Spike was going trough hell.
Not the real kind of hell, which he had actually experienced not one month ago, but the kind where you do not know what to do with yourself.
The whole ghost thing was over…Thank the Lord, he had got corporeal again, kicked Angel’s ass, and got really drunk: Hangover included.
The only thing that he really wanted to do now was go and see Buffy. To go to Italy, sweep her off her feet, and live happily ever after. He missed her so much it was killing him.
He was stuck in this hell whole, with his grand sire who he loathed. And a whole bunch of other people he did not know and/or cared about.
Fred was the only one who he actually could stand to be around. She was a nice bint, with her heart in the right place. But it all didn’t matter: He didn’t belong here. He did not want to be here. All he wanted to do was just go.
So what was stopping him?
He could almost smell her scent when he concentrated really hard and closed his eyes, but that wasn’t nearly enough.
He had even sunk so deep he had shagged Harmony while begging her to shut up, so he could imagine an other certain blond wriggling beneath him.
Not that it had worked, of course. How could Harmony’s cold dead body possibly resemble Buffy’s overwhelming heat, or her sweet aroma?
He felt too disgusted to even think about it.
He had stood there in the harbour, waiting for his boat to arrive and take him to Italy: To Buffy. But then this little voice in the back of his head had started to whisper the things he had pushed from his mind since the day he had returned to this world:
“What if there is no room for you in her new life. What is she did not feel the same way she had felt before, if he just showed up at her doorstep. It would seem like the sacrifice he had made for her had meant nothing.
He couldn’t go to her, even though his whole body and soul ached to see her again. He couldn’t ruin the one moment he had been able to show her how much her really loved her: It would mean nothing.
Whipping away the tears that had formed in the corner of his crystal blue eyes, he turned around and walked the other way. Every step breaking his heart a little further.
She was no longer his.
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“I want you to come home right away after school Dawn. We still need to go shopping for some decent beds and a television.”
“Alright, I will. See ya.”
She heard the door slam as she stood in the kitchen of her new home, are actually her new house. It didn’t feel like home yet, and she didn’t know if it ever would.
Moving to Italy had been harder than anything she had ever done. She hadn’t wanted to let go. She hadn’t wanted to move on.
She couldn’t even find a job, and currently lived from the amounts of money Giles was sending her every month. She hated it, but there was no way she was going to work in a fast-food restaurant again. There was no Spike now to make at least her breaks a bit more bearable.
Italy didn’t suck though. Rome was a wonderful city, and she had a nice place, with plenty of space for only two people. The bathroom had a nice tub, the bedrooms had a nice view and building contained nice people. It was in one word: Nice.
But it wasn’t the place her mom had taught her who to bake cookies, or the place she had been having slumber party’s with Willow. It wasn’t the place she had made love with Spike the night before he died.
The sleeve of her black sweater whipped away a tear that had escaped from the corner of her eye. Nice wasn’t enough.
She hated herself for doing this: She couldn’t be doing this anymore.
Spike had been gone for weeks, months. And she was still crying over him at night when nobody could hear her. She was still crying for him now.
She was lonely. She wasn’t proud of it, but she was. All her friends were anywhere but here, her sister was, mostly out with new friends or spending time at school.
She didn’t want to keep her from any of that. Dawn was also grieving, and she was just finding a way to deal with that pain.
But she was lonely. She realized she was checking out men that resembled him in a way, so she could find back what she had lost. It was impossible and wrong, but she couldn’t help herself. She had lost everything: She needed something back…anything.
It was than that she had met Pablo, or better known as The Immortal, not two weeks ago. He was cocky, arrogant and extremely self-centred. But he was also immortal, funny and not to bad in the bedroom.
She didn’t love him. She would never love him. She didn’t even like him. But with him she could at least pretend she was happy. So they wouldn’t see she was still falling apart.
Buffy didn’t know if it was the immortality that reminded her of Spike, or perhaps the cocky grin: But she knew that if she closed her eyes when she was with him, she could almost smell his scent, or feel him in her arms. She used Pablo , yes.
As she had used Spike when her friends had pulled her out of heaven, and she needed him to make her feel, she was now using Pablo to feel like she was still ok. Like he was still there, in a way.
And the good part was that she didn’t need to feel guilty, because he was using her just as hard as she was using him. She knew he had more girlfriends on the side, or that he didn’t really care about her, and she found it a relive he didn’t want to be in a serious relationship either.
The only thing she really wanted was Spike back, but that was impossible. Even though she dreamed of him returning from the grave, or showing up at her door. She even had a vision of him standing in a harbour, on his way to see her. But it could never be true. She was just in denial, she told herself.
He was no longer hers.
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