[Reviews - 39]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 461 times

- Text Size +




Chapter 50

He woke with a jerk, confused and dizzy. It took him a few seconds to realize he was on the floor in his flat, and not in Buffy’s motel room. He looked at his hands, half expecting to see them covered in blood. And then his head made him abruptly aware of what it thought about the mass quantity of alcohol he’d consumed.

“Oh god,” Spike groaned, holding his head as it felt ready to explode. He sat up slowly, willing his head to stop spinning and prayed to any deity that would listen that his brain didn’t start leaking out of his ears because it felt like that was a possibility at the moment. He managed to stand on shaky legs and stumble his way to the sink. He grabbed a glass and filled it with water and drank it down, hoping it would get rid of the cotton mouth.

“I’d offer you some hair of the dog,” a sleepy voice mumbled behind him. “But, I sort of killed the dog.”

He tried to laugh at that, but the best he could do was a slight huff.

“Too bad, don’t get paid again ‘till Tuesday.”

“Do you really need it?” He was pretty sure she didn’t mean to sound as accusing as she sounded.

“Yeah, well, not all of us get Slayer dreams to help us cope, now do we?” He turned to face her, holding onto the counter for balance. Try as he may, he didn’t think he could drag out his usual swagger right then even if he wanted to.

“You could try talking to me,” Buffy suggested.

He looked at her hard just then. Was she serious?

“Think you already sang that song, love. How about you pick another?”

“Ok, how about this one: Snap out of it!” She said, pushing herself up off the floor and was now sitting on the edge of the bed.

“What?” She was definitely approaching dangerous territory now.

“You heard me,” She shrugged. “Snap out of it. Move on. Build a bridge and get over it.”

He glared at her. He couldn’t decide if she’d gone around the bend, or if he had.

“Can I ask you a question?” She seemed curious.

“Do I get a choice?” He asked, sinking back down in the floor, leaning against the cabinet.

“Nope!” She cheerfully responded.

He waved at her indicating to proceed.

“Do you think you’re the only one who had those thoughts?” She asked him.

“Don’t rightly care what anyone else…”

“Do you think I didn’t have those exact same thoughts?” She asked, cutting off his reply.

“Buffy…” He started to try and tell her how that was different.

“Let me guess?” She interrupted him again. “That’s different?”

“Bloody right, it’s different!” He was getting a little pissed off that she kept cutting him off.

“So, it’s ok for me to have doubts, fears, and think things would be so much easier without all new and exciting complications? Be frustrated beyond all belief that we were so close to finally, finally, actually communication and moving forward, when of course, of course, I had to be pregnant! Because my life just wouldn’t be complete without yet another exciting way to screw everything up! But it’s not ok for you to feel that way?”

“Yes!” He shouted but then paused. “Wait…what?” He wasn’t quite sure he followed all of that. “Bloody buggerin’ hell, my head…” he pressed the heels of his hands to his temples, hoping the counterpressure might do something.

“Spike, this is nothing more than guilt. Misplaced at that! You did not do this. You didn’t cause any of it. We all have those thoughts, Spike. All of us. You, me, Riley, heck probably every person ever with a surprise pregnancy.”

“You don’t understand…” He mumbled out.

She laughed. Really laughed. Long and loud and hard, and it only increased the pounding in his head.

“What’s so bloody funny?” He asked, feeling damn weary just then. He was really wishing that she would just go so he could just crawl into his bed and forget all about this damn day.

“Here all this time I thought you were the one person in this world who really knew me,” She said, as the laughing died down to a steady giggle. Normally he would have thought it adorable, but right now it felt like little icepicks jabbing into his brain. He couldn’t think of a good come back at that moment, so he settled for glaring at her.

“You really think that I don’t understand about guilt? About thinking that you’ve caused the deaths of everyone around you? Of the people you love most? That the only thing you can do right is hurt the people around you?” Her voice and expression had softened by the time she got to the end of it.

Ok. Well. Maybe she had a point. A small one.

“Spike?” She called his name, more softly and reverently than he’d heard her say it in a long time.

He looked up at her. She was smiling at him for some reason.

“Can I ask you another question?” She asked gently.

He nodded.

“Who found me in that alley?” She asked, just as gently.

He peered at her for several long seconds before finally answering. “Know where you’re going with this, Buffy.”

“Whose idea was it for you and Angel to check on me every day at the shop?”

“Not the point, love,” He replied.

“Who found the car? She asked, still soft but resolute.

“Paramedics.” He countered.

“And got you and Giles there in time to…” Her breath caught. “Got there in time to say goodbye?” She got down on her knees at the foot of the bed.

“Buffy,” He leaned his head back against the cabinet, hoping she took the cue to stop.

“Who held me every night when I had nightmares about Angel?” She moved a little closer to him.

“Stop,” He quietly urged.

“Who took care of Michael and Dawn when I couldn’t?” She inched even more toward him.

“Buffy, please,” He put a little more urgency into it, looking away from her.

“Who picked me up in the quad when I completely lost it?” He could feel she was even closer now.

“Stop!” He was through asking, eyes closed, still not looking at her.

“Who helped me understand my affinity for broken glass?” He could almost feel her breath now as she spoke.

“No more!” He ground out. “Stop!” He turned to face her again, finding her just inches away from him.

“Who helped me see myself through his eyes when all I could see was a broken and shattered person?” He could definitely feel her words against his skin.

“Buffy…” He closed his eyes, begging her to stop.

“Who found me at the motel just in time?” She finished so softly, it was almost a whisper.

He didn’t answer her. He couldn’t. His vocal cords didn’t seem to be working proper.

She put her hands on either side of his face and turned it towards her. She held him there for what seemed like forever until he finally opened his eyes and looked at her.

“All you’ve ever done, Spike, is bring me back to life.”

It suddenly felt like all the air had gone from his lungs, his heart had stopped beating, his mouth was a desert, and none of his muscles would respond. Couldn’t talk, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. His head still felt like it was about to explode, but whether that was the whiskey or the overload she’s just sent his brain into was anyone’s guess. And then reality came crashing back in.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” He tried to wrench his head free while pushing her back away from him. He managed to push himself back up to stand, and then took a few steps away from her. It was always easier to think when there was more distance between them.

“So,” Buffy stood up and made her way back to the bed, sitting on the end again. “It wasn’t you who came to my house every day, and kept me sane? And it wasn’t you that noticed every single bruise and mark and acted like none of it even touched me?”

He started pacing. He really wanted to get out of this room that was getting smaller and smaller by the second.

“It wasn’t you that spent countless hours listening to me talk about everything my dad did, and then getting me to talk about my mother, or heck even Angel, so I’d be happy again? It wasn’t you that convinced me those idiots couldn’t touch the real me? That Angel still loved me? Brought him back to me? Tried every single day and night to get me to feel something again after they all died? After I came back? Taught me I am so much more than the sum of all the things that happened? Gave me life?”

Suddenly he was stopped in his pacing when he bumped into a tiny little immovable wall that was standing there, arms crossed, staring up at him with fire in her eyes. No, make that a blaze.

“It wasn’t you that willed me back to life?”

He could only stare at her in confusion. Is that what she thought? That somehow in those moments he’d held her lifeless body, pressed her heart to his own, silently begged and pleaded with her to come back to him, that somehow his will had called her back to life? As beautiful as that thought was, he knew it wasn’t true.

He brought his left hand up to caress her cheek, and his skin hummed with the contact as she nuzzled into it briefly.

“Not the way it works, pet.” He smiled sadly at her. “Me wishing it had nothing to do with you coming back.”

She smiled. And it slowly grew. Though, he wasn’t sure what he’d said that have been funny. And then she cocked that eyebrow of hers in that infuriating and adorable way. What was so damn… bloody hell.

“Dirty pool, love.” He smiled.

“Learned it from the best.” She smiled even wider. He couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“I missed that,” She was suddenly very serious.

“What’s that, love?”

“You. Smiling and laughing. I missed my best friend. Is he coming back, because I really could use one right now?”

He took his hand back and ran it through his hair. Too many thoughts were suddenly trying to run around his mind, and it was already protesting loudly that it was tired and ready to bore an exit hole through his skull.

“Maybe. Right now, think I need some time, and sleep.” What else was there to say?

“Sounds like a plan! It’s still really early, and I’m not loving the idea of walking back to the house alone in the middle of the night.” She answered.

“Oh. Yeah, right. You, uh, want me to call a cab? Not exactly driving condition at the moment.”

“Actually, I was hoping I could stay,” She asked hesitantly, as she walked over to the bed and sat on the edge.

Oh.

“Sure. Yeah. You, you, uh, you take the bed.” He looked around. “I’ll take the, uh, comfy chair.”

“Actually,” She was looking at him with such open vulnerability. Something he rarely saw from her anymore. “I was hoping you’d hold me?”

He tried to read her intent. Normally it was an easy thing to do. But with everything the way it was, he just wasn’t sure anymore. She didn’t seem to be expecting anything other than what she’d asked, but…

“Yeah. I can do that.” He let out a shaky breath as she climbed to the middle of the bed. He climbed in next to her and held his arms open. She curled around him, molding herself to him, laying her head on his shoulder and her legs slightly covering his. He folded his arms around her and held her as she drifted off to sleep, allowing himself to fully take in this moment. The feel of her wrapped around him, trusting him as she slept. And then he allowed sleep to claim him once again.





You must login (register) to review.