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Twenty Six – It's Not A Cry You Can Hear At Night

Chapter 26

It had been a couple of weeks since she'd walked out of the house, leaving everything behind once again. She had told Spike that she needed time to figure everything out. In truth, she just wanted time to forget. She couldn't change the past. Although, apparently the past itself could change. What she wanted was time to do what she did best, move past it all and move on. To that purpose, she had thrown herself back into her studies and was set to finish the semester with scores on her finals that were meant to impress.

And then there was him. Riley had approached her the first day she was back at class. It hurt to look at him, with the bandage on his nose and the slight limp as he walked up to her. He'd asked her if she wanted to get coffee later. She couldn't bring herself to say yes. At least not the first six times he'd asked her. But then, she'd decided that moving on meant just that, moving on. But damn if every time she smiled at Riley it didn't make her feel a little bit like she was punching Spike.

For his part, Spike seemed to be giving her time. She hadn't seen him at all since that night, but she had asked around a bit and found that he had returned to school, too. That meant he was avoiding her. Good. She'd half expected him to come pounding down her door the next day, and the next, and the next, telling her more things she didn't want to hear and begging her to come back to the house. To rejoin the life she'd left behind. But he hadn't. It hurt a little, that thought, that he hadn't come beating her door down.

So, here she was having coffee with Riley at the Espresso Pump. Making time. Moving on.

"And then I sprouted big green horns and turned into an alien space cowboy from Mars," Buffy vaguely heard Riley say. She smiled and nodded. Wait…

"What? Mars?" She asked, clearly confused.

"Look Buffy, if you have somewhere else to be that's fine…"

"No!" She cut him off. She really needed to get her head together. "I'm sorry, it's just, you know, finals week brain drain. I'm sorry. Won't happen again. You have my undivided attention."

"Really? Because, I'm thinking your attention is pretty focused on something else. Or maybe someone else?" Riley asked gently.

Buffy allowed her eyes to close for a moment, as she tried to focus and process her thoughts. She'd known he had come by the motel the day she had practically tried to kill him. She had wondered when he would get around to asking about that.

"Buffy?" Riley's warm hand covered hers, offering a sweet and gentle caress and she wanted to do nothing more than melt into his touch and let his big arms just wash everything away. "I think we need to talk."

"I thought we were?" What else could she say? He didn't think she was going to just start explaining her life story here in the café, did he? Not that she would anyway. The past was the past. She had worked really damn hard to put it there and make sure that it stayed there. Right up until she'd maimed Riley and spent the next several days with Spike dredging everything back up.

"Listen, can we go back to my place? I get the sense this isn't the best place for this discussion?" Riley squeezed her hand.

Huh, that was interesting. She need to stop thinking so loud.

"I think that would be a good idea." Ok, she really didn't. There was a good chance he really wanted to talk; which, in point of fact, she did not. But she grabbed her things and walked with him back to the dorm anyway.

"So," Riley started. And apparently finished.

"So," she replied. She wasn't really good at the whole talky thing. And again, past in the past. Not digging up ghosts today. Nope. Not going to do it.

"I'm sorry," Riley finally said. That caused her eyebrows to reach for the sky.

"You're sorry?" Buffy asked, clearly confused.

"For scaring you that day. When you, ah…" He vaguely pointed towards his nose.

"God, no, Riley. I'm the one who should be apologizing." Tears welled up in her eyes, but didn't fall. "I shouldn't have over reacted like that. I could have hurt you more than I did, without even thinking…" She trailed off.

"Buffy, can I ask you something?" Riley hesitantly asked, but his eyes were boring into her.

Panic began to grip her slightly. What was he going to ask? What did he know? Too many variables, too many risks. But, she gave a slight nod.

"What happened?"

Oh, if that question wasn't a loaded gun. A bomb. Make that a nuclear bomb. How the hell did she answer that?

"Um, I smashed your instep, crushed your testicles, and broke your nose?" Buffy asked. Evasion was always a good tactic.
"No," Riley sighed. "I mean, yes, that did happen. Incredibly effective moves, by the way…" he moved to pinch the bridge of his nose, then thought better of it and ran his hand through his hair instead. "Which brings me back to the question. What happened, Buffy?"

She stared at him for long minutes. He stared back. So many thoughts crossed her mind. Would he want to know everything? He was a Psychology TA, of course he would. Why couldn't everyone just leave the past where it was? Finally heaving a big sigh, she answered.

"Does it matter? It's in the past, where I'd like it to stay."

That apparently caught him off guard, as he visibly flinched a little at what she'd said. She wasn't sure what to make of that little tidbit of information. It took him a moment to answer her question.

"I tried to tell myself that it didn't. That one day you would let me see the real you. All of you, and that you'd stop holding back."

"And now?" Buffy asked, more tremble in her voice than she intended.

"Now?" He huffed out an uneasy breath. "I think that maybe whatever it is you think you left in your past, isn't."

"I don't understand…"

"Buffy, whatever it is, you didn't leave it in the past."

"So what, now you're going to psychoanalyze me? Whatever happened to just being my boyfriend?

"Am I?" Riley asked, a slightly jealous edge to his voice.

This! This, she could handle. This, she could work with. Because gods did she need to be out of this conversation right now. Switching gears easily, she put on her best kicked puppy dog look, and moved from her position against the dresser, to put her hands on his chest, as she cut her gaze up through her eyelashes.

"How could you ask me that? I thought that you…." She left the sentence hanging. Let him fill in the blanks. It works better that way.

"Buffy, why was Spike at the motel with you? What is he to you?" Riley gently pushed her back to look her in the eyes as he asked.

"The biggest pain in my ass," Buffy replied with an eye roll that would have impressed Dawn.

"Is that it?" He pushed.

Was that it? Yes? No? Maybe? God, why did they all have to do this? Why did everything have to be so damn hard and complicated. Why can't things ever be simple? She thought that things were starting get that way, and then she had to go and mess everything up when all Riley wanted to do was surprise her on the quad. But no, she had to break his nose, just like she'd probably broken Giles's nose. All because he'd simply grabbed her arm. She had hurt him. Hurt them. Hurt them all. Hurt, hurt, hurt, hurt, God it hurt so much. Why did everyone want it to keep hurting? She couldn't stand it. Needed it to stop. Stop hurting, just for a little while.

"I'm here with you, Riley. Right now. Not Spike." She began to caress his cheek, as her other hand slid down his arm to his hand, and pulled it up around to her waist, squeezing her eyes shut as she pulled his head down for a kiss. Riley was hesitant at first, and she thought he might break the kiss and protest that she hadn't really answered his question. But then, she felt him start to give in, as his arms wrapped around her and pulled her in close, and she let herself melt into those arms. Arms that didn't know all her secrets. Arms that couldn't see through her façade. Arms that didn't try to make her face the demons that haunted her past and her dreams. Arms she could simply lose herself in and be that normal girl from class.

*************************

He'd almost stopped her when she pulled him in. He probably should have. She hadn't really answered the question. But then, she felt so raw and open, and it was all so familiar… letting her fall into his arms and let him take her away from it all, whatever "it all" was, for a little while. He'd known he shouldn't, but something in her seemed to need him. But need wasn't the same as love, was it?

That was another thing. He'd tried saying it, but she'd stopped him. The more he tried, the more frantic she became, until she had almost become like a wild animal trapped under him. She'd flipped them over then and taken control of the whole thing, and after that point any word was cut off with a kiss that could only be called desperate. Her pace became frenzied and feral, and conscious thought wasn't really his strong suit at just that moment. When she'd started pounding on his chest with her fists, not hurting so much as…desperately trying to dig a hole in his chest? That got his attention. When he noticed she was crying, well, that really got his attention.

At first, he didn't know what to think. He'd called her name a couple times, but it was like she wasn't even there. When he finally managed to catch her hands and stop everything, he shook her and said her name a little louder than he probably should have, but shed looked so…lost. When she finally looked at him, actually at him, she'd just collapsed on his chest in a sobbing heap, saying, "sorry" over and over, until she fell asleep.

So he ended up spending the night with his arms full of a sleeping girl. He'd had no idea what to do for her, but he thought he might know someone who did. The problem was, every time he thought about that, he'd wanted to hold her just a little tighter. Spike knew whatever it was that she was holding back. He knew whatever was responsible for whatever it was that happened tonight. It also didn't help that the guy was in love with her. So why the heck was he trying to find the guy? As he spotted said guy in the library, he really wondered if he should have asked himself that question earlier.

He walked up to stand in front of Spike, who was sitting at a desk next to a window in what appeared to be a last minute cram session. However, despite staring at the guy for quite some time, he hadn't even acknowledged him. But, he had time.

"Enjoying the view?" Spike finally said, without even looking up at him.

"Do you always open with a line about homosexuality, or are you trying to tell me something?"

"Don't flatter yourself, cardboard; tall, dark, and boring 's not my type." Spike still hadn't looked up at him.

"I'm guessing more like, small, blond, and enigmatic?" That got a reaction. Spike very carefully put down his pencil and leaned back in his chair, and gave him a carefully guarded look.

"Enigma, eh?" Spike laced his fingers behind his head, and get him a smug look. "Domestic bliss, not so bliss?

He sank down in a chair as he wondered exactly what the heck he should tell this guy. Everything? Nothing?

"She won't let me in," He finally settled on, figuring Spike would know what he meant.

"Did you try dinner and a movie? Little candle light? Maybe some effective foreplay?" Spike smirked.

He gave the guy a withering stare. Spike knew what he meant, and that answer didn't even dignify a response.

"Look, what do you want me to say, here? Already told you it's not my story to tell."

He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. What had he expected him to tell him? Maybe if he knew… Yeah, and what the hell was he going to say? That she'd broken down in the middle of some really hot sex and started half-heartedly hitting him while she was crying her eyes out? Yeah, that would be really tactful.

"Something's wrong." He'd leave it at that and see where it went. It didn't take long for Spike to take the bait, as he sat upright and gave him a hard look.

"Something happen?" Spike asked.

He figured he give him a dose of his own medicine and ignore him a while. Apparently that cool façade didn't last long when it came to Buffy. But it didn't slip for long, either.

"Kicked your arse again, did she?" Spike leaned back in the chair again.

"No, that I could deal with," he sighed out. "What happened last night, that was…I don't even know what that was."

He noticed Spike's face twitch, and he obviously clenched his teeth, as the muscles of his jaw tightened, and he closed his eyes. After a moment of what appeared to be the guy getting control of himself, his eye's opened again and focused intently on his own.

"I am not your bleedin' Dr. Laura, you bloody berk," Spike slowly spoke every word, and then started to gather the books scattered around on the desk. Definitely a sore spot. He wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

"You not feeling it in the sack, mate; I suggest you try asking her next time," Spike said, as he roughly shoved his things into a bag.

"Kind of hard to when she turns into a weeping mess before crying herself to sleep and then takes off in the middle of the night, and then avoids me all day." Ok, that was a much as he was giving him.

Apparently, it was enough. Spike froze mid shove for a moment, and then shoved the whole thing away from him, as he roughly sat back in the chair and put his head in his hands. A few moments later, Spike was producing what could best be described as a hysterical giggle. Now, Riley was debating if perhaps this guy was just as traumatized as Buffy. Whatever the hell was going on, it was way bigger than either one let on. And now that weird giggle was sounding suspiciously like a weird sob. Then it abruptly stopped, as the guy leaned back and sucked in a deep breath before blowing it out slowly.

"Tell me how to help her?" Riley asked.

"Can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved."

"Are you always this fatalistic?" He couldn't help asking.

Spike laughed. "Wasn't bein' fatalistic, mate."

"Sure sounded like it."

"More like stupid, blind, idiotic, no-chance-in-hell, perpetual hope." Another sigh. "But, I meant what I said. She doesn't want to be saved. Not now, anyway."

"I don't believe that. But, it would explain why she wouldn't let me say it," He trailed off. "Doesn't explain the whole trying to beat a hole in my chest while she was apologizing the whole time." And now he had Spikes undivided attention again, judging by the curious look he was giving him.

"Bloody hell." It almost sounded like a prayer, and there was that look of hope Spike mentioned. He watched the guy as he seemed to be reliving something in his mind. He silently wondered if he knew he'd let a tear slip. Probably not, or he guessed he'd be furiously making excuses about having something in his eye. Yeah, this guy was just as wounded as Buffy. He just wished he knew what the hell it was so he could help her get around it.

"You know, most people would be, I don't know, shocked or perplexed if I told them that. Kind of like I was when it happened. So, you want to tell me why you look like I just answered a prayer?"

Spike barked out a short harsh laugh. "Everything's like a bloody dance with Buffy. One step forward and twelve steps back. 'Cept I think it's getting closer to one step forward and five steps back if what you said is true."

"So that was a good thing?!" How the hell was that a good thing? "Look, I don't know what this big secret is, but it's pretty obvious that whatever it is damaged the hell out of both of you. Whatever this thing is… Jesus, if I have to say or think that phrase one more time, I'm going to rip my own tongue out. She can't go on like this. No one can. It has to be fixed."

There was that creepy hysterical sort of giggle, sort of sob, again. "Fixed? How do you fix twelve years of living through the nine kinds of hell most people can't even bring themselves to read about? How do you save someone who doesn't think they need, want, or deserve to be saved? How do you move on, when your past is bloody well drowning you?" Spike softly finished.

The Spike got an odd look on his face. To Riley, it looked like Spike suddenly had a very confusing thought. Spike's little rant made way more sense to him than it probably should have, and apparently some part of it hadn't ever occurred to Spike. Sadly, it also told him that no matter how much he was in love with Buffy, he wasn't going to be the one that ended up with her. These two people's worlds were so wrapped up in each other, they practically had their own gravitational field. And just what the hell was he supposed to do now? Help this guy? This guy who somehow held the key to Buffy? To the door he would never be able to open? Maybe he could help him. Some day. But not today.

"I'm sure you'll figure something out," Riley said, as he got up and walked away.

Maybe, he could help Buffy; but he wasn't helping Spike.





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