Chapter Four
Spike tucked his newspaper under his arm as he picked up his coffee and donut. He walked to the front of the café and stopped short. There was someone sitting at what he considered his table. He put his purchases down on the table next to it and slid into a chair.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” a warm voice said softly.
He turned and groaned quietly when he saw the brunette from the day before.
“I should apologise to you,” he replied. “But I would really like to be left to read my paper in peace, okay?”
Cordelia got up and sat opposite him, with her back to the window. She held out her hand. “My name’s Cordelia.”
Spike stared at her hand, noticing the long scarlet manicured fingernails, before briefly shaking it.
“Spike,” he said.
“Spike?” Cordelia repeated with a giggle. “Didn’t your parents like you?”
Spike smiled back at her; it was impossible not to. “It’s a nickname.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, I would never have guessed! Spike, please note the colour of my hair – I’m not a dumb blonde.”
“Okay. Not dumb. Check.”
Encouraged by his smile, Cordelia risked asking a few questions. “So, what brings you to L.A.? Your accent is British, isn’t it?”
“English,” corrected Spike gently. “There isn’t such a thing as a British accent, just Welsh, English, Scottish and Northern Irish. You can call me a Brit but my accent’s English.” He smiled ruefully. “Sorry, lecture over.”
“Forgiven,” said Cordelia. “I have a friend who is from New Zealand and she hates it if she gets referred to as Australian; similar thing I guess.”
“Suppose.” Spike began to crumble his donut up.
“So?” prompted Cordelia, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Huh?”
“What brings you to these shores? The love of a good woman?”
Spike’s expression closed down immediately and a tick worked in his jaw. Cordelia apologised quickly, knowing that she’d hit the nail on the head. The key to this man was the photograph in his wallet.
“I’m sorry. Please forget I said that.”
Spike forced himself to relax. “’S okay,” he mumbled.
“Please tell me you’re not an actor,” said Cordelia.
“And what’s wrong with being an actor?” He glared at her.
“Er…nothing,” Cordelia said sheepishly.
“I’ll have you know that I was very good when I played Joseph,” declared Spike, still scowling.
For the first time, Cordelia detected a little gleam in Spike’s eyes, and realised that he was teasing her. She decided to play along.
“What was that in? A stage production or a film?”
“On the stage. I tread the boards, my dear,” said Spike, affecting an upper class accent. “Mrs. Hickinbottom said I was a natural.”
“You’ve made that name up,” protested Cordelia.
Spike shook his head. “I haven’t the imagination to make it up.”
“Okay, I’ll bite,” said Cordelia. “Who is Mrs. Hickinbottom?”
“My primary school teacher. I was six.”
Cordelia laughed and Spike surprised himself by joining in.
They chatted about anything and everything for a while before Cordelia tried again.
“You never did tell me why you’re over here?”
“I came like thousands before me have, to try to make it in the music business. I have a friend over here that got me a job in the office where he worked so that I could come over and stay for a while.”
“Wow,” said Cordelia. “So should I have heard of you?”
“Nah. Never got signed up. Sold a few songs though.” Spike named the two that had been hits whilst he was back in the U.K.
Cordelia nodded. “I’m impressed. One got to number one didn’t it?”
“Yeah. For about a minute,” replied Spike dismissively. Unconsciously, he pulled his wallet out of his pocket and flipped it open.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Cordelia asked, her voice not much more than a whisper. “I’m a good listener.”
Spike glanced up at her – at this stranger – and suddenly found himself talking properly about what had happened for the first time.
Cordelia was true to her word and listened intently without comment as Spike bared his soul to her.
“So, how pathetic does that make me?” asked Spike, a touch bitterly. “Sitting here hoping that a girl I used to go out with might just happen to walk by? Shit! I know she’s not even in the bloody city.”
Cordelia smiled kindly.
Spike covered his face with his hands and groaned. “Christ, I can’t believe that I’ve told you all that. I haven’t even told my best mate most of it.”
Cordelia’s heart was racing. She’d gotten her story all right. She wouldn’t betray his confidence but it was just too great a story to ignore.
“I’m cheaper than the shrink your friend suggested,” she replied wryly. Halfway through his tale, Spike had bought her a cappuccino and a slice of cake.
“God, I’m sorry.” Spike flushed with embarrassment. “Look, it’s been nice talking to you, Cordelia, but I really better be going.” He rose quickly from his seat and within seconds had disappeared outside.
Cordelia grinned as she pulled out her cell. “Faith, hi. Would you be interested in a human interest story? A guy who spends half the day in a café hoping that his ex might turn up there one day because it’s opposite the corner where they used to meet when they were dating.”
She laughed at Faith’s reply. “No. It’s not as sappy as it sounds. This guy…he got to me…he’s something else. But it’ll have to be with changed names. There’s no way he’d give permission to tell his story. Leave it to me – the only people who know who it refers to will be those who know him well. You never know – she might read it and we could get the reunion story too.”
She thanked the editor of the magazine where she worked and then hung up. She pulled her laptop out of its case near to her feet, and began to type.
*~*~*~*
Spike was relieved not to see Cordelia in the café the next day. He’d barely slept due to worrying about opening up to her. He hadn’t told Oz. He’d been too embarrassed by it. He didn’t stay quite so long at the café that day, unable to settle in his seat, so he ended up wandering the streets for hours instead. It was times like this that he wished that he could still song write. He used to get his guitar out if he was feeling restless and lose himself, but now playing just left him cold. It transported him to places that he no longer wanted to go.
*~*~*~*
Buffy Summers was bored. She’d channel hopped just about every channel on the TV in the vain hope of finding something that could hold her interest. Groaning with frustration, she threw the remote control across the room and got up. Time for some ice-cream.
“Typical,” she moaned when she’d checked the freezer. Colin must have finished the last of the ice-cream off without telling her. “Grrr!”
She grabbed her jacket and purse and left in search of icy goodness at the local store. She missed Colin when he was out of town. Luckily it wasn’t that often but being the head of the surgical department at Sunnydale Hospital meant that he did have to go to the occasional seminar and conference.
When she’d first started dating him, she’d travelled with him but soon found that sitting in a hotel room watching bad TV was just as boring as staying at home. So now she didn’t bother to go anymore.
She smiled as she pulled her car into the parking lot outside the store. Her life was pretty much perfect these days. Colin was a good man and his job and prospects meant that her mother loved him almost as much as she did. If it wasn’t as passionate as her previous relationship had been – her smile faded – then that wasn’t such a bad thing, was it? He’d never let her down.
Colin was safe, reliable and cared deeply for her without making her feel smothered. She glanced at the ring finger on her left hand. The diamond and emerald ring glistened in the sun. They were due to be married in eight month’s time.
Buffy selected two of flavours of ice-cream and also bought a couple of magazines to read since nothing had looked worth watching on TV. Putting one tub in the freezer, she got a spoon out of a drawer and took Cookie Dough flavour and the magazines into the living room of the house that she shared with Colin.
An article titled ‘The Man Who Can’t Be Moved’ grabbed her attention and soon the ice-cream was forgotten as she poured over the words written by Cordelia Chase.
“Oh, my God!”
She couldn’t believe it. No – it couldn’t be… She read it again and then again. There was no mistake. The man in the article was Spike.
“Spike!”
Her eyes misted over as she recalled the end of their relationship. The fight with Angel. How she’d felt so guilty to have kissed him when it had meant nothing to her. She’d aimed for his cheek, he’d turned and it had fallen on his lips and then instead of pushing him away, she’d kissed him back! Why had she done that? She shook her head sadly. She’d been flattered. A hot shot lawyer plying her with compliments that had gone to her head. Then Spike had made her so angry when he’d referred to her as if she were a possession like Angel’s stupid over the top sports car. Her anger fuelled by her guilt at the kiss.
Spike…his love for her was so strong that at times it had frightened her a little. He’d been her first ‘proper’ boyfriend and had been so sure that they’d be together forever. Then one stupid argument and he’d left her. No explanations or anything. Just upped and left for England. Only now, if this article was true, he hadn’t gone of his own accord. He’d thought that she’d been out with Angel the day after the reunion when she’d really been crying on Willow’s shoulder.
That same guilt made her not contact him, not try to fight his decision to end it. She felt that she wasn’t worthy of his love, knowing that she’d hurt him so badly. When she’d finally plucked up courage to talk to him – to ask for his forgiveness, Oz had told her that he’d left the country. She couldn’t believe that Angel would have threatened him like the article claimed – no strike that – it was exactly the sort of thing that Angel would do.
She managed a little smile at the pseudonym used for Angel – Gabriel. Mind you, she wasn’t so sure that she liked being called Joan.
Her heart ached for Spike when she read how he could no longer write. Although the article had only said that he’d found it impossible to continue in the pursuit of his dream career. She had to hand it to this reporter. Buffy didn’t think that even her mother or sister would realise who it was really about.
After a sleepless night, Buffy got in her car and headed for L.A. before dawn had even broken. Colin was away for another two days and she had to see Spike.
*~*~*~*
Spike had been puzzled when one of the waitresses at the café had given him a copy of a women’s magazine as he’d left. Puzzled that was until he flicked through it when he got home.
“The bloody bitch!” he roared flinging the magazine across the room.
It hit Oz on the legs as he walked in. “What’s wrong?” he asked, picking it up and peering at the title. “Never thought you’d be reading this.”
“Take a look at page seven,” growled Spike.
Curious, Oz sat in an armchair, found the article and read it, all the time aware of Spike watching him. When he’d read it, he closed the magazine, put in down and looked at Spike. “Oh.”
“Is that it? Oh?”
Oz shrugged. “It’s a true account. You never told me that you’d told your story to a journalist.”
“I bleeding didn’t!” roared Spike, standing up and pacing up and down the room.
“So what? This…” Oz flipped back to see the author’s by-line. “Cordelia Chase just made it up and it by some miracle completely matches the few months of your life?”
Spike sighed and flopped back on the couch. “No. I did talk to her, only I didn’t know she was a reporter. We just got talking and well…I couldn’t stop - once I got started it sort of all came out.”
“So that’s where you go every morning?” asked Oz. “’Cause I have to say - that is a bit odd.”
Spike shook his head and groaned loudly. “I know. I know. I’m fucked up, Oz. I can’t bleeding help it. I can’t get her out of my mind. She’s there all the sodding time, and now everybody knows what a total wanker I really am.”
“Calm down. It’s not so bad. No one will know it’s you.”
Spike looked at him incredulously, “Are you daft? It’s bleeding obvious that it’s me. You knew straightaway. Shit!”
Oz moved to sit next to Spike on the couch. “No one who doesn’t know the story already will think that it’s you. The names and even descriptions have been changed. I mean she describes Angel as blond and hell, she says that you’re handsome.”
“Hey!” protested Spike. “That bit is true.”
“So it’s not a disaster, is it?” said Oz trying a smile.
“Are you sure that it doesn’t sound like me?”
“Positive.”
“’M never going back to that café,” stated Spike firmly. “The bloody waitress gave me the mag.”
“Well maybe it means that you’re going to be able to move on if you stop going there,” said Oz carefully, knowing that the words ‘move on’ were often like a red rag to a bull to Spike.
“Maybe,” replied Spike quietly.
*~*~*~*
The next morning Spike found himself automatically making his way to the café as usual. He ignored the sideways glance from the waitress who’d given him the magazine and put the correct money on the counter before picking up his order and walking to ‘his’ table. There was an envelope on it addressed simply to ‘Spike’. He looked back at the waitress but she was busy serving another customer. He sat down and opened the envelope.
It contained a single sheet of paper.
Spike,
I hope you can forgive me for using your story for the magazine article. I am donating my fee for this to charity. It just moved me so much I couldn’t leave it untold. I disguised everyone as much as possible and I sincerely hope that it causes you no embarrassment.
My number if you want to get in touch – even if just to yell at me –is 555 253 6423
Yours truly,
Cordelia Chase
Spike folded the paper up and put it in the pocket of his jeans. I’ll be more careful who I talk to in future. He couldn’t really blame a reporter from writing it up. He stared into his coffee mug lost in his thoughts.
Buffy walked along the street to the café. Although it hadn’t been named she’d known exactly where it was. Opposite where they’d literally first bumped into each other.
Now that she was actually in L.A. she was feeling kind of dumb at racing out here. She should have contacted the reporter. Had her give Spike her number. That would have been more sensible, but her heart was pounding as the café came into view.
She could see someone sitting in the window with his head down. For a moment, she didn’t realise that it was Spike, as she’d been expecting the platinum blond hair, but when he briefly raised his head and ran his hand over his face there was no mistaking who it was.
She stopped and the woman behind her cursed as she walked into the back of her, but Buffy took no notice. There he was. After all this time. Courage failing, she turned away, only to turn back and cross the street. A car’s horn sounded loudly as the driver swerved to avoid her.
Buffy held a hand up in apology and jogged to the sidewalk just a couple of doors down from the café. She walked the rest of the way and took a deep breath as she put her hand on the door. Before she had time to change her mind again she pushed it open and walked inside. She paused when she was a few yards away from Spike. He was staring out the window, his left hand absently turning his donut into a pile of sticky crumbs. She bit her lip. Had his cheekbones always been so sharply defined?
On legs that felt like they were in danger of not being able to hold her upright, she closed the distance between them. She opened her mouth but nothing came out apart from a very quiet squeak. Clearing her throat, she tried again.
“Spike.”
The word was quietly spoken but its effect was dramatic. Spike stood up and whirled around so quickly that his chair fell over with a clatter and his coffee spilled all over the table.
He stared at her with such disbelief and delight that she wondered if she’d been right to come here after all.
“Buffy.” The word was a strangled sob.
They both bent to retrieve the upturned chair and bumped heads.
“Ow!” yelled Buffy, rubbing her forehead.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
Spike’s blue eyes had never looked so intense as he watched her stand up and walk to the opposite side of the table to where he’d been sitting. Spike picked up the chair and they had just sat down when a waitress came to wipe up the spillage. Neither spoke until she moved away again.
Spike stared at her. He had to make a conscious effort to keep breathing. She was here. She’d come to find him. She was here!
Dropping her eyes from Spike’s face, Buffy finally broke the silence. “You’ve lost weight.”
“Yeah,” replied Spike after a pause. “You too.” He smiled tentatively at her.
“Thanks. Actually, I should thank that reporter,” said Buffy. “I was just about to pig out on ice-cream when I read the article.”
Ice-cream? She eats that when she’s sad. Spike allowed his heart to have a flicker of hope. “What flavour?” What sodding flavour! Get a grip Spike. Stop sounding so fucking dumb.
“Cookie Dough.”
“Oh.” He cleared his throat. He’d dreamed of this moment for so long, but now had no idea what to say. “I’m sorry about that night. I was a jerk.”
Buffy smiled at him and nodded. “You were.” And so was I.
Spike looked down and when he met her eye again, his were moist with tears. “God, Buffy. I-I’ve really m-missed you.”
He bit his lip, furious that he was almost weeping. He reached his hand out to touch hers. Noticing for the first time that Buffy was wearing a ring, he drew his hand away from hers.
“Is that…is it…” He couldn’t say it.
Buffy silently cursed herself for not taking it off. “It’s not Angel’s. I never went out with him.”
Spike realised that it didn’t make any difference to the pain he felt in his chest. She was wearing a ring that wasn’t his. He swallowed hard.
“So whose is it?” His voice a monotone.
A hint of rose coloured Buffy’s cheeks. “He’s called Colin. He’s a good man, Spike.”
“Why did you come?”
His eyes were so filled with emotion that she couldn’t hold his gaze. Time had dimmed her memory of just how much Spike had actually loved her. She thought of Colin. He’d never look at her with such longing. But Spike had always acted like she was so perfect and she’d found that scary at the time and realised that she still did. How could she possibly live up to the image that Spike had of her? She touched the ring. Seeing Spike again had taken her breath away but she knew that she was with the right man. Passion would fade in time. Spike would end up disappointed in her. It was never meant to last. It was too intense to survive. Was it love or was it really obsession?
“I just wanted to see you. To talk to you.” She reached out and wrapped her fingers around the hand that he’d withdrawn. “I thought that it would be good for us to have the chance to say sorry for that night. We both said hurtful things.” And if that article is right then you’re falling to pieces and I never wanted that. I can’t stay because if it didn’t work out it would hurt you even more than me leaving. I couldn’t bear it.
Spike curled his fingers around hers. “Don’t marry him,” he said, leaning towards her. “We’re meant to be together – you know we are.”
She shook her head sadly. “We’re not, Spike. It was lovely, but I’m not the perfect creature that you seem to think I am.”
“I don’t think you’re perfect,” he said earnestly. “Well…actually I do but that’s not the point. The point is…the point is…there’ll never be anybody for me but you.”
She tried to take her hand away but he held it tight. “Please, Buffy. I’m no good without you. You’re the best part of me.”
She tugged her hand away. “It’s too much,” she whispered. “You’re too intense, Spike. It smothered me then and I couldn’t live like that. I’m not a part of you. We’re individuals, not melded together for eternity.”
“Marry me. I love you. No one could love you more.” He stared into her eyes.
Buffy slowly rose from her chair, tears streaked her face. “I love you, Spike. I guess I always will. We had some great times together, but I’m in love with Colin. He makes me feel safe.
“Safe?” croaked Spike, feeling his life ebbing away from him once more. “You’ll settle for safe?” He stood up.
“It’s not a bad thing to want. I want stability. That was never something that you could offer me.”
He gasped. So he’d never been enough for her? He really had been wrong about her all this time?
“I’m sorry, Spike. I know it’s not what you want to hear, but you need to move on. I’m happy. Can’t you be happy for me?”
No! He couldn’t speak.
She walked round the table, stood on tiptoe and kissed Spike’s cheek, her lips barely touching his skin, and then she walked away. He stared after her, his fingertips stroking the place that she’d kissed. Where his life had stood still with him locked in his longing for her, she’d moved on. Found someone who would care for her. She slept soundly beside him in bed. He thought of his own sleep deprived nights and took the kiss for what it was – a dismissal.
When one heart broke, it didn’t mean it was the same for the other one. It wasn’t an even break. His heart was forever Buffy’s, but hers had healed and had been given to someone else.
He bolted from the café, blinded by the tears he refused to allow to fall. If he’d looked to the left as he turned right, he would have seen Buffy leaning against a wall, sobbing uncontrollably.
TBC
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Betad by dawnofme and seapealsh and fiddled with afterwards so any errors are mine!
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