Willow watched Spike’s retreating back until he turned the corner. She felt bad, and it wasn’t just because her best friend had lost her mother. She had to admit when they had left the Summers' home only to run into Spike coming down the street carrying a bouquet of flowers, she had been worried. After what he had done in an attempt to get Buffy to admit that she had feelings for him, he was the last person Buffy would have wanted to see under normal circumstances, and these weren’t normal circumstances.
They all felt protective of Buffy and her sister, but what Xander had said had been too cruel. Spike’s outburst just before he left had cut her deeply. He was right. Out of all of them, Joyce, for some reason had accepted the vampire. Well, that was up until he had chained her daughter to a wall, but still Spike was hurting just like the rest of them, and Xander had thrown his kind gesture in his face.
“Can you believe the nerve of that guy?” Xander griped.
Willow looked at the discarded flowers at her feet. They were rather pathetic specimens, probably just blossoms he had been able to scrounge from the cemetery, but it was the sentiment behind them that made them special. Looking at the flowers strewn across the sidewalk, something stood out to her. Ignoring Xander’s questioning look she bent down to gather the wilted daisies together.
“Xander,” she looked at her friend sadly, “He didn’t leave a card.”
Xander fell silent at that statement. Surely, it must have flown off somewhere, maybe under a bush. He simply couldn’t believe that vampire could do anything without some kind of hidden agenda. “What are you doing?” he asked as Willow returned to the porch and placed the flowers on the Summers’ doorstep.
“He brought them for Buffy and Dawn,” Willow informed him softly. “They should have them.”
Inside the Summers’ home the silence was deafening. Dawn and Buffy sat at the table, both looking at the table and not each other, neither willing to go into the living room. It seemed silly, but neither of them wanted to look at the couch. The couch was too offending. It was where Buffy had found their mother’s lifeless body. Absently, Buffy toyed with the idea of getting rid of the thing all together.
It was odd the things that went through her head as they sat there in silence. She couldn’t think of the fact that her mother was really gone. That was simply too painful, and she didn’t want to think of the future. That was too confusing. What she really wanted was to go off somewhere where no one could find her and sulk, cry her eyes out until there were no tears left to cry. She couldn’t do that though. Thanks to the monks, she had Dawn to take care of. Even though she was really just a big mysterious ball of energy, she was human now, she was Joyce’s daughter, and she was hurting just as much as Buffy. Once again, she had to be strong for someone else.
“Dawn,” Buffy said softly almost as if she was afraid to disturb the quiet of the house, “you should get to bed.”
“I don’t want to,” she said simply wiping yet another tear that she couldn’t hold back from her cheek.
“I know, but we’re going to have a long day tomorrow,” she told her sister not wanting to actually say the word “funeral”, “you need your rest.”
“So do you,” Dawn objected.
“I’ll be fine. Now go to bed,” she ordered a little more harshly than she had meant to sound.
“Fine,” Dawn growled as she marched past Buffy in the direction of her bedroom.
Buffy rolled her eyes in frustration. She didn’t know how much more she could take of this! She knew her sister was hurting too, but why did she have to be so difficult. She was so thankful her mother didn’t want a wake. She didn’t know how much longer she would be able to pretend to be the strong, responsible adult! Slowly, she rose to her feet and began to aimlessly wander through the empty house, making sure that she didn’t roam into the living room.
Surprisingly, not paying attention to where she was walking, she found her fingers wrapped about the knob of the front door. Buffy stopped facing the closed door, considering. Perhaps a walk was just what she needed. She definitely needed to get out of this place, the place where it happened. Quickly, she pulled the door open before responsible Buffy could remind her that she really should stay put and keep an eye on Dawn. She stopped short, narrowly avoiding stepping on the small pile of flowers on her doorstep. She examined the broken blossoms at her feet her mind slowly registering the fact that they were actually there. It did not take her long to deduct who had left them there. She almost felt angry, but for some reason she couldn’t. Perhaps it was the fact that she really had no more energy to really feel anything, but she just couldn’t be angry with him. A part of her knew she should be, but she knew even though what he had done to her was inexcusable; this was only a gesture to make her feel better. She slowly bent down and took a half dead daisy from the bunch, studied it thoughtfully for a moment and then stepped over the rest and left the house.
Buffy felt like she had walked forever even though in reality she had only left her home a few minutes before. The night air was chilly against her skin having left without thinking to put on her coat. Her skin was covered with goose bumps, but the cold didn’t register in her mind. Instead she continued her trek to only God knew where. She walked like a zombie, not bothering to watch for any vampires that might be lurking about. They really didn’t seem to matter at this point.
A few minutes more and she came to a stop. Buffy looked at her surroundings, her expression slightly confused as she realized where her feet had taken her. Before her stood Spike’s crypt. The door hung open on its hinges, which could only mean that Spike was present. Why had see ended up here? It had to have been the flowers. It was just a small suggestion to her subconscious and nothing more. She looked down at the flower still in her hand and considered going in. She was supposed to hate him, but that didn’t seem to matter. She really didn’t want to be alone, but was he really the one that she wanted to keep her company while she mourned her late mother?
“Spike?” the name had escaped her lips before she could complete her mental argument.
“Slayer?” Spike came to the door of the crypt. He looked even more confused than she had felt when she had realized she where her walk had taken her. His eyes were red as if he too had also spent the day crying. “Buffy, you shouldn’t be out here. It’s freezing,” he said softly, taking her arm and drawing her into the crypt. It wasn’t much warmer inside, but it was better than standing in the middle of the cemetery barely able to hold back the tears.
Buffy didn’t bother to fight him when he drew her inside. She really didn’t have the strength to fight anyone anymore. She had been lucky that she hadn’t come across any nasties on the way to the crypt, or Dawn wouldn’t have just been burying their mother in the morning.
“Buffy?” Spike asked when she still refused to speak. “Luv, what are you doing here? You should be at home with Niblet.”
“I,” Buffy replied her voice so low if he hadn’t been a vampire he probably never would have heard the words. “I…came to..to thank you for the flowers.”
With those words, he finally noticed the flower clenched in her trembling fingers and smiled softly. “You didn’t have to thank me,” he told her.
“Yes, I did,” she objected, her voice a little louder this time. She could feel the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. “I had to do something. I…I just couldn’t stay there.”
Spike noticed the tears brimming in her eyes. He wanted to draw her into her arms and make her forget with all his being, but he knew she wouldn’t let him. He had to do something though. He couldn’t stand to see her standing before him hurting this much. “So you just left,” he said harshly instantly regretting the words when she glared at him.
“What?” Buffy demanded. How could he speak to her like that! Granted he was a vampire, but there was an unwritten rule that people had to be nice to her. Her mother had just died that made it compulsory that she be treated with kid gloves.
“You just left her,” he pushed. “All alone to take care of herself!”
How could he speak to her that way? Wasn’t he supposed to be in love with her! “I can’t take care of her,” she cried. “There’s nothing left. I feel dead inside.”
“Dead?” Spike laughed. He actually laughed! “You’re not dead by a long shot, luv. You’re being selfish!”
“Selfish!?” she screamed as the hand not holding the flower curling into a fist and made impact with his nose flinging him back through the air to fall in a heap on the stone floor a good five feet across the crypt.
“Damn, Slayer!” he cried his hand flying to his now bloody nose. “I think you broke my nose!”
“Broken?” she growled. “Like you didn’t deserve it!”
“Deserve it!” Spike shot back. “I was only trying to help!”
“Help! You were trying to help!” Buffy glared at him. How could he possibly think that berating her was helping!
“Yes, help,” Spike replied softly his eyes filled with concern as he tried to ignore the pain flaming through his face. “You just proved you’re still alive. Buffy’s still in there. She’s buried under a world of pain right now, but she’s still in there, and she’s still very much alive.”
She considered him a moment still lying there on the floor where he had landed. Vaguely, she felt guilty for hitting him, but he was right. At least for a moment, she did feel alive again.
