Swings and Roundabouts
Chapter Fourteen
Buffy settled Grace onto the bed and pulled the comforter up around the little girl’s shoulders. She ghosted a hand over the top of Grace’s head, careful not to touch her hair or face for fear of waking her.
Settling down into the chair beside the bed, Buffy sighed. Why had she run? Hadn’t finding Spike been what she’d wanted? Why had she gone to the brunch if she hadn’t planned on seeing him?
Oh, she could make all the excuses in the world about it being the wrong place and the wrong time, but when would there ever be a good time for what she had in mind?
No. The truth was, she was a coward. A big, fat, ‘fraidy-cat who’d let the shock of seeing Spike frighten her out of doing the right thing.
Buffy looked down at her daughter once more, and a soft smile crossed her face. Grace really did look a lot like her father.
Buffy had been disappointed in a way when, upon growing older, Grace had started to develop her own unique looks, and it had become clear that she had inherited very little from Buffy herself.
Now, having seen Spike again and with his appearance reinforced in her mind, she found herself not minding so much.
With one last check on Grace, so serene in sleep and knowing nothing of her mother’s inner turmoil, Buffy left the room and headed downstairs.
Her mom was in the kitchen, clearing up the remnants of lunch. “She all tucked in?”
“Yep,” Buffy said, smiling briefly. “Sound asleep for another—oh—good hour, at least.”
“Good.” Joyce piled the last of the plates into the dishwasher and switched it on. “Now that little ears are out the way, you can tell me what went wrong today.”
Buffy groaned and pouted. “Do I have to? Can’t I just wallow in my stupidity a little longer?”
“So what was it?” Joyce asked, ignoring her daughter’s pleading look. “Foot-in-mouth-Buffy, or Babble-Buffy, or—”
“You can stop listing my faults any time now, Mom.” Buffy glared at Joyce and received a grin in return. She sighed, but was inwardly glad that her mother was making light of the situation. It stopped her from feeling like an idiot. “It was more like Cowardly-Running-Away-Buffy. I took one look at him and fled.”
“Oh dear.”
Buffy explained all that had happened, Joyce listening in sympathy but offering no comment until the end.
“I think you were right about one thing,” Joyce said finally. “It wasn’t the right place. You need somewhere neutral, so you can talk things out, somewhere where neither of you will be pressured by work or friends.”
“I guess,” Buffy replied, doubtfully. “I’ll call Willow, see if Oz can arrange a meeting.”
***
Willow was sympathetic, but disappointed that Buffy hadn’t actually made contact with Spike. The squeal of delight when Buffy told her that yes, Oz’s new manager Spike was her Spike had been almost deafening, and Buffy had had to smile despite the situation.
She wanted to meet with him as soon as possible, limit the amount of time for mind-changing, so she suggested a time and place for the following day, Sunday, and passed this on to Willow. Her friend confirmed that Spike would meet her, but didn’t give anything else away—not Spike’s reaction, or whether he’d said anything.
Buffy knew that he had recognised her. She’d seen it in his eyes during their very brief meeting at the Blue Orchid. There had been something other than recognition there, too, but she hadn’t been able to work out what. Surprise? Shock? Happiness? She didn’t know.
The place she’d arranged to meet him wasn’t far from home, so Buffy opted to walk, knowing that the time would be well-spent in trying to calm her nerves and work up her courage. She’d armed herself with a couple of recent photos of Grace, just in case.
She neared the gates to the park and took a deep breath.
Here we go.
***
Spike had been in a state ever since he’d seen Buffy at the Blue Orchid the day before.
He’d barely managed to make it through the brunch the day before, but had pulled through, securing the Dingoes several upcoming dates at popular venues. Not bad, considering his state of mind.
He’d cornered Oz in the car park once the gathering was over, and demanded the redhead tell all he knew about Buffy and what she’d been doing there.
They’d been interrupted by Oz’s wife, Willow, who’d approached with a slightly wary look on her face, cell phone in hand.
“That was Buffy,” she said, waving the phone to indicate what she meant. She turned to Spike, and went straight to the point. “She wants to see you.”
Spike ran a hand through his hair and let out a long breath. “So, she does remember me, then?”
Willow let out a choked burst of laughter. “I’d say so.”
Spike frowned but continued, “Yeah, I’ll see her. ‘Course I will.” He grinned, ruefully, wondering why Buffy had run away if she did actually want to talk to him. “You can’t begin to imagine how much I want to see her.”
He missed the worried glace Willow sent Oz at his words. “Well, um, she has something in mind…”
“When?” Spike demanded. “Where?”
“Got a pen and paper?” Willow asked. When Spike nodded, and rifled in his pocket for the items in question, she carried on. “Okay. Tomorrow, eleven a.m. Cedar’s Park. Okay? I’ll tell her you’ll be there?”
“Yep. I’ll need directions, but I’ll be there.” Pen and paper tucked away, he ran his hands through his hair again. “God, this is weird, isn’t it?”
Willow’s eyes widened a little. “You have no idea.”
***
Despite the strange circumstances, Spike was ecstatic about finally seeing Buffy again. He pondered for a while on the strange situation that had brought them together once more—it really was a small world—but decided in the end that, like their previous encounter, this was just another nod from fate.
Spike pulled up along the edge of the sidewalk, cut the engine to his car and peered outside with curiosity.
Cedar’s Park was not a name he’d been familiar with, but, on the drive over, he soon realised he was headed in the direction of the cemetery Dru was buried in. The realisation sent the familiar shock of guilt through him—guilt over not having visited her grave since his return to L.A. He pushed the feeling aside upon reaching his destination, got out of the car and made his way towards the park gates.
Oh.
This was where they’d come after first meeting each other. Now that he had his bearings, he realised that the graveyard was just a couple of blocks away.
Why had Buffy suggested meeting there? Was it some strange sense of nostalgia or for another reason?
Spike sighed. Suddenly, everything felt far too pre-meditated, nothing like their serendipitous night together three-and-a-half years ago. Still, this was something he’d been waiting for a long time; it shouldn’t matter how it came about.
He took a deep breath and went through the gates to the park, heading instinctively towards the tree they’d sat beneath.
Here we go.
***
Buffy clenched her hands into fists, trying to calm the butterflies that had set up residence in her stomach. There he was, sitting—not unexpectedly—beneath the tree where they’d first spent time together. His bright blond hair was glinting in the sunlight, and he was sitting up against the trunk with his legs slightly spread, elbows resting on his knees and a pensive look on his face.
She self-consciously smoothed her hair down, pulled her sunglasses from her face and walked towards the tree, her steps hesitant. She was half-hoping that he would keep looking away, but her hopes were dashed when he raised his head and met her eyes, his own widening and then crinkling in the corners as his features settled into a smile.
Buffy smiled tentatively back and hoped that it didn’t come out as a grimace. Eventually, she came to a stop in front of him, and he stood up. There was an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the myriad of everyday noises in the background: birds chirping, children playing, and traffic from the road.
“Hi,” she said in the end, wincing at how trite it sounded.
“Hello,” he replied, then grinned. “Buffy.”
She ducked her head, knowing he was referring to the fact she’d previously given him a fake name, and the moment of awkwardness was broken, somewhat.
“Shall we sit down?” he asked, gesturing towards the ground. Buffy nodded and sat down on the grass. She drew her legs up against her chest and watched while Spike adopted the same position as before.
“So—”
“So…”
They spoke at the same time, abruptly stopping when they realised the other had spoken.
Spike laughed and ran his palm over his face. “God, this is awkward.”
“Tell me about it.” Buffy plucked absently at the grass, more for something to do than for any other reason.
Several more moments passed by, neither of them speaking until Buffy decided to bite the bullet and just go for it. She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped abruptly when she saw that Spike had done the same. Grinning slightly, she gestured for him to go first. Perhaps it would be easier that way.
He nodded and she followed the movement of his throat and mouth as he swallowed and licked his lips in readiness to talk. “You know,” he began, voice strong and confident, belying his nervous actions, “I just realised something. We don’t really know each other. It wouldn’t be this awkward if we did.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “I’ve built this up so much in my mind, and this is not how I thought our seeing one another again would go.”
Buffy refrained from asking him how he’d thought it would go, too surprised by the fact that he’d even thought about finding her again in the first place.
“I thought about you a lot,” Spike continued, not meeting her gaze, staring instead at the ground. “Wished I’d got your real name before I left, or your number. Spent quite a lot of time those first few months back in England thinking up ways to try and find you, but—”
“Why?” Buffy interrupted.
“Why?” Spike repeated, and frowned. “Because I liked you. Thought we had—and you said it yourself, back then—a connection. You changed me that night, Buffy. I was wallowing, too depressed over Dru to see that, and you broke me free from it. Made me see that life was worth living again.” His tone was earnest now, and he was staring at her with such emotion in his eyes that Buffy couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. “We were strangers,” he went on. “Still are, really. But I didn’t forget about you. And when I got offered a promotion here in L.A., I took it not only because it was the right thing for me and my family, but because I wanted to see if I could find you again. If you still… remembered me.”
“You came back to L.A. for me?” Buffy asked, a sinking sense of horror filling her stomach. Things weren’t going at all how she’d expected.
“Yes. No. God, this is coming out all wrong! I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of crazy stalker.” Spike tilted his head back against the trunk of the tree, exposing the smooth lines of his neck to her gaze. She focused her eyes there, but stayed silent and waited for him to go on. “I came back to Los Angeles for the job, but I can’t deny that when I heard it was in L.A., my mind went straight to you. You had an impact on me that night, helped me move on. And that’s not something easily forgotten.”
Buffy nodded, understanding a little better now, but still worried that they had come here at cross-purposes. She could see in his eyes that he wanted to pursue things with her romantically, while her only thought was to let him know he had a daughter.
He was silent, his expression worried while he waited for her to say something. “Spike.” She stopped, realising suddenly that while he was no longer under the impression that her name was Anne, she didn’t know his real name. Inwardly, she laughed. She was about to tell the guy he was the father of her child, and she didn’t know his real name. That seemed wrong, and so she asked him.
“It’s William,” he said. “William Giles.”
“Okay.” Buffy nodded, trying the name out in her mind. William. It was nice. “William, I think you came here today to see me again… but maybe to also see whether I wanted to see you again. Um, like, for a date.” She paused, looking for acknowledgement, and she got it. Spike slowly nodded his head, and a light blush stained his cheeks. “I—I’m not really sure what to do with that, to be honest. Because… because I came here for another reason. I—you—I mean...” Buffy broke off, frustrated.
Just say it. I got pregnant. You have a daughter. It’s not hard. But it was. She tried once more to get her mouth to form the words, but, when that failed, decided that it was time to show and not tell.
She fumbled in her purse for the pictures of Grace she’d put there earlier. They were recent ones, and the resemblance between Grace and her father was clear for anyone to see.
She handed the photographs to Spike, and sat back and watched him, waiting for his reaction. He frowned when he took them from her, the expression only deepening as he thumbed through the pictures until it melted into a look of shock when realisation finally hit him.
Buffy swallowed nervously. He was looking through the pictures again, more slowly this time, examining each one for several long seconds before moving on to the next.
“Her name’s Grace,” she said, quietly. “She’s—”
“—my daughter.” His voice was hoarse. He stared at the last photograph in the stack for some time. It had been taken at Christmas, and Grace was sitting on Buffy’s lap, a big grin on her face. She was waving a piece of shiny wrapping paper in the air.
Eventually, when Spike lifted his head and met Buffy’s gaze, there were tears in his eyes.
-TBC-
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Sorry for the delay with this chapter, it took a while to write. I'm going on holiday on the 7th August for two weeks, so there won't be an update now for a while. I'm hoping to get some writing done, but I'm not sure how well that will go. Hope you enjoy the chapter!
Chapter End Notes:
Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think by leaving a review!