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*note* I'd strongly suggest downloading or just listening to the songs referenced. It gives a good background feeling to the songs and has a good play on the emotions that the characters are feeling. Plus, most of the songs are KICK ASS. *grin*

Music Reference:

“A Walk Through Hell” – Say Anything (*)
“I Fucking Hate You” – Godsmack. (**)
( ** are for your reference)

Chapter Ten

There they were, open and exposed for the entire world to see, standing stupidly in front of a 7-eleven by Times Square of all places. Buffy stared at the other female who was closing in fast, wondering if somebody up above had it in for her. Her hand was still halfway extended, frozen between her side and Spike’s hand.

And it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that the fluorescent lights shining through 7-eleven’s convenience-store windows were making Buffy feel plain and vulnerable against … her.

Spike twisted around to follow her gaze and visibly flinched at the sight of his ex-girlfriend. Buffy desperately searched his profile as he stared at Drusilla who was now less than a few yards away. He swallowed hard and his prominent Adam’s apple jerked up and down. The fleeting hope she had for their possible future slowly spilled to the ground and dissolved. The way he was looking at her… was it longing?

Buffy dropped her hand back to her side and took a small step away. Drusilla was standing in front of them now, her pale skin iridescent and delicate under the night’s glow, her back straight, elegant and confident. Her thick black eye-makeup was smeared and her hair was tangled and messy from whatever her night’s activities were and still, she was eerily gorgeous.

“William,” she said, an accent lacing her words. She gave Buffy a brief, fleeting glance, then turned back to Spike. What was that look? That look she was giving him… Buffy blinked and looked away.

“Dru,” he acknowledged, voice low, words slow. Buffy’s head turned sharply to him. He didn’t look her way; his eyes were fixated on his ex.

Buffy wanted to say something sharp, quip up an insult, cut one or both of them down a notch or ten, but her usual self-assurance was as present and useful as the mushed cigarette butt littered on the ground near her shoes. She wasn’t sure why she couldn’t bring herself forth and hold her head up. Maybe it was that “private moment” air coming from the two ex-lovers. Maybe it was the way they were staring into each other’s eyes, saying so much yet saying nothing.

After a moment of tense silence, Drusilla spoke, “I need to talk to you.”

Spike’s head bobbed up and down ever so slightly, listening to her before she spoke, as she spoke, after she spoke. Buffy’s hands clenched into a rigid fist, hidden in the sleeves of Spike’s jacket. Spike didn’t answer right away. The vein in his temple seemed to bulge out a little and his jaw kept tightening and loosening and tightening again.

“Yeah, okay,” he said, finally. Yeah, okay, me too, Buffy thought, sarcastically, loving how her existence seemed to have evaporated before their very eyes. I’ll just stand here and be invisible. You guys go on and talk. Asshole.

Drusilla raised her eyebrows ever so slightly and lifted her chin in Buffy’s direction ever so slightly. Her nostrils flared ever so slightly, her eyes flashed ever so slightly, and with each ever-so-slightly, she conveyed a silent threat. Buffy stood up a little straighter and narrowed her eyes at the taller girl. Spike turned to Buffy as if just remembering who she was.

The expression on his face was unreadable. Or too readable. At first it said, ‘Oh you… uhh’ and then it changed to ‘Sorry about the interruption, love’ then it said, ‘Can you please excuse us..?’.

“Uh, Buffy,” he said, softly, taking a step in her direction. Buffy shook her head and held up a hand to stop him.

“I’ll be in there,” she told him, gesturing towards the unwelcoming, green, red, and orange 7-eleven sign.

“Thanks, love,” he sent her a grateful smile, then turned back to his ex-girlfriend, who stared at Buffy with an indifferent expression. As Buffy headed towards the glass door, she could have sworn she saw a slight triumphant smirk on Drusilla’s face.

Yeah, hate you too, bitch, Buffy thought bitterly, an angry symphony of guitars flooding her imaginary headphones as she stepped over the threshold into the bright, white lights of convenience.

………………
………………
………………

Spike couldn’t help but stare at Buffy as she turned away and went into the 7-eleven. He had been slipping furtive glances at her throughout the awkward encounter with Drusilla and though she probably didn’t realize it, he had caught the simmering flames in her eyes and the way she had ground her back teeth together to keep from spitting insults or growling. She probably also didn’t realize how completely beautiful she looked, silently seething and holding back fire.

He kept his eyes on her retreating back, appreciating the way she wore his jacket. Watching her also kept him occupied so he could delay the inevitable talk with Drusilla. Seeing Dru had thrown him off, made him veer off the beautiful new path he was slowly crawling on, and confused him. There was no way he could just ignore the pain that was still in his gut at the realization that his “dark beauty” wasn’t his any longer.

He had been so convinced that what they had was love and he still wasn’t exactly sure where to place his feelings for her. And looking at Drusilla, who still happened to be wearing what she knew was his favorite ensemble, would meddle with his thoughts more.

Part of him wanted to run back to her, make her see that he was what she wanted, what she needed. And another part – a part that was slowly growing with each minute in Buffy’s presence – told him that it was high time to move on.

But why was it so hard to let go? Spike closed his eyes briefly, remembering a song that he had slipped into the CD mix he had created for Drusilla months ago… ironically, it was the same mix that Buffy had accidentally played in the car on the way to Caritas. The night was just full of bloody irony, wasn’t it? He scoffed to himself, scraping the sole of his she against the sidewalk.

(*)
How did that song go? I’d walk through hell for you… he remembered and smiled, wistfully, singing it under his breath “… let it burn right through my shoes, these soles are useless without you, through hell for you, let the torturing ensue, my soul is useless without you…”

Drusilla, who was surprisingly silent for probably the first time in her life, looked at him, mystified.

“Did you say something?”

Right, Spike shook his head to himself, She never bothered listening to my mixes, had she? “Nothing. Just thinking.”

I’d walk through hell for you… But he already had walked through hell. When she had broken up with him, she put him through hell. When she had shown up and surprised him while he was onstage, he felt like she had just poked him lightly with a red-polished nail, sending him tumbling down the teetering tight-rope he was balancing himself on and straight into hell. Again.

And somewhere between the first post-breakup drink and when he had popped Buffy’s ex a good one in the nose, he had decided that she wasn’t worth hell.

“You let her wear your jacket,” Drusilla broke the silence, again. Spike turned towards her, eyebrows up.

“What’s that?”

“Your jacket,” She repeated, her voice thin and stiff. Spike turned to look inside the 7-eleven again. Buffy was standing by the magazines and looked up at the same time he had turned to look at her and their eyes met. Spike started to smile, but she immediately dropped her gaze back to whatever page she was on. The smile faded before it made it on his lips.

“Yeah,” He nodded, “She was cold.”

Drusilla’s foot started doing some insane tap-dance. “Are you sure that’s it?”

“What’s it?”

“The draft, the wind, the chill, whatever you want to call it,” She sounded annoyed. Spike opened his mouth to say sorry, then caught himself. He had nothing to apologize for.

“What’s the point in this discussion, pet?” He said slowly, changing the subject. Drusilla was not so easily swayed.

“You never let me wear your jacket,” She pouted and took a step closer to him. She was within smelling range now and he caught the scent of alcohol, sweat, smoke, and that faint expensive perfume that she loved so much. Habit told him to close the gap and take her in his arms, but he clenched his jaw and took a step back, instead.

“You never asked,” he replied, dismissively, forgetting that Buffy hadn’t asked him to wear it, either.

“So,” Drusilla started, smiling coyly up at him, “If I ask, will you let me wear it?”

Her voice had taken up a slow, seductive tone and it made his head throb. Usually, it told him to grab her and find the first dark, hidden corner in the vicinity and take her right then and there, but tonight, it just hurt.

“What are you saying, Dru,” He kept his voice hard and stood his ground. She took another step up to him and now, her hands were playing on his chest, rubbing sensuous circles over the fabric of his shirt.

He grabbed her hand and shoved her lightly back, ignoring the subtle tingly feelings he was getting. “Stop.”

“William,” She said in a low whisper, not stopping her advances, “I’m saying… I want you back.”

Yes! Yes, yes… No. He wasn’t expecting that surprise. That was his Dru, always full of surprises. Bloody hell, the pain in his head was tripling now. The part of him that was still craving for her raged up and for a few seconds, he was compelled to run back to her, throw himself back at her mercy. But he didn’t.

“Is that it, then?” He asked flatly, carefully controlling himself as to not let out a mangled cry. Drusilla frowned.

“I love you,” She said, looking up at him from under long lashes. “I need you.”

How long had he been waiting for those words? How many nights had he fantasized this moment when she came to him and told him that she couldn’t live without him? Had he ever rejected her in any of those dreams? No. He always kept himself open to her. He was an all-you-can-eat buffet when it came to her.

So why was he saying ‘no,’ now?

Spike glanced back into the 7-eleven and noticed Buffy quickly turn back to her magazine, in the same spot she was when they last looked at each other. He wondered what she was thinking.

“Thanks, Drusilla,” He pronounced her name slowly and gently pushed her away. “But no thanks. I’ve been your soddin’ Ken doll for too long and I think I’ve finally had enough.”

She looked surprised at his declaration and backed up a few steps. “Why? Because of her?” She tipped her head sharply to her left towards the convenience store.

“Buffy? She’s part of the reason, yeah,” He nodded.

Before he could think, Drusilla was on him, her lips on his, her body pressed against his, her hands through his hair. His first reaction was to hold her tight and marvel at the feel of her lips on his, but after the initial shock passed, his head cleared up enough to push her forcibly away.

“Does she make you feel this way? Huh, William?” Drusilla panted, still trying to cling onto him. Spike squeezed his eyes shut, trying to compose himself. It wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be. Her lips on his seemed too cold. Too foreign. He wasn’t used to it anymore and it made him cringe. He fought the urge to spit and wipe his mouth.

“No,” He kept her at arm’s length. Drusilla’s eyes glistened in victory for a few moments until he continued, “She makes me feel better. Leave me alone, Dru.”

She stopped grabbing at him and stared, shocked. It seemed to take several moments for that thought to settle in her head. Finally, she straightened, smoothed out her short skirt, and stepped back.

“Don’t do something you’ll regret,” She paused, wanting him to give in to her. When he didn’t, she said, “I want you tonight, yes. And I might want you tomorrow. But watch it, William, if you wait too long, I might be gone forever.”

She was giving him a choice and all he could do was shake his head. “It’s over,” he turned away from her as if the sight of her made him ill.

It wasn’t until he heard her heels click away when he took a deep breath and walked into the convenience store where his bright possibility of a future was waiting for him.

………………
………………
………………

Buffy was seething as she stepped into the store, feeling as if she had just been blatantly dismissed. What am I? her mind snarled, a disposable substitute?. Her jealousy was mounting, although she really didn’t have the right to be possessive about him. It wasn’t like she could lay any claim on Spike.

Not like Drusilla could.

What are they talking about?

She tried not to look out the window at them and instead, headed for the magazine rack and picked up the latest Cosmopolitan. As she flipped through the first few pages impatiently, the knot in her stomach just tightened some more. Her inner auditorium was practically shaking from the rage of the angry guitars and drums clashing in her head.

(**)
For everything you do
Id like to swallow you
And everyday I’m gonna blame you

Her resolve broke down and she couldn’t help but glance up to see what they were doing out there. Barely talking. Okay. Spike looked towards her suddenly and she immediately looked back down to the magazine at hand. She took a deep breath and tried to mellow the angry Godsmack song raging in her head. It almost worked.

Buffy couldn’t even focus on the words in front of her, so she half-heartedly looked over the pictures. Every woman she saw resembled Drusilla and it made her feel sick. What was so special about her anyways? Besides the fact that she practically reeked of dark, morbid sensuality which seemed to draw men right to her like flies to a light bulb.

She felt a chill inside the fluorescently lit store, despite the jacket Spike had given her. Looking at the worn out black leather, she remembered the leather duster that she had bought Angel for Christmas last year. It was something that he had been pining his heart out for forever and when she had surprised him with it in a big, Saks Fifth gift box, she had decided that the look on his face as he pulled the coat out was worth every one of the four hundred dollars she had spent.

Angel wore the duster every single day and not once had he offered it to her. He never noticed when she was shivering or cold or rubbing her arms to generate heat and he never let her touch it.

Shaking her head, Buffy tried to erase Angel from her thoughts. She smiled wryly at her jacket sleeve and tried to imagine what Spike would look like in a black, leather duster. Oh wow… she nearly swooned at the picture her head conjured up.

Buffy looked through the window again and almost wished she hadn’t. Drusilla was completely pressed against Spike and he didn’t seem to be putting up much of a fight.

She spun around and shut her eyes, the livid guitars and drums springing back up in full force. Everybody knows your fate / Youre everything I fucking hate.

Why was her eyes watering? Why was her head spinning so fast? Why did the thought of them affect her so much?

Dont ever look my way / Dont even think Im playin / cause I fucking hate you.

The magazine crumpled up in her hand and a woman across the aisle threw her an I’m-concerned-about-your-sanity glance before going back to her shopping.

After a few deep breaths, the hate song in her head grew louder than ever, making her feel nauseous. She moved to put the magazine back on it’s rack and just so happened to look out the window again.

And see them kissing.

The magazine dropped from her hands and she fled to the other side of the store.

God, why did it hurt? She didn’t even know this guy for half a day! Why was she feeling like he had just betrayed her? Had he betrayed her? Were they together? Did anything mean anything?

The wheels in her mind were spinning at record speed. Of course he was going to go back to her! Six months is forever compared to six hours. Not even six hours! How long had it been?

Buffy yanked back the sleeve of Spike’s jacket and stared down at the watch. It was a little past midnight. Great. She patted down the pockets of her jeans and felt the fabric rub against the hard flatness of her razor thin cell phone in her right back pocket and a fifty-dollar bill in the left.

So Spike and Dru were back together. How cute. Now how was she going to get home? Taxi, subway, call Mom…

She suddenly didn’t care. All she wanted to do was leave, so she hastily patted her eye, wiping off salty tears mixed in with mascara, sniffed a little, then headed straight for the door.

Ignore them, hail a taxi, get in, go wherever from there… , she recited to herself. Simple enough.

“Buffy!”

She stopped dead in her tracks, two steps away from the door. Spike was slowly jogging towards her from the magazine racks. What was he doing there?

“Hey,” He smiled when he reached her. Buffy tried to stop her heart from melting at his voice and backed up a little bit.

“Hi,” She returned, evenly. His eyes bore into hers and she looked to the floor, but he stopped her with two fingers under her chin.

“Hey, you have green eyes.”

“Uh, yeah,” Buffy wasn’t sure what to say to that and moved her head away from his cold fingers, making him drop his hand back to his side.

“So,” He rocked forward on his feet, then back again, “We’re done talking.”

Obviously.

“Oh really,” She forced nonchalance, “How did that go?”

“It went well,” Spike tilted his head and scrunched up his eyebrows a little bit, “She told me she wanted me back.”

It took everything she had to keep from breaking, so she just nodded for a few moments before she could talk. “So, I guess you have to make a choice.”

“Yeah,” Spike said in a low voice. He sounded almost sad. “I decided I’d –“

Buffy stopped him by pulling his head towards hers and giving him a gentle kiss on the lips. She didn’t think she could take an actual rejection from him. Not from him. Why are his lips so warm? Why are they so soft? she thought, sadly, before pulling away and keeping one hand lightly on his cheekbones. The image of Drusilla pressed intimately against his rock-solid body scorched through her mind.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, then walked backwards out of the 7-eleven. Spike stared at her, frozen. “I understand.”

With that, she ran outside and flagged down a taxi.



A/N: That's the last of Dru. I know a lot of you were hoping she would get her guts punched out, and as much fun as that would be to write, it wasn't how I planned the scene to go and it wouldn't really fit the story in the overall scheme of things. This was supposed to be the major turning point for Spike, when he realizes that she's NOT the one that he needs. He leaves her of his own choice when she's willing to let him back. It's a big deal. Really!

And as always... Buffy misinterprets things and lets jealousy and little petty fears get in her way. Will Spike run after her? Or let her run away. Hmm... you'll see in the next chapter.

So, if you read the summary, this is basically the end of whatever 'angst' there might be. It's a temporary lapse and it's necessary to make the next few scenes absolutely amazing. Promise!

Thanks for everyone who's sticking with me! You guys are AWESOME.





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