Spike felt fine when he first woke up. It’d taken him ages to get to sleep, so once he had he was out like a light. Completely rested and comfortable in his bed he slowly opened his eyes. And immediately wished he hadn’t.
As the light hit his eyes, the world intruded on his peace and he suddenly realised Buffy wasn’t with him, and then he remembered everything that had happened the night before.
Everything.
He remembered arguing with Buffy, and that was enough to turn his stomach, but then the memories continued, he remembered forcing himself on her. Remembered how ruthless he was, how savage, how primal. He’d wanted her to be his, to yield to him and she had, and after she’d sunk to the floor, as if he’d broken her.
Spike screwed his eyes closed again, trying to shut everything out, but it didn’t work. The look she gave him afterwards haunted him. He couldn’t bare the thought of seeing that look again. In that instant he remembered what he had decided last night. The reason aside from what he had done that had kept him from sleep for so long. He’d decided to leave.
He had to. Not only would Buffy be better off, but she wouldn’t want to see him after that, and he definitely couldn’t face her.
He got straight out of bed and began to pack, because he wanted to be gone before she woke up. Partly so she didn’t have to face seeing him, but mostly because he was too afraid to tell her he was leaving. He knew he wouldn’t have time to pack everything, so he planned on leaving some stuff and coming back for it another time. Preferably when she wasn’t home.
He still couldn’t believe it, she’d got him so angry and then that had happened. He didn’t know he was capable of such anger, or such feeling. That was the root of it all, his feelings for Buffy. They’d scared him before, but because of the situation they were in, now it was their intensity that scared him. He knew he could go caveman when it came to the women in his life, but previously it had always been in a good way. He’d never been like this before, so possessive. He’d never let anyone get under his skin so much, never been hurt by someone so badly, never been so angry with someone and at the same time so scared to lose them.
He was 100% sure this was the right decision for Buffy, because she’d never want him now and he was also a danger to her this way; he could never be good for her like this. But now he was also sure it was the right thing for him. He needed time to sort these feelings out. To learn how to control them, possible to make them go away.
He opened his wardrobe and just started ripping his clothes from the hangers. He tried to be quiet, but he was also trying to be as quick as possible. Next he went to his drawers and tipped each out straight into a suitcase.
After he’d filled two suitcases with his clothes he got ready and went into the hallway with them. He knew he could replace all the stuff he had in the bathroom, and he could get by without his music and his other belongings for a while.
He placed the suitcases outside the front door into the shared hallway, and then came back inside the apartment and took a piece of paper and a pen out of the desk in the main room. He started to write. He didn’t know if his thoughts were making sense, but he had to write what he felt before he left. He had to make her understand why he was leaving.
When he was finished he folded the letter and put it in an envelope. He walked to the door and then turned around one last time.
He threw down the note and it landed on the hall table next to the phone. His gut twisted when he imagined her reading it. He hung his head for a while trying to pull himself together, and then finally looked up. His gaze landed right in the large mirror that was above the table. He looked at himself for a few seconds, but that was all he could manage, and with that he was finally content that he was doing the right thing. He couldn’t even look at himself, so how could he ever expect Buffy to.
Buffy woke up around mid-day and desperately tried not to remember what had happened, but she couldn’t think of anything else. She considered staying in her room all day, locking herself in, but she was still angry at herself for being weak and giving in to him yesterday, she didn’t want to be weak again. She got up and wondered into the living room cautiously. Spike was nowhere to be seen and she sighed in relief. That was until she saw a note on the side. She automatically knew what it said without having to read it, and ran to Spike’s room.
She found what she expected, almost nothing. The wardrobe door was flung open and she could tell it was empty, his draws were open and empty as well, but the bed was made and the rest of his stuff was there as if he hadn’t gone anywhere. She knew he had.
She felt a little numb, a little catatonic. She walked back into the room, took the note off the side and sat down on the couch to read it.
Buffy,
I’m sorry for…everything.
I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am. What happened last night, I want you to know, that wasn’t who I am, but I understand if you can’t believe me, because all I’ve been to you is bad news. I’m sorry for fucking up your life. All I wanted to do was make up for all that time we lost, and I had all these feelings for you that I couldn’t place, because we hadn’t been brother and sister for so long I tried to find another way to be with you, and I’m sorry that I got it wrong.
Don’t misunderstand me Buffy. I’m not saying that what I
I hope that after some time has passed you can forgive me, and I can forgive myself, and that I won’t feel this way anymore, even though it’s hard to wish that when I feel so strongly for you. All I want to do is be with you, and be there for you, but I don’t think it can be like this. Hopefully one day I can be
Buffy hadn’t even realised she was crying until she saw that the last line was blurry, and she had to wipe her eyes to read his name.