Or maybe he just didn’t want to be away from her.
The room was tiny, and started to feel smaller and smaller as he walked back and forth, back and forth, straining his ears for sounds from the bar even though he knew there was no way he could hear what they were saying. He briefly thought of sneaking out and eavesdropping, then shook that thought away with an embarrassed chuckle. He wasn’t quite that obsessed. Yet.
Finally he collapsed on the bed and stared at the ceiling, heart racing, a goofy smile spreading across his face.
She wanted to stay. With him.
Hearing that admittance from her, no matter how small it really was in the grand scheme of things, Spike had decided one thing. As long as she wanted him, he’d be with her. He wouldn’t be the one to leave. Whatever he could do to keep her, he’d do it, bugger the consequences.
And if she didn’t really want him, if this was just a brief extension of her little rebellion and in a few hours or days she wanted to head home and leave him…well, he didn’t like to think about that, but he had a backup plan. He’d drink himself into a stupor, and leave first thing the next morning. One day, or maybe a few, wouldn’t make a huge difference to him.
Once she was gone, so was he.
But maybe…maybe she wouldn’t leave.
His tension and worries faded away as he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling, still smiling, content for the first time in a long time. He’d made a choice, he knew what he wanted, and he was going for it. He was back to the way he used to be full force, after months of living in a self-constructed prison. The old Spike was back.
The truth in that statement was made clear by the lightness in his heart, replacing the heavy dread that had been typical since Drusilla’s departure. He wasn’t stewing in his own juices, dwelling on his faults and mistakes. For once he was enjoying the present, hoping for the future, instead of living in the past and living on regrets like they were sustenance.
But what made Spike truly realize he’d turned a corner was when his fingers suddenly twitched, and words began to form in his mind. It was such an alien feeling that he almost didn’t recognize it. Then he leapt up from the bed and moved to the desk, lips moving unconsciously as the words begged to be released. He finally found a pencil and his old journal, buried in the back of the desk drawer, and sat to write.
The words poured out of him. Short phrases, snippets of dialogue, descriptions. Images, thoughts, situations. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t even linear, but for the first time in months he was creating, filling first one page then two, glimpses of genius buried between random thoughts. And each word, each letter, was completely, entirely inspired by Buffy.
He didn’t notice when she first entered the room, so wrapped up as he was in the forgotten feeling of writing. But after a few seconds, his body became aware of her. His skin hummed, his heart seized, and he turned to see her hovering in the doorway.
He jumped up and made it to her in three steps. She squealed in girlish surprise as he wrapped her in his arms and lifted her, twirling her in a circle before depositing her on her back on the bed.
“Spike, wha---“ she started to ask, but his lips on hers cut off any further questioning. He tried to pour everything he was feeling into that kiss---elation about her staying, gratitude for the gift she’d given him. He tried to tell her that she was his muse, that she’d turned him back around, that she was everything he’d ever wanted, that if she’d have him, he---
He couldn’t let his brain go any further. Just because he was the old Spike again didn’t mean he had to revive all his traits---like his tendency towards falling too hard, too fast, and laying himself bare at the feet of his chosen love. That was one thing he could hide for now.
Buffy struggled to retain her train of thought under the onslaught of emotion she was experiencing. The light touch of his skin on hers wiped out all her self-control and sent her spiraling into lust, into a blissful state of unawareness. She didn’t remember that Willow was waiting for her or that she would be facing a sort of firing squad in a few minutes. Nothing mattered but Spike and the way he was making her feel. She gave herself over fully to him, pliant and willing, drowning in the intensity of his kiss.
Her mouth was soft and wet against his, and he let out a whimper. His body was too tired to respond in any physical way, but he still ached for her, needed her as close to him as possible, and he deepened the kiss. As he reveled in her touch he let his mind wander to how they could spend the evening, tomorrow, next week.
The kiss went on too long and Buffy began to feel light-headed, pushing gently at Spike’s shoulders and letting out a slight whine of protest when he didn’t move away.
“Sorry, love,” he gasped out when he pulled back, a bashful smile curling his mouth as he saw her flushed face.
“It’s okay.” The separation of their lips meant her ability to think started to return, and she pushed his shoulders again, needing him further away from her before she could even begin to figure out what to say.
Words had never been her strongest gift, and the times she got into the most trouble with her parents or teachers were the times when she tried her hardest to explain something. She stumbled over her own thoughts, stuttered, said things she didn’t mean and meant to say things she didn’t. And with Spike looking at her so closely, she didn’t know how she’d get out what she was thinking. She wanted to believe that he’d understand why she had to go, but a part of her feared she wouldn’t be able to explain. With the sudden rush of intense emotion she felt towards him, it was nearly impossible to imagine that she’d ever be able to describe what she was feeling. What she wanted.
Spike frowned, delight deflating as he watched Buffy sit up, eyes averted from him, lip caught between her teeth tightly. Her body language was reminiscent of when he’d seen her on the steps the day before---and had it really only been a day? “What’s wrong, pet?” He asked softly, reaching out to brush her hair away from her cheek.
Unintentionally Buffy found herself shying away from his touch, and regretted the tiny flinch immediately when his face fell. He looked totally crushed, and she hated herself for the words that came out of her mouth next, devoid of the finesse or gentleness she’d hoped for, tinged with a casualness she didn’t feel. “Nothing’s wrong, but Willow’s actually going to take me home.”
There was a pause, a pause that seemed eternal to both of them. “Now?” Spike finally asked, his voice unbearably morose even to his own ears.
“Yeah, I need to---“
He couldn’t hear anymore, couldn’t allow her to placate him with meaningless words that wouldn’t change the fact that she was going. “That’s okay, pet. You all ready to go?”
She frowned at the casual way he accepted the news. “Spike, it’s not that---‘
“Don’t worry about it,” he interrupted again, his own self-pity distracting him from the tears welling up in her eyes as he glanced down at his hand, clenched so tightly in a fist his nails were breaking the skin of his palm. If he avoided looking at her, he could avoid having to watch her go. “I can drive you, or no your mate is here. I’ll walk you out.”
“Just let me explain---” She tried again.
“No, you don’t have to, I get it. I’m not…it’s fine, I understand.” He stood up quickly, hands shoved deep in his pockets.
“Oh, do you? Do you really?” she spat, the anger behind her words shocking him into sitting again, “Why don’t you explain it to me, then?”
Spike stared at her, confused for a moment, so wrapped up in his own quick devolution from his new and improved self. After a brief moment Buffy began to speak again, words rolling out of her quickly.
“That’s right, you can’t, because you have no idea what I’m thinking, you’re just off in your own little Spike world lalala and you won’t listen to me!”
“I’m not…lalala,” he protested weakly, finally looking at her, and registering the now familiar signs of her distress. The transition into feeling like a complete ass was over quickly, and he struggled with an explanation.
Buffy didn’t notice the realization dawning in his eyes and continued on her rant, “You know, for someone who was so great before you are kind of acting like a jerk, and I don’t even know why I’m bothering to try and explain it’s not like you seem to care----“
Spike had no way to argue with her, so he did the only thing he could think of, and pulled her lips to his. She squeaked in surprise but relaxed slightly into the kiss as he slid his hands up to cup her face gently.
When the sweet, soft kiss ended, Buffy found herself having a little trouble remembering exactly what she’d been angry about, but she remembered enough to say, “You’re still a jerk.”
He nodded, forehead resting against hers. “Sometimes, yeah. Forgive me?”
“How often does this jerk part of you come out? Because, I’ve been here for awhile and this is the first I’ve seen of it.”
“I’m only a complete berk about fifteen percent of the time, if you want a solid figure.”
Buffy giggled, eyes fluttering shut as long fingers lightly stroked her cheek. But rather than being soothed, she found herself almost more agitated, as she once again struggled for what to say and how to feel. Everything was happening so fast in her life that it seemed as if she couldn’t grab onto anything to hold her steady. Spike felt like he could be her stability but she knew the idea was crazy, since he was just another one of the sudden changes she was trying to figure out. Except she didn’t want to let go of him long enough to find out what would happen to her alone, though she knew she had to.
She pulled away again, but this time Spike let her go and sat quietly as she spoke. “This is just…a lot. I have so much I’m trying to figure out, and I’ve just been hiding out here with you. Can you see that?” He nodded, and a bit of her stress eased. “And I’m trying to be mature about this, right? And it’s not the mature thing to just ignore my parents and Angel and pretend like nothing happened. So I need to go.”
Spike nodded again, her words making perfect sense even as they worried him, though they had nothing to do with him. “I understand, pet.”
“Good,” Buffy sighed, then asked hesitantly, “Um, so are you…I mean are you leaving today, or…?”
He chose his words carefully, considered each syllable. There was no way he was leaving until she told him to, his trip had lost its importance when she made him feel like himself again. Still, he didn’t want to add more responsibility onto her shoulders, making himself just another problem she had to deal with. “I was thinking of sticking around for a bit longer. Xander mentioned something about work in the bar he needs help with.”
“Okay, cool,” she smiled weakly, retaining hope that, although he hadn’t said it, he might be staying for her too. He’d told her earlier he needed her, and that had to be enough for now. “Could you do me a favor? Entertain Willow for just a few minutes, I want to just…um, rinse off in the shower quick?”
He agreed and stood up, reaching out to brush her shoulder with his hand before he forced himself out the door.
A part of him knew he should say something, say anything, say what he thought and what he wanted and speak aloud. Tell her exactly how he was feeling so when she returned home she’d know he would be waiting for her as long as it took, so she would know he was hers if she wanted him.
But he chose not to, chose to let her figure things out for herself and headed out into the bar, now open for business but still nearly empty. A girl who he assumed was Willow sat awkwardly at the bar.
“Are you Spike?” The redhead smiled widely when he approached and stuck out her hand. “Willow Rosenberg, nice to meet you.”
“You too,” he nodded and took a seat next to her. “Buffy’s just…getting her stuff. Did Xander or anyone offer you a drink?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m driving.”
“Ah, right,” he nodded, quickly, scanning the bar and spying Xander delivering drinks to the only other patrons in the bar, settled at a booth in the corner. He struggled for a conversation topic, but after only a moment of silence the girl began to chatter in his ear.
She rambled a bit before finally asking him a question. “So, you’re a waiter?”
“Was. Yesterday was my last day, actually.”
“Oh, okay. So what are you doing now?”
“No plans as of yet.”
“And you live here?”
Spike got the distinct impression he was being interrogated, but the girl’s wide eyes and friendly demeanor softened the questions. Still, he couldn’t resist playing with her a bit. “Yeah, I do,” he said quickly. “And where do you live?”
“Um. Me? Buffy and I share, or shared, I guess, an apartment out by campus.”
“Ah. And what’s your major?”
“Biology---hey! I’m supposed to be asking you the questions, mister!” she protested with a frown.
Spike chuckled. “Alright, I’m sorry. Ask away.”
“I…well it’s ruined now that you know I’m asking you questions,” Willow whined.
“Well, it was a bit obvious,” he laughed again, then calmed. “I swear, anything you want to ask, I’ll answer.”
Her face grew serious, and she asked, “Okay. What do you want from Buffy?”
The question surprised him. “I---what do you mean?”
“Look, you take her away from her wedding when you don’t even know her or what she wanted, then you keep her here all night and…look, you seem nice and all and I’m sure Buffy would kill me for saying this, but things are going to be really bad for her when she gets home and I just don’t want you to get in the way being all…cool bar guy.”
“I still don’t follow.”
Willow sighed, and slowed down her words. “Buffy and I have been friends forever, and I worry about her. And I don’t want to have to worry about her…with you. Because she deserves the best, and if you really do like her, then you know, yay? But right now she’s got a lot to deal with and I just don’t want you to confuse her.”
“Okay,” Spike said with a frown, considering her words and his mind sticking on the phrase deserve the best. He knew it to be true, and knew he certainly wasn’t that.
“Oh, and if you hurt her, I will beat you to death with a shovel. Just so we’re clear---“ Willow snapped her mouth shut and stared over his shoulder, and he turned to see Buffy heading towards them.
“That was quick,” said Spike, forcing a smile. She was back in Faith’s sweats, had pulled her hair back in a clean bun, and was holding his clothes in her hands.
“Yeah, I’m speedy. I’ll take these home and wash them for you?”
“You’re going to wash my clothes?” he smirked playfully at her, pushing away his awareness of Willow’s suspicious eyes.
“Well, it’s polite, you know. To wash something when you’ve borrowed it.”
“Right, okay then,” Spike nodded. The three stood silent for an awkward moment, each not wanting to be the one to suggest it was time to leave.
“You abandoning us, Buffster?” Xander asked as he walked over and interrupted the group, a desolate pout on his face.
“Not abandoning,” she corrected. “I’m…giving you a break from me. But I’ll be back, okay? Faith said karaoke?”
“For sure,” he nodded eagerly. “She ran out to pick up a part, she’ll be pissed she missed you. I think she loves you more than me.”
Buffy giggled. “I’m planning to steal her away from you, keep on your guard.”
“Will do.” He reached out and gave her an awkward hug, winking at Spike over the top of her blonde head. Willow watched the exchange curiously, then hopped down from her stool.
“I’m going to head out and start up the car,” she announced. “Meet me out there, Buffy?”
“Uh, sure, Wills.”
She headed out the door, and Xander found himself alone with the couple, who were studiously avoiding his gaze. “And I am going to…make myself disappear.” He ducked under the bar and crossed to the other side, doing a poor job of hiding the fact he was watching them in the mirror.
Buffy spoke first, taking one small step closer to Spike, wanting to reach out and kiss him goodbye but afraid the time for such things had passed. “So, you’re sticking around for awhile then?”
“Yeah. I’ll be here.” He took his own step towards her, and there was only a foot of space between them. It would take the littlest movement to breach it, but both kept their hands to themselves, both afraid to make the wrong move when everything between them was new and uncertain.
“Okay,” she started slowly. “I just…I wanted to thank you. For everything. I don’t---“
“There’s no need, love. Really,” he insisted.
“No, there is,” she said firmly. “You were amazing to me, and last night…last night was perfect.”
His whole face lit up at her assessment, and he couldn’t stop himself from pulling her towards him to bestow a soft kiss on her forehead. “It was, pet.”
Warmth spread throughout her body, originating at the skin he’d brushed with his lips, and she threaded her arms around his waist and hugged him tight before stepping away quickly, sure that one more second in his arms and it would be even harder to go.
“So, thank you,” she repeated, and gestured over her shoulder to the door. “I should go.”
He wanted to pull her back to him, prevent her from leaving, keep her captive here away from the people who could turn her back into the meek girl he met yesterday. But he didn’t, couldn’t, and so he nodded his agreement. “I’ll…I’m sure I’ll see you soon, though, yeah?”
“Yeah,” she agreed, biting her tongue to keep from making a promise to be back soon, a promise she knew she couldn’t keep. With one last smile she turned and walked out of the bar, blinking against the sun setting on the horizon just ahead.
In the space of twenty four hours it seemed like everything about her had changed, yet in some ways she felt like nothing was different. As she climbed into Willow’s car and they headed for her house on the opposite side of town, she allowed herself just a few more moments of bliss, imagining the next time she would see Spike.
But the closer they got to her home and her parents, the heavier her heart began to feel, until soon there were no remnants of the peace she’d found with him. When the car pulled up to the gate of her neighborhood, she was officially panicked, and held her breath as they drove up the hill to her home.
She knew what she would be facing when she got out of the car, and for a second wished she could have hidden at that bar forever.
But Buffy knew what she needed to do, and a part of her wanted to do it. To finally stand up for herself and do what she wanted, to pull herself out from under the thumb of her father.
But when she saw him standing in the driveway, arms crossed and eyes burning with anger, she knew it was going to be easier said than done.
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