Buffy woke in the middle of the night. As soon as she returned to consciousness and her memory supplied images of the previous evening, a beatific smile took over her face.
She snuggled into Spike, reveling in her memories: what he’d said, what he’d done, how wonderful it had all been... Hot embarrassment colored her cheeks when she realized that everyone in the apartment probably knew what had happened. The embarrassment left her, though, when she gazed at the man lying next to her.
He loves me, she thought, and for a second the traditional bells and hallelujah chorus thing went on inside her head. We made love, and he...loves...me. She didn’t think she could ever get used to that thought. She didn’t want to.
She sighed and stroked his cheek. He’d always tempted her most when he was asleep—he was so soft, so gentle...
Her stomach growled, and she made a face. She’d been having a moment there, looking at adorable cuddly Spike.
Unfortunately, she was really hungry.
She kissed his lips gently, careful not to wake him, and slid out of bed, covering her nakedness with his t-shirt and her discarded jeans, her gun in her left pocket. The moonlight hit against the blinds, just barely illuminating the room. Even as she walked to the door, her lover caught her eye. In the light, his skin seemed to glow. She smiled fondly. “Be back soon,” she whispered, even though she knew he couldn’t here her.
She opened the door and crept out to the kitchen. All those years of training were again coming in handy; as she moved down the hall, she was completely silent.
Bodies were draped all over the living room. Anya and Xander were cuddled together; Buffy smiled when she heard Xander snoring. Kennedy and Willow were all curled up...when the hell is Willow going to both telling everyone she’s gay? Cordelia was lying curled up in a chair, snoring slightly. She could see the glint of metal that came from the weapons everyone kept close.
It was a typical night at the headquarters of Jenkins’, Inc.
She opened up the refrigerator and rifled through it. They all ate out most of the time, but she and Spike made sure things stayed stocked up. And if she was remembering right, there should be some super-yummy chocolate cake right about...here. She grinned and took the plastic container out, shutting the refrigerator door. Grabbing a fork, she started in on the one piece still in the box.
Mmmm, chocolately goodness, she thought, closing her eyes in pure bliss. Chocolate and sex, two things every woman needed. She smiled happily. Now, she had both.
Soft footsteps sounded behind her. She whirled around, mouth filled with cake. She probably looked completely ridiculous, but when she saw who stood at the entry to the kitchen, how she looked ceased to matter.
“Naughty, naughty sunshine, covered in my Spike,” Drusilla cooed, coming closer, her eyes fixed on the t-shirt Buffy wore.
Buffy cursed herself. God, could I get any more stupid? Of course she’ll go crazier if she sees me in Spike’s clothes!
She opted for an ingratiating smile. Ingratiating was good, right? Maybe she could calm Drusilla down. “Sorry, I didn’t realize anyone else was awake. Did I make too much noise?”
Drusilla cocked her head. “I could hear you screaming,” she said dreamily. “And the stars screamed, too. My Spike, all burnt by the sunshine...my Spike...” she trailed off.
OK, Buffy was starting to fell a little less ingratiating-ey and a little more fight-ey, hearing her endearment for Spike being spoken by this loony bin. She took a step forward. “Listen, Drusilla, you need to get to bed.”
Suddenly Drusilla’s eyes focused on Buffy. The hate in them almost made her gasp. “You’ll kill him,” Drusilla breathed. She took a step forward. Something in the back of Buffy’s mind warned her that she ought to move, but she couldn’t seem to make her feet work.
“You’ll smother him in the light.”
“Okay, listen, you’re not really being very—“
A knife suddenly appeared, clenched in her right hand. “Kill the sunshine and Mummy shall be happy,” she hissed. “That’s what the King of Cups told me.” She grabbed Buffy by the arm and plunged the knife down towards her shoulder.
She grabbed Drusilla’s arm and twisted it, causing the knife to fall to the floor. The clatter woke Xander, who launched up, saying, “I swear I didn’t do it! It was all Pooh’s fault!”
And somehow, in the midst of knife-stabbage, Buffy found herself snorting with laughter.
Laughter that was quickly cut off when Drusilla jumped her. She squirmed underneath the taller girl, punching whatever surface was available, not really caring that as a former police officer she way outclassed Drusilla in terms of fighting. Bitch tried to kill me, I’m gonna do as much damage as is humanly possible. Still, she held back a bit. She didn’t like hurting people.
She punched Drusilla and threw her off, leaping to her feet and yelling, “Xander! A little help he—ow!” She turned back to Drusilla, who’d grabbed the knife once again and raked it across Buffy’s cheek. It was a glancing blow, but still, it burned like fire.
She spun and kicked Drusilla, maneuvering as best as she could in the small kitchen. She should have known that girl was a psycho killer. Actually, she had known—Spike just hadn’t listened.
Xander ran into the kitchen, followed by all the others, but for some reason he didn’t try to help her. No one did. Buffy would have liked to ask them why, but she was too busy. her adversary didn’t seem near ready to give up just yet.
Drusilla pounced, waving the knife about crazily, trying to get another stab in. The knife again grazed her, only this time it was her shoulder, and it really hurt. Buffy hissed in pain and her face hardened with resolve. She’d had enough. Screw not trying to hurt Spike’s ex.
She drew back her fist and punched the girl right in the eye. The force of her blow sent Drusilla careening backwards, knife flailing about. The watching crowd scattered.
“Spike! Spike!” Drusilla wailed, apparently unaware that Spike wasn’t there, “The naughty sunshine hurt Princess!”
“Damn straight, and the naughty sunshine’s a bit annoyed now,” Buffy snapped. Stepping forward, she snatched the knife out of Drusilla’s hands and grabbed a handful of dark hair. “So fuck off.”
Her fist slammed once, twice, thrice into Drusilla’s face before the girl finally passed out. Buffy sighed and dropped her now blood-flecked fist, looking down at Drusilla. It hurt, seeing her lying there and knowing that she had been the cause of all Dru’s pain, but at the same time, she couldn’t be too terribly sorry. The knife was evidence enough that Drusilla had been out for blood.
“Well, that was—“ she turned around and halted when she saw Spike standing only a few feet away from her, looking livid.
Aw, he was being all protective. It was so sweet. Buffy smiled a bit. “It’s okay,” she told him. “I knocked her out.”
But he wasn’t looking at her. In fact, he strode right by her, straight to Drusilla’s side. “What the bloody hell did you do to her?”
Buffy stared at him. She glanced over at Willow, but the redhead just shrugged. What was wrong with everybody? “What do you mean, what did I do to her? She tried to kill me. I defended myself.”
He looked at her coldly, turning Drusilla’s head from side to side. “This was a vicious beating, Buffy, not defense. What—the—hell—did—you do to her?”
Her mind barely registered the last bit. She was fixated on the whole vicious beating thing. “It was not vicious. She came at me with a knife!” She pointed to the wounds on her shoulder and cheek. “Or are you just not seeing that?” she spat. She couldn’t believe this. They’d made love only hours before, and now he was treating his ex better than her. “Spike, what is your problem?”
“She’s helpless, you silly bint,” he snapped. “And you hurt her bad, maybe injured her for life. You could have just taken the knife away!”
“Taken the knife away? Buffy repeated, fury rising. “Taken the knife away? Are you insane? You wanted me to risk my life so Little Miss Insane-o could stay in one piece?”
Spike picked Drusilla up. His face was cold, empty—completely devoid of the emotion she’d seen there earlier. “In a word, yeah.”
“I don’t believe this!” Now she was screeching. “Do you care that little about me? What, was tonight some quick fuck?”
He winced at that, but his face stayed closed in. “Sorry, luv, but ‘ve got better things to do than moon over you. I got what I wanted, and ‘ve moved on.”
Tears filled her eyes as she watched him gently lay Drusilla on the counter and put ice on her face. Moved on, or gone back? She wished she could say it out loud, but all she could force out was, “Spike...please?” She wasn’t even sure what she was asking for.
“Buffy, for God’s sake, don’t start blubberin'. ‘m busy. Either help me fix the mess you made, or leave.”
Buffy stared at him, eyes wide, tears streaming down her face. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. “Spike. You told me...you said...”
“That I loved you?” Spike smirked. “Damn, you’re a naive li'l chit.”
Buffy whirled around, expecting to see angry faces—but all she saw was what looked like masks. Cordelia, Kennedy, Tara, Willow, Faith, Xander, and Anya were all stony-faced and impassive.
“Cordy—“ she began, but the tall brunette cut her off.
“Oh my God, Buffy, don’t even start,” she said. “You sleep with a guy, he tells you he loves you, and you actually believe him? God, how I ever put up with you for all these weeks...you’re like the annoying little kid in the Welch’s commercial.”
Now her lips was trembling. She was thisclose to out-and-out bawling. “Xan—Xander?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Buffy, stop being such a baby,” Kennedy snapped. “You’re out, okay? Get over it and leave.”
She stared at them, at their wooden faces, at the malicious glint she swore she detected in Drusilla’s now-open eyes...at the empty, cold expression on her love’s face. She gazed into his eyes, trying to read them, to tell what was really going on. This couldn’t actually be happening...could it? “Spike?” she whispered pleadingly.
For a second—just a second—she saw something in the blue depths of his eyes. A flash of some sort of emotion—regret? Sadness? Pain? She couldn’t tell. But it was gone as quickly as it had come, to be replaced by the worst nonemotion of all: apathy.
“Jus’ leave,” he ordered her flatly. “’m not interested in listening to a little girl’s whining. Get out.”
There was that phrase again. Get out. They’d all said it to her...
Maybe they all really meant it.
Once again she felt her entire world come crashing down. Pain filled her, pain and loss and betrayal—again. Only this time it was worse, because these were people she loved. The only friends she’d ever had, the only man she’d ever loved, and they were against her. Every single one of them was against her.
Fine. Her grief-filled brain could formulate one thought. If they were against her, then she was against them, too. Her face turned as cold and empty as theirs as she put her emotions on lockdown. “I don’t know what you guys’ problem is, but I’ll find it out. And then—“ she strode over to the door, ignoring her cuts, and put on her jacket. Placing her hand on the doorknob, she turned back to face them and vowed:
“And then I’ll destroy you.”
She walked out, slamming the door behind her.
The night was cold, but she didn’t feel it. She couldn’t really feel anything. Everything seemed frozen, as though that last betrayal had numbed her emotions permanently.
As she turned into a cemetery, her only thought was peace. She needed a place to stay—Spike had told her that sometimes, runaways slept in crypts. She wasn’t a runaway, but she was homeless.
Homeless. The word reverberated through her skull. They don’t care about me, Spike doesn’t love me, and now I’m homeless. Homeless. She repeated the word over and over again, trying to give it some meaning, trying to come up with anger or hate or any feeling over what had just happened, but she couldn’t.
She was empty.
And the worst part about it, she mused as she searched the cemetery for somewhere to sleep, was that she could almost feel her heart breaking, yet it caused no pain. She knew it would some time, though. It had to.
She had lost the man she loved. That was something she’d never recover from.
“Buffy?”
She whirled around, hand immediately going to the gun in her holster. As soon as she saw who it was, she pulled it out. “Get away,” she ordered in a quavering voice.
“Buffy, wait. I just want to know what happened to you. You’re bloody.” Riley took a step forward, reaching out as though to touch her cheek. Buffy’s grip on the gun tightened.
“I told you not to move!” He was only about ten feet away. If she shot him, she could kill him.
Riley’s face showed confusion. He was a good actor. “I thought I’d told you. I’ve broken ties with Rayne.”
“Yeah, you told me,” she snapped. “I just made with the not-believing. Who sent you, Rayne or Spike?” She spat the last name out like it was poison.
“Spike?” Riley sounded bewildered. “What does Spike have to do with...oh my God, Buffy, did he hurt you?”
“What? Oh.” She suddenly remembered that she was bleeding from two different cuts. “No. He didn’t hurt me.”
‘Then who did?” Riley again took a step forward, and this time, Buffy didn’t try to stop him.
“Drusilla.” Now her voice was leaden. Every word she spoke was numbing her further.
“The crazy girl? Rayne let her loose?”
“I don’t know. All I know is, the bitch came at me with a knife and no one c-cared,” she said, fighting to keep the tears at bay. Numb. She was numb. She couldn’t feel...
Riley reached out and brushed her chin, tilting it up so she was looking him in the eye. “Look, Buffy, I know you don’t trust me, and I know that I don’t deserve to be trusted. But you’re hurt and alone, and I swear to God, if you just come with me I’ll get you cleaned up and no one will touch you. Not Rayne and not Spike. I’m finished with them, Buffy. I’m starting a new life.” He gave her a peppy-looking smile. Any other time she would have decked him for it, since stuff like that was way annoying to her. Now, she just stared at him as he asked, “Would you like to start a new life, too.”
A new life. A life without pain, without intrigue, without betrayal or sorrow. A life where she could trust what people told her.
A life without Spike?
Something inside of her screamed in agony, but she forced a smile on her face. “I’d love to.”
“Excellent!” Riley’s smile widened. “This way, then.” They walked over to his car, got in, and drove off.
Though tears were running down her cheeks, Buffy refused to look back. Spike had been her past. Wherever Riley was taking her, that was her future. She wasn’t sure if she trusted Riley or not, but she knew she couldn’t trust Spike.
As they left Sunnydale, one thought was in her head: Goodbye.
~*~
A/N: Hey, that’s an awfully pointy stick. *peers at huge pointy stick mob member is carrying* What’s it for? OW! *leaps up into the air* OWWWW! PLEASE DON’T KILL ME, PLEASE!!! NOOOOOOOOOO! lol =) Sorry about the horrible stuff in this chapter, I promise there’s a reason for it. And don’t worry: this story does have a happy ending. As for the reviews, well, all I can say is thank you—again. It’s incredibly touching, knowing that people like my story enough to pause and tell me about it. I read every single one, grin at all of them, and every time a new one comes in it motivates me to write just a little more. So, THANK YOU!!!! You guys kick monkey-ninja ass =)
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