“Right…” Spike wasn’t sure of how to begin. He had promised to tell Buffy his story, but he was a little worried about her reaction. “What happened in London was…” He hesitated. “Well, let’s just say I made some bad decisions. And when I say ‘bad’, I mean really bad.”
They were both sitting on the couch in the living room, and Buffy leaned back to get more comfortable. “What, you killed someone?” She had meant it as a joke, trying to light up the mood a little, certain that it couldn’t be nearly that serious, but her smile faltered when she saw the look on his face. “Oh my God, you did!”
He glared at her. “I didn’t bloody kill anyone! Was close, though, but…” Seeing how she opened her mouth, about to interrupt again, he held up his hand to stop her. “You wanna hear my story? Then we’re doing it my way. I’ll talk, and you’ll keep your mouth shut until I’m done. That’s the deal; no interruptions. Got it?” She stared at him in disbelief for a moment, then she actually pouted. It was the most adorable thing he had ever seen, and he found himself wanting to pull her into his arms and start nibbling on her bottom lip. Shaking his head, as if to clear it, he raised an eyebrow, silently asking her to accept his conditions. Finally she nodded.
“Good.” He took a deep breath. “Before I got here, I was in jail for assault and battery.” Buffy’s eyes widened, but Spike had to admire her self control; true to her words, she didn’t say anything, just waited for him to go on. “There was this guy; Liam. He’s been the bloody thorn in my side since we were kids. Used to beat me up every day after school, and got his friends to steal my lunch money. He was a first class bully, and I suppose I was the perfect victim; never said anything, or even tried to fight back.” He looked away, suddenly ashamed. “I was a geek back in school, all right? Didn’t have any friends, and spent every night alone in my room, writing bloody awful poetry about some girl I would never have.”
Spike looked up then, giving her a look that dared her to laugh. She didn’t, so he went on; “To make a long story short; it went on like that for years and no one cared. Then one day, I guess I’d just had enough.” He paused as the memories came rushing back, still remembering the sound of Liam’s nose breaking. He also remembered how shocked he had been when he realized what he had just done. “One of the teachers saw me hitting him, so I got sent to the principal’s office. Got suspended for a week, since Liam and his friends told him that I started the whole thing. It was my word against theirs, so of course, no one believed me.”
Buffy still didn’t say anything, but the sympathy he could see in her eyes made him feel both annoyed and relieved at the same time, something he couldn’t quite understand. A part of him couldn’t believe that he was actually telling her this; Buffy was practically a stranger, not to mention the fact that he was attracted to her, and a confession like this wasn’t exactly a way to impress a girl. But there was just something about her that made him feel like he could tell her anything, and she wouldn’t judge him. He just prayed that he wasn’t wrong.
“After that, I thought they’d leave me alone, but they didn’t. Was just a couple of weeks left to graduation, so I decided to just try staying out of their way.” Spike remembered how relieved he had been when he’d left the school area for the last time, certain that all the years of hell were finally over. Now, he would never have to see any of them again. He had been wrong.
“Got a job at a workshop, and things went quite well for a couple of weeks. But it turned out that the owner of the shop was Liam’s father.” Spike let out a bitter laugh. “Didn’t take long before the wanker found out I was working there. He and his mates used to wait outside when I got off my shift.”
“One question?” Buffy looked so nervous that he didn’t have the heart to snap at her for interrupting. He nodded, much to her relief. “Did you ever tell anyone about what was going on?”
He shook his head. “Was no point, really. No one would believe me, anyway.”
“But that’s just… awful!” Buffy was almost in tears, and even though he was touched that she actually seemed to care, a part of him didn’t want her to feel sorry for him. The last thing he wanted was her pity. He supposed he wasn’t used to people caring about him.
Ignoring her last comment, he just went on. “One day, I just felt that something about me had changed. It was July 14th, 2004. Suddenly I felt stronger, like I’d been lifting weights for years or something, only I hadn’t.” He had never understood how it was possible, but at the time, he hadn’t really cared. All he knew was that he no longer had to be that loser who would just stand there and take whatever shit that was thrown his way. So, he had started fighting back. For the last couple of years, violence and fighting had been his entire world.
No words could describe how good it had felt to be in the middle of a fight, knowing that no matter how many people he was up against, he could take them. It was a wonderful, addictive feeling, and the rush he used to feel when he broke some guy’s nose or ribs was overwhelming. As was the guilt and the emptiness he always felt when it was over.
Rumors about him started going around town, and it didn’t take long before people he had hardly seen before started searching him out to get a piece of him. Of course, they never stood a chance. Girls who had never even looked his way back in high school now came running after him, because suddenly he was somebody, somebody they wouldn’t have to be ashamed to be seen with. Suddenly he was cool. He never took the girls up on their suggestions and pathetic offerings, though. Because deep down, he was disgusted with himself, disgusted with the fact that the only reason they wanted him was because he was bad. Once he had overheard a girl tell her friends that he actually could kill another guy with his bare hands. Her friends had been beyond impressed, and he had just wanted to vomit.
Strange how he could just sit here now and tell the entire story without feeling a thing. It was like he was talking about someone else; like his life was just something he had watched on the telly. Only it wasn’t. And now when he had come this far, he might as well tell Buffy the rest. How he had finally taken things too far, a tragic mistake that came to change everything, and almost destroyed his life. So, Spike told her about the incident that had started as self defense, as usual, and had ended with him realizing that even though he had stopped kicking the fallen man on the street, he wasn’t getting up.
Not that it had been the first time he had beaten someone unconscious, but this time the guy didn’t breathe. His face had been a bloody mess, and for a moment, Spike was sure he had killed him. Luckily, after almost a month in the hospital, the guy – Spike still didn’t know his name, or maybe he had simply forgotten – had almost recovered. The police had arrested him, and he had confessed to all charges. Spike supposed he had gotten away easy; the three months he had spent in jail hadn’t exactly been a picnic, but he realized it could’ve been a lot worse. The day after he had been released, he’d decided to leave London for good.
And now here he was, waiting for Buffy’s reaction, waiting for the look of disgust on her beautiful face, waiting for her to either jump up from the couch and run away screaming before locking herself into her bedroom, or confronting him with harsh words and accusations. Either way, the result would be the same. Buffy would hate him now. Because no matter what happened, no matter what he would do, he would always be alone.
TBC
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Author's Chapter Notes:
So, I finally finished Saving You. Now I can fully concentrate on this story, which is good because I have so many ideas, I can hardly wait to get it all down. I think this will be another one of my long fics, that is if I'll manage to keep my readers interest with this one. *lol*