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Chapter 48

“So, you going to tell me what we’re doing here and why there’s an intriguingly eclectic mix of cars here? I mean, not every day you see a beat-up truck on its last leg parked next to a Ferrari, and a… is that a Diablo?”

“I told you,” Riley began. “You need to…”

“I need to see something,” She interrupted him. “Got that the first four times you said it.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re adorable when you roll your eyes?” Riley asked her, his genuine smile taking some of the edge off of her annoyance at his refusal to tell her anything about where they were going or why. She’d become more than a little anxious when they entered the warehouse district.

They walked in companionable silence through the large metal door that had been propped open, and proceeded down the dimly lit hall. The stench of body odor, blood, and dust got stronger and stronger as they went, as did the distinct noises of a small crowd raucously cheering and jeering at something. She really hoped Riley hadn’t brought her to a dogfight, or rooster fight, or whatever animals people sadistically pitted against each other these days.

Finally, the hallway ended in a massive room lit by high windows allowing the sun to filter in, along with the lights hanging from the high ceiling by long cords.

“Tickets?” A large guy bellowed from behind two of those crowd control barricades strategically positioned to ensure only one person at a time would fit through the opening that was left between them. Buffy watched as Riley fished two slips of paper out of his back pocket and handed them to the guy. The guy took his time looking them over and then handed one to Riley and one to her, with the instruction that they keep it on them at all times.

“Do I want to know how much those tickets cost, or how you got them?” She asked once they had passed the door guy and were handing on the outskirts of a modest crowd.

“Probably not,” Riley answered rather dryly. “But I think you’ll agree they were worth it once you see why we’re here.” A small roar from the crowd erupted, followed by lots of laughing and grunts of disappointment.

“Why are we here Riley?” She asked. “Please tell me you didn’t really think I would enjoy some sort of animal fighting thing?”

“Not animals. And I didn’t say you’d enjoy it, either.”

Okay. This was beginning to border on wigging out territory for her.

“Riley,” She began, unable to hide the rising panic out of her voice. “I don’t like this. You’re beginning to scare me. I want out of here now!” She finished with as much steely determination as she could muster.

Riley froze and stared at her. He stepped closer to her and took her face into his hands as he spoke earnestly, keeping his eyes locked onto hers. “No one’s going to hurt you, Buffy. You have my word. But there is something here you need to see because I think you’re the only one who can do anything about it.”

“Me?”

“Let’s just say that I think it’s time for you to fight some demons other than your own.”

He dropped his hands, grabbed her right hand, and began pulling her through the crowd of people. Some seemed to be leaving, while others were jockeying for a better position. Of course, Riley wasn’t exactly a small person, and a few of the people seemed to actually recognize him if the small talk was any indication.

They ended up with a nearly front row position next to what looked like a circle created by more barricades. The floor inside the circle was wet in spots and splattered with what she could only assume to be blood. Inside the circle, were two busty girls in crop tops and short shorts circling around with big pieces of cardboard with numbers painted on them. As soon as the showgirls vacated the circle, two guys hopped over the barricades. They were nondescript, fit but not bulky, not too short but not too tall. They looked to be pretty close in size and shape. One had a chin-length mop of brown hair while the other had almost a military style cut. Both had what looked like tape around their hands. One had on just a pair of basketball shorts while the other had only a pair of sweatpants.

The two guys danced around each other a bit and then suddenly they were both swinging punches at each other. She watched in fascination, unable to turn away even though she wanted to. The two went at each other like their lives depended on it. After only a couple of minutes, one was on the ground and the other was standing still. Finally, the one on the ground waved and the crowd around them once again roared as people began filing in and out again.

“You brought me to a fight?” She couldn’t help the incredulity in her voice. How on earth could he possibly think this was ok?

“I know, Buffy, but I promise you’ll see why soon.”

“There better be a dang good reason for this!” She warned him.

Just then the crowd noise died down, and Buffy turned around to see two more guys jump into the circle, bounce around, and then start swinging. This one lasted a couple of rounds, which were apparently about two minutes each, before one of them was knocked out cold.

Such was the cycle. Two guys go in, they fight until one conceded, the crowd shifts, barbie dolls circle with seemingly random numbers, and the crowd cheered them on. Periodically, a large guy would grab Riley and ask for “verification.” Buffy had learned this meant she was to show him her ticket, which he would inspect before handing it back and moving on.

“How can these people do this?” She wondered out loud, and the barbie dolls circled again. “And how can these other people just watch and cheer for two guys to pound each other into mush?”

“Probably one of the oldest sports in existence,” Riley answered. “All in pursuit of the oldest drug in existence… adrenaline.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” She retorted.

“I don’t know. Sometimes it feels good to test your limits and see how much you can take. Or give. No weapons, no fancy gloves or pads, two guys reminding themselves they can hold their own, and take a punch if they need to.”

“Please tell me you haven’t done this?” Buffy sent him a look that she hoped he understood to mean he was stupidity personified if he had.

He smirked.

“Not regularly, no, but… yeah, once or twice.”

She could only stare at him. If she opened her mouth some not so nice words were going to come out.

“First time was after I got my ass handed to me by a petite blond girl.”

Well, if that didn’t make her feel great. She’s emasculated him, and he’d come here to get his mojo back.

“Riley… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” He smiled sadly at her. “It was my fault. I was being an idiot and shouldn’t have…”

“Riley, you couldn’t have known.” She cut him off.

“I did.” He replied.

Her confusion must have been pretty obvious.

“I mean, I didn’t know the details, but the signs were there. I just chose to ignore them.”

She had the grace to look away from his guilt-ridden face.

“So yeah, I came here to clear my head and reassure myself I could still give as good as I got.”

“How’d that work out for you?”

“Not too bad. Broke my nose just as it was almost healed, but otherwise, I was good. I won if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I wondered why it seemed to take so long.”

She glanced around, they’d apparently missed a fight as the Barbie dolls were circling yet again. This time though the crowd seemed to be thicker than the previous fights. No one was standing around the outside, and she was beginning to get a bit claustrophobic as all the bodies pushed in closer and tighter.

“Final fight,” Riley stated. “This is why we’re here, what you need to see.”

She turned back to the circle, leaning left and slightly up on her tiptoes to see around two guys now standing in front of her. She caught a glimpse of one of the fighters as he jumped inside the circle. A large guy with big muscles. He looked like he was right on the verge of being too muscled to really be a fighter. As he threw a couple of test swings, she revised her opinion. He was quick. This guy could do some damage. One thing she’d noticed, however, was that the fighters generally seemed to be pretty evenly matched. At least whoever fought this guy could probably also do some damage.

Judging by the crowd, the other guy had also jumped in, but they had all pressed forward and tighter and she was having trouble more than just glimpses. What was it she was supposed to see?

And then she saw it. The shock of platinum blond hair slicked back, attached to a small and wiry, but muscular, frame.

“Spike?” The name escaped her lips unbidden, as she stared at his bare back. This was far from an even match.

“Apparently he’s been a regular feature lately.”

“You knew where he was all this time?” Buffy spun around, turning her fury on Riley.

“Suspected!” Riley held his hands up a sign of surrender. “I’ve suspected he might be a member since the day I told him you were pregnant.”

That earned him an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Call it a hunch,” He non-answered. “Anyway, after he disappeared I figured where else would a self-doubting pain in the ass who’s hell-bent on punishing himself, go?”

She turned back to watch said pain in the ass. The fight seemed to be going on and on forever, and Spike was taking one hell of a pounding. Then one particularly bad series of back to back punches finally sent him to his knees, and for a moment she thought he might tap out. Then again, who was she kidding? It was Spike. Tapping out wasn’t even a possibility. Right as it looked like the guy was about to deal a knockout blow, Spike’s hand shot up and caught the punch and held it off. As he stood up, Spike twisted the guy’s hand and arm around to an awkward angle and then brought up his right fist and nailed the guy in the jaw. He then dropped the guy’s hand and whipped around and nailed the guy with a vicious left-handed spinning back fist. The guy dropped like a rock. Spike slowly started stalking around the circle, watching him, waiting to see if he was going to get up. She could see that Spike’s face was a mess and bruises were already beginning to form on his chest and ribs. When it became apparent the other guy wasn’t getting back up anytime in the near future, he slipped over the barricade and disappeared through the crowd.

“I…I don’t… why?” Was all she stutter out as she turned back to Riley.

“Why what, Buffy? Why would he come here every couple of weeks? Why would he purposely have them put him up against a bigger opponent every time? Why would he keep letting them beat him to a pulp for three times longer than any of the other matches when he can clearly end it at just about any time? Why do you think, Buffy? It’s not exactly rocket science.”

Her chagrin got the better of her, and she looked away, crossing her arms.

“Why did you bring me here? What do you expect me to do?” She asked.

“Here’s a crazy idea, how about you talk to him?” Riley replied.

“He’s not talking to me, remember? Doesn’t want to see me him, ever, remember? The note was pretty specific,” She said, staring down at her shoes.

“So, what, you just give up? Like he gave up on you when you disappeared?” Riley retorted.

“Spike didn’t…” She started to answer him before his point hit home.

“So what’re you going to do?”

“What can I do?” She answered, sounding a bit more desperate than she intended. “I don’t even know where he lives, or how to contact him.”

“I do,” Riley said, intently staring into her eyes.

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

She was having some serious deja vu as she walked along the sidewalk next to the very run down mission-style building that had apparently been converted to studio apartments sometime in the last century, judging by the wrought iron decorations, fixtures, and really dark colors. He couldn’t have picked a more crypt-like place to live in Sunnydale if he’d tried. Finally, she found apartment twenty-seven. It was now or never.

“Once more unto the breach,” She mumbled to herself as she knocked on the door. She waited patiently for him to answer. Then she knocked again. After the third time knocking, she decided he wasn’t going to answer and turned to leave. It was a horrible idea anyway. What could she possibly say to him? He was an adult and perfectly capable of making any stupid decision he wanted to. If he wanted to beat himself up over things he had no control over, that was his choice. Dummy.

She’d gotten almost twenty feet away from the door before Riley’s words about giving up on him replayed in her head. She huffed out a breath and marched back to the door and beat on it hard enough to rattle it on its hinges, throwing in a kick for good measure before she stood back, crossed her arms and stared determinedly at the tiny little peephole.

Apparently, he got the message. She heard a lock click open and the door flew open, an obviously angry Spike standing in the doorway, his own pissed off look matching her own.

“Note wasn’t clear enough?” Spike asked.

“Oh, it was clear. I just don’t care.” She answered with a half grin.

“Nothing new then?”

Ouch. That stung, but she wasn’t about to let him know that. She’d known he’d start slinging arrows and barbs, just not so soon.

“At least you finally learned something from me. Took you long enough.” She saw the slow burn in his face turn into a raging fire. Now he was really angry. He sucked in a deep breath, preparing to yell at her. The effort caused an involuntary flinch, and she saw a flash of pain for a split second before he suppressed it.

“Cut the act, Spike,” She rolled her eyes as she pushed around him and turned to face him, her arms crossed, inside his apartment. “I know you’ve got some huge bruises on your chest and back, and I’d be shocked if you didn’t have a broken rib or two.”

Spike fish mouthed a couple of times, clearly surprised, before getting control of himself. He silently pushed the door shut and then slowly turned to face her. He seemed to be waging a war in his head. “How’d you find me?” He finally asked, pushing off the door and heading for a shelf in the kitchen area. He pulled down a bottle of whiskey and a glass. He quickly filled it, before shooting it, and then filling it again before he turned to face her.

His right eye was mostly swollen shut, and what was visible was bloodshot. That whole side of his face was one giant bruise. There was a small gash on his cheekbone that was held closed by three butterfly tapes. He was wearing a loose tee and jeans, his arms and feet bare.

“See anything you like?” He teased, his trademark flirty swagger easily slipped out almost automatically before he visibly recoiled and then looked down at his glass a moment and once again downed the liquor in one shot. “’Course not.” He stared into the now empty glass once more, as if expecting to see something, before setting it on the counter next to the little sink and then staggering over to the small table. He pulled out a chair and sank into it with a heavy sigh.

“Whatever you’ve got to say, say it, and get out.” He feigned indifference. At least she hoped it was feigned.

“How are you?” Whatever she’d been planning to say, that sure wasn’t it.

He laughed. A genuine laugh that was cut short by a much bigger flinch than the one she’d caught earlier. “Appreciate the concern, but I’ll live. Few days time I’ll be right as rain. Thanks for stopping by. Do lock the door as you leave.” His eyes shot daggers as he stared at her.

“I’m not going anywhere,” She challenged him softly as she walked up to the table and pulled out the other chair and sat in it. In turn, Spike practically shot out of his chair and stood several feet away from her. That also hurt. He couldn’t even be within a few feet of her? Did he really hate her that much?

“Hate you?” Spike asked, his face seemingly incredulous. She must have said that last part out loud. “You think all of this,” he waved at his face before spreading his arms indicating his apartment, “Is about hating you?”

“Isn’t it?” She asked. Riley had told her that she would need to keep talking to keep him talking. “Not that I’d blame you if it was.”

“Think you’ve got this all backward, pet,” He said. “You should be blaming me.”

“So you do hate me?” She asked again.

“Are you daft? No! I don’t hate you!” His voice was edging close to a yell. “But you should be hating me!”

“Spike, why on earth would I hate you?” She asked, standing up to face him on his level.

“’Cause it’s my…” He started to reply before she cut him off.

“No! You do not get to do that!” She was also getting close to yelling. “You don’t get to play the martyr here. It wasn’t your fault, Spike!”

“It was!” He shouted. “Sooner you figure that out, the better!”

“God, you are so stupid!” She was also shouting, now. “How on earth can you possibly think that anything that happened was your fault?”

“Because I wanted it to happen!”

He seemed to realize the words that had clawed their way out of his mouth, as he recoiled with a look of disgust and looked away. He crossed to the kitchen area in three strides, grabbed the whiskey bottle and sloppily filled the glass before slamming the shot back, then slamming the glass back on the counter.

“I wanted it to happen,” He repeated so softly it was almost a whisper.

To say she was stunned was the understatement of the century.

“You wanted me to die?” She asked in a voice so small, she felt like that scared little girl sitting in her baby sister’s room clutching her daddy’s golf club.

He giggled at that, as sound so mirthless it was chilling before it seemed to morph into a sob that shook his whole body a couple of times before he stopped it.

“’Course not you silly…’course not,” He finished.

“Then what…” She began but stopped as she realized what he meant. “You… You wanted me to…” She couldn’t even finish the sentence as the horror of his confession washed over her.

And suddenly everything made a lot more sense. Him staying away once he found out. Not coming to see her while everyone waited for the inevitable. Not coming to see her in the hospital after.

“And now she finally gets it.” He mumbled. “Welcome to the party.”

“You really do hate me,” She said, more to herself than him.

She’d thought at first that he had been angry with her. She’d been the one to jump him in the hotel room. She’d assumed he felt angry and trapped. That she had forced his hand before he was ready. That he’d hated her for losing what he’d wanted. Apparently, that was what he’d wanted all along.

“Do you even know me?” He asked, once again looking at her like she was crazy. “How could you possibly think that I could ever hate you?”

“How could I not? I thought you loved me! And I was crazy enough to think that you might want the baby!”

“I did!” He shouted as he whipped around to face her, the wet trails on his face gave evidence to his sincerity. “I did.” He repeated more quietly, as he glanced down at his feet. “More than you know.”

What was she supposed to say now?

“Spike? I don’t... I don’t understand. Please, just…”

“Knew it was mine,” He said, turning back to the rapidly emptying bottle on the counter. “Knew it the day Cardboard told me.” He started to pour another shot, but apparently changed his mind. “Wasn’t sure what to think at first. Came at me kind of sideways, you know. Hadn’t thought of that day for weeks, and suddenly I’m a father?”

She heard what sounded suspiciously like a sniffle. After a moment he continued.

“Drove all over town trying to figure out what it all meant. Still wasn’t sure you meant what you said. Wanted to believe it, but doubts creep in, you know?” He filled the glass but didn’t drink it. “Tried to decide if it was good or bad. Would you be angry? Feel trapped? Hate that your choices were taken away? Hate me? Or it? Too many complications, you know? Making a mess of what should have been the best day of my life.” He looked for a moment like he was going to take the shot, then continued again. “’S when it happened.” He swirled the whiskey around the glass. “Started thinking what if? What if something happened? Like the crash, you know? What if I had to choose between saving you or the baby? What if you both...died. Could I keep myself from following after you? What if you didn’t want me to have anything to do with it? What if you didn’t want me? Or it?” He paused. “Then I thought, what if you lost,” His breath hitched. “Be easier. No more complications cocking it all up.” He finally slugged back the whiskey. “Told myself it was just fear and doubt. Normal, right?” He poured another. “’Cept, couldn’t get it out of my head. More I tried not to think about it, the more I did. Then farmboy called and said you were at Memorial. Suddenly all I could think was how much I wanted it. Wanted it more than anything. Wanted both of you more than anything. Would have sold my soul if I thought it would make a difference. Realized then how much of a monster I was for thinking…” He couldn’t seem to finish his thought. He lifted his glass but paused. “How much of a monster I was.” He tipped the glass up and swallowed.

She wasn’t sure what made her do it. She stood from her chair,crossed to Spike, and took the empty glass from his hand. She ignored the shocked confusion and took his face into her hands, and looked him square in the eyes. Well, she would have if he didn’t have them screwed tightly shut.

“Spike?”

He shook his head slightly, a silent “no.”

“Spike, look at me… please?” She asked gently.

He screwed his eyes closed even tighter for a second, before relaxing slightly and opening them slowly to finally look at her. Unspoken questions spoke through his eyes. Did she hate him? Did she blame him? Was this it?

She wasn’t sure what to say, so she leaned in and kissed him. Gently at first and then more pressing. She felt a drop of moisture fall upon her cheek, though whether it was from him or her, she couldn’t say. As she pulled back, she studied his face. She could see the thoughts still swirling around his mind. She waited until he finally opened his eyes again.

“You’re not a monster. You had a moment of weakness, Spike, and you aren’t the only one who had those thoughts. It’s not your fault. None of it was your fault.”

“Buffy… I…”

“Shhhh…” She placed her index finger over his lips. “I forgive you.”

He bent his head down bringing his forehead to rest on hers, his breathing becoming irregular.

“Don’t…” He whispered.

“I forgive you.” She said more assuredly, placing another gentle kiss on his lips.

He shook his head again, another silent “no.”

“I love you, Spike.” She put even more certainty into her voice

He screwed his eyes shut once more.

“And I forgive you.” She was insistent now. Leaning in and placing a more insistent kiss.

“I love you.” She whispered, her lips only a breath from his. “I love you.”

She kissed him once more, soft but sure.

This time, he kissed her back.





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