Still, looking at her now made it harder for Buffy to believe that. Joyce was awake, though still feeling the effects from the drugs, and she looked even weaker now than she had when Buffy had first seen her in the hospital. Buffy had known that would be the case this soon after surgery, but it was still managed to be a bit of a shock.
Slowly, Buffy approached the bed and took her mother's hand. Her skin felt cold, but Joyce made a weak attempt to squeeze Buffy's fingers, letting her daughter know there was indeed life still in her. "Mommy," Buffy said softly, her voice hitching. "I'm…" She stopped for a moment, trying to compose herself, to say something more guarded, the way she wanted to be, but instead she found herself saying, "I'm so happy just to see your eyes open."
Joyce smiled softly, and Buffy could tell from the expression her mother was in pain even as she tried not to let it show. "I'm going to be all right," Joyce said, her voice hoarse. "You don't need to worry, Buffy."
Buffy almost reached out to push her mother's hair back from her face, but stopped, afraid if she did she'd jostle her head too much and hurt her. "I kinda can't help that, you know," Buffy told her. "You're my mom, and you're in the hospital. That's high on the list of worry-causers."
"You've got good things to focus on," Joyce replied, her words sounding as if they were a struggle, with the pain and the medication she was speaking through. "Spike has his record deal. This is a happy time for the two of you."
"And it'll be even happier when you're better," Buffy said, patting her mother's hand gently.
Joyce nodded slowly, and her eyes began to drift shut. The doctor had told them she probably wouldn't be awake long this time, and she'd already spent some time with Dawn and Giles. Part of Buffy hated to let go now, afraid that if her mother did fall asleep again, she wouldn't wake back up. Yet the logical part of her knew what Joyce really needed right now in order to work towards getting healthy again was more rest.
Carefully, as to not jostle the IV, Buffy raised Joyce's hand to her mouth and gave it a soft kiss. "I'll let you sleep now, Mom, and I'll see you again soon."
Joyce's eyes opened all the way just long enough for her to nod before they closed again. Buffy let go of her hand and quietly left the room.
When visiting hours had ended and the doctor had assured the Giles-Summers clan that Joyce would most likely be sleeping for the rest of the evening, they'd headed back to Revello Drive, silence filling the car as they did.
Spike and Giles had ended up in the kitchen, and Buffy could hear them speaking quietly to each other, about what she wasn't sure. She decided not to intrude, but to let them have their father/son moment.
She went upstairs instead, stopping in front of Dawn's room when she saw the girl's door was partially open. Buffy peeked her head in and saw Dawn sitting on the bed, starring down at a stuffed doll she'd had for years. It was a soft cloth doll, and its head, arms, and legs were sticking out of a stuffed pumpkin.
"Pumpkinbelly," Buffy remarked, making Dawn look up suddenly, unaware she was being watched until her sister had spoken.
"Yeah. I dug her out of my closet." Dawn lowered her arms, the doll now hanging just below her knees. "I was just…thinking."
"Do you want to be alone?" Buffy asked.
Dawn shook her head in response. "No. You can come in."
Buffy accepted the invitation and went into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed beside her younger sister. Long moments of silence passed, and Buffy gently stroked Dawn's long, dark hair. "We look more like sisters now that you aren't dying yours anymore," Dawn said, glancing over at Buffy.
"We've always looked like sisters," Buffy said. "Now we just look like sisters with more similar hair."
Dawn smiled partially, then brought her gaze back down to the doll. She twirled it by its arms, making it do an awkward spin in the air. "Mom bought this for me years ago. It was all smooshed at the bottom of this pile of reduced price Halloween stuff at the grocery store."
"I remember," Buffy told her. "A Pumpkinbelly for her Pumpkinbelly."
"Yeah." Dawn was silent for another moment, then continued to stare at the doll as she spoke again. "It drove me crazy when she'd still call me that. I'd ask her to stop, but she'd keep doing it, and I…" She stopped for a beat, fighting tears. "Now I'd be happy to let her call me that every day. I just want her home, and better and…"
"I know, Dawnie," Buffy said when the teenager trailed off, letting go of her sister's hair to rub her back.
"She's not even easy to live with," Dawn continued after a moment. "She makes me so angry, and sometimes I wish she'd go away. It was getting better before she got sick, I think, but… Well, you know, Buffy. You know as well as anyone. But I don't want her to die. I'd rather she was here to yell and drive me crazy than have her be dead."
"Me, too," Buffy admitted.
Dawn glanced up. "Even after Christmas?"
"Yeah. That hurt, and I don't think I'm really over it, but I love her. I'd rather go through that every Christmas for the rest of my life than not have her at all—as crazy as that may sound."
"I keep thinking about when we go to Grandpa's grave. We just stand there, staring at a rock with his name on it and the ground like we're really visiting him. But we can't see him, can't talk to him, and it doesn't make it feel like he's not gone forever. I don't want to have it be like that with Mom, too. Not now, not when I'm only sixteen."
Dawn's eyes filled with tears, and Buffy wrapped her arm around her sister to hold her close. She wanted to tell Dawn everything was going to be okay, that their mother would definitely live for a long time after this. But she couldn't. Even with the treatments, there was no guarantee Joyce would make a full recovery, nor was their one that the cancer wouldn't come back. There was a chance—there was hope—but there was no promise.
Instead, Buffy held Dawn tightly in her arms, and the two sisters cried together.
Spike was glad Buffy had gone to sleep quickly, even though he was still wide-awake. She was mentally and physically exhausted, and he knew she needed this rest. She'd had circles under her eyes ever since Spike had arrived in Sunnydale, reminding him more of the girl she'd been when he'd first seen her again in New York than she had in a long time.
He didn't want her to have to carry this sort of burden, and he hated how he couldn't make life easier for her. She was twenty-two and already she'd known more heartache than many people much older. He'd done what he could since he'd come into her life, but there was only so much one man could do. Spike wanted to completely shield her from any heartache, keep her from knowing anything but happiness.
Yet all he'd done today was make things worse for her. He remembered all too well the pain of watching your mother suffer the way Joyce was now, and he hated to think of Buffy going through that. Being only human, he was frustratingly incapable of making things wholly better for her, but Spike had hoped he could at least be of some comfort to her. He'd wanted his presence to be soothing, to give her the extra strength she'd need to get through this. Instead, he'd acted like a total dick.
He hated that he couldn't control his jealousy any better than he did. He didn't want to be jealous, of Ben or anyone else for that matter. It wasn't even an issue of not trusting her, because he did. He loved Buffy deeply, and he did trust her and their relationship.
But he'd trusted Drusilla as well…
Spike knew Buffy was nothing like Drusilla. The time he'd spent away from his former girlfriend and with Buffy had forced him to see his ex for what she truly was. She was cold and manipulative where Buffy was warm and giving. He knew that. Rationally, he knew that.
However, where his heart was concerned, Spike had always had a difficult time being rational. Even with knowing the sort of woman Drusilla really was, Spike couldn't help but blame himself at least partially for her infidelity. Something must have driven her into the arms of another man, after all, and Drusilla had been quite insistent about that something being him. She'd told him he wasn't pleasing her anymore, told him he fell short as a lover. In the beginning, she'd told him the exact opposite, praising his abilities to please her in a way no other man ever had. He didn't think he'd started doing anything differently, but what if he had? What if he was the sort of man who got boring after a while? Was he not long-term relationship material?
Spike had always tried to fight it when his thoughts took this turn, but he couldn't help it. He'd wanted to be everything for Drusilla, and he'd failed. Now, he wanted to be everything for Buffy—how did he know he'd be any more successful there? What if whatever it was that made Drusilla run to the arms of another man was something fundamentally wrong with him? Was there something he did wrong, something he wasn't aware of but that would make any woman tire of him eventually?
Nothing terrified him like the thought of losing Buffy. Nothing. All he'd ever wanted in his entire life was for a woman to look at him the way she did, to need him the way she did, and to lose that… He couldn't even let himself think about it. It frightened him so much that every time he saw another man getting too close to Buffy, he'd become afraid that she'd find in him whatever Spike was missing in himself. He couldn't be sure he wasn't failing Buffy in someway, not being everything she needed, and he was afraid if she got close to someone else, she'd realize where Spike was lacking and not want to deal with it anymore.
And Ben…he had to be better, didn't he? Even with the record deal, Spike was still a musician, and society didn't exactly label them the stable, marrying kind. But doctors, they were the real prize, weren't they? Didn't women want to date the rock star and marry the doctor? Spike knew he was flawed. He had a quick temper, a checkered past, and he wasn't so naïve as to think he didn't drink too bloody much. He was damaged goods, and even if this record deal led to millions in the bank for him, he'd still be damaged goods. Not some clean-cut, professional-looking doctor who could promise the whole White Picket Fence Dream.
So yeah, he was jealous, and yeah, he wanted Ben to stay the hell away from Buffy. The longer the soon-to-be doctor stuck around, the more opportunities Buffy would have to see how Spike was somehow deficient.
Or maybe it wouldn't be Ben. Maybe it wouldn't even be another man. Maybe Buffy would just wake up one day and realize she was throwing her life away with him. Then she'd leave him, and he'd be forced to go back to being so painfully alone. Only this time, it would be worse, because no one else could ever be to him what Buffy was. She wasn't cold like Dru. She was warm and loving with a smile that made his heart melt, and Spike knew no one else would ever make him feel like Buffy did, not even if he searched forever.
Buffy was curled up in the bed, facing but not touching him, and the small amount of space between them became too much for Spike to handle. Gently, so as not to wake her, Spike brought Buffy into his arms, the tension in his body draining as he held her again. Buffy made a small mew in her sleep and snuggled closer to him, and Spike brushed a soft kiss to her forehead with a smile. She was his now, and maybe she always would be. Maybe he'd get lucky, and she would want to stay with him.
When Spike looked into his future, all he could see was Buffy. The future he wanted to live anyway... He knew becoming rich and famous was certainly something he'd enjoy, but he didn't want it if he didn't have Buffy. In every fantasy he had for his life from there on out, she was with him, by his side. He wanted to share everything with her, and he knew without her it would all be at best bittersweet. Without her, everything would be hollow.
"Don't ever leave me, kitten," he whispered, knowing Buffy couldn't hear his needy plea. "I couldn't make it again, not after…" He stopped, the mere thought of losing her choking him.
He took a deep breath, trying to force himself to stop thinking about these things. Buffy was in his arms, and that was what really mattered. He had to have the hope they could make it.
Spike tightened his arms around her as he tried to find sleep.
I'm sorry I didn't post on Tuesday, but between being out of town until later than I'd expected on Monday and then being completely swamped playing catch-up at work, I couldn't get anything written. I'm hoping I'll be able to post two chapters again next week, but right now I really can't make any promises. I currently have no chapters in reserve, and I'm having a hard time writing this one again. I know exactly where I'm going—I have from the very start—but that doesn't mean I can always get my thoughts down. I'm hoping I can find the time and inspiration to work through this and get back into a groove, but if I don't post as regularly as I have been for a little bit, please, try to be patient and understanding. I'm not saying I'm going to go back to months between posts again, but it may have to go down to one chapter a week for a little bit.
Please review. My muse and I would really appreciate the encouragement.