CHAPTER 12 -- Midnight In the Garden of Good and Evil

It was midnight by the time Spike had found the dancing (and tipsy) group, explained what had happened, grab his coat, and made it to Buffy’s house. Knowing full well that Joyce and Dawn were sleeping, and knocking on the door would accomplish nothing but piss off the entire Summers household, Spike sat in the parked Desoto contemplating his options.

It left him with only one.
He couldn’t go to bed with Buffy mad at him. He didn’t know why not -- he’d done it many times before. But this was different for some reason.

Spike sighed as he slide out of the car, “God I hope I don’t get the cops called on me.” Instead of heading for the front porch as he usually did, Spike headed for the left until he reached the side of the house. He halted and glanced upward. Buffy’s house was an older one, meaning the ceilings were high and the second floor was well off the ground. He eyed the top window -- Buffy’s window. Taking a quick survey of his surroundings, his eyes eventually fell onto his only choice -- an old, sturdy tree.

“Bloody hell,” he cursed before shedding his coat and grabbing on to the first reachable branch, hoisting himself up. Spike had dark hair the last time he climbed a tree -- he remembered it being easier. He cursed a couple more times as a particularly sharp branch caught him in the face, drawing a thin red line across his cheekbone.

As he continued to navigate a tricky clump of branches, he was too caught up in not falling to his death to notice the window to his left open.

“Spike?” The voice broke through the dead silence of the night. In his surprise, Spike lost this grip on the branch, teetering on the twig he was standing on before securing himself on one behind him.

Spike caught his breath, “Christ, Summers, don’t scare me like that.”

“Says the dark-clad man climbing up to my window.”

“I was trying at a grand gesture.”

“And you couldn’t have throw a rock at my window?”

“Get in the car,” he demanded.

“You’re kidnapping me?”

“I was hoping to not to have to take it that far.” At his pleading eyes and weirdly not-angered demeanor, she considered.

“Give me a minute,” she said finally. Spike let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, relieved she gave in so easily, only to tense again when he glanced down at the descent he was going to have to make.

Spike made it down without incident and reached the front door, just as Buffy was shutting it quietly behind her and locking it.

She turned to address her sleep interrupter, “What happened to your face?”

“War wound,” he replied.

“Where are you taking me?” She asked as she followed him to the car.

“Why?”

“Because I want to know where to tell the police they can find my bruised and broken body,” she replied in sarcastic anger.

She slid into the passenger seat and the rest of the trip was made in silence.

The Desoto climbed a steep hill. Reaching the gravel top, Spike pulled the brake, smiled mischievously at Buffy and got out of the car. Guessing she was to follow suit, Buffy slid out too. She found him pulling an old plaid blanket out of the trunk, spreading it out over the warm hood of the Desoto. He hopped on top, motioning her to join him. She stood with her arms crossed for a minute, her eyes screwed in confusion, before climbing up next to him, her hazel eyes continued to stare at Spike.

Spike was gazing out into the air in front of him, feeling her eyes on him, he nodded to the view in front of him, “Look.”

Buffy forced her herself to follow his directions -- and was immediately glad she did. Her breath floated away at the drape of sparkling stars in front of them. They sat on top of the entire town, the late-night lights of the houses shone like scattered diamonds on the ground below.

“This is gorgeous,” she breathed.

Spike was glad she appreciated the view as much as he did. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a wrapped Twinkie, split it in half and offered it to her. “Sorry I don’t have a better menu.”

Buffy accepted the Twinkie, but looked at it suspiciously. She smiled slightly, turning to the man beside her, “What are you doing?”

He glanced up from below his lashes, smiling softly at her, “Showing you I can be romantic.”

Buffy‘s featured softened towards him, “You don’t have to prove it to me.”

“Yeah, I do.” He paused, gazing out into the sea of stars in front of them. “I want more out of life you know . . . more than what I have. You’re right . . . I did think I was too good for Sunnydale.” Buffy moved to object, but he silenced her. “I thought I could find what I was looking for in L.A. And I did, for a while.”

“What did you find?”

“Shit I wished I hadn’t. I’ve done some really stupid things in my life.” She didn’t try to interrupt him, so he continued. “But the more I’m here, and the more time I spend with everyone, the more it undermines the life I built in L.A. -- the life I thought I wanted. I was horrible to you in college. Don’t know why you put up with so much of it.”

“I remember saying a few choice words to you too,” Buffy said softly.

“Yeah, but they were provoked. I know now why I said some of the things I did. You threatened everything I stood for. I fancied myself some big-city boy and you were the innocent small-towner. I was scared that I would be happy in a simple existence -- that I would live without seeing the world.”

“You can always change. Us small-towners move to the city all the time, you could move back.”

“No. It’s too late now. I have a name for myself up there.”

“It’s not about where you live. You can travel the world to wherever you like -- as long as you know where home is, you’ll never be lost.”

And that’s what he had been -- lost. Giles and Jenny had moved and he had fled to the fast pace of L.A. He filled the void with drugs and women -- both false, fleeting, and slowly killing him. He hadn’t know where home was anymore.

Spike looked deeply at Buffy, “I think I’m beginning to remember where that is.”

His look, like all his looks, was intense and Buffy found herself shying away from the serious self reflection.

“So,” she lightened, “Do you do always do such chivalrous acts to get your point across?”

Spike chuckled, “You’re the first woman I’ve ever climbed a tree for and split a Twinkie with.” At her look, he continued, “Don’t take that lightly, Summers. I’m bloody fond of Twinkies.” She giggled, he smiled along with her, “Don’t share them with just anybody.”

After a minute of silence, Spike spoke, “So . . . Truce?”

“Friends,” Buffy offered as she gave him her hand.

“Friends,” he agreed.

The two new friends turned again to the clear night in front of them and watched the stars.

TBC