not,” he snorted a short laugh, “thing is that Dru promised they would. They seem to know me when I’m on the stage but here – I’m just another person.”

“Do you want them to recognize you?”

“’Suppose that’d be nice.”

“Do you want fame, William?”

“Thought I did. Not so sure anymore, though.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t rightly know,” Spike rolled his eyes, exasperated. “Can you stop with the bloody questions now? They’re giving me a sodding headache.”

They continued to walk quietly as the sun kept shining down on them.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////

Chapter 13 Gabriel

New York City

It was early, barely four a.m. and Buffy was in Richard’s hall, searching for the auditorium. The long, dark hallway was just a little creepy with only a dim, yellow backlight flickering on and off at each end of the hall. The steady thudding of footsteps seemed to echo through the empty building as she tentatively felt her way along the cemented walls.

Being in the deserted building thrilled Buffy. The only sounds she could hear were the soft squeaking of her shoes against the newly shined linoleum tiles and the nearly undetectable buzz of the faltering light overhead. She shivered a little uneasily at the thought of being all alone in a humongous building. But, at the same time, she felt oddly comfortable – more so than whenever she was in the company of other people. Lately, she had been craving and welcoming solitude, enjoying the few moments that she had to herself to let her mind wander off on its own. Life hadn’t been easy for her and she could hardly afford the minute or two of quiet contemplation that she needed. Aside from the classes she was taking, looking for a job, and spending time with friends, there was really no extra time left.

So she allowed herself to take the quiet moment for granted. Her mind started to drift to thoughts that she had been determined to keep off her mind.

Her hand grazed along the cold, metal door that lead to one of Julliard’s biggest performance halls and she pushed herself against it. It grunted, then gave way to her body weight, letting her slip inside to the backstage.

The musty scent of boxes and old furniture hit her and she was now engulfed in total darkness. Her hand groped the wall for a light switch. She found one and flipped it up, causing a faint sliver of light to shine through the long, narrow slit in the center of the heavy, velvet curtains. Walking slowly and carefully as to not trip over the metal fold-up chairs that were left half-hazardly placed in her way, she made her way towards the flowing cloth backdrop to push her way through. The layers of red rustled and easily moved to the side at her gentle nudge and she stepped onto the stage, gasping at the sight before her.

There was only a single row of lights hanging from the high ceiling and it cast a dim glow over the wooden stage and the first few rows of red, velvet seats. A shimmer of light tumbled delicately over the lid of a polished grand piano waiting for her at the center of the stage. The white sheen seemed to dance across it’s ebony color, beckoning her closer.

She marveled at the feel of standing on the stage, staring out into the breathtaking blackness of the empty audience. The vast array of vacant chairs lined up like expectant tin soldiers thrilled her and she drowned in their promise of excitement beyond measure.

The piano was a Steinway. Nothing but the best, of course. It was polished and shined, yet it’s apparent age was comforting and it warmed her. It smiled gently and invited her to run her little, nimble fingers over its keys and to make it play the music that it was built to produce. She lifted the cover over the keys and jumped a little when the soft thud reverberated down the spacious auditorium, surprising her. The eerie emptiness amplified any sound she made and responded to her every movement, echoing the squeaks of protest from the unoiled bench as she adjusted it.

The first note sliced through the silence like a swift bullet, making the entire auditorium ripple like a small coin tossed in an undisturbed lake. It overwhelmed the quiet stillness as it rang out, filling the hall completely as it spilled into the deepest nook and the farthest cranny. The warm, liquid melody following it flowed languidly from the beautiful, old instrument and Richard’s Hall was no longer a quiet, old, deserted building. The night swiftly became early morning as the first drops of music illuminated Manhattan, calling forth the faint yellow hints of sunlight.

……

Gabriel was certain that he was the only occupant in the building. Then why in his mother’s name was he hearing the transparent ghost of a melody coming from the Dane A. Richard’s Performance Hall above?

A little intrigued and a little put off by the interruption of his daily quiet time, he stood up from the couch that he had been sitting on and stretched. He sighed as he trudged up the old, cracked, cement steps to head towards the auditorium, ready to kick out whoever had decided to enter before the building was officially open. That’s what I get for forgetting to lock up…

He paused by the entrance of the auditorium and rested his hands on the door’s handle. Whoever was in there was definitely talented. The music was flawless; the passages were played with easy clarity and there was power behind each note. Gabriel pressed his ear to the door. There was something about the bittersweet tune that had caught his attention, and it wasn’t the pianist’s perfect technique.

Careful not to make a sound, he eased the door open as quietly as possible and slipped into the dark, behind all the rows of seats. He looked up towards the stage and his breath was knocked out of him at the sight of a small, blonde girl sitting at the piano on the stage.

She didn’t hear him come in – if she did, she made a good impression of ignoring him. Gabriel widened his eyes and held in a gasp as he watched the blonde haired beauty close her eyes and tilt her head as the melody became more bitter than sweet. No doubt about it, this girl was an angel.

Never in his life had he ever been so mesmerized by a single female such as he was right now. He basked in her presence and for once in his life, was happy that a girl didn’t notice him. There was something beautiful in the simple movements of her body over the piano oblivious to anybody else, something breathtaking about her unreserved grace.

Her blonde hair gleamed under the thin, white haze of the stage light. It cascaded down her shoulders in loose tendrils, falling over her shoulders freely. She wore was dressed comfortably in a simple white t-shirt over jeans and still, he was captivated by her. Stunned, he didn’t move a muscle until the very last chord.

Buffy put her hands on her lap and sighed, contented. Making music always lifted her up no matter how low she had fallen. She looked around, certain that somewhere in the middle of her playing, she had heard the door open but she wasn’t sure if her mind had just made it up. When she was greeted with the open darkness of a silent audience, she returned her eyes to the white and black keys in front of her.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she suddenly heard a muffled, coughing sound that rang out from the emptiness in the direction of the back beyond the sea of velvet seats. Snapping her head up in alarm, she caught the muted outline of a moving form emerging from the center aisle. Quickly, she stood up, clutching the piano for support. A man slowly appeared before her, materializing from the cloud of blackness into the mezzanine.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, backing up, “I didn’t know anybody was in here and I wasn’t sure if I could –“

“Don’t worry about it,” he cut her off with a smile. Buffy stared at him. He was tall with dark, mussed-up hair and transparent blue eyes which were silently fixated on her. Intense, blue eyes that reminded her of the deep blue of another man from long ago. His blue jeans were tattered and old and he wore a wrinkled, white shirt that looked they had been slept in. She began to relax as he continued to regard her curiously with a friendly face and a casual smile.

“Uh, well,” she quickly closed the lid of the piano and shoved her hands in her pockets. “I have a lesson with Professor Walsh in- ” she glanced at the thin, silver watch on her wrist, “- four hours and I was just going to hang here, check the piano out, I didn’t know if the place was open and if it wasn’t I’m really sorry and I didn’t mean to break in or anything... But, if you, uh, want me to leave or if I’m not allowed here I can definitely go. Yeah, I’ll, just, uh, go. Look at me. Haha.. uh, I’m all about the leaving, so I’ll just uh,.. go back from where I came from and, ugh, I know I must be rambling and you probably think I’m a complete loser and … I’m done.”

Gabriel felt like laughing as he took in her face, blushing in embarrassment, and he strolled up to her until he was at the edge of the stage.

“It’s fine. My fault, I forgot to lock up. You don’t have to leave. Stay.”

“Thanks,” she dropped back down onto the bench. The man was now running his hands through his hair and looking away, suddenly seeming nervous – another familiar gesture. I wonder what he’s doing here so early… “I’m Buffy.” she announced, giving him an overtly bright smile.

“What’s a buffy?” he asked, blue eyes back on her and smiling again. She wasn’t sure if she should laugh.

“My name,” she explained, raising her eyebrows in amusement. “Buffy Summers.”

“Oh!” his eyes widened a little. Just a little embarrassing… “Hello, Buffy Summers. I’m Emmanuel Alfred Gabriel Walsh the fifth, Manny to my mother, Emmanuel to my grandparents, Gabe to everyone who has a death wish, and Gabriel to all my friends.” He relaxed in a sloppy grin and held up a hand to her.

“How about Alfred?” Buffy grinned back and stooped down to take his hand in hers. His face contorted in mock disgust and he wrinkled his nose.

“Okay, I lied, Alfred’s not really part of my name,” he confessed. She raised her eyebrows and he added, “Neither is the fifth, I just thought it sounded cool. Make me all important. It’s just Gabriel. Or Emmanuel if you’re over fifty.”

“Gabriel’s pretty,” she giggled. He dramatically clutched his chest at her words and fell back into a seat in the first row.

“You wound me!”

“Aren’t you going to say something about my name?”

“Nah, I already asked you what a Buffy was so I guess I’ll let your name be for now.”

“Well, you certainly are the gentleman,” she teased. She liked him. Instinctively, she knew he wasn’t a student, maybe it was the way he dressed or the way he carried himself. Nevertheless, she found herself instantly attracted to the crinkles at the side of his eyes when he smiled and she liked the relaxing air about him. This man, she decided, … this man would be the best kind of friend for her.

“That’s what they tell me,” he agreed. “So,… a lesson with Professor Walsh, eh? She’s my mother, so I may just have to tell her to be extra extra hard on you.”

“Hey!”

She adamantly protested but she couldn’t erase the airy feeling from her head that was making her dizzy. A feeling she hadn’t felt in a long while.

It felt good.




A/N: I'm hope most of you will be happy with this new development... This is still a Spuffy fic and i doubt any of you will hate Gabriel, my new character, as much as you guys dislike Riley/Parker/Angel.

Anyways... if i told you that in my mind, Gabriel looks a LOT like Tom Welling... mmmmmm

And i know i overlooked the fact that most buildings on campus would probably have security of some kind... i kinda forgot about that until after the chapter was written.

Chapter 14 Hello, Goodbye

Los Angeles

Contentment. That was the best way to described how he felt as he gazed down lovingly at the small blonde at his side. She was there again… there to love, there to adore. There was nothing else he wanted out of life.

The sun was up and the leaves were everywhere. On the trees, scattered along the trail, floating around in the gentle breeze. And so many colors! Some were yellow, brown, red, green. They gave a satisfying crunch as they were stepped on.

“How long will you stay?” He asked the girl at his side.

“As long as you let me,” she smiled up at him and got on her tip-toes to kiss his cheek. His heart expanded with the giddiness she made him feel.

“That’ll be forever then, love,” he grinned, “are you ready for that?”

“I’m always ready for that,” she giggled, clinging tighter to his arm. “But what if you’re not ready for it?”

He growled playfully and swooped down to kiss her lips. He closed his eyes and lost himself as he tasted her strawberry lipgloss. She tasted sweet and her mouth was a fountain of sugar and candy as she parted her lips to allow him entry. He couldn’t get enough of her. He held on to her arms and slowly moved his hands until they were gripping her shoulders, cupping her face, winding in her hair.

“I love you, baby, you know that?” he murmured when he pulled away to take a breath.

“Yeah, I got that memo a while back,” she whispered, her breath tickling his skin. He lowered them once more to catch her lips. But this time, something was different.

For some reason, she wasn’t sweet anymore. Instead, she tasted bitter… bittersweet chocolate instead of the milky, creamy kind. Her lips weren’t soft anymore, they weren’t gentle. They ate at him, hungrily and he pulled back, confused.

The woman in front of him wasn’t his ball of sunshine. Instead, it was the dark-haired sorceress who was smiling at him disdainfully. He pushed her away and fell backwards.

“Where is she?” he snarled, shoving her aside when she moved forward.

“Over there,” the sorceress laughed, pointing further down the trail. He turned his head and saw his sunshine looking at him with sad eyes.

“Goldilocks, love, I’m coming for you,” he tried to run towards her but his feet couldn’t move. He looked down in horror and saw that they were tied down with thick, black vines that were coming from… he looked at the sorceress behind him and saw that she held a wand that was spouting out the wicked looking vines.

“You cannot go for her on my watch, my lovely prince,” the woman sneered at him and laughed again. His sunshine was disappearing down the trail and he shouted with all his might.

“NO! Let me go to her! Buffy, wait! Don’t leave me, don’t leave me!!”

Buffy didn’t hear him and Drusilla giggled, cruelly.

“Do you really want her when I can give you so much more?”



“NOO!!” Spike woke up, shouting. He leapt out of bed, sweating and panting.

………………

They were sitting silently in the apartment that Oz, Willow, and recently, Spike, shared. The Los Angeles weather was hot and humid and the fan rotating lazily on the ceiling was doing nothing to stop the heat.

“Christ, Osbourne, you’d think after living here for two years, you’d have invested in something like a sodding air conditioner.”

“Thought about it, but Willow said it was too much money.”

The three of them fell back in silence as the late afternoon humidity began to overwhelm them. They each had something on their mind and were trying to figure out how to let it out to their friends and fellow band-mates. A fly was buzzing around the room noisily and the water faucet in the kitchen had a leak.

Oz reclined on the old, yellow couch as Angel lounged in the sagging sofa with his feet propped up on the coffee table. Slowly, Spike rose from his seat beside Angel and began moving around restlessly. Oz and Angel focused their eyes on Spike as he paced the length of the living room.

“We need to find a new manager,” he announced suddenly, stopping to look at both Angel and Oz’s reactions. They continued staring at him mutely and Angel stuck a potato chip in his mouth and began munching on it loudly.

Spike furrowed his brows up in confusion. The truth was that he fully expected more of a reaction than … absolutely nothing. Maybe a protest or two or maybe even agreement.

“Well?” he prodded them further.

“Well, what?” Angel asked him. “It’s about time, isn’t it? We couldn’t stay with your insane girlfriend forever.”

“For the last time, you sodding git. She. is. not. my. girlfriend!” Spike threw his hands up in the air in frustration and resumed his pacing.

“And for the last time you bleached moron… Does she know this?” Angel asked, raising an eyebrow. Spike stopped mid-pace.

“Not… yet,” he confessed, sighing deeply.

Angel grinned at him and reached out to grab the phone that had somehow ended up lying stuck in between the sofa cushions.

“No time like the present,” he handed the phone to Spike. He took it from Angel and stared at it dumbly.

“I can’t do this over the phone!”

“Why not? You pretty much broke up with Buffy on a stage in front of hundreds of people. This should be a piece of cake.”

“What are you going on about? I did not!”

“You might as well have. What you did was just as bad,” Angel rolled his eyes at him. “If you could do what you did to Buffy, you can break it off with Drusilla over the phone.”

“Might be better,” Oz spoke up for the first time since Spike had announced a band meeting.

“How’s that?” Spike turned to face his red-headed friend. Oz shrugged.

“In case she tries to kill you. Distance might be a good thing.”

Spike screwed his face up and groaned into his hands.

“That crazy bitch would be mad enough to do that.”

Oz shrugged again and Angel looked on in amusement. He pointed to the phone in Spike’s hand.

“Call.”

“I’ll call tonight.”

“Or you could call now…”

“Bloody – “ Spike glared at him, “I’ll call her when I’m ready to call her.”

Angel just shook his head and Oz looked a little sympathetic. They shot each other a look just as Spike turned to look at them.

“What was that?” he asked the two of them, suspiciously.

“Well…” Angel started then stopped. He turned to Oz. “You tell him.”

“Rather not.”

“Fine.” Angel took his feet off of the table and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “See, Spike… “

“Out with it.”

“Well, ah, Oz and I got to thinking and we decided that it would be best if… you know… the whole band thing is still…” He looked at Oz again and pleaded with his eyes. Oz opened his mouth and thought for a little bit.

“We thought that it might be better for…” He looked at Angel and Angel continued.

“Well, for all of us, in general, if we, uh…”

He broke off again and grabbed another handful of potato chips. Oz started where he left off.

“You know… took a little…”

“Not a big one, just a little one.”

“Will you two get your sodding acts together and just spit it out!” Spike raised his voice, irritated with the two of them. They shared another look.

“We’re leaving the band after the album premieres.”


A/N: dun dun dunnn... wait until next chapter to see what Spike does...

Spike still hasn't fully comprehended how horrible he's being so i'm thinking you guys still hate him. He's going to have to go through some self-realization which will take place in the next few chapters that i think i'm going to write in a chunk so don't expect this to be updated in a while.

I'll give you this though... i think you'll like Spike and Buffy's next meeting...

Sorry, this chapter's a little short, but i liked how it kinda ended on a semi-cliff hanger.

thanks for the reviews! they make writing this so much more fun

Ch. 15 Common Courtesy

”We’re leaving the band after the album premieres.”

Spike stared at the two of them in disbelief. The tension had grown from three to ten in all about half a second and it was suspended in the air like thick smog. Angel was nervously shifting his eyes to the painting on the wall, the standing lamp in the corner, the bag of chips next to him, everywhere he could think of except Spike and Oz had his closed completely.

“Four years…” Spike started and stopped, turning his head. He couldn’t look at them right now. “Four years and we come to this.”

Angel finally looked up at him. He couldn’t really think of anything to say. The things he wanted to say were hurtful and as much as he thought his friend deserved the pain, he couldn’t bring himself to voice what he was feeling. Voice what had been running through his head the second they left Sunnydale, not three years ago. You gave up… You say you want the band then you run off in your own world… You hurt us, you hurt everyone…

“It’s not what it was. Not what it used to be,” he muttered. Oz opened his eyes slowly and realized that he was still sitting in the middle of what seemed to be the third world war.

“Spike, we’ve been at this for a long time and I’m still not seeing the fruits of my labor,” Oz slowly explained. Angel nodded his agreement.

“Where’s all the money going, man?”

“Dru said she has it taken care – “ Spike stopped mid-sentence.

“I see,” Angel nodded his head, partially in disbelief and partially because he didn’t know what else to do. Anger was brewing up inside him and he didn’t want to let it out. Not yet, anyways.

“Hey, we signed a contract,” Oz told his friend who had begun pacing the room again. “I want to see my share of the profits. I gave up everything for this band, you know? So did Willow. And you, you gave up a lot, even though you don’t realize it. Angel, did you give up a lot?”

Angel nodded, a little relieved that Oz had finally decided to speak up and voice some of the concerns he had been having.

“See, Spike?” Oz continued, “we all had enough.”

Spike nodded slowly, numbly. He hadn’t expected this. The sun was beginning to set and the sky was now a lazy orange. It shone through the floor-length window and cast shadows on all their faces, accentuating their overcast expressions.

He stepped over the table and sunk into the sofa next to Angel.

“When did the two of you sort this out, Forehead? Probably a while back, yeah? Try to keep me in the dark? Frightened of what I might do to myself if I knew?” He wanted a drink. Something alcoholic, something strong. Whiskey, vodka, he needed something… The possibilities swam before his eyes and he bit down on his cheek just thinking about it.

“A month or so ago,” Angel was studying Spike carefully from the harsh way he sucked in air to the way his eyes were shifting around hurriedly, as if he wanted to be somewhere else. As if he needed a quick fix.

“What, you didn’t think I would like your little scheme, did you?” Spike’s voice was getting louder, he sounded a little angrier.

“No, we were unsure of how you would react,” Angel bit back the edge in his voice, “and you can see why…”

“Well maybe if you gits had the common courtesy to let me in – “

Angel cut him off, finally exploding.

“Common courtesy!! You want to talk about common courtesy?!” He jumped to his feet, his face contorting and his hands balling up into fists. “Oz, man, do you want me to begin?”

“All you,” Oz muttered, leaning back, not wanting to be forced to take sides between two extremes. A part of him wanted to, but his calm and collected self-control allowed him to play his role as the mediator.

“Fine,” Angel turned on Spike, who was glaring at him with a threat in his eyes. He was a little surprised at Angel’s reaction, but had quickly subdued the inner demon that had leapt up instantly, ready to fight in his defense. “Lets start with how it all began! Remember going to Willy’s that one night? Of course you remember. We were supposed to all go together, right? All meet the manager at the same time, look over the contract, sign up and leave, right?

“Maybe I’m delusional, but as I remember it, you upped and left to go to the bathroom and you never came back! Do you know how worried we were? I called the cops, called Giles, called everyone! For all I knew, you had disappeared from the face of the earth! But where were you? Ohhh yeah, I remember! You were busy fucking our new manager. Busy drinking with her, busy getting high with her, so busy that you just signed us all up for whatever she had in mind without even asking us if this was what we wanted! Fuck, you didn’t even know what the hell you had just gotten us into! And you talk to me about common courtesy? Fuck you.”

He spat the words out, turning redder by the second. Spike opened his mouth but Angel cut him off again, this time speaking with a steadier tone.

“You keep saying that this is our dream,” he paused and took a deep breath, rubbing a tired eye with the back of his hand, “but it’s really yours. Sure, it was fun some of the times, it was a great break for us, but this?” he gestured around at the apartment, “this isn’t my dream. Remember the school plays, Spike? Remember how you always made fun of me because I was a theater geek?”

Spike snorted. “Bleeding poofter you were, too.” There was a hint of nostalgic affection in his voice and his eyes glazed over, thinking back to a time when they had all been happy. But it passed over in less than a second and soon, they were hard again.

“Yeah,” Angel nodded, smiling in spite of himself. “I always thought I’d light up Broadway, and you told me I was a ‘ninny’ and that it was a girl’s dream. It doesn’t matter now. It never was a big deal. I’m glad you got your dream, Spike.”

He sighed wistfully and sat back down on the sofa.

The room was silent for a long moment as the weight of Angel’s words, however simple, gradually rested down on each of them. And for the first time in three years, Spike felt ashamed.

“I never asked you, did I?” he broke the silence and his voice cracked. Angel shook his head sadly. “I just followed a whim and dragged you all here, didn’t I? I didn’t even see… I didn’t even know…”

“It was never like that, Spike,” Oz stopped him. “Not that… melodramatic anyways,” he shot Angel a little look but he never met his eyes. That was when he realized that there were tears in his friend’s eyes. In both of his friend’s eyes.

And the sight of them crying was too much.

“When did you guys become such girls?” He mused, raising an eyebrow. Angel and Spike both laughed shortly and quickly wiped at their eyes. The bitterness hadn’t risen.

“Quite the drama-queens aren’t we,” Spike muttered sarcastically.

They sat together for another half an hour before parting ways, communicating in their silence more than they had ever been able to communicate with words. By this time, the night had set and the sky was a deep, dark blue and the crescent moon looked down on them with an amused half-smile, sending silver light that was cruel and mocking compared to the wistful hope of the setting sun.

The cement sidewalk rose to meet Spike’s foot as he stepped out of the old, beaten down apartment building. Taking in a deep breath of the cool, brisk air, he turned and blended in with the night-life of Los Angeles.

There was one thing that he had to do and tonight was the night he planned to do it.

…………

New York City

Buffy looked up from the medium latte that was no longer hot and the white job application only half-way filled out in front of her to meet the sparkling blue eyes of Emmanuel Alfred Gabriel Walsh the fifth. Otherwise known as Gabriel Walsh. A smile rose to her lips despite herself as she watched him break out into a friendly grin and battle the crowd standing in JavaJam, the packed coffee house, to get to her.

Gabriel’s eyes lit up at the sight of her sitting all alone and he hurried to say hello. He hadn’t talked to her since their last meeting at the auditorium. Since that first day before opening hours, they had made it a habit of running into each other at the same auditorium. Coincidentally or on purpose… he wasn’t quite sure as he had only strategically stationed himself in her route about three out of their four meetings, not including the first.

Buffy lowered her lashes and giggled softly as he nearly plowed down a little girl in a pink flowered dress, receiving a death glare from the mother and a little stomp on the toe from the girl he had assaulted.

“Whew, it’s like a battlefield out there!” he finally made his way to her table and sat himself down. She cleared off some papers to make him room. He gave her his famous lopsided grin, “So we meet again, Buffy Summers.” He looked around then leaned forward to whisper, “are you following me?”

“Funny, I was just about to ask you the same thing,” she smiled at the mischievous look on his face, “It seems to me that I have a stalker.”

They both laughed good-naturedly and fell into comfortable conversation. This was why Buffy liked him, she decided. He was fun, easy to talk to, nice to be around, sweet, intelligent, everything that she needed.

“What’s are you filling out?” he asked her, stealing a sip from her cooling latte. She sent him a little look of irritation.

“Stupid job application.” she scowled at it.

“For?”

“Here,” she answered, pointing at the top of the paper.

“Why would you want to work here?” he looked at the people surrounding them, “these people are dangerous. I think you’d get stampeded.”

“Well, the money is a huge plus,” she shrugged. “And the coffee. I’ll get my daily caffeine fix for free. Definitely of the good. Just figured I’d shoot two birds with one stone.”

“Huh, yeah,” he rolled his eyes, “And get smothered in the process. There are a lot of other places you could work and you know it.”

“I’ll tell you what, you find me a better place to look in to and I’ll consider it.”

Gabriel got up from his seat and grabbed her application, crumpling it up into a little ball and tossed it into the garbage behind him. He missed and the janitor across the room glared at him. Buffy stared at him in disbelief.

“What did you just do?” she demanded, rising up also with her hands on her hips. He just laughed and grabbed her arm, ready to lead her out of the little coffee shop.

“I know just the place for you.”

Chapter 16 The Right Thing

Los Angeles

Spike was wearing a hole in the ground as he walked up and down the length of the hallway. He was itching for a smoke and his hands were nervously twitching as he scratched his head in frustration and nerves. Being in front of Drusilla’s doorway was one of the last places he wanted to be and he was milliseconds away from bolting.

“Real simple,” he tried convincing himself, “just go in, rip her contract up, throw her key at her, run away.”

Yeah, real simple. He gulped and positioned himself in front of the door, squeezed his eyes shut, and gave the wooden door three sharp raps.

The door immediately swung open. She had been waiting for him. Sodding fuck. Drusilla was looking up at him with a devious glint in her eyes and her hands on her hips. The moment his brain took in the sight of her, he realized why he was so hesitant to do this.

He was scared.

Big bad, rebel, hard-shelled, sneering, William the freaking Bloody was scared shitless of one dark-haired, pale-faced woman. Namely, the one standing in front of him with a knowing smile on her lips.

The problem was that he didn’t know why he was so frightened of her. He didn’t know why his blood boiled and his stomach felt like lurching every time she turned her lips up wickedly and leered at him as if she knew what was going on in his mind.

“Finally, my boy’s come back to mummy,” her smile grew wider and she clapped her hands with sickening glee.

“N-no – “

She grabbed his arms and yanked him inside.

“Now, now,” she tsked him when he tried to push her off, “we’ll have none of that! My prince has been a very naughty one, hasn’t he?”

Spike backed away from her and tripped over the armrest of the sofa, landing on the soft cushion. She followed after him slowly, lowering her head to look him over provocatively under her eyelashes.

“Drusilla, love, I didn’t come here for – “

He struggled to sit up but she pounced on him and pushed him back down onto the couch.

“Shh,” she cooed, gently placing an index finger over his lips. Then, looking deep into his eyes, she moved a little closer and pulled her index finger down until it tugged at his lower lip. Spike’s breathing grew staggered and his skin started heating up. “Let mummy take care of you. I know what you need… what you want… what you live for – “

She closed the distance between them and stuck her tongue out to lick his lower lip slowly and seductively. His head involuntarily moved forward, trying to kiss her back. Drusilla pulled back sharply and gave him a little slap, laughing when he yelped.

“Bad tosser, did mummy say you can do that??”

He shook his head vigorously and she giggled to herself.

“What do you want, my prince?”

She purred into his ear. His mind was reeling in the heated argument that was taking place in his head. A part of him that hated her shouted ‘No!’ …It told him to push her off of him as roughly as possible and run away. Run away and never come back.

Another part of him, said in a more enticing tone of voice ‘Tell her to take you to your place… the happy place. You want to be in the beautiful place where nothing can hurt you. She can take you there. Tell her to take you there. He opened his mouth to answer her when another voice invaded his head.

This voice was softer, timid, more gentle than the two overpowering ones.

‘What about me?’

The little boy trapped in his mind was on his knees, crying in an isolated little room that was locked away and hidden behind the monsters and misery of his past.

‘Help me… please?’

He closed his mouth and widened his eyes. Drusilla reached out to grab a little vial from a box lying down on the floor next to the sofa. She swayed the white powder in front of him tantalizingly. His eyes followed it to and fro, hypnotizing themselves in its appeal.

It held so many promises of a beautiful place. It told him to take it and escape to his place where he didn’t have to face the hardships of the world. He could lock out the cruelty that called itself life.

He did the only thing he could.

He nodded his head.

Drusilla’s smile widened as she handed over the little clear tube.

“That’s my good boy,” she cooed.

…………….

Five minutes later.

He couldn’t do it. It was on the table in front of him, all poured out in a neat little trail. All he had to do was bend his head down. A few month ago – hell, even a few weeks ago – he would have been in a state of euphoria already.

But he hadn’t lived through the months for nothing. Everything that Angel, Oz, and even Dr. Travers was beginning to finally sink in and he couldn’t do it.

The voices were raging in his head again and he decided to listen to the very first one. Before he could let himself think, he brought his hand down to the table and swiped at the white powder laying enticingly before him. It flew everywhere, the table, the carpet, Drusilla’s hair.

She jumped up, surprised and angry. But before she could scream, he ran from her, out the door, down the hallway, and then he was gone.

He couldn’t do it. The only thing on his mind was to find Dr. Travers. He wasn’t sure why he needed to see him, but he knew that if he didn’t, the dueling demons in his mind would go crazy and kill each other. He needed someone to talk to.

…………….

Spike didn’t even remember running through Los Angeles. All he could comprehend at the moment was that he was staring at two clear double-doors with the white words “Apartment Complex Building B” printed on them. He buzzed Dr. Traver’s room number.

After a few seconds, he tried pressing the button again. And again. And again. But there was never an answer.

He slid down to the floor and brought his knees up to his chest.

He would wait for him.

…………….

It was the same trail. It was always the same trail even though sometimes it was foggy, sometimes it was rainy, sometimes it was blizzarding, and sometimes it was even sunny. But nevertheless, the trail was the same, the same trees that towered over him and the same rocky pathway. He had grown to know it by now and was not surprised.

This time, it was at night. The sky was black and millions of stars were splattered across it, blinking and twinkling in anticipation. An owl hooted a few yards away from him and the sound of a twig snapping got his attention.

“Hello?” he asked out to the darkness. “Anybody out there?”

A draft of cool, night breeze answered him and he took a step forward, blindly.

“Any creepy crawlies? Any nasties lurking about?” he sing-songed boldly.

Again, there was nothing.

Until there was suddenly something.

Spike whirled around and jumped back in shock at the sight of a pale Drusilla standing behind him, not two yards away, hands on hips, pale skin glowing, and eyes dangerously flashing. Her hair was black in the night and flew out dangerously behind her.

“Go ‘way!” he yelled at her, backing up. “This is MY dream! And I sure as hell didn’t invite you!”

His last words were silenced by a fierce snarling. Turning around, he saw a wolf approach him slowly, stealthily. It’s yellow eyes were gleaming and its fangs were bared. As it drew closer, it dawned on Spike that it was the biggest wolf he had ever seen… it was huge… it was like a bear. A giant, oversized, SUV-sized bear.

“Good doggy,” Drusilla sang out from behind him. She tossed the wolf a human-sized bone and he caught it in his salivating mouth. She giggled and clapped her hands like a child who had received a birthday present.

The bone was gone and its eyes were fixed on Spike again.

“Uh,…” he backed away, “There’s a good fellow. You’re a very nice doggy now, aren’t you? Good right chap you are, eh? Now back away, yeah, slowly, over there…”

The wolf kept advancing. Spike looked around frantically… something… anything.

“Look! A little lamp, all nice and ripe and good for you to gobber right up!” he shouted suddenly, pointing over the wolf’s shoulder, hoping to distract it so he could run for his life.

It worked. The wolf turned around and Spike made a dash for it.

Until he heard three words coming from down the trail where he had directed the wolf to.

“Help me… please!”

He stopped dead and turned around, slowly. There was a little boy huddled in the middle of the trail and the wolf was licking his chops, hungrily…

Chapter 17 Are you ready?

Los Angeles

Quentin Travers was tired and worn out when he made his way down the block to his apartment building. He had spent the greater portion of the night having a drink and catching up with an old friend of his who had come to Los Angeles to pay him a visit. Imagine his surprise when he took in the sight of said friend’s nephew sprawled out on the front steps of his apartment complex.

He stared for a moment at the shivering body at his feet before kneeling down to gently wake him. Spike’s brows were furrowed and his face was contorted in a way that can only be described as fearful. He was obviously dreaming or, more likely, having a nightmare. What’s going on in that head of yours, child? Quentin shook his head sadly at the sight of the grown man who was shivering at his steps and who was, in so many ways, still the lost boy that he had met a long time ago in London. Not that Spike remembered their very first meeting, of course.

“William?” he nudged his shoulder and Spike only shifted a few centimeters in his sleep. Travers nudged him again. “William? You have to wake up? You have to get up so we can go inside. William?”

Sighing in frustration when Spike only wrapped his arms tighter around himself, he brought the palm of his hand to Spike’s face and slapped him lightly.

“Leave him alone!” Spike jumped up, eyes wide and frantic.

“It’s me, it’s just me,” Dr. Travers patted his shoulders, trying to soothe him as his eyes adjusted to the scene around him and he took in his environment.

“Doc?” He was confused. “What are you doing round here?”

“I should be asking you that, son,” Dr. Travers chuckled, getting up to his feet and holding out a hand to help Spike up. “You’re the one who’s been sleeping on my doorstep.”

“Have I now?” Spike scratched his head, still a little disoriented as he took the hand offered to him and stood up. “Hm. Funny that.”

“Nightmare, I presume?” Dr. Travers opened the door and led the way to his apartment. The inside of the building contrasted the outside like warm against cool. The walls were wooden and the floors were a plush, maroon carpet, the lighting was brightened to be welcoming and the baroque finishing gave the atmosphere a quaint touch.

“How did you know?” Spike mumbled. Dr. Travers pushed the button for the elevator.

“Well, when you yelled at me to ‘leave him alone’,” the elevator chimed and promptly opened. Both men stepped in. “That was a bit of a giveaway.”

“Oh.”

“So, do you want to talk about it?” Dr. Travers pressed on. Spike stared at the elevator buttons and shrugged his shoulders.

“Not really, no,” he said, flatly.

“You do know I’m talking to you as a friend now, do you?”

Spike looked up, surprised. “So you’re my friend now, doc?”

Dr. Travers nodded. “As a friend, I feel more at liberty to tell you what I really think about things. And personally, I think what you need right now is a friend. Not a doctor.”

“Uh huh,” Spike said slowly. “All that just to hear about my dreams? Always knew you were a bit loony.” Dr. Travers chuckled and shrugged.

“To each his own.”

The elevator opened and the two men stepped out, Travers taking the lead. The short hallway leading to his apartment was brightly lit and homely, smelling of cedar wood and home-cooked food. Quentin Travers dug in his pants pocket and fished out a small gold key and opened the oak door that gave way with a little groan.

“Nice place you have here, doc,” Spike said, looking around after Travers had flicked on the lights. They walked into a living room with two comfortable looking sofas, a couch, a small TV, and three full bookshelves covering the entire fall wall. “Suits you.”

“Thank you,” Dr. Travers hung up his coat on a small rack by the door and reached out for Spike’s duster. “Make yourself at home.”

“Not sure you’d really appreciate that,” Spike smirked thoughtfully, “That is,… unless you like half-empty beer bottles and dirty pizza boxes all over your floor.”

Dr. Travers visibly winced a little and shook his head, making his way into the kitchen. “Can I offer you some tea or coffee? I have a bottle of Scotch in here, too, but I try not to make it a practice to drink alcoholic beverages in my home.”

“I’m fine,” Spike walked around the room, running his hand over the top of the worn down sofa and inspecting the plaques on the wall. “Oy! I didn’t know you went to Cambridge.”

“Born and raised there,” Dr. Travers called from the kitchen, pulling out some tea packets from a drawer. “Only made sense that I’d stay there for University.”

“No kidding,” Spike admired the plaque and moved onto another picture. “I was born in a town near Sutton, about 15 or so miles from Cambridge.”

“How very interesting,” the tea kettle was set on the stove to start heating and Dr. Travers walked out into the living room to join Spike. “What made you move over to this side of the pond?”

“Mum died,” he replied, then changed the subject immediately. “This you over here?” he pointed at golden-framed photograph.

“Yes, that’s me,” Quentin laughed quietly, stepping up next to the picture.

“You knew Uncle Rupes?”

“Good friend of mine. Used to give me hell if I ever called him by Rupert, though.” Spike looked up, surprised at his admission. Quentin went on to explain, “He used to go by Ripper. We were in a band together when we were only teenagers, didn’t he ever tell you that?”

“Bugger me… Uncle Rupert?” Spike burst out laughing. “In a band? And he gives me a headache about Spike. He’ll never be able to live this one down, I’ll tell you this much.”

Dr. Travers smiled at the laughter coming from his patient, recently friend. It was a nice sound and one that he had never really heard before. At least not a good, old, genuine laugh like the one right now.

“Yes, we used to be quite the devils,” he chuckled along with him before sobering up. “There was only one thing that kept him standing on the ground.”

“Really?” Spike hiccupped, trying to control himself. “And what was that?”

Looking directly at him, Quentin replied softly, “You’re mother.”

Spike froze up and turned to him in surprise, but before he could say anything, the tea kettle wailed and Dr. Travers turned to go into the kitchen to tend to it, leaving Spike standing there with his mouth open.

…………

New York

“Gabriel!” Buffy laughed as he dragged her through the busy streets of New York. A taxi angrily honked at them as they illegally dashed across the street. “Come on, just tell me!”

“Nope,” Gabriel grinned, “it’s a surprise.”

Buffy pouted, but he stuck his tongue out at her, making her break out in giggles. They rounded a corner into an emptier and dirtier street.

Gabriel laced his fingers with hers and swung their arms back and forth. “Almost there…”

“This place is in an alleyway?” Buffy wrinkled her nose.

“Hey, this is no alleyway,” he protested. “Alleyways are gross, muddy, dirty, and obscene. This isn’t any of those. It seems a little weird at first, but I guess you just need to open your eyes wider to see it’s charms. Look up there.”

He stopped suddenly and pointed towards a stained glass window about three or four stories up. Buffy backed up and tilted her head upwards to look at it. The sunlight glistened off the many colors, producing a rainbow haze and making the window gleam. The cross in it’s center lit up and seemed to shine up the entire street.

“Wow,” she murmured.

“It was a church,” he told her, still holding her hand. “It was built sometime in the 1800’s, but it’s abandoned. They don’t use it as a church anymore. And look over there.”

She shifted her gaze over to where his hand pointed at and saw a hop-scotch drawn out in the middle of the street with street chalk. The lines were a little curvy and the messy letters hinted that a small child had drawn it.

“What is this place?” she asked him.

“Follow me,” he smiled and began pulling her along after him as he made his way to a rotting, wooden door.

…………

Los Angeles

Spike sat uneasily on the sofa, staring perplexedly at his cup of tea. Dr. Travers was seated at the armchair off to the side and was looking curiously at his patient – recently, friend. Both of them were trying to read the other and both of them failing to miserably.

Dr. Travers decided to break the silence.

“So, William,” he started and Spike sharply looked up. “Why don’t you tell me about that nightmare you were having on my doorstep earlier.”

“You’re really bent up about this, aren’t you?” Spike raised an eyebrow and sighed, placing his tea on the wooden table. Dr. Travers narrowed his eyes and got up to retrieve a coaster.

“Quite,” he muttered, coming back and putting it under the mug. Spike inwardly laughed at his actions and just leaned back.

“I’m telling you, it was no big deal,” he said. “Just my mind being… well, my mind. I just had an encounter with Drusilla and naturally, I was having a nightmare about her… and a .. wolf of some sort, but that’s all. What of it?”

“Encounter with Drusilla, you said?” Travers asked, thinking for a moment. “Ah, your girl-”

Spike suddenly cut him off, “Have you ever had a recurring dream, doc?” Travers looked up from his tea, surprised.

“No, can’t say I have,” he mused, thoughtfully. “Why do you ask? Have you been having recurring dre-?”

“What do you reckon they mean?” Spike cut him off again, his eyes swiveled up to the ceiling, seemingly in thought. Dr. Travers studied him carefully before talking.

“Well, most people don’t really think that dreams mean anything in particularly,” he said slowly, “supposedly, dreams are your subconscious,.. thoughts that wander around in your brain. A recurring dream might be something that’s bothering you…”

Spike stayed silent and Dr. Travers continued, “Sometimes, you must learn to trust what your subconscious thinks, William. It knows you better than you know yourself. I like to think that your dreams reflect the things you fear, the things you regret, a past you hide, a secret your trying to protect… that sort of thing.”

Dr. Travers paused for a moment and waited until Spike was looking him directly in the eye before beginning again. “The question to ask isn’t ‘what do my dreams mean’… It’s ‘am I ready to face my monsters?’. It’s your decision, William. Are you ready to face the monsters?”

...........................................................

A/N: next chapter... Spike'll learn some things about himself. And you'll figure out where Gabriel's taking Buffy...

Sorry about the delay... Major, major writing block plus AP test reviews started up... SAT's... that sorta thing.

** there's a little bible reference in the last scene... it's from Corinthians. It's not really religious or anything... i just thought you guys should know.**



Chapter 18 Facing my Monsters

London

…

Flashback

England – 1994

The room was darkened except for the single candle burning on the old, wooden nightstand. The wax was melting fast and the light flickered, leaving a small trail of smoke to float up into the air and disappear. Sounds of coughing were intermingled with the steady cries of the newborn in the nursery across the hall.

A young boy ten years of age stood at the doorway, hidden in the shadows, as he watched the doctor in a black suit lean down across the sagging bed to press a stethoscope over his mother’s heart. The frail, delicate woman was pale and sickly; her coughing was persistent.

William listened to the men mutter inaudible words together and shake their heads. His uncle was sitting next to the bed in the rocking chair that his mother had loved so much with his head in his hands.

After looking on for another moment, William turned around to go into the nursery where his baby sister was still crying. As soon as she felt his presence, her loud cries softened to a whimper.

“Shh… little Emmaliene,” he looked at her through the white rails of the crib and stuck his hand between them to grasp her little ones. She took hold of one of his fingers and held on tight. “There, there,… no need to cry. Mum will be all right, you just watch. She’ll get up later and hold you and say ‘Oh dear, my baby’s wet herself again!’. You’ll see.”

A tear rolled down his cheek and he quickly brushed it away. Emma turned her small head to watch him with wide, brown eyes. She stopped whimpering and made a soft gurgling noise.

“Wouldn’t that be great, Emmy?” he smiled at her and she put his finger in her mouth and started sucking gently, gnawing at him with toothless gums.

He stayed with her for the rest of the night, blocking out the coughing and the quiet murmurs coming from the other room.

“Hush little baby, don’t say a word, Willy’s gonna by you a mockingbird,” he sang. Emma stared at him and smiled happily. She loved her big brother.

“And if that mockingbird won’t sing, Willy’s gonna buy you a diamond ring…”

End Flashback

…


“I was right,” Spike said, studying his thumbnail intently and shaking his head. “Mum… she was always sickly. But she would have her ups and downs,… and she always managed to pull through for us, she did. Bloody amazing woman.”

He closed his eyes and sighed, reminiscing the older days when she had been the happy and caring mother. Before… it happened. Dr. Travers sat silently, listening to him talk, knowing that he had to get everything out before they could impart on the healing process.

Through experience, he knew that psychological problems never rose from thin air. Instead, they always seemed to have deep roots, burying their seeds in a painful memory or a miserable childhood. Something never came from nothing, and the seed would grow. It could remain hidden for months, years, and even decades, until suddenly one day, they are watered just enough and burst into a tree full of thorns, blocking everything out and taking over.

Spike took a deep breath and started up again. “My father,” he scoffed, “if you can even call him a father… he never did deserve her. After she started getting sick, he would desert us for days on end and come home flaming drunk in the middle of God knows when. My mum would be beside herself with worry…”

Flashback

England - 1995

The shouting woke him up again. Opening his eyes, he turned his head to look at the clock next to his bed. 12:36 am. Groaning to himself, he stared up at the ceiling, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark.

“How dare you! Do you know how worried I was! I almost called the police, you could have been killed!” his mother’s shrilling scream carried through the flat, making William wince. He hated hearing her like that.

“Shut tha hell up, woman,” the deep roar of his father’s voice was slightly slurred. “Yer goin’ ta wake up tha neighbors!” He was drunk. Again. William slowly got to his feet and made his way across the room to where his one year old sister slept.

Smiling softly at her still form, he reached his hand in between the white rails of the baby crib to rub her back. Emma stirred and sighed in her sleep. Their parents screamed echoed through the night and into the morning.

……

“You’re going to go to the devil, Richard,” his mother sobbed. “With your infidelity, your adultery, your constant consumption of Satan’s drink, I hate you! I hate you, I hate you!”

Her voice rose into a crazed scream and Richard just laughed. He took a cruel step towards her and said in a low voice, “I’d rather be with the god-fucking-devil than spend another moment with your insane self.”

She slapped him and he threw her to the ground. She shrieked as he advanced on her with a fanatical smile, hands slowly unbuckling his belt and pulling it free of his pants. “No! Richard,… no!”

“You call yourself a wife?” he asked her in a calculated voice, still smiling. William came into the kitchen just as Richard raised his hand high above his head and cracked the belt violently on his wife.

End Flashback

“He was a bastard and one day, he finally left,” Spike said, his voice tinged with bitterness. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved. But my mum… she was a different story. She kept loving him and every day he didn’t come home, she just – “

He stopped. Dr. Travers finished for him in a soft voice, “She lost it.”

Spike nodded.

…………

New York

The door swung open and in its place stood a portly woman of about sixty. Her gray hair was tied up in a loose bun and there were little creases at the sides of her warm brown eyes from a lot of smiling in her golden years. She was wearing a blue, patterned dress under a well-used apron and had tattered, brown pumps on her feet. Buffy liked her the moment her mouth turned up into a wide, welcoming smile.

“Why, I’ll be,” she exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air excitedly, “If it isn’t my good Gabriel!”

“Hello, Mrs. Butler,” Gabriel grinned at her, extending an arm to pull her into a hug. “Have ya missed me?”

She laughed and shook her head after pulling away, “Oh, you sure are terrible, Gabey. Not coming to see me in an entire week! What on earth were you thinking. And what have we here?” Mrs. Butler turned her attention to a confused Buffy. “Aw, Gabe, tell me who this pretty thing you pulled to our doorway is?”

“Well, remember when you told me that the kids wanted a pian-“ he began to explain, but was suddenly cut off by an animated Mrs. Butler.

“You found us a teacher?!” she put her hands together happily. “Oh, Mr. Taterson will be so pleased! Did you get this one in that school of yours, my dear? How old is she? Oh, goodness me, here I am all gushing over you and I haven’t even invited the two of you inside yet!”

She ushered them inside, talking the entire time. Buffy turned to Gabriel and whispered, “What kids?”

He grinned at her and sent her a look that told her to wait and see. Huffing a little, she walked down the narrow hall Mrs. Butler was sending them through. While the old lady was chatting giddily, Buffy let her eyes wander around the strange church building.

The air was musty and faintly smelled of aged cedar in an old, worn-out house. The walls were paneled with dark wood all around and the marble and stone floors were heavily scratched up from the wear of many years. The lights hanging from the raised ceiling were dim and seemed only a glowing yellow murmur against the dusty surroundings.

In the distance, Buffy could hear voices singing. As they walked down the hall, they entered a larger foyer with a chandelier hanging dangerously low and a life-size crucifix hanging on the wall right behind it. The singing seemed to be getting closer and closer as she wandered around the reception room and turned her head towards three sets of double doors along the far wall. Breaking apart from Gabriel and Mrs. Butler, she timidly took a few steps towards the doors, listening to the young, unified voices combined with the clicking of her heels against the wood, contrasting against the innocent sounds.

Slowly, she pushed against one of the doors and with a quiet groan, it moved forward and she stepped into a large sanctuary. There were a sea of pews in front of her and there, past the rows of bibles and seating, was a small group of children in white robes. Each held up a hymnal and sang reverently to the religious words.

“They are a lovely sight, aren’t they?” Mrs. Butler sighed, joining her in the back of the sanctuary.

…………

“Miss Summers, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” a polite young man with a slight southern drawl smiled and held out a large hand. “My name’s Caleb Taterson, I am the coordinator of ‘Little Hearts’. Maybe you’ve heard about us before? We are known for taking in the abandoned children of the city?”

Buffy nodded, sending Gabriel a little look, which was reciprocated with a encouraging smile. Mr. Taterson continued.

“Now, I can’t even begin to tell you how thankful I am that the Lord has sent you to us,” he said, clasping his hands together. “These little souls here have been begging me for years, literally, to learn the arts of fine music. And when Gabriel told me he knew just the person, I nearly – “

“What.. I’m sorry, Mr. Taterson,” Buffy interrupted him, a little bit confused, “Gabriel told you that I could be a … music teacher?”

“Yes, piano teacher, to be more specific,” Mr. Taterson kept smiling and Buffy’s eyes widened.

“But- “ she looked frantically at Gabriel, then at the tall man standing before her, “I don’t have any teaching experience!”

“Oh, that’s not necessary. You’re going to Julliard, for goodness sakes!” he laughed, “That’s good enough on my count.”

Buffy opened her mouth, “Oh,” then closed it again.

…………

London

Flashback

England - 1996

“Resounding gong, clanging cymbal, I am a resounding gong, a clanging cymbal,” William’s mother rocked herself to and fro, frantically, repeating senseless words over and over again. Her hair was long and knotted; it hadn’t been brushed for days. She wrung her hands, biting her lip, repeating her mantra again and again. “I have not love, I am nothing. I am nothing. I am nothing.”

“Mum?” William’s timid voice floated from the doorway where he stood, silently watching her. Day after day, he would quietly stand, trying to comfort his mother as she drifted further and further from the land of the sane. Her head snapped up, erect at the sound of his tiny voice. She screamed.

“Stay away! I surrender my body to the flames, and have not love! I gain nothing. I am nothing. I am a resounding gong!” her cries rang in his ears and he turned away.

Two-year-old Emma was standing off to the side, sucking quietly on her own thumb as she saw her brother draw near her.

“Willyum?” she asked, her eyes wide, glistening from frightened tears. William gave her a reassuring smile and knelt down to pick her up.

“What’s that, niblet?” he asked, holding on to her for dear life. She was beginning to get too big for his small, twelve-year-old frame.

“Is mama kay?” she sniffed a little and wrapped her miniature arms around William’s neck. He closed his eyes and sighed.

“She will be, Emmy. Soon, she will be.”

She didn’t understand his words, but let them comfort her anyways. Before she drifted off, she mumbled a sloppy “I lubb you” into his ear.

End Flashback


“No more,” Spike begged in a hoarse voice, refusing to look his doctor in the eye. “Please… not tonight” his voice trailed off in a whisper.

Dr. Travers sat still, looking at his patient’s hunched form before nodding. One by one. This was an improvement.









....................

A/N: The next chapter will be focused on Spike... it's going to be a great, great deal darker than what he's experienced already... so be warned.

A/N:

Sorry about the delay… Here’s the deal, basically:

I’m 17 – a Junior in high school – which means that being online, writing, or doing anything else other than studying for AP’s, subject tests, finals, and SAT’s is considered a crime. Especially with my parents being as strict as they are…

That, and they also happened to read a little bit of “Ain’t Love Grand” (because I left it up on the computer) and completely freaked out. Ugh, I can still hear the screaming… “THIS IS COMPLETELY INAPPROPRIATE, YOU SHOULD BE STUDYING INSTEAD OF WRITING THIS TRASH”.

That lead to this major fight… mostly me telling them that they can’t completely dictate my life – which is a lie, since they totally can – and that I was going to do whatever makes me happy. That lead to me being kicked out of the house for a little bit, blah blah blah, drama drama drama, … yeah. And I don’t even understand why they’re making such a big deal of it… it’s not like I sneak out of the house and party all night long, every single night… I’m just WRITING. Which most parents would consider a good thing, right?

Gah, whatever. So I’ll update whenever I can… most likely it’ll be after AP’s… so that’ll be mid-May.

Now that I’m done ranting… here’s your chapter guys. Hope you like it.

Chapter 19 Bye-bye Baby

New York City

“I can’t believe you!” Buffy exclaimed the second they were out of earshot and were walking through the alleyway that was just starting to darken as the sun began to go to sleep. They walked out into the main streets and were greeted with glittering lights and the buzz of cars and people walking every which way – New York City’s nightlife at it’s dawn.

“Is that… a good ‘I can’t believe you’ or a bad one…” Gabriel looked at the short blonde at his side and smiled timidly. She flung her arms around him as an answer and simply shook her head.

“I just can’t believe you’d do something like that for me,” she leaned against him as his arm went around her shoulders. “I don’t even know how to begin to thank you.”

Gabriel smiled to himself, pleased. “Well,” he began, a little grin forming at his lips, “I can think of a few ways…”

Buffy widened her eyes and shoved him away, giggling. “Pervert.”

“Hey now,” he held his hands out, surrendering, “I was gonna go for ‘let me take you out on a date’. I’d say you were the pervert…”

“A date?” Buffy asked incredulously. Gabriel shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shrugged.

“I mean, it doesn’t have to be a date if you don’t want it to be…” he gave her a sidelong glance and she couldn’t help but smile.

“Okay,” she nodded.

“Okay… you’ll – “

“Okay, I’ll go on a date with you.”

If the happy expression that lit up his face didn’t give him away, the giddy tilt of his steps surely did. Gabriel reached out to grab her hand as they made their way through the lit up sidewalks back to the college.



Flashback

England - 1996

The men were whispering outside the room, unaware of the two children crouched at the end of the hallway, listening to their every word.

“She believes she’s possessed,” one man said in a hushed tone while pulling out a white handkerchief and wiping the sweat from his brow.

“The Father refuses to perform an exorcism,” a bald man shook his head, glancing back in the room that was now as silent as death.

“Understandably so,” a third, elderly man said a little louder than the first two. “By God, he can’t just exorcise any crazy folk who claims there’s a demon in them! The church would surely look down upon malpractice as such!”

“Ah, but it’s all psychology, is it not?” the first man replied, “If she believes the demon has left her, she will be well again.”

“You cannot believe such folly as that,” the elderly man scoffed, shaking his head disdainfully. “A woman like her should be locked up, if you ask me.”

“Nonsense,” the bald man ejaculated and glared, “What about the children!”

“Foster homes,” was the reply, “We pay for them and for good reason, too. I also hear they have an uncle in God-knows-where.”

The door of the bedroom opened and the three men quieted down, turning simultaneously to look at the priest and the psychologist who had both walked out, looking grim. The priest rubbed his temple and walked down the hall to leave the small, dirty house. The psychologist lingered a while longer and nodded at the three men.

“Prolonged trauma,” he said plainly, putting on his black hat and straightening his coat. “It doesn’t seem too severe. She should get well in time.”

Then, he followed the Father out the door and the three men trailed after him.

William tightened his hold on his little sister as he waited for the last footsteps to disappear and for the door to close. Then, the yelling would surely resume and his mother would become the monster she claimed was inside of her.

Emma squeezed his index finger in her little fist and looked up at him.

“Mama better now?” she asked, wide-eyed and innocently. William shook his head, not knowing what to say. Emma’s hopeful expression darkened and she frowned.

“Don’t worry,” William stroked her hair and pecked her on the cheek. “I’ll take care of you.”

She brightened marginally, holding out a small pudgy hand towards him, “Pinky pwomise?”

William laughed and hooked his pinky in her small one. “Promise.”

And the screaming started up again.

End Flashback

Dr. Travers closed his eyes, remembering that day that could have changed the boy’s life. He knew that Spike didn’t realize and didn’t know if he would ever realize, but the doctor who had come out of the bedroom, the doctor who had cast his mother’s condition aside to something as simple as ‘trauma’, that doctor who deserved no credit at all, was him. And he remembered it all too clearly, going into the room with Father Nigel, seeing the wide eyes of the woman bound to the bed, hearing the hoarse voice ask for help, then turn to fury… but it was too long ago and he couldn’t change what was already done.

“I grew up faster than I should have,” Spike said, leaning back in the lounge chair on the balcony. They stared over the railing at the building across the street. The morning traffic was just starting to stir as the city slowly woke up to face a new day. The windows facing them reflected the morning sun as it began to rise.

Dr. Travers didn’t answer him. The cloud of guilt hovering over his head had descended upon his shoulders and his body slumped forward from the weight of it.

Spike sighed deeply and rubbed the back of his neck. “I loved my mom,” he said, “I really did. And I tried anything, but sometimes… I would just look into her eyes and be lost. So I tried to love Emma. Now I try not to think of her.”

“Does it work?” Travers asked, glancing over at the troubled man beside him. Spike made a sound that could have been a snort or a muffled cry and shook his head.

“Sometimes,” he said, reaching down into his pocket to pull out his lighter and pack of cigarettes. “Sometimes it’s numb and I can’t feel. Other times I dream about her. Then again, my dreams seem to be all bollixed up these days.” He scoffed and pulled a white cancer-stick out and put it between his lips and leaned forward to flick his lighter. “I see Buffy, I see Emma, sometimes they’re even the same person. And I dream of myself. When I was a boy.”

Flashback

England 1997

Her voice was thin and frail, but still, it was the first thing he heard as he opened the door to his flat when he came back from school. Sighing, he ignored his mother’s light singing as he tossed his schoolbag aside and made his way into the kitchen to fix a snack for himself and Emma.

“Emmy!” he called out, pulling two glass cups out from the cabinet and headed towards the sink to fill them up with water.

The singing stopped suddenly and was replaced by an eerie laughter. His hand froze over the faucet and his head turned towards the darkened hallway leading to the bedrooms. He strained his ear to try and listen for the tiny padding of footsteps that greeted him every single day. The laughing grew louder and the footsteps never came. And then the singing resumed.

“Baby sings a pretty song,
Heaven ain’t a ways too long,
Baby goes to God tonight,
Baby don’t put up a fight.”

Slowly, William set the two cups down and cautiously approached the narrow hall, dreading each and every step. As he drew closer, the singing grew louder, mingled in with a sickly giggle at the end of each stanza.

“Devil’s baby sings out loud,
Shush little babe, it’s not allowed,
Satan’s mama, vampire’s plague,
Breathing in a sickly sage.”

The floorboards creaked under his weight and his mother’s lilting voice paused for a moment and was followed by what seemed like a cackle. She whispered something unintelligible and started singing again. William saw a thin light coming from her door, which was cracked open. Through the small space, he could see her shadow rocking something and he took another step closer and held his hand out towards the knob.

“Lovely baby, Willy’s late,
He can’t save you from your fate,
Blood strewn all across the floor,
Limbs all tangled down the – “

The singing stopped immediately as he placed his hand on the wood of the door. William took a deep breath and shoved open the door.








A/N: …. cliffhanger…

A/N: All i've got to say about this is that this was the hardest thing i've ever had to write. This is the first draft... I found out that i really couldn't go back and detail it, which is something it desperately needs. And i couldn't because It just... disturbed me. It's certainly not the worst thing i've ever read, by far, but the reason it affected me so much was because it all came from my head. When i go over it, i read something different from what you guys read and if i write it all down... it's all layed out for me ... and somehow, psychologically, it frightens me that i could ever see something like this.

Chapter 20 Seeing Red

Los Angeles

“The smell,” Spike shuddered, closing his eyes as the images bombarded his mind for the first time in years. And they were as fresh as if they had come from yesterday.

Droplets of deep red dripped slowly from the walls, rolling thickly down to the pool on the floor…

Spike shook his head, trying to rid himself of the picture. “It smelled like… death. Stale… moist…,” he choked up and pressed his fingers to his temple.

Closet door half opened, a miniature arm hanging out, fingers bent backwards, hand twisted… He gasped for breath and his breathing became quicker and quicker as his heart raced at record speed as he relived the most horrifying day in his life…

…………

England 1997

The first thing William noticed about the room was its rancid, stale smell. It hung in the air like thick smog and he couldn’t help but gag. The second thing he noticed was the form of his mother settled in the center of the small bed.

Her long, graying hair was braided into two neat pleats falling down either side of her head. She was humming softly to a little doll in her arms which she was rocking back and forth like a little baby. When he entered the room, she looked up at him and smiled.

“Little Will,” she crooned, beckoning him closer to her bed. He hesitantly took a step forward, glancing around the room, uneasily. Something seemed wrong about her… about the room. Her voice was too sweet, too kind, the room was too dry, the air was too… That’s when he noticed that the doll in her arms was missing a head. The stump of the neck was ripped and torn pieces of thread hung out, violently pulled and mauled. His eyes widened and immediately flickered back to his mother’s face.

She was studying him carefully with her lips stretched into a calculated smile and there was a deadly gleam in her eyes that made him sick to his stomach. Her face glowed and her cheeks were flushed red, making her look healthier than she had seemed for ages, yet the pallid flesh of her neck and arms silently screamed death. Suddenly her eyes softened and her smile dropped a centimeter and then she became his mother again. The mother that had been absent for years and his heart yearned for contact.

“Mama,” he croaked, feeling the unshed tears of a lifetime start to pour out of his eyes. He ran the length of the room and catapulted himself in her arms, begging her to hold him and comfort him as she had when he was still a little boy. As she had before he was forced to grow up.

At first, her body went rigid and she held her breath, but soon, her arms went around his small frame and she held him close to her heart, loving him in a way only a mother could.

“My Will,” her voice cracked and lost the soft, leisurely tone it had had when she had been singing. The coughing came instantly, forcing her to break apart from him.

“Ma, are you okay?” William pulled away and looked at her face, concerned. She brought up a hand to his face and didn’t say anything.

Then, casually smiling, she lifted her palm above his head and slapped him hard. So hard that he fell over the bed and sprawled onto the floor, crying out in pain and surprise. He looked up at her from his position on the floor, silently asking her ‘Why, mama? Why?’, but she didn’t answer.

Instead, the deadly smile was back on her face as she moved to rock the doll again.

“Rockaby baby, on the treetop,” she sang, gazing down at the mutilated marionette in her arms. William looked away, squeezing his eyes shut and willing the wetness to go away.

The raven-haired doll’s head was three feet from his body, staring up at the ceiling with glassy, hazel eyes. It’s painted lips were curled up in a wicked smirk and somehow, without it’s body, it seemed to sing of evil and darkness. It’s blank eyes followed William as he approached it and reached out his hand to grab it by it’s hair.

“Wouldn’t touch the baby, Will,” his mother kept up in a sing-song voice from her perch on the pillows. “Baby bites.”

The pale, porcelain of the face shone and by some trick of light, deepened it’s maroon smile and lifted it’s little nose, daring him to touch it. When William’s hand made contact, the head rolled on it’s side, so it’s face was staring out at the closet door by the wall.

…………

“It knew my secrets. It new mum’s secrets. Such a little head that contained everything,” Spike gripped the arm of his chair hard. “Such a little head… and it spilled everything.”

Dr. Travers sat, shocked at the painting Spike was unveiling.

…………

The closet door was cracked open and something white was sticking out of it. The room became staler and the smell became worse. William held his breath and dared himself to go closer, but his body refused, planting itself down on the floor. It screamed at him to run away, out of the door, out of the horror story that it was trapped in, but he wouldn’t let himself listen.

“Mama’s got a surprise for little Willy,” his mother continued and William ignored her, rising unsteadily to his feet and holding his breath as he took a little step towards the closet. His hand rose up to wrap itself around the cold, metal doorknob and pulled it open.

He clamped his hands over his mouth as his stomach lurched up and out of his throat. He fell backwards, repelled and revolted at the sight before him. Blood streaked down the closet door, pooled along the floor, seeping out. Black blood smeared along the walls, staining clothes, giving off a rancid smell.

And a small arm fell from against the wall, tumbling and rolling across the closet floor until it crept to the edge of the wooden room. A small arm that was once alive. He couldn’t scream. All he could do was choke on his vomit and back away from the gross display.

In the shadows, a miniature torso of a little girl was propped up, sitting as still as can be as if frightened of the outside world. It didn’t move. It just rested itself against the wall, neatly, trickling blood onto the ground.

“She was a bad girl,” his mother sighed, sadly, turning to stare at William who was fixated on the horrid sight. Something inside him wrenched and his heart dropped to his feet. Emmy… Emmy…

“.. Emmy…” he gasped, coughing when he choked on his tears and wiped the bile from his mouth. No… His mother laughed at him and tossed the doll to the side.

“Emmaliene was very bad,” her voice taunted him from behind and laughed. “She thought William would come and save her! And do you know what I said?”

William couldn’t answer and she supplied for him, “I said, Why, Emma, what gives you such an idea as that? Little William is at school! He doesn’t want to save you! And then, oh this is too much, and then… she said that it didn’t matter. That you said you would always save her! Isn’t that ridiculous?” She laughed again and hiccupped. “Oops,” she brought her hand to her mouth and giggled, “pardon me.

“And William, you’ll never guess what she said next! She said… “ her voice grew louder and she raised her arms for dramatic effect, “She said that you LOVED her!”

The cackling went hysterical and she bent over from the apparent hilarity of it all. William whirled around, eyes wide, mouth open, but his voice caught in his throat. “You… you…” he sputtered, mind spinning in opposite directions and all he could see was a blur.

“I… I…” she mocked him, tangling her hands in her braids and threw her head back, laughing still, “what did I do, my dear? Why, I did what a mother should do!”

“No!” he screamed, finding his voice again, but it went away and the rest of his sentence came out a whisper, “you.. you killed her…”

His mother shook her head, smiling sympathetically, “No, I didn’t, darling,” she sighed, “you did. You killed her.”

He stood there, shocked, with tears streaming down his face, dripping down the collar of his shirt. He swallowed, tasting the awful metallic tinge of blood in his mouth. No. She kept shaking her head, sadly.

“You should have been there, dear,” her voice was full of resignation, but soon the wonder overtook her, “It was quite a party. Oh, the angels and the devils above all came together and we sang as one, darling. It was marvelous. And poor Emmy… all she could talk about was love! Oh, the irony, the irony! How disillusioned she was! Thinking that something like love could save her! Tell me, my dear, did you plant this horrid idea into her head? Hm? Answer me, William.”

“It’s true,” his voice cracked and his eyes clouded over. “It’s true! It’s not a horrid idea, it’s the truth – “

“Oh goodness,” his mother cut him off, bringing frail hands up to her chapped lips. “Don’t tell me you haven’t learnt! How could I call myself a mother! My love, you are dreadfully wrong.”

She smiled bitterly at him and moved slowly to climb out from under the covers. “You see, love doesn’t save anybody. It never has and it never will. It only kills!” she raised her voice and at the same time, moved her arms out from behind her back, revealing a sharpened knife she was clutching with her dear life.

“No… mama please,” his heart raced even faster and he whimpered, terrified. She screamed, a loud, unhumanly scream that rang to the core of the very earth as she raised her arm up. The knife gleamed under the dim light and the crusted blood and before William could dash away, it was struck, quick as a rattlesnake, sudden as a pouncing tiger.

His mother slashed at his face as hard as she could, but in her weakened state, managed to only knick his left eyebrow, stunning him. William immediately fell backwards and hit his head against the open closet door, disturbing it and making something fall and roll out.

“Love murders!” his mother screeched, pulling her hair with frenzied hands and her eyes widened, shifting back and forth. “It twists and turns and pulls and yanks and kills you until your insides are out and your head is off, it burns and sizzles you until your very skin rots off your barren body! William, love does not save – it only haunts.”

He didn’t have time to comprehend the object now lying next to his hand or the words reaching his ears. All he could make out was the deadly knife shuddering in a waving fist and that it was coming closer and closer to him.

“No, mama, please, no…” he cried, trying to back away from her, away from the knife.

“William, I must do what I am about to,” her voice softened and she sounded almost compassionate. “I have to save you. I have to save you like I saved Emma. I have to save you, I have to save you…” she repeated to herself over and over again, trying to convince herself.

William saw her fall to her knees and the knife clatter to the floor, falling from her hands as she brought them up to cover her face.

“Save you… save you… save you…” she chanted and William took a timid step towards her.

“Mama?” he asked, reaching out to touch her, but she jumped back.

“No, William, run!” she shouted, then screamed a blood curdling scream and William ran.

He ran and didn’t look back. He ran all the way into the kitchen and that was when the world became black and he felt himself tumbling to the floor. The last thing he heard was the shrill cry of his mother as she brought the knife into her stomach and stuck it into herself for the sake of love.

Because love did not save, it did not protect, it only brought pain. Love was the world’s number one serial killer.







A/N: As i've said before, it needs a lot more detail. I planned to intensify Emma's mutilated body in the closet, but i found that i just couldn't... at least not right now. Hopefully, you guys understand ...

On a brighter note, all the chapters after this will be much lighter. And give it 2-4 chapters before Buffy and Spike see each other again...

Chapter 21 Night Lights

Los Angeles

“They put me in a soddin’ children’s center after that,” Spike scoffed, playing with his thumbs. “That lot of wankers… thought I was traumatized or some shit. Guess I was, at that. See your mother off herself and it’d be crazy if it did nothing to you, yeah?”

His voice broke apart, and he glared at the table between him and Dr. Travers, trying to keep away the tears that were blurring his vision.

“They said – “ his voice cracked and he cleared his throat, “they told me to be strong. Be a man, they said. So your mum died, who cares? Many people’s mum’s die and they don’t go blubberin’ around about it.”

Spike couldn’t help it anymore. The tears rolled down and he swatted at them, trying to make them go away.

“The other boys there with me… they laughed. They made a fucking joke out of me. They didn’t care that I saw my mother and sister die… right there… they… they didn’t … couldn’t – “ his voice trailed off and his shoulders hunched forward.

Dr. Travers listened to the man beside him sob his heart out, reduced into the little boy that he was almost a decade ago. Something inside him broke and his own face withered ever so slightly at the strong display of emotion. It wasn’t everyday he heard a confession like that… it wasn’t everyday somebody opened up like that. Throughout his career, he had always wanted a breakthrough of this sort…

And now he was glad. Because if it had happened everyday, he wouldn’t have been able to handle it. Even right now, he wasn’t sure what to do, exactly. He couldn’t cry, he couldn’t offer comfort – for there was none to give that wasn’t too late to be given, he couldn’t do anything but offer a solid wall for Spike to lean on. And maybe offer advice,… but now was not the time.

He understood now where Spike had come from. The name, the attitude, the who-gives-a-shit persona, everything about this Spike character. William had died. Maybe not at that exact moment or that exact day, but most certainly in the center where he was supposed to recover. He had never recovered. The little boy had died and in his place was someone stronger. Someone named Spike. Spike had forgotten about his mother and his Emma, but William had not. And as the years passed, Spike started to wear off, to fall away as the wind blew, leaving a vulnerable little child who had never grown up in his place.

The clock ticked on and slowly, the heaving of Spike’s shoulders died down and the breathing grew steady and less interrupted by quick uptakes in breath. He sat up slowly and took the handkerchief that Dr. Travers offered him. The doctor had remained silent the entire time and Spike was grateful for that. He didn’t think he could accept any pity offered to him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his throat hoarse from crying.

“There is nothing to be sorry for, William,” Dr. Travers told him, gravely. Spike shook his head and held up a hand.

“No, not about that,” he said. He blew his nose into the handkerchief again then disposed of it onto the glass table on the balcony. “I’m sorry for what I’ve become.”

Dr. Travers turned to look at him and said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

“I’ve pushed everybody away, hurt so many people. I’m not a good man. I never was. I’ve completely forgotten… forgotten everything and every time I’m close to remembering… I run. I do things that I think help others, but really, I’m just protecting myself. I think I’m saving them, but it’s always been about me. I… I’m a coward. A selfish coward, and I don’t deserve - ”

“William, stop,” he was interrupted by Traver’s stern voice. “You keep blaming yourself for everything and you’ll go crazy. Yes, you haven’t been very tactful at times, but you mustn’t keep piling up a river of guilt. You’re not a dam, William. You’ll be flooded and then you’ll lose it. Now is the time to look back upon your life, see why things were the way they were, and fix them. Not regret them. Fix.”

…………

New York City

Spike would have loved this… Buffy thought as she made her way through the streams of people on the sidewalk. It was nighttime and the air had gotten chillier, making her shiver even through the thick material of her sweatshirt. The lights overhead were glistening and a mix of vibrant tunes were spouting out through the many restaurants, bars, and clubs. The honks of taxi cabs, chatter of people, clicks of heels and the opening and closing of doors all came together to create… music. New York City poetry. Spike could’ve written a rhyme about this… he would have blossomed in this city.

She couldn’t stop thinking about him. God help her, she couldn’t help wondering how he was doing, what he was doing, what he was feeling. And it had been two years already… bordering on three. She should have forgotten by now. He should have been a grinning memory of the past, long gone and shoved away in a drawer. Maybe even locked away. But, no, it wasn’t so. Somebody up there kept throwing his face in front of her again and again.

His voice kept singing in her head and every time some stranger smiled at her in the street, she saw his charismatic smirk in place. She saw his swagger everywhere, heard his accent in every voice, saw him sitting down at outside a McDonald’s holding out a can towards her…

“You okay, little lady?” the voice reached her ears and she turned around to see a thin, dirty main in a tattered leather coat, sitting on a stump outside McDonald’s, obviously trying to relive his old days. But the old days must have been expensive, because he now held out a tin can for her change.

“Yeah,” she heard herself say. The man grinned a toothy grin.

“Care to help out a fellow citizen?” he held the can up higher. Buffy dug into the pockets of her jeans and threw in some coins.

“Don’t do drugs,” she muttered. She wasn’t sure if the man heard her words or not, but if he did, he didn’t say anything.

She kept walking down the sidewalk until she reached the little restaurant two blocks down where Gabriel was supposed to meet her.

Buffy glanced at her watch. She was fifteen minutes late. Gabriel had offered again and again to walk with her, but she had declined. Why? She wasn’t sure. Maybe it was because she needed a walk. Maybe the walk might have flushed down the person who had been in so many of her thoughts recently.

But if she thought that a walk could erase his memory, she was a fool. Nothing could erase him. The pain of his betrayal was almost gone, but she still hurt. Did that even make sense? Buffy shook her head, answering her own question.

Gabriel was standing outside the Italian restaurant with his hands stuffed in his pockets and his back leaned against a brick column. Buffy had to smile when she saw him staring out of the crowd, obviously looking for her. He evoked nice feelings… feelings she hadn’t had in a long time. Happiness, mostly. He made her laugh when nobody else could – not even her roommates, Faith and Kendra.

There was so much about him that reminded her of Spike. The way he held open the door for her, the way he smiled whenever she did, the way he gave her surprises. But then again, there was a lot about him that was not like Spike.

For one, he was safe. She didn’t risk breaking her heart when she was with him. Probably, because she wasn’t in love… she wasn’t sure if she could even love again. But when she was with Gabriel… she felt comfortable. He felt like a good companion and a steady friend… somebody she could rely on. And that felt good, so she smiled as she came up behind him.

“Boo,” she whispered in his ear, tiptoeing to reach it. He jumped up, surprised and immediately relaxed into an easy smile when he saw her.

“Scared me,” he laughed, then reached out a hand to wrap around her waist and brought her close to him in a comfortable hug.

“Ooh, points for me,” Buffy giggled with him.

“And, points for me for… this..?” he asked as he drew out his other arm, holding out a beautiful single red rose in front of her. Buffy widened her eyes and smiled.

“Definitely points for romantic-guy,” she accepted the rose and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek.

Gabriel smiled happily as they walked into the restaurant arm in arm.

…………

“Sooo… “ Faith grinned and flipped on the light by her nightstand the second Buffy silently tiptoed through the door.

“Damnit,” Buffy muttered to herself, her hand still on the doorknob, “You’re still up?”

“Pftt… was asleep until your noisy ass sashayed into the room,” Faith rolled her eyes and sat up in her bed. “Come on, you’re not getting out of this one, B. Tell me every single detail… even the dirty ones.”

“There was nothing dirty- “ Buffy protested, only to be interrupted by an extra loud snore from Kendra.

Kendra rolled around and eyed her two roommates warily. “Do you people have to make such noise? Some like to sleep in the night, if you don’t mind…”

“Aw, c’mon sleepyhead,” Faith playfully tossed a pillow at an annoyed Kendra, who blocked it off with a tired flair of the arm, “don’t you wanna hear about Miss Buffy’s hot date?”

“No, I’d rather sleep,” Kendra yawned, but sat up anyways. Faith earned another glare from Buffy.

“It was… fun,” Buffy shrugged, pulling off her sweatshirt and unbuttoned her jeans as she walked to the closet to change into shorts.

“That’s all?” Faith asked, incredulously, “’fun’? Not ‘hot’? Not sexy, steaming, romantic – “

“It was fun. And nice,” Buffy went on, ignoring her. “He’s a nice guy and I like him.”

Faith rolled her eyes and Kendra groaned.

“Told you nothing fun to hear about,” Kendra grumbled, then pulled the covers over her face as she slid back down to sleep. Faith shook her head.

“Yeah, you like him…” Faith said slowly, raising an eyebrow, “just not in that mind-blowing, sex-having, hot-getting kind of way? You mean he didn’t get under your skin and just make you wanna pop?”

“Please… stop with the graphics,” Buffy cringed, emerging from the closet in her pajamas. “Anyways. Had that kind of feeling once… didn’t go so well for me.”

“Aw, B,… don’t let one bad experience get you down, girl.”

“Trust me… this wasn’t just one bad experience,” Buffy climbed into bed and pulled the covers over her head, turning away from Faith as Kendra had done a few minutes before. “Good night.”

Faith looked at the two lumps next to her who were trying to sleep and sighed.

“You guys are no fun.”

Then she flipped the light switch off and all was dark again. Faith let her mind wander off to thinking about Buffy. She was disappointed that Buffy still hadn’t been able to open up to her completely and tell her exactly what happened. All she got was that there had been a bad relationship, he left, she was sad, and that was it. The girl was obviously hurting still. Faith had hoped this Gabriel person would be the right one to get her roommate to start smiling more, but it seemed like that plan had not worked as well as she had expected… well…

“Hey, B,… if he didn’t work for you… you think I can have a go with him?”

The only answer she got was a pillow hitting the side of her face.

Chapter 22 Confrontation #1

Los Angeles

”She’s been feeding off of your weaknesses,” Dr. Travers said, leaning close with his hands clasped together on his knees. “She waters your fears, makes them grow inside of you like a parasite. If you don’t get rid of her, she’ll consume you until there’s nothing left. She might not know of your past, but she knows that there has been something terrible in your life and she’s been using it against you. This is not healthy, William.”

…………

Spike found himself outside of Drusilla’s apartment once again. He knew what he had to do, he knew he had a purpose for being there. But why was he still so terrified of what lay behind the door? Was it really the pale-faced woman he was so scared of? Her or… was it himself?

He stood there for a good while, contemplating whether he should knock or let himself in. The key was in his hand and he fiddled around with him, biding time.

“So you’re going to stand there all day or are you going to go in?” he heard the tired voice behind him and he turned around, surprised, to see an exhausted Drusilla leaning against the wall by the staircase.

Her face wasn’t it’s usual white, in fact, it seemed to be an off-shade of green. There were circles under her eyes and her hair was in a tangled mess, clinging to her neck and falling haphazardly down her back. He stared at her for a few moments, taking her in.

“Well?” she prodded, then shook her head and started walking towards him, moving her hands around her body, searching for her own key.

“What happened to you?” he barely registered himself asking her. Drusilla threw him a look and extracted the key from the back pockets of tattered jeans.

“The usual. You’d know, wouldn’t you?” she laughed haughtily and the smile stopped at her mouth. “Drunk, wasted, partied a little too much. It’s a routine.”

“You’re sober,” he noted, following her as she pushed her way into her messy apartment.

“You’re an observant puppy, aren’t you,” the sarcastic tone wasn’t missed. Spike couldn’t wrap his mind around this Drusilla. He had seen so many of her personalities, experienced her through drug after drug, drink after drink. But he had never known her sober and tired. Worn out. He knew it wouldn’t last and God help him, he felt sorry.

“Look,” she sighed, turning around to face him. “If you’ve come for a fix… you’ll have to come back later. Maybe in an hour to when I’m plastered again.”

He stared. “Who are you?”

She stopped moving abruptly. “Someone you’ll never meet again. Come back later, William. I need to be alone.”

He took another step closer to her and shook his head. “Nobody ever needs to be alone. I’ve been alone for a bloody long time and look where I am now,” he gestured with his hands at the old, familiar apartment and scoffed.

“This is touching,” she rolled her eyes and made her way into the kitchen, heading straight for the liquor cabinet. “I’m not a touching person. And I’m telling you that I want to be alone.”

“And I’m telling you that you need help,” Spike insisted, closing the door of the cabinet as soon as she had it open, making her whirl around to face him.

Her eyes flashed angrily and her face contorted until her eyebrows were nearly touching. If looks could kill.

“And who’s going to help me, my William,” she sneered, pushing him away roughly. “You? Oh, my love, you’re too confused to help anyone. You don’t even know yourself. How can you come here telling me I have to change? Some people are too far gone. You’re almost there.”

“Yes and no,” he wouldn’t let down, blocking her from her goal and knocking her down in the process. “You’re right. I was confused. I was lost. I was everything, pet. But somebody helped me… somebody picked up the pieces and look at me now – “

“Lost and confused as ever,” she glared.

“I’m on the right path, love,” he told her gently. She growled and kicked out as he took a step towards her.

“Great path you’re on,… why are you here? If you’re on such a wonderful path, this would be the last pit stop,” Drusilla got to her feet and fisted her hands, ready to fight.

“I’m here to let go,” Spike was getting angry. What did it take to get through to her? “I’m here to give you this,” he threw his key at her feet and pulled out papers from inside his coat. “I’m here to do this – “ the papers ripped in half and flew every which way, “ – I’m here to distance myself from you.”

She straightened her back and stared at him. Something in her eyes flickered and died; Spike tried to comprehend, but he couldn’t. After a moment, she shrugged as if what he had done was absolutely nothing.

“Fine. Distance yourself. Go,” she said, flatly, then narrowed her eyes and moved forward again. “But get the hell out of my way now.”

He could have stayed, could have tied her down, could have dragged her to a bloody rehab for all he was worth. But all he did was stare into her lifeless eyes for a few seconds and moved out of her way.

Some battles weren’t meant for him. He couldn’t save her, he couldn’t save the world, he could try with all his might, but there wasn’t enough of him to go around. Anyways, he wasn’t even done saving himself.

“Once you’re out that door, you’re never coming back! NEVER! Understand, William? You’re out! You’re nothing! You’re worthless, you… SCUM! You’ll never be anything because you’ll always be empty. Always!”

A bottle crashed to the floor, followed by thuds and smashing sounds and insane screaming. Her voice was broken, but it still pierced the air like an arrow and in it was the story that was her life.

No, he couldn’t save her.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t sorry.

…………

“And how do you feel about that?”

Spike sat back and laughed humorlessly. He ran a shaky hand through his tousled hair and looked ahead at Dr. Travers, who was sitting in his usual chair with one leg crossed over the other, serious expression in place.

“Oh, the stereotypical Pysch 101 question. Thought we were over and beyond that, doc,” he chuckled and shrugged. “What with the connecting and all that rot, yeah?”

“I’m serious, William,” Dr. Travers shot him a look.

“Oh. Right then,” Spike leaned forward and rocked on his knees a little bit, thinking deeply. “I guess I feel free. Just a little bit. Liberated, I guess? I hear this is how people feel after a baptism. How ironic.”

Dr. Travers didn’t laugh at the irony. Instead, he sighed and nodded.

“Do you feel like this was a good step on your part? Have you finished undone business, tied up all loose ends?” he asked, hand poised over a clipboard.

“For the most part…” Spike muttered and looked away.

“But…” Dr. Travers prodded him.

“I wish I could have helped her,” he admitted. “When I went to see her… she was different. Sober. Something she isn’t normally, at least 99 percent of the time. Huh. Think we almost had a soddin’ heart to heart. Funny, innit? But you know… devil’s drink got in the way of that.”

Spike stopped and had a thoughtful expression on his face before continuing. “For a while after that… I thought that maybe if I just… stayed a while longer, I could have helped her… could have changed things. But that’s all wishful thinking, I reckon. With a past like hers.”

“It would be hard,” Dr. Travers agreed, then said, “but nobody is ever incorrigible. It takes time. Hope is an important thing, William. When you lose it… “

“Yeah.”

…………

New York City

Professor Walsh was getting fed up. Buffy could tell by the way her lips were pursed together and the way her eyes seemed to cross each other. Gabriel must’ve gotten his looks from his father’s side of the family, she thought, amused, because she looks like… a rodent.

Buffy tapped the keyboard, nervously, waiting for the Professor to speak. When she did, it nearly knocked her off her bench.

“Buffy, have you ever been in love?” Professor Walsh asked, abruptly. Buffy blinked and turned away before slowly nodding. The Professor got up from her seat and quickly shooed her off the bench, taking her place at the piano.

She placed thin, wiry hands on the keyboards and started playing part of the Chopin Prelude Buffy was currently working on, closing her eyes as the melody flowed out of the piano like a fountain of clear water.

“When you play…” she said, moving her arms steadily across the keys, “you evoke the most human emotions from your listener. You play with passion… you play with feeling. You play with love, Buffy. Make love to it. Feel it in all of you. Just let it… overtake you.”

She stopped suddenly and shook her head. “Don’t just play the notes. Nobody pays to hear that. For God’s sake, all they have to do is to buy a keyboard that plays itself! When you’re on stage, Buffy… you’re an actress! So act! Nobody pays to see you read the words, they want to live through the story! Feel the emotions! Heavens, Buffy, have you forgotten all of that?”

“N-no,” Buffy stammered, rubbing sweaty hands on her old jeans.

“No? You used to play with the fire, dear,” the Professor’s voice softened marginally, taking in the girl’s saddened expression. “Get it back. Your performance is in only a little over a month. Don’t make a fool out of yourself.”

Too late, Professor, Buffy thought, miserably, …too late.

…………

A few days later…

“Do you…” Buffy paused as she turned to face Gabriel by the elevators of the Residential Hall. “Uh, do you wanna come up?”

A slow grin crept up his face. “You’re sure the roommates wont mind?”

“Faith and Kendra are going to be out late tonight. It’ll just be you – “ she took a step closer to him and ran a hand up his chest slowly, “ – and me.”

Gabriel gulped. He wasn’t expecting this. Up to this point, Buffy had been pretty adamant about taking their relationship slowly. Hell, they hadn’t even kissed yet. Nothing more than a peck, anyways. But here she was, looking up at him provocatively through her eyelashes with a seduce-me smile played across her lips, hand rubbing circles across his chest…

“Yeah,” his excitement got caught in his throat and his voice came out as a whisper. Buffy’s smile widened and she took a step backwards to press the up button, pulling him against her as she pressed her back to the wall.

“Kiss me,” her breath tickled his neck. Gabriel stared down at her hooded eyes and lowered his head to capture her lips. Who was he to deny a lady?

They hardly noticed when the doors slid open and two girls walked out, looking at them with little smiles and eye rolls. Buffy stuck her hand out to press her level as they tumbled into the tiny elevator. Gabriel’s lips were locked on hers and his tongue was slipping past her lips, into the warmth of her mouth.

Her hands went around his neck and entangled themselves in his hair to pull his head closer to hers. This is good… this feels good… why haven’t I done this before?… ran through her mind rapidly before she squeezed her eyes shut and forced all thoughts away. Buffy concentrated on the way he made her body feel, the way she was starting to heat up and want more.

Was this what Faith was talking about?

The elevator door opened behind her and they fell out. Buffy’s back hit the hard floor with Gabriel landing on top of her with a muffled “Oomph!”. Gabriel opened his eyes and scrambled to his feet, smiling sheepishly and held out a hand to help Buffy up.

She took his hand and winced, rubbing her sore head and twisting her back.

“Not the most graceful exit,” Gabriel grinned.

They wasted no time connecting instantly again and making their way slowly to her dorm room. She fumbled around in her pockets for a key and by the time she was about to say ‘screw it’ and just have him right out there in the hall, she felt the cool metal material in her hand and slid it into the lock.

“Got it,” Buffy flashed him a grin and backed her way into the room, keeping her eyes on him the entire time. The sides of his lips turned up slowly and his eyes raked her body, hungrily as she made her way to the sound system Faith had insisted on setting up.

But before she could find a nice, romantic station, Gabriel had sidled up beside her and was running both hands slowly up, under her shirt.

“Mmm,” she breathed in and turned around so she could face him, completely forgetting about the radio that was currently playing some country song she had never heard before.

Gabriel pulled her closer to him and lowered his head, slowly kissing up the side of her neck until he reached her earlobe and nibbled on it playfully. Buffy’s mouth opened as she gasped and shuddered, then pushed him off of her.

At his confused expression, she giggled, turned around, and sprinted to her bed before leaping onto it. She rolled onto her back and propped herself up on the headstand, grinning at him the entire time. Gabriel stood where she had left him, a little too surprised to speak or move.

“C’mon,” she beckoned, playfully, crooking a finger at him until he finally took a slow step towards her.

“ - And that was “My Sunshine” by Dancing Cowboys! We’ll be playing a few new songs after Dave gives us the weather forcast – ”

He climbed onto the foot of the bed, killing her with his slow movements. Buffy could practically hear her heart beating quicker in anticipation. Gabriel crawled up her body like a lion on the prowl before he was head to head with her and bent over to gently kiss her lips.

“ - Cloudy today with nice breeze, New Yorkers! 30% showers tonight and thunderstorms tomorrow. Wouldn’t plan on having a picnic, that’s for sure - ”

She raised her hands over her head and lifted her back from the headstand, giving him a look that he couldn’t mistaken. His hands went under her shirt and moved up, taking it with him until it lifted up her head and fell, forgotten by the side of the bed. She unbuttoned his blue, cotton shirt, kissing her way down until the last button was undone and it joined her discarded piece of clothing by the side of the bed, too.

“ - This is Chuck Swindler, giving you the 7-8 show in New York City. In just a moment, you’ll be hearing from newcomer band, “Dingoes ate my Baby”! They’re originally from a small town in California and just on their way to making it big! We’ll be playing “Love me like you mean it” in just a few moments! - ”

Buffy didn’t immediately catch onto the familiar band name. Even if she had, she probably wouldn’t have done anything about … Gabriel was making her feel things she hadn’t felt in a long time. And no way was he about to stop when his hands were playing at the buttons of her jeans and pulling them down…

“Met a girl on my very front porch,
She lit a fire in me stronger’n any torch,
Held a light by my heart,
Said ‘Baby, what’s your deal?’
Told her I loved her,
She made me feel…so”

But that voice made the world go cold and the fire freeze over and at the very second his voice came through the radio waves, Buffy’s universe came crashing down.

Chapter 23 Confrontation #2

New York City

Gabriel wasn’t quite sure exactly how he remembered to breathe. All he could think about was how soft and hot her bare skin was against him, how her breathing was ragged and how she gasped when he ran his hands down her stomach to the buckle of her belt. He knew he was burning up and he had never been so excited in his whole life.

But suddenly, her body went rigid and for the very first time, it didn’t move in synch with his as he struggled to pull her jeans down her thighs. He felt her shudder, but for some reason, he felt that it wasn’t because of something he did… his blood went cold as he raised his head to look at her face. Did he do something wrong?

“Buffy?” he asked, softly, his voice a little raspy from desire and he struggled to control himself. Her face had gone from flushed to pale in absolutely no time and it was scaring him. “Buffy… did I do – “

She raised her eyes and stared up into his dark, dark blue ones that were questioning hers and ran a gentle hand through his dark locks. I can’t do this to him, her head struggled with itself, fighting to keep the image of a certain bleached blonde face from rising to the surface. She couldn’t think about him while she was with Gabriel. She wouldn’t let herself.

“I’m sorry,” her voice was quiet and tinged with sadness. Buffy cupped his face with both hands and lowered his head down to hers, kissing him softly on the lips once, twice, lingering kisses that were sweet and comforting – nothing like the underlying passion in the ones before.

Gabriel sensed the change in mood and breathed a few times, slowly, trying to gain composure before lying down on the bed beside her and taking her into his arms.

“Is something wrong?” he asked her, stroking her hair when she buried her head into his chest. Her shoulders were shaking and he felt tears coming from her eyes onto his skin and held her tighter, trying to comfort her. He honestly had no idea what was happening, but all he knew was that the right thing to do would be to hold her until it passed.

“It’s not you,” she told him, then turned her head away from him, pushing away his arms. His eyebrows knitted together, confused and she shook her head. “I just need to get this out. And turn that off….” She nodded towards the radio before climbing to her feet and walking over to it to hit the power button as hard as she could.

The sound of a distant memory’s voice died out immediately and her heart pulled for a split second at the loss of connection. Her finger lingered on the round knob just a little longer before she forced herself to leave the stereo and go back to Gabriel, who was waiting for an explanation.

“Do you want to talk?” he asked her as she got back into bed and sat up against the headboard.

“Yeah,” She nodded.

Gabriel sat up as well. “Is it something that I – “

“No,” Buffy turned to him sharply and covered his hand with her own. She needed to tell him what bothered her. She needed to open up, but it wasn’t easy. After years of hiding a build-up of emotion, letting it all out was proving to be as difficult as it gets.

But she had to do it.

“About three years ago…”

…………

Los Angeles

The wooden door cracked open and Willow stood on the other side, wringing her hands in a apron she was wearing over a UCLA sweatshirt. Her eyes were red and worn out, signs of lack of sleep were evident in the drawn look of her face and the messy strands of hair sloppily pulled back.

“Hello, Red,” Spike greeted, lowering his eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eyes. She didn’t answer him, just pulled the door open wider, giving him just enough room to slid into the apartment.

“Oz is in the bedroom,” she said, shortly, turning her back on him and situating herself on the sofa in front of a spread of papers. Homework. Something Spike hadn’t seen since high school.

He only let himself stare at her going through her work for a few seconds before walking around, behind the sofa, to get to the bedroom at the other side of the small apartment. Something in the kitchen beeped and he heard Willow scramble to her feet and race to the oven. Spike couldn’t help but sigh. Oz was right when he said that this wasn’t the life for them.

The bedroom door was halfway open and Spike slipped into the darkened room. The desk lamp was on and Oz was sitting on a chair, busy filling something out. When he heard Spike enter, he looked over his shoulder.

“Hey, man,” Oz greeted, putting the pen down on the desk and getting to his feet.

“Hey,” Spike nodded to him and stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. He paced over to the bed in the corner and sat down in it, looking around the room, trying to think of what he was going to say. The walls were bare – it seemed as though all their photographs and posters were packed away.

“So, uh,” He finally said, focusing his gaze on Oz, “Packing?”

“Seems like,” Oz nodded. Spike nodded too and they fell into silence again. Though they had been friends for a long time, the tension in the air was evident and Spike nervously tapped his feet. Through the closed door, they heard Willow’s frustrated shouts mingled in with a loud clanging sound.

“She’s baking?” Spike asked, nodding towards the door. Oz shrugged.

“Think so,” he said, thoughtfully. “I think it relaxes her.”

“Oh.” The silence resumed as Willow cursed vehemently. Right. Real relaxing.

There was a time when the two of them were happy and carefree. Spike remembered it clearly, though now it seemed to have been a lifetime ago. They always laughed, they were always touching somehow, linked together by a pinky, clasping hands, arms slung around a shoulder, a waist. It was clear they were in love.

And they still were, he realized. Willow was right in the other room, ready to support Oz in whatever he choose to do. Why couldn’t I have done this with Buffy? Then he remembered pushing her away, backing up, telling her he didn’t love her, hurting her, himself, and everything they stood for.

Oz picked up his pen and twirled it in his finger while he studied his friend who seemed to have drifted off in thought. The air conditioner grunted and died again.

“I never asked you what you planned to do,” Spike said suddenly. Oz stopped twirling his pen and placed it neatly on top of the stack of papers.

“I applied to college,” he replied. Then added, “In Sunnydale.”

“Both of you going back?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

Spike didn’t know why it was so hard to talk to him. Maybe it was the apology he had planned out in the back of his mind. There was so much to say, yet words seemed not enough. They jumbled things up and mixed up with each other. He started understanding why Oz chose not to use them. His words sounded tacky in his mind and he knew it would come out worse than how he had played them out.

“What about you?” Oz asked him after a moment. Spike rubbed the back of his neck.

“Don’t rightly know,” he measured his words carefully. “School was never the place for me. I’m thinking of going solo. I canceled the contract with Drusilla, did you know? Ripped it to pieces…”

“I heard,” Oz cracked a grinned and the heaviness lifted marginally. “I heard she’s been calling Angel, trying to get him to change your mind.”

“He say no?”

“What do you think?”

They laughed and the apology passed with no words.

“If it’s worth anything,” Spike started, “I’m really – “

“Yeah, I know.” Oz nodded, cutting him short and smiling. “Talk to Angel. He needs it.”

The silence was comfortable this time. The noise in the kitchen had died down and Spike wondered if Willow had went back to her homework. He pushed off the bed and stood up slowly.

“I have to go,” Spike said as Oz got to his feet.

“Okay.”

The air conditioning whizzed and seemed to cough and sputter at them. There were words left unsaid, but they both knew what they were. That was the thing between them – what made their bond what it really was. It was a level of understanding that words could not reach. Words weren’t necessary. Spike straightened out his jacket and walked towards the bedroom door to leave.

“Hey,” Oz’s voice stopped him and he turned. One word could convey so much. Oz told him to take care of himself, keep his head up. He told him that he could always go to him. Friendship. Something valued above most. Spike smiled.

“Yeah?”

“After our album goes public, what do you think you’re gonna do?”

Oz was smiling and Spike saw a light open down another path. A hopeful path. So many of the steps he had taken had been in the dark or the mist or down an uncertain trail. So many steps lead to pain and hurt and heartache. And here was one with a light. A light that seemed to expand in his heart and warm it.

He grinned as he backed out.

“I think I’m going to see about a girl…”

…………

New York City

Buffy had fallen asleep curled up against his chest. She’s so beautiful… , Gabriel thought, running his hand up and down the smooth skin of her back. Talking about her first love exhausted her and before falling asleep, she had wrapped her leg around him and snuggled her warm body as close as it could get to his.

He wanted her. Badly. There was no doubt about that. But then, at the same time, he realized she had been hurt. The idea of sex seemed to bring up a terrible memory for her and when they did it, he wanted it to be about the two of them. Not some ex-idiot who couldn’t see a diamond when it was shoved in front of his face. Buffy shuddered in her sleep and Gabriel tightened his hold on her and kissed the top of her head.

Gabriel thought about the man who had left her heart broken and didn’t know what to think. He wanted to kill him, for one. Strangle him for hurting the girl so badly. But then, he wanted to hug him for leaving her because if he was still around… Gabriel looked at Buffy lying on the bed next to him.

She had taken off her jeans and they were both on their underwear, intertwined on a nearly twin-sized bed. Her skin glowed where the moonlight touched it and he carefully moved his hand to trace a finger lightly where her skin was illuminated. At the contact, she seemed to sigh softly and he felt her lips curl slightly against his chest. God, he wanted to make love to her.

He palmed her shoulder and gently rubbed her upper arm, letting his thumb brush against the lacy bra barely covering her breasts. She stirred a little and shifted her leg, rubbing it against him.

Suddenly, she tilted her head until her mouth was against his ear and whispered two words that made him hard and drove him crazy.

“Touch me…” her breath warmed his ear and she licked the lobe gently. Gabriel stared at her wide open eyes in disbelief.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Was. But now I want you.”

She twisted her body and pushed him on his back, getting up to a sitting position and straddling him across the waist. Gabriel’s mouth went dry as she unclasped the hook of her bra and let it dangle in front of her.

“Buffy…” he tried to speak, but he couldn’t really think straight. “Are you sure…”

“Does it look like I’m sure?” she smiled and let her bra drop away down. “You listened to me, you held me…”

He was so mesmerized, he didn’t even realize she had taken off her panties until she was just about to lower herself down on him…

The door opened and the lights streamed on in the room, brightening everything and blinding both of them. There was a shove and a push and a banging sound followed by three girls screaming and a guy widening his eyes in disbelief.

“Oh, fuck!” Faith yelped and stopped in her tracks, making Kendra topple over on top of her.

“What you stop for – oh,” Kendra made her own little shriek. Buffy realized what was happening and screamed as well, making a dive for the sheets. Gabriel was disoriented and still blinded by the lights.

“Sorry!” Faith pushed Kendra into the hallway and the door slammed after them.

Chapter 24 Hope

New York City

Buffy whipped out a worn handkerchief from the pocket of her jeans and wiped the dust off of the old, ivory keys of the grand piano. She would never have thought that she would enjoy teaching piano as much as she did, but after a week with the children of "Little Hearts," she considered herself completely converted.

In any minute, her first student of the weekend would walk in…

"Sorry I'm late," a disgruntled teen pushed through the door and threw her backpack to the corner of the room.

Startled, Buffy straightened and set the dusty piece of cloth to the side. The girl, Lisa, was nearly fourteen and one of the oldest students she had. Lisa dropped her folder of music on the stand and plopped down on the wobbly bench.

"It's fine," Buffy smiled, a little flustered. This was only the second lesson she had with the girl and she was starting to get the impression that Lisa didn't really want anything to do with music. Unlike the other hopeful students, she had a jaded, tired look in her eyes and always seemed to be glaring at something.

"So what do we do today?" Lisa prompted after a bout of awkward silence. She flipped open her folder and her sheet music fell out, scattering to the floor. "Oops."

They both moved to pick up the fallen music and when everything was situated again, Buffy asked her a question, "Why are you here?"

"Huh?" Lisa looked confused, "I'm here for piano lessons."

"No. Why are you really here?"

There was a slight pause and Lisa looked away. Finally, she sighed. "What did Mr. Taterson tell you about 'Little Hearts'?"

"Uh…"

"Did he go through his whole spiel about 'oh! Poor abandoned kids! Charity! We're good!' and whatever?"

Buffy stared and nodded, her curiosity mounting. Becky shook her head.

"Well, it's not," she said softly. "If that was all it was, they'd be out of money, business, whatever they have going for them. They'd be washed out. True, people donate to the 'Little Hearts' cause, but a lot of their funding comes from the state to rehabilitate the Juvenile Detention Center." She pointed to herself and smiled sardonically. "And that's me. Juvy. Right here."

Buffy didn't know what to say and luckily, she didn't have to because the girl continued with her story, "My boyfriend, he was involved with.. you know. Stuff. My parents kicked me out of my house, so I was living with him and his brother and one morning they're both gone and I find this note on the refrigerator. He said he'd come back for me, but a few seconds later, some cops broke through the door… voila! Here I am."

Lisa picked up one of the papers that had floated to the ground. The writing on it had been faded to a dull blur of black, the edges wrinkled and folded. She handed it to Buffy and sighed, "I've been waiting for a year. He'll come back, I know he will. Everybody tells me to stop getting my hopes up and sometimes, it's hard to hold on, but I know miracles can happen."

Buffy felt her own eyes tearing up as she read the shadow of a scrawl that the girl had kept…

Lisa, I love you. I love you more than anything and one day, I'll be back. I'll take you everywhere you ever wanted to go, show you everything you ever wanted to see. Just believe in me…. There's a few things I need to take care of, but don't ever forget, I'll come back for you. Love, Jeromy

It was so naïve. She almost forgot that once upon a time, she had believed that she could see and explore the world with her lover. From miles back in her mind, one scene replayed itself as she handed the tattered piece of paper back to the teary girl at the piano…

You and me, love,… we’ll explore the whole world. Anywhere your heart desires. Just name it and I’ll bring it to you.

How long had it been since she had thought of him? All of a sudden, the feelings felt all too fresh, the love, the hate, the tears she had endured… it all came rushing back. She looked at Lisa, who still believed in miracles, and bit down on her own sobs.

…………

Los Angeles

Spike stared at the wallpaper outside Angel’s apartment. Considering the last confrontation they had, he had a vague feeling this wasn’t going to be easy.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“Angel, I’m sorry I ruined your life and messed everything up. Everything went wrong, this wasn’t the way I expected it to be. I know you’ll never want to speak to me again, but I just want you to know that… I love you. Like… uh,… you know, a brother – oh, bloody fuck!” He swore to himself and threw his hands up, exasperated. “And I call him the big Poof…”

He was interrupted by the sound of a ruffling bag behind him and whirled around to see Angel with two grocery bags in each arm, giving him a slightly bemused look.

“Oh, no,” Angel raised his eyebrows, “don’t stop on my account. Please continue… I really liked that part where you’re sorry about ruining my life. That pretty much sums it up, don’t you think?”

“Goddamnit, Peaches,” Spike glared at him, “Don’t you see I’m trying to – “

“Yeah, Oz told me you’d be here to see me.” Angel shrugged, then shifted his bags to dig for his keys in his pockets. “A little help here…?”

“Right,” Spike stepped forward to take a bag.

The keys jingled as Angel found them and shoved them into the lock a little too forcibly. The tension in the air was palpable. It was almost funny. They had been friends for years, fought more times than what was countable, and here they were, both not sure what to say to the other.

The door pushed open and they both staggered in, the weight of the bags unbalancing both of them.

"Watch it," Angel said, monotone, when Spike accidentally bumped into him.

"Sorry 'bout that," he mumbled and stepped back.

Without a word, Angel brought his groceries into the kitchen connected to the living room and began to throw things carelessly into the refrigerator. Beer, fruits, bread, pre-packed brownies, potato chips…

"Uh, are you sure the chips go in the fridge?" Spike interjected unsteadily. Angel paused, then tossed the chips onto the counter, turned around and glared.

"You came here to say something to me? Something along the lines of 'I'm sorry'?" Angel lifted an eyebrow, "Well hurry up and get to it so I can throw you out."

Spike faltered for a moment, taken by surprise at the contained anger visible in Angel's tone. "Right then. You've never been one to diddle-daddle have you, Peaches? Ever since high school, it's been - "

"You've got two minutes."

"Uh, yeah. I'm sorry."

Spike stopped and Angel waited. When it became evident that Spike wasn't going to go on, Angel started tapping his fingers across the counter, "Okay? You're sorry… and…"

"Oh! So you want the whole deal, is that right? The whole getting on my knees bit and groveling about how wrong I was to drag you and Oz along with me, get you involved in a buggered up situation, tear you from your soddin' dreams, is that it?"

"Get out," Angel narrowed his eyes and set his teeth. Spike's shoulders sagged.

"I know what I did, Angel," Spike said softly. He was uncomfortable with the situation but the guilt weighing down on his shoulders made him stay at it. Angel tensed up at the use of his real name.

Spike paused for brief second, then continued, "Look, I didn't know it'd be like this. I was fucked up… confused. Hell, I'm still pretty bloody confused. But one thing I know is that I never meant to ruin your life. When we - this band - started out, I thought it would be brilliant. And being the complete idiotic tosser that I am… I screwed up. That's not new. I screwed up so many times… and… I'm sorry."

Crying is for weak gits… like Angel, Spike told himself trying to reign in his tears. He focused on the potted plant by the kitchen. The terracotta pot was cracked and caked with dirt, the leaves were withered and black… he shifted his gaze to the battered couch and realized that it wasn't much of an improvement. Still. It was better than looking into Angel's eyes.

Finally, Angel spoke up, "Spike, you're first and foremost my friend, okay? Granted, I'm not happy with you right now - actually I'm really pissed off at you right now - you're still my buddy. The whole deal with the band and Drusilla? I don't regret it. It was a hell of an experience and I figure it was something we all had to go through to move on."

Spike flinched at the name Drusilla, but his uneasiness only lasted for a split second. Angel continued, "It's just a part of our lives, you know? Another phase. And after this month… we'll be moving on."

"Where?" Spike asked before he could stop himself. Angel's eyes gleamed a little bit and a hint of a smile crept up on his lips.

"New York City."

Spike widened his eyes. "New York," he repeated. Buffy's in New York… he vaguely remembered from a conversation with his Uncle.

"Yeah," Angel nodded, "It's this city up east, have you heard of it?"

They grinned, relaxing. Spike tilted his head, "Yeah, I hear it's a wild scene and then some. Might check it out myself one of these days."

"Well," Angel drew out slowly, as if he was trying to make a decision in his head and wasn't quite sure if he was well enough to make it, "You can come with me…"

"To New York?"

"Yeah."

They were both surprised. Angel wasn't exactly certain that he was thinking right and Spike was thoroughly shocked that he had been offered to go… with Angel of all people. It was in that moment when they both felt their friendship on the way to repair.

Spike weighed his options; Los Angeles, Sunnydale, New York. Los Angeles held nothing but pain, Sunnydale held nothing but the weight of his past, but New York…

New York held Buffy and a new opportunity.

"I think… I think that might be a good idea," Spike answered, slowly.

Angel shrugged, "What can I say? I'm just loaded with great ideas. But Spike? When we're in New York, we're playing by my rules. Is that clear?"

"Crystal."

He had a girl to see about… Pushing aside all the negative connotations the idea stirred up, Spike allowed himself to bask in the wonder of seeing Buffy one more time. Hell, she probably still hated him… she might have even forgotten him completely, but just the gift of looking at her again? That was enough to make his future a million times brighter.

I can win her back. I know I can…




.............
Not too long until they meet again... maybe 1 or 2 more chapters!

There's a poll at the bottom of this chapter pertaining to what you guys want to see... I'm officially trapped between two scenarios, both already pre-written, and am seriously not sure which one I want to go with, so I'm leaving it up to you guys... but enjoy this chapter, then leave your choice in the form of a review or an email. Thanks! And enjoy!


Chapter 25 Goodbye to you, Hello to Life

New York City

Two weeks after the unsuccessful encounter in Buffy's dorm - in shorter words, the failed attempt at sex - Gabriel and Buffy's relationship had pretty much gone back to what it had been. They went on cozy dates a few nights out of the week, held hands down the sidewalk, shared sweet parting kisses as they went their separate ways. The most passionate night they had shared together was left hanging in the air, unspoken of and unmentioned.

The thing was, Gabriel wasn't sure if he was satisfied with how things were just forgotten. He had gotten so close to Buffy's fire, seen the heated look in her eyes, felt the desire in her skin… now that he had gotten a taste, he didn't know if he could just simply ignore it. Every single minute they spent together, he was reminded of what her breasts felt like under his palm, how her lips had hungrily ate at his and he wasn't certain if the simple, sweet kisses were enough anymore.

That was why he was standing in the middle of the one place he despised most in the world.

The mall.

Too many people… too many people… too many people, his mind complained but he ignored it as he scanned the row of stores until he spotted Tiffany's on the second floor of the brightly lit shopping center. Buffy's premiere was in a week and he had his mind set on getting her something. An expensive something.

Once he stepped foot in Tiffany's, he was ruthlessly bombarded by glittery jewelry and ridiculously high prices. Swallowing hard, he conjured up an image of Buffy's face, took a deep breath, and forced himself to walk in, ready to spend his entire paycheck just to make her happy.

………

Los Angeles

"Well," Spike stuffed his hands into the pocket of his black jeans, "I guess this is it, Doc."

Dr. Travers looked at him with a grave, weary expression on his face. The bright sunlight flooded in from the loosely drawn blinds of the window, casting stripped lines throughout the psychologist's office.

"New York, then?" his doctor smiled briefly, "Are you sure that it's the right decision, William?"

"If you're asking me if I've dissected it from every possible angle, turned the decision inside out, and pondered it for days… then no, I'm not sure if it's the right decision," Spike bit his lips and shook his head, slightly. "I'm not exactly known for my decision-making skills. That's a given."

Travers nodded. "Then do you feel that it's the right decision?"

After a short pause, Spike slowly answered, "Yes."

"And where do you feel it? In your gut, your head, or your heart?"

"In my… bloody hell, I don't know," Spike let out a sharp laugh and shrugged, "I feel it everywhere, mixed in with a million other feelings. It's hard to suss out what is what… I feel that it's right, but at the same time, I'm scared shitless."

"What's are you scared of? The fact that you'll be all the way across the country or the fact that you're going to see Buffy again."

He had to give him that. Dr. Travers had a way with summing up everything going on in Spike's head and laying it out in the open, ready to be analyzed. "Well… both," he answered, hesitating for a moment. "I'm scared of what her reaction will be when she sees me again."

Spike chuckled bitterly and turned his head to stare out the window, continuing. "I wouldn't be surprised if she threw her purse at me and told me she never wanted to see me again."

The realization of what had happened between them had been slowly coming down on Spike's shoulders and, as each day passed, the thought of not going to New York and not getting the rejection he knew was coming to him was becoming more and more appealing.

Her desperate eyes as she breathed out, "But, I love you…"
Him, clenching his jaw, turning away and telling her, "You don't know what love is."

Him, dying inside, trying to believe the words that were coming out of his mouth as he said, "You're young. You couldn't have expected this to be forever."

Her, begging him silently to tell her the opposite as she whispered, "Tell me you don't love me…"
Him, meaning the opposite, but forcing himself to say, "I don't love you."
Her eyes…

Her, lips drawn in, eyes dangerously flaming, anger seething from every inch of her body, pushing him away and grinding out, "Don't. I don't want to hear it. I don't ever want to hear from you ever again… You're beneath me."
Him, knowing she was right. Not doing anything about it.

Just remembering the words exchanged, the emotions ripping apart, the world shattering… it was enough to send him running away. He had pushed her and pushed her and had finally pushed her over the edge. Did he really expect her to welcome him with open arms?

He forced the thoughts out of his head. What he had done to her?… It was beyond wrong. It was absolutely wretched and for a while, he had wanted to kill himself for it. In a way, he had killed himself. For a year, his self-pity, his drug-abuse, his love to self-destruct had been eating at his heart slowly and slowly and for once, everything was clear.

The only way he could save himself was to go see her. He had to. And if she ordered him out of her life, that would be fine.

Would it? Would it really be fine? Would you be okay with never seeing her again? there was that voice again. That voice which made him question his own judgment.

"I have to try," he looked back into Dr. Travers's patient eyes. The doctor smiled at him calmly and offered him his hand.

"You have grown up," he smiled when Spike reached out to grasp his outstretched hand. "You've changed. Never forget it. Remember William, never let your past make you who you are, never let your decisions guide you, and never melt into your surroundings. You're a strong man. You control whatever happens. Remember that, even if you do not remember anything else we've been through for the past few months."

Spike pulled on the older man's hand and reached over to envelop him in a tight hug. "I'll miss you, Doc. And I'll never forget what you did for me."

The doctor stood stiff in the embrace and patted his back awkwardly, "No… no, it was nothing at all. I did nothing. I just opened your eyes and broke down your walls. You did the rest."

…………

When Spike stepped into the sunlight of Los Angeles, he smiled. For some strange, unknown reason, the day seemed to shine even brighter.

…………

A few days later…

Angel stared in disbelief at the constipated expression on Spike's face. The shorter, peroxide blonde's grip on the armrest was so tight that his knuckles looked shockingly white and his eyes were squeezed shut.

"We're preparing for descent," the captain's voice rang out cheerily over the intercom and Spike looked like he was about to hyperventilate.

"Uh, you don't look so great, man," Angel furrowed his brow. "I didn't know you were afraid of flying…"

"Shut up, you wanker," Spike breathed out between clenched teeth, "Not bloody afraid of flying. It's the going down part that… irks me."

"Uh-huh," Angel lifted an eyebrow and shrugged, leaning back into his own seat as the airplane slowly descended down to New York's LaGuardia airport.


New York City

"Wait, where are we going tonight?" Spike asked for the tenth time since the plane had landed. Angel rolled his eyes and looked over at the baggage claim sign.

"To a concert," Angel told him, crossing his arms over his chest and walking over to their flight number to wait for their suitcases.

"What concert?" He was curious now. Angel was always the silent, I've-got-something-on-my-mind-and-I'm-not-telling-you-what type of bloke, but today, he seemed… more so.

Angel sighed heavily and rolled his eyes, "You'll see."

"I'll see what?" Spike prompted, reaching down to the baggage carousel when he spotted his bag.

"I'm not telling you. You'll see."

Spike decided not to push it and Angel was relieved. He had received news from Sunnydale that Buffy was going to be performing that night in the Juilliard Concert Hall and had wasted no time in reserving seats. But it wouldn't do to tell Spike that…

No, it wouldn't do at all. Spike would have to be adequately surprised.

………
………
………

"Want a banana?" Faith asked, holding one up in front of Buffy's face. "You look nervous. It'll help. Potassium and whatever shit, so they say."

Buffy shook her head and turned to the bathroom mirror. They were in the concert hall and it was half an hour until she had to perform. And goddammit, the butterflies in her stomach would not let up.

Faith's gaze met hers in the mirror and she smiled reassuringly. "You'll do great, B," she wrapped a strong arm around Buffy's shoulders and gave her a squeeze. "And you look pretty fuckin' amazing, if I say so myself."

She smiled proudly at the black dress she had leant Buffy. It was cut in a halter with a plunging neckline and a low back. The satiny material flowed over her body, clinging in just the right places, accentuating her curves and flattering her figure. Granted, it was a little too long, but the heels she had also leant the jittery concert mistress compensated for it.

Her blonde hair was swept up into a bun with a pin made of tiny crystal studs that matched with the long earrings and necklace she wore. Kendra had helped with the makeup, bronzing her cheekbones and eyelids, giving her a soft natural look and making her glow.

"I don't feel as amazing," Buffy muttered, nervously flexing and unflexing her fingers. "My palms are sweaty and freezing at the same time, my insides feel like they're about to come out, I think I'm going to - "

"Stop it," Faith poked her before reaching into her purse and pulling out some gloves, "Here, wear these."

Buffy took them and smiled, gratefully. "Thanks. You're such a lifesaver. I hope you know that."

"Nah, I know you'd do the same for me," Faith grinned. "And what are friends for, anyways?"

Buffy laughed lightly and shook her head, "God, I don’t think I've been this nervous since… ever."

Before Faith could respond, the door squeaked open and Kendra poked her head in, "Come on, Buffy," she said in her exotically accented voice, pushing the door wider, "they are wanting you in the backstage."

Buffy took a deep breath and said a quick prayer. Faith patted her on the back and guided her out of the bathroom.

In less than half an hour, she would be performing in front of a crowd of hundreds for the first time in her life. Was she ready?

She really, really hoped so.




Author's Note/Poll:

Okay, I know that in the summary of this story, it says "ten years later," and some of you are probably wondering why they're meeting after just 3 years.

The fact of the matter is that my original intentions were to have Buffy and Spike meeting when Gabriel was out of the picture (thus, 10 years)...

But, of course, my ideas kind of changed as I kept writing it and now, I'm having them meet when Buffy is still dating Gabriel.

So now, there are two courses that this story can go and I've drafted them both out. I don't want to give too much away, but I want to know where my readers want this to go. Either way, Spike is going to have to work HARD, HARD, HARD to gain Buffy's affections back... but here are the choices:

1) They meet right here, right now, while Gabriel's still in the picture. Spike tries to win her back.

2) They meet right here, right now, while Gabriel's still in the picture, but Spike decides to give her room. Then, in ten years (as was the original intention), Gabriel and Buffy are broken up and Spike tries to pursue her then.

I'm partial to option 1, but I want to see what you guys think. I might go with what the majority wants and I might not, because it's ultimately what I feel is best... but right now, I just want to get an idea.

Anyways... I hope you enjoyed that chapter and review!

Thanks for everybody's opinion! Hopefully, you guys'll like where I'm taking this... I think you will. And so... here it is!


Ch. 26 Spotlights

New York City

Spike tugged at the top button of his shirt, uncomfortable with the whole "dress nice" deal that Angel had surprised him with five minutes before leaving the old, grimy hotel they were staying at. The button popped out and he exhaled in relief. The blue button-down seemed all wrong. It's sleeves were too long, it's collar was too stiff, he looked down and furrowed his brows at the tucked-in hem before reaching down and pulling his shirt out of his jeans. His nice jeans.

"Wont you relax?" Angel rolled his eyes, exasperated at the fidgety man next to him. Spike glared.

"My belt is too tight," he grumbled, his fingers moving to unbuckle it. Angel slugged him lightly on the arm, stopping him.

"We're in the middle of the sidewalk, Spike," he said when Spike turned to glower at him, "You can't just… adjust yourself in the middle of a sidewalk, okay?"

"Right," Spike nodded, then went back to his task of unbuckling and loosening his belt anyways. "I was never one to care about appearances, Peaches. Didn't you know that?"

When Angel just let out an annoyed sigh, Spike asked, "Where are we going anyways? You never told me."

"You'll see," Angel repeated.

………

Spike stared at the program pasted on the wall and felt his heart drop to the hard, linoleum floor. Something in the back of his head registered the shock and he felt like he couldn't breathe. The second his eyes had met the laminated poster, they had been drawn to two distinct words:

Buffy Summers

Everything else blurred and the only thing he could see was her name. Her name. Her, the reason why he was wherever in the world he was. Her, the face in his dreams, the face he wanted to chase, to protect. Her, the one girl… the one woman he had ever been in love with and would always be in love with.

It was different when he said "I'm going to see Buffy" in his head. It was different whenever he played that moment when they would meet in his head like an Imax movie screen at night while he was picturing her face. It was even different when he said it out loud, when he tasted it on his lips. "I'm going to go see Buffy." He had tried it multiple ways to let his tongue get used to her name: "Bloody hell… Buffy, here I come!" or "I'm off to see the Buffy!" or "I'm going to New York… to see Buffy."

But here it was, displayed right before his eyes in bold, Edwardian script font.

"Fuck, I'm not ready," a voice that sounded like his own erupted from his throat. He didn't even know he had spoken out loud until Angel stepped into his line of sight.

His friend had a sheepish grin on his face and held out both hands in a who-woulda-thought gesture. "Surprise?" his voice sounded somewhere in-between smug and insecure, as if he wasn't sure what Spike's reaction would be.

Spike clenched his jaw. "I'm not… I can't do this…"

He started backing away. The fear that had been contained inside was spilling out of his heart and numbing his entire body. He couldn't face her. He didn't deserve her, he couldn't bear to see her look at him with that… No… I can't…

Angel grabbed his arm.

"This is why you came here and for once, you're going to do things right," he said, firmly. Spike widened his eyes and Angel continued, "You're not going to hang around thinking about talking to Buffy, you're going to see her and you're going to see her tonight. Remember? We agreed to do things my way."

"This is different, you soddin' git," Spike ground out, jerking his arm out of Angel's grasp. "This is - this is Buffy! You can't just… throw me into a fucking Gladiator's pit without warning. I need to plan! Bloody fucking hell, Peaches! I need to - I need to think… I can't just go and… "

"Has the peroxide finally gotten to you?" Angel said sarcastically, "Since when did you ever plan, Spike?"

When Spike didn't answer, Angel reached into his pockets and pulled out two long tickets, "I already spent money. We're going in, Spike. All you have to do is see her… I wont make you talk to her tonight. We're going to be two people in two hundred or more. She probably wont even notice you."

Spike gulped.

………

They were seated in the maroon velvet seats of the concert hall, feeling out of place in a crowd of people who were clearly classical musicians and serious music majors. Older couples were in evening dresses and suits, college students were in black, and middle-aged piano teachers were in glittery sweaters and tweed. Angel and Spike wore jeans spruced up with unbuttoned, button-up shirts. Dressed up in the casual sense.

Spike was still trying to breathe. His entire body was sporadically shivering and his palms were more sweaty than they have ever been in their entire life. Every single muscle was tensed up in anticipation and every single sense was focused right up on that stage where she would walk out…

Angel cast side-long glances at his friend. The rigid way he was sitting and the way he gripped both armrests made the way he looked as they descended in the airplane seem relaxed.

She probably wont even notice you… She probably wont even notice you, Spike repeated to himself, silently praying that this was true.

The lights above the audience dimmed and the stage lights brightened. The crowd was silent and Spike heard the distinct clicking of heels… the squeak of the door at the side of the stage being opened…

She probably wont even notice you…

Applause thundered and stormed his ears, drowning out everything as she walked out into the stage. Spike froze.

………
………

She was greeted by a sea of smiling faces and clapping hands. This is it, she thought, measuring her breaths as she walked to the center of the stage where the Steinway waited, big, black, and imposing.

Millions of thoughts flooded her head… how she hated her father when he kicked her out of the house, how she wished Giles was here to see her, he would have been proud, how she shouldn't have eaten that hamburger for dinner, how the piano felt under her hand as she grabbed onto it and bent her head down into a bow.

The clapping went on and she tried counting to ten as she sat down on the piano bench and adjusted it. She had never been more nervous.

She had tried to look for a familiar face in the audience. Faith, Kendra, Gabriel, Professor Walsh, anybody… but she couldn't find them. Every single face looked the same to her. Every face seemed strange, every face seemed familiar. She saw Giles smiling, her mother's affectionate eyes, Willow's sympathetic smile, Hank's disapproving frown,… Spike's reassuring face, mouthing "I love you" from the middle of the crowd. Every face that she had ever seen in her life was in the audience.

In a way, it calmed her. She wiped her hands on the skirt of her dress and positioned them over the keys.

She could do this.

It's the music… it's all in the music…

And she started to play. Her nervousness faded away as all her previous thoughts were replaced by the music. Everything would be okay.

………
………

When she stepped out on stage, all Spike could do was stare. How had he lived without this for nearly three years? How had he reprieved himself from looking at her for all this time? How had he willingly given this up?

She's so… so…, his muddled mind couldn't even grasp the word he was searching for.

When she turned to the crowd - to him - and smiled, he realized what she was. She was life. She represented everything he needed: his oxygen, his support, his heart, his love, his senses, his excitement, his entire self… and he couldn't take his eyes off her.

He had almost forgotten how beautiful she was. Hell, even when they were together, he never fully realized how beautiful she was. Beautiful didn't even describe her! He had never known anybody to glow like she did, but right there on the stage, she resembled some type of unearthly being. A golden-toned Goddess, an angel in diamonds, a saint in a sinful black gown.

She was Buffy. His Buffy. He loved her.

And he knew what he had to do. He knew that no matter what it took, he would have her back. He had to. He needed to relive what she felt like in his arms. He needed to feel her lips on his again, her hands in his again, her body against his again. Every doubt he ever had in his mind flew out of the window.

He was ready to overcome all obstacles to win her back. Even if the obstacle was her.

………
………

At the same time, Gabriel also looked at the woman onstage from the other end of the concert hall and felt his heartstrings being pulled. The necklace that the saleslady in Tiffany's had sold him felt heavy in his pocket and he couldn't help but imagine what it would look like on her. It would have gone perfectly with the dress she was wearing… it would have gone perfectly with her wearing absolutely nothing…

He couldn't believe how lucky he was to have somebody like Buffy. For his entire life, he had been the funny friend, the cool guy to hang out with, the one people turned to when they wanted to just chill. Girls flirted with him all the time and some even dared to go on casual dates with him, but the second somebody mentioned "serious relationship," all bets were off and it was guaranteed that there would be awkward glances followed by the famous "I love you as a friend" talk. And then there was Buffy.

The attraction had been instant, there was no question about that. And every minute spent with her only served to fuel the attraction that was slowly building. Though he would never admit it, when he had asked her out on their first date, he had been nervous as hell. Yeah, he put up a great show at being nonchalant and laid-back about it, but inside his head was the repeated mantra "Don’t say no. Please, don't say no. Pretty please with cherries on top, don't say no."

He had never had a serious girlfriend before and his relationship with Buffy, as light as it was at the moment, felt like it was on the verge of becoming the real deal. At least, he hoped so. Though it had only been a little less than two months since their first date, his gift to her was symbolic as his tribute to relationshiphood. He had done what serious boyfriends did… spend lots of money to buy beautiful jewelry for their beautiful girlfriends.

Gabriel was nervous about the gift resting contentedly in his pocket. I really hope she likes it…

………
………

Intermission
………
………

"Wow," Angel spoke first, standing up to stretch his sore limbs from the past hour of sitting. He glanced down at Spike, who was still staring at the stage, "That was pretty amazing. Buffy's gotten a lot better, didn't she?"

"Yeah. Amazing. Right," Spike answered, his brain still seeing her face before she had walked off the stage. He had heard her playing and had vaguely comprehended that it was incredible, but he was still hung up about just seeing her again.

"I guess that makes sense," Angel continued, "I mean, she's gotta be good if she's in Juilliard, right?"

"Uh-huh."

Angel frowned. "Earth to Spike?"

"Yeah," Spike nodded, not listening to what his friend was saying. Angel punched him lightly on the shoulder. He glared and looked up, "What?!"

"C'mon," Angel rolled his eyes, "Intermission."




.....
Author's Note: And so introduces the competition between Gabriel and Spike.

I'll be working on updating this for the most part ... so there might be delays in updates for the rest of my stories. But, I promise... I DO intend to finish everything, eventually.

AND another thing... I just want to thank everybody who took the time to review. I haven't been good at answering them, mainly because I'm pretty much always going on to the next chapter, but one of these days, I'll set some time apart to respond. Thanks, guys!