Buffy’s POV
Platinum blonde hair. Fiery Sapphire Eyes. Just plain yummy.
Remind me again why I am leaving this?
Oh, right. Food.
Spike laid in bed with me all night. He explained about Drusilla and Angel and all of the times he had caught them together during the marriage. He told me about all of the opportunities he had to confront the guy, but just walked back out of his own house instead.
Surprisingly, he insists he isn’t angry with the man that was boinking his wife, for the sole fact that it led him to me. My heart had skipped a beat when he said it but it felt misplaced. It struck me as an odd turn for the discussion to take but it was a heart melty moment none the less. The night was just perfect. I had never felt more at home than I had in that moment, lying in bed with the father of my unborn child.
When I awoke this morning I took a few moments to snuggle into his warmth before getting up and beginning my morning ritual. I had started with a bounce in my step even as I moved quickly across the cold hardwood floor to slip on some socks. That bounce has been diminishing over the last few seconds as I realized I have managed to burn an entire loaf of bread in my piss poor attempt at French toast.
This baby is lucky that I still have a while to get better before they are thrust into the hell of my cooking skills.
I dump the last batch of burnt bread and toss the dirty dishes in the sink with the intent of doing them later.
10:00. Do I wake him? He normally doesn’t sleep in this late, then again I highly doubt he stays awake talking into the early morning hours every night.
I decide to let him sleep. On my way to the living room I notice the red lights on the answering machine blinking in the shape of the number four.
Checking the Caller ID I can tell 3 are from Drusilla and one of them is from the last person I thought would call me. My Mother.
I haven’t spoken to either of my parents since I left and I don’t know how she got this number.
Growing up all I ever heard from my father were false apologies, missed birthdays, forgotten school events, mistresses, and drunken stupors. Listening to the arguments over the years made me an angry person and more often than not the attitude was thrown at my mother. I’m sure it would seem odd having your daughter beg you to break up a family by leaving your husband. I remain convinced that it would have been better for all parties involved. The day of Graduation I told Mom that I couldn’t keep living at home, watching her fake smiles grow pathetic. I’ve missed her more than anyone back home but I managed to stick with my plan.
My anger at my mother for choosing her husband over her daughter quickly gets squashed by my excitement to hear her voice again and I press the button on the answering machine. The first two messages begin with, “My William”, and I gag when pressing the skip button. My curiosity screams for me to listen to Drusilla’s messages for Spike but at the same time my inner teenager just wants to hear her mother.
“Buffy? This is your mother. I have some… rather important news that I just can’t bring myself to say over a message. Please give me a call, the number hasn’t changed.” Her voice came across as hoarse which was the usual around our home.
My fingers are dialing the familiar phone number that I almost dialed at least once a day for the first year after I left.
“Hello?” she answers.
“Mom?”
“Oh, Buffy! It’s so wonderful to hear from you! It was so disappointing to finally be able to call you yesterday and then to be sent to an answering machine with an automated voice.”
“Mom-“ I’ve interrupted myself as I get choked up finally talking to her. “Mom, how did you get this number?”
“Willow.” Willow was my best friend through high school. She wound up going to college right after graduation. While she commuted to our home town once a month to see her family, she did me the favor of checking in on mine every once in a while. She always had a way of reaching me in case if anything ever happened.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Buffy, your father, he passed away. Willow gave me this number so that I could tell you myself rather than having to hear it from her. That sweet girl never was one to give bad news.”
My vision blurs as I space out staring at the white painted wall. It isn’t so much that I will notice that he’s gone, rather than the shock of it all. He was by no means “old”.
“How?”
“Heart attack.” She sounds like she was going to elaborate but she doesn’t.
“Are you okay, Mom?”
“Oh, sweetie, I will be just fine. You know, he may not have been the best father but I’m still assuming you will be coming here for the funeral? It would make things a bit easier on Dawn if she could talk to you. She was absolutely devastated when you left.”
Dawn, my younger sister was only nine years old when I left. At her age she was completely oblivious to everything Dad had put Mom through. He treated her like a princess and that was all she cared about.
“I’ll come back to say good bye.”
“I know you live a few hours away, if you would like I could set up your old room for you.”
I conjure up images of the bright floral prints of my room as a teenager and smile.
“That would be appreciated.” A silence dominates between us. Neither saying good bye, neither elaborating.
“Are you seeing anyone? Willow wouldn’t really tell me much other than that you were doing well.”
I whine into the phone. “Mom. Sure there is a lot that I want to tell you, just not over the phone.”
“The wake is Wednesday night. That’s when we should be getting his ash-“ her words are cut short as she stifles a sob.
“How can you cry for him, Mom? He wasn’t good to you. I doubt he changed much after I left.” I cringe at the thought of getting annoyed with my mother when she is obviously grieving.
“Good or bad, Buffy, I was with the man for twenty three years.” Her tone gets firm and I look away from the wall like a child scolded.
Standing at the bottom of the stairs is Spike. His usually slicked hair has become unruly and he’s rubbing the sleep from his eyes. A yawn overtakes him and he extends his arms upward to stretch. His black t-shirt rides up a little and reveals a hint of his toned stomach above the waistband of his grey sweatpants. Before I can smile at the sight, Mom’s voice comes through the phone.
“So you’ll be here Wednesday?” she asks.
“Yeah, I’ll be there in the afternoon and stay as long as you need me to.”
“Thank you, Buffy.”
“No need to thank me. I have to go though. I’ll give you another call before I leave.” I pause for a second just before hanging the phone back up. “I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too. Good bye.”
When I do hang up the phone Spike is still standing in the stairway but now his head is cocked to the side.
“Thinking about it, I’ve never heard you talk about your family.” He says.
“Not much to tell. Only one person that bothered with the parenting and a younger sister who was as selfish as they come. Nothing special.”
Spike frowns when I don’t continue but he leans down and kisses my forehead.
“How about we talk about it over French toast?”
“Can’t, no bread.” I shrug.
“None? You just made me buy some the other day. Where’d it go?”
“Breakfast. A very horrible attempt at breakfast.”
“Are you positive you don’t want me to go with you?” I ask for what seems like the thousandth time over the past few days.
“I’m positive. Besides, I know you have work stuff to do.” Buffy flashes me a smile that would dazzle anyone but I can see that she is a bit saddened by the events. She insists that it isn’t because her father died, that it’s all because it reminds her anything can happen at any time. Her youth won’t save her. I told her I wanted to come with her, to be supportive, but she had asked Xander to drive her out so she wouldn’t be an inconvenience.
“Fine, but if you change your mind just call and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“I know.” Her arms go around my waist and she buries her face in my chest. “Thank you.” She mumbles.
She pulls on my shirt to get me lean in and kiss her and I could never say no to her. Buffy doesn’t waste any time making her way out to Xander’s car and she gives me a perky wave before climbing in. Before Xander drives off I yell out a warning, “Harm either of them and I’ll kill you.” His eyes widen a little and I chuckle because I was serious, closing the door behind me.
The answering machine is still blinking with the messages that Dru left but I just can’t bring myself to care enough to listen to them. I unlock and enter the upstairs room that is reserved for the baby girl that just got driven away in a car that isn’t mine. I take my frustrations out on the crib that doesn’t want to be pieced together. I feel snubbed. She chose Xander over me. Granted he actually knows her family, hell he followed her out here when he had his school boy crush on her.
Staring down at the mess that is supposed to be fit for a sleeping baby, I hear a car door close in the driveway. My lips turn up into a smile. She changed her mind. I race to my room and pull out the duffle I had already packed even when she kept telling me there was no need.
Grabbing my keys and my phone I get to the door before she has a chance to open it. Instead of throwing open the door to the golden blonde beauty that has driven me insane in nearly every way, I find her. Drusilla. Looking at her, it’s all wrong. She is not what I wanted to see. Worst of all, Buffy didn’t come back to get me.
“What do you want, Drusilla?”
Her too pale skin, and her too dark lips are enough to put me in a bad mood and I don’t feel like another mind game.
“Well, if you would ever call me back, William, I wouldn’t have to surprise you like this. I went to see you at work but your father told me that you had taken some time off, right in the middle of a rather large project.”
“Yeah, well, it seems like I’ll be getting back to work earlier than I thought.” The wind picks up with the early hints of fall and Dru tries to take a step into the house. My arm shoots out and blocks her entry. “No. Just no.”
Her face contorts into a forced stricken look.
“Is that any way to treat the mother of your child?” She asks with her eyes wide and a hand sliding over her stomach in the most unnatural way.
“Bollocks.”