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Author's Chapter Notes:
Sorry for the delay in posting. I've had a lot going on. Hopefully, any delays in the future won't be longer than a day. I'm hoping to have Chapter 4 of Poison up later today, so check that out when it appears. If it's your cup of tea, let me know. As far as this fic. goes, I will continue it until its eventual completion as long as you guys keep letting me know you're interested. Thanks!
Chapter Twenty-One:

Spike scraped yet another dish of leftover mystery casserole into the trash. Did that actually have green beans and marshmallows? The guests had finally all cleared out and the girls had made their way to the airport in Willow and Tara's rental car. Buffy had managed to hold it together all afternoon despite a barrage of questions regarding her father's absence. That's right, Hank Summers didn't even bother to show up for his wife's funeral. Buffy wasn't yet ready to process her feelings on that matter. Spike had thought that she would want to collapse on the couch with him as soon as they were alone as she had been unusually clingy since the first moment he touched her at the funeral. Instead, as soon as the last guest left, she begged off to take a shower. He could tell by her tone that he wasn't invited. He assumed she simply needed a little private time to regroup which was more than understandable given the circumstances. So, he busied himself cleaning up the impressive mess that the well-meaning mourners had left behind. As he picked up a half empty coffee cup from the kitchen table, he wrinkled his nose when he caught a whiff of something potent. Whiskey? That explains why Mrs. Crandell was getting so frisky with me there towards the end. The old bat must have been thoroughly pissed. Brilliant. Spike shook his head and continued gathering dishes, keeping a close eye on the time. While he understood that Buffy might need a little time to herself, he wasn't entirely comfortable leaving her on her own for an extended period. His concern was partially based on worry over her state of mind and partly based on his tremendous guilt over leaving her to her own devices for so many days to deal with this tragedy without his support. He knew that wasn't entirely his fault as he had been ignorant of the situation, but he couldn't help but wonder if only he had paid more attention that afternoon...then maybe he would have noticed that something was terribly wrong. Instead, he had just figured her melancholy mood was due to his impending departure. Selfish git.

As he placed the final dish in the washer, he realized that a full half hour had passed since Buffy had ascended the stairs. He added detergent and closed and started the dishwasher before heading up to the second floor. He found the bathroom door ajar and the room itself clearly unoccupied, so he made his way to the room he remembered as being Buffy's from his earlier tour. The door was closed and he could hear no sound coming from within. He gave the door a soft rap. No response. As he quietly turned the knob and pushed the door open, Spike's heart broke at the scene before him. Buffy was sitting on the bed, legs curled beneath her, looking very much like a teenager in a pair of pink pajama shorts and matching tank top. Her head was bowed with silent tears dripping down her face. Held tightly to her chest was a rather gaudy teal blue wool sweater.

"What have you got there, luv?" Spike smiled gently, but she continued to look down. "You all right there, Sweetheart?" At her lack of response, Spike made his way over to the bed and sat down beside her. He opted not to touch her, instead bracing one hand behind her on the bed and softly placing the other on the sweater in her arms. He ducked his head, attempting to make eye contact. "Want to tell me about it?" Minutes passed. Spike simply sat there gingerly stroking his thumb over the fabric she was clutching, not sure if she would welcome his touch at that moment. When it seemed that a response would never come, she let out a shuddering sigh and began to speak.

"It's...it's my mom's...was my mom's." Spike gave her an encouraging nod. "When I was 16...I got grounded for sneaking out one night in December. My parents told me that I couldn't...couldn't go to my friend's New Year's party. I was sooo mad. My parents were going to a party at my dad's firm in LA. I thought that I could just sneak out again, but no, they recruited one of the neighbors to check in on me." Buffy moved the sweater away from her chest and focused a watery smile on it. "My mom bought this sweater for the party. And me being the snot that I was, I swiped it. She...she looked everywhere for it. She got all frantic and stuff. I didn't understand why. I mean it was just a stupid sweater, right? I heard my dad yelling at her to hurry up. She was...she was crying. I listened outside their bedroom door. I just...I hadn't known how insecure she was...especially around my father. I guess she bought the sweater special for the party because...it made her feel pretty...made her feel good. She wanted dad to be proud to show her off to his colleagues. She wanted to feel...significant." Buffy took a deep breath and continued, "When I realized what it meant to her, I should've just given it back...but I didn't. At the time, I was just so afraid of all the trouble I'd be in. So, I just shoved it to the back of my dresser drawer and never looked at it again...until today. I was looking for some pj's, and there it was." She sniffed, "I can't believe I forgot about it."

Spike hesitated for a moment before sliding his arms around Buffy and squeezing her gently. He was relieved to feel her relax into his embrace. "You know, luv, I bet your mum had long since forgotten about it as well."

"I guess," she mumbled with her face buried in his neck.

"There's no sense in torturing yourself with the what ifs and could have beens. Believe me, luv, I know. I wasn't much older than you when I lost my own mum. All you can really do is accept that she knew that you loved her, and that's all that really matters. There's no changing the past. So much of it is trivial anyway in the grand scheme of things."

She lifted her blotchy face to meet his eyes, "Are we trivial?"

He sighed and cupped her cheeks, "What I have with you, my dear, is one of the least trivial things I've ever experienced in my life."

She placed a hand over one of his, "I think...maybe I should move in with you."

Spike's eyes lit up, "You mean it, luv?"

"Yeah...and I think we should go home tomorrow. There are things that need to be done here, but...let dad figure it out. I don't want to be here anymore. I promise I'll bring you back under happier circumstances and give you the grand tour some day."

"I have no doubt, luv. I look forward to it. Why don't you let me book our tickets for first thing in the morning, then we can turn in early. Before you know it, we'll be back at the flat...our home."

Buffy smiled as she leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his lips, "Spike, I—thank you."


Chapter End Notes:
Hmmm, smooth sailing...for now. Too bad there's angst on the horizon. Sorry this chapter was so short, but let me know what you think! Thanks!



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