Title: Arrivederci, Roma
Author: Pattyanne
snapkik@yahoo.com
Spoilers for AtS: 'The Girl In Question'
Disclaimer: None of the BtVS
characters belong to me.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Here's the next story in the
"What If" series: Remember when Spike
and Angel went to Rome, saw Buffy and
decided to let her move on with her life?
Well, what if.....
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Part Two...
~~~~~~~~~~
"City of a million moonlit places
City of a million warm embraces.."
~~~~~~~~~~
Resigned to the idea that there was no escape for her
at the moment, since she had no intention of jumping
out of a speeding car, Buffy sat as far from Spike as she
could possibly get.
Huddling up against the door and casting him a glare that
should have turned him to stone, she listened in icy silence
as he told his story of death and resurrection.
She was trying hard to get a handle on her chaotic
emotions. The fact that they WERE so chaotic told her
more clearly than anything that this wasn't some
elaborate dream scenario that she'd cooked up.
She'd had too many of those, had woken up crying
from them too many times not to know the difference
between dreams and reality.
Only Spike could make her so stirred up and crazy
that she couldn't even think straight. He'd always had
an instinctive talent for doing that.
At the moment, she wasn't really sure what she was
angrier about; his highhanded behavior in forcing her to
come with him, or the fact that he'd apparently been
back for quite some time and had never bothered to
inform her.
There had been no phone call or letter, not even so much
as a postcard with 'Back from the dead. Wish you were
here' scribbled on it. Trust Spike to do it as theatrically
as possible, shaking up her life the same way he always
had, turning it upside down and inside out.
And just when she'd finally managed to begin putting
herself back together. The sharp stab of grief had
gradually become a dull ache. It was always with her,
never very far from the surface, but she'd been able to
work around it; putting it out of her mind like a sore
tooth that didn't really hurt unless you prodded it with
your tongue.
She'd been...not precisely 'happy'...but content, for the
most part. Which had been just fine with her. She didn't
want to have such extremes of emotion anymore; didn't
want to be deliriously happy or horribly sad. Her past was
riddled with those sorts of highs and lows. She didn't have
the strength for them anymore.
So, she'd ignored them, and then buried them.
Now here was Spike, trying to dig them right back up!
Here...was Spike.
So close she could touch him. If she just...reached
out, if she reached...just a little bit...
She felt tears threatening to fill her eyes. Blinking them
back, she turned her head to hide them until she had
established a little control.
"Come on, luv...say something."
She turned back to him, scowl firmly in place. "Why are you
here?"
He looked at her for a long moment. "You know why I'm
here, Buffy."
Hardening herself against the tone she remembered him
using whenever he was being very serious with her, she
snapped at him. "You had no right to do that back there."
"Yes, I did."
"No! You don't!"
"Yes, I do."
"Stop that!"
"You first!"
"Spike...."
"What? What do you want me to say? If I say what
you want to hear, it's not going to be the truth. Truth is
simple...I love you. And you love me back. That's what
gives me the right."
The words he was saying sounded good, but she wasn't
quite ready to let him know that.
What she really wanted to do was throw herself into his arms,
and she detested the petty little bitch inside of her that was
encouraging her to punish him for staying away so long.
"Love you?" she sneered. "What EVER gave you an idea like
that?"
"You told me you loved me."
"And YOU told ME that I didn't. You even said, "thanks
anyway", like I was offering you a second cup of coffee
after dinner."
"ARRGGH!" He flung himself back into the seat, clutching
his head as though someone was jamming an ice pick in one
ear. "Woman! You..."
"Woman?!" she echoed, her voice high pitched. "Don't you
dare call me that!"
"What, you're not a woman?"
"Of course I'm a woman, but it's not my name. Cut the
caveman bullshit!"
"All right, fine! Buffy!" He threw up his hands in surrender. "I
made a mistake, okay? I...I shouldn't have said that. It
was stupid, I know, but you..."
"Damn right, you shouldn't have," she agreed. "Nagged me
for years to admit it...for YEARS! Then I say it...and you
don't believe me?! Well, forget it! Consider it UNSAID!"
Spike just shook his head. "If only it was that easy," he said,
rolling his eyes. "Believe me, I know. You're looking at an expert
in the field of 'Don't admit it and maybe it'll all go away'."
"I'm seeing someone else!" she replied loudly, then
frowned. "Well, I was."
"Oh, come on!" Spike's voice was filled with jovial dis-
belief. "You can't really expect me to believe that you...what?
Loved him? Please. Even YOU'RE smarter than that."
"Meaning?" Her tone was frosty.
"Buffy...he's the guy who inspired the term Eurotrash. You're
too good for someone like that."
Buffy stared out the window, not wanting to listen while
Spike made derogatory comments about another man
she....
What? A man she loved? That just didn't sound right
at all. After all, how much could she have really cared about
him when she'd never even bothered to find out his name?
No, she hadn't loved the Immortal. He'd just been someone
to kill some time with; to provide a little entertainment so
that she didn't have to spend every waking minute thinking
about the man she'd really loved...and lost.
Sometimes, when she'd been sitting with him on the sofa
at home, she would close her eyes and pretend that the
strong arms around her, the cool body nestled close to
hers, belonged to....
The cab pulled up in front of a tall office building with a
jerk and squeal of brakes.
...to another vampire! The one who HADN'T saw fit to tell her
that he'd come back, damn his miserable restored soul!
She had grieved for him...cried for him...ached for him! And
what had HE been doing? Having a good old time pestering
Angel back in Los Angeles!
Well, he'd had his last chance with her, THAT was for damn
sure. Fumbling with the handle, she flung the door open
wide and almost fell out onto the sidewalk.
She was a good ten feet down the strada when she heard
him ask her a question with all the confident, smart ass bravado
completely gone from his voice.
"Buffy? Aren't you even a little bit glad to see me?"
Those words brought her to a dead stop.
~~~~~~~~~~
"Where I found the one
Of all the faces far from home..."
~~~~~~~~~~
She turned back to him and saw the uncertainty in his
eyes, and it made her heart...the heart she'd encased
behind a stone wall to keep it from shattering apart
again....crack wide open.
Spike was back. She had prayed for it, begged God for
it, dreamed of it, and wished on every star in the
sky to make it happen. When it hadn't, she had done
what she could to move on with her life.
Now she knew better. She hadn't 'moved on' with life.
She couldn't...not without him. All she had done was
put life 'on hold'.
She'd been waiting. Hadn't consciously realized it, but
she'd been waiting.
Waiting for him to come find her, and to take her home.
"Yes," she whispered. Swallowing the ache in her throat,
she began to cry.
Somewhere in the midst of her torrential downpour, one
of them had to have made the first move. There were arms
around her. A hand stroking her hair. A voice begging her
not to cry.
"Shh," he murmured softly in her ear. "S'all right now. I've
got you."
Oh, he did...and it felt so good. So...right.
Her arms crept up around his neck as she clung to
him. "Why'd you say it?" she sobbed into his shirt
front. "Tell me why."
He was silent for a long moment, and when he finally
spoke, his voice wasn't much steadier than her's.
"Because...because it was the last thing I could do for
you. The last chance I had to do things right. If I'd let
myself think that you'd really meant it, I wouldn't have
been able to let you go...and I had to. I didn't want that
place to be your goddamn tomb."
He pushed her away just a little, bringing his hands
up to cup her face and brush away her tears.
"I wanted you to live, baby," he said deliberately, looking
straight into her eyes. "For both of us."
Buffy placed her hands over his. "But after you came
back? Why didn't you tell me?"
"Well, it's not like I didn't want to, luv. I was a bloody ghost
at first. Couldn't go beyond the city limits. Couldn't even
dial a phone, and Angel sure as hell wasn't gonna punch
in the numbers for me, now was he?"
THAT was certainly true, Buffy knew.
"So...so you WERE planning on telling me? Eventually,
I mean?"
"Of course I was planning on it." A slow smile appeared
on his face. "Buffy," he added with a scolding shake of
his head. "Here I was thinking that you knew everything
there is to know about me. Do you really believe that ANY
power on earth could keep me away from you? I couldn't
even do THAT back when I hated you."
Buffy's respirations grew shallow as she stood there
looking up into the eyes she'd only seen in her dreams
for so long. They darkened and became more intense as
they stared into her's, a sure sign that he was becoming
aroused.
It was a memory that she hadn't allowed herself to take out
and examine just yet; the way he could tell her, without
saying a word, that he wanted her.
Always, her first clue was when the shade of his eyes deepened
as they watched her move about a room. She'd caught this look
too many times to count in their shared past, a signal too subtle
for anyone else to pick up, but to her was as loud and clear
as a clarion.
His head dipped slightly, and she could feel her lashes growing
heavy. With their lips just barely touching, he whispered,
"Buffy...kiss me. Please, baby. It's been so damn long."
Yes. It had. Far longer than it should have been.
Her fingers wrapped themselves in the lapels of his coat as
she stepped back into a small alcove in the facade of the
building, pulling him with her. When she felt the cold bricks
pressing against her back, she parted her lips and gave him
what he'd asked her for.
Spike's hand moved slowly around the back of her neck,
then up into her hair, his fingers spreading to hold her in a
firm grip as his lips pressed down harder, tracing the line
of her's with his tongue before slipping past them and into
her mouth with gentle force.
She could feel the alignment of their thighs, the close
press of her belly and breasts pressed against the hard
contours of his body.
A familiar lazy warmth began to spread through her, making
her want to lie down beneath him, feel his weight anchoring
her to the earth.
Desire and need uncoiled in the pit of her stomach, opening
her like a flower in hot sunshine.
This is what he always did to her, every time they touched,
things no other man had ever quite managed. His fingers
would travel in the most innocent of ways over her skin, and
she would feel an immediate urge to take off all her
clothes and offer herself to him. Her breasts would feel
suddenly heavier and more sensitive and there would be a
loose wetness between her thighs, an empty ache that only
he could make better.
It didn't matter where they happened to be at the time,
whether they were alone or in a crowded room. Spike was
the only man she'd ever allowed to touch her intimately in
any other location but a bedroom, the only man she'd ever
made love with in a public place; sometimes outside her
house, sometimes in a cemetery they'd been patrolling,
and that delicious encounter they'd had on the catwalk in
the Bronze when he'd walked up behind her and practically
dared her to make him stop.
She wouldn't have been able to stop him if her life had
depended on it.
When he pulled away, she tried to keep him close. "No,
please," she begged, lifting her face to his. "Spike...."
His free hand moved down to the small of her back,
pressing down just a tiny bit, letting her feel the undeniable
truth that he was every bit as needy as she.
"You ever been inside Wolfram and Hart?" he asked.
Buffy was having trouble switching gears, down shifting from
a rush of sexual heat to the cooler climate of responding
sensibly to insensible questions. "Yeah," she nodded. "I
stopped in L.A. before I came to Europe. Why?"
He grinned, stepping back from her and taking hold
of her hand. "Come on in and get a load of this," he said,
leading her through the steel and glass doors of Wolfram
and Hart's Rome offices.
~~~~~~~~~~
" Arrivederci, Roma
It's time for us to part..."
~~~~~~~~~~
She stood in the middle of the lobby, examining it with an
amused look. "It's exactly..."
"The same as the one in L.A." Spike finished. "Down to the
last paper clip. There are twelve other branches of the Evil
Empire, and I'd be willing to wager that they're all alike."
"Hmm. Kinda like McDonald's," she mused.
There was no one in the lobby except one lone security
guard who barely glanced at them before waving them
on.
Placing his hands on Buffy's hips, Spike began nudging
her backwards towards an open elevator. "Now see if you
can guess what's on the top floor."
"I give up."
He grinned wickedly. "An apartment reserved for the
big noise whenever he comes to town," he said as
they stepped into the elevator. "Just like the one in
L.A."
Buffy could almost see the wheels turning in his
brain. "Really?"
"Only thing missing is the king of pain himself. Same
tables, same chairs, same lamps...same bed." He
pushed her up against the back wall of the elevator,
pinning her to it with his body. "Want to go upstairs
and defile it?"
~~~~~~~~~~
"Save the wedding bells for my returning
Keep my lover's arms outstretched and yearning
Please be sure the flame of love keeps burning
In her heart...."
~~~~~~~~~~
TBC...
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