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Chapter 12

"Leave it out Dru." Spike grabbed her hands and held them up, away from him. Disbelief clouded her features. She lunged back in at him, but he held her firm. "No Dru, no more."

"Okay, okay." Her hands broke free and she held them up, palms towards him. A gesture of peace. "You mean it, don't you?"

"Yeah." He couldn't look at her. "Look, we don't have to do this now, how are you feeling?"

"Well," she stared at her palms, opening and closing them. "I was feeling rather good, until you came in and told me that you and me are a big pile of shit."

"That's not what I said, Dru. And this is a crap time to be having this conversation. Let me take you home." He stood up, picking up his car keys. "Get yourself right. We'll talk tomorrow."

"You'll talk, you mean." She gave a half-snort, half-laugh. "You like to hear yourself talk, did you know that Spike?"

"Yeah, I've been told. Come on."

"No, let's have this out now. Just tell me why."

"There's nothing left Dru. We don't make each other happy any more." I've got someone else He turned away. "And this drugs thing. It's killing me."

"No Spike." She looked at him with a calm certainty. The sanest she'd looked all evening. "It's killing me. Do you want that on your conscience?"

The car keys flew across the table and he whirled round to face her "I have never, ever, supported your drug habit. How can you say that? I loved you. Do you think I like seeing you slowly killing yourself? Like seeing you with that pig Johnny? What do you do for the drugs Dru? You sure-as-hell can't afford to buy them."

"Loved?" She picked up her coat. "As in past tense? As in not any more? Shouting didn't work, would it help if I cried?"

She was coming down. Whatever high she'd been on, Spike recognised the familiar signs. A little bit of the Dru he used to know. Sharp and bright. For a few moments. Then she'd crash-land into a weeping mess. And he'd have to catch her, like he always did.

"Come on love," he took her by the elbow, but she shook him off.

"At least let me get my things."

Spike ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah." He gestured towards the bedroom. "Go ahead."

She emerged a few moments later, carrying a small bag. "Not much to show, for two years, eh?"

That just about summed it up really. Spike picked up his keys. "Come on then."

"No need, I'll find my own way."

"No you bloody won't." He grabbed her by the arm and held her as he locked the front door. She didn't struggle. He wouldn't have forced her if she had. Knew better than that. Then he walked her to his car. "Get in." The battle of wills lasted for a few seconds longer, before he said again, more gently this time. "Please."

As he drove Dru home, he remembered a similar conversation with a girl, by a car and his hand went to the scar that was forming over his eye. The night his world had turned upside - down. Sweet, sexy, accident-prone Buffy. She'd be waiting for his call. Waiting for him. Only something didn't feel quite right. Going straight from one girl to another. He wanted Buffy like he never wanted anything before, but would she understand that he needed some space, some thinking time? In a few minutes he would be saying goodbye to Dru for the last time. Putting two years of his life behind him. It wasn't like taking off an old sweater and throwing it in the trash. Right now he was raw and exposed. And a whole lot of other things, all mixed up and jumbled in his head. It was a kind of grief, and only time would put that right.

They pulled up outside Dru's house, and she jumped out before he'd even stopped the car. He hadn't gotten half-way up the path, before she slammed the front door and disappeared from view. And that was it. Finished.


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Drusilla ran up to her bedroom and slammed the door. The house was empty, her parents away for the afternoon. She flung herself on her bed and felt in her pocket. The card. It had been in his duster pocket. She'd been looking for money. Figured he owed her, but this was much more interesting. The words blurred as her eyes filled with tears. "Buffy Summers has moved to England!" She turned the card over, then turned it back. "Who are you love? Did you steal my William away from me?" She crumpled the card in her hand, and stared at the ceiling. "Did you?"


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The phone rang mid-afternoon. Buffy went from sleep to wake in two seconds and grabbed the receiver, almost dropping it in her haste.

"Oh, hi Willow. No I wasn't asleep, well, yeah, but it's okay."

Willow had a date with Xander. That was good. Yes it had been a nice evening. No he hadn't called. Why not? Yes, perhaps tonight.

"Okay, see you on Monday then." Willow finally got off the line. Buffy felt a bit mean for being so short with her, particularly since she was brimming with the good news about her and Xander, but she wanted the line left clear. If he didn't ring soon, she was going to explode. The clock told her she'd only been asleep for a couple of hours. That couldn't be right. She sat up and stretched, then went downstairs. The kitchen clock said the same time and so did the one in the lounge. Damn.

Assignments. She had a couple of those to do, and lots of nervous energy to burn off, but she'd never be able to concentrate. A run, she should go for a run, and she could take her cell-phone. The number was on the card she'd given him. Wasn't it? Now she had to go and check it, because if it wasn't, there was no way she was leaving the house. Yes, there it was. But what if he came round, without phoning? No run. She needed to be here. Treadmill then. Maybe it would clear her head. Get rid of this strange, disjointed feeling. And kill some time.

As she pounded away on the running machine, she tried to think of anything but what Spike was doing right now. The Lake District trip. She'd need some new clothes. Walking boots, a snazzy waterproof jacket. And a big grin spread across her face as she remember whose name was at the top of the list, besides Professor Hartington. William Giles. Spike was coming too. Could this get any better? But heck, now she was thinking about Spike again. And why hadn't he called?


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That was it then. Bridges burned and all that. Spike felt a guilty kind of relief as he got back into his car. It was a weird feeling. Freedom. Made him feel kind of spacey. Cast adrift. He looked back at the house, noticing that the car wasn't on the drive. No parents. Didn't like leaving her by herself. No telling how she was going to be when she came out of it. He looked up at her bedroom window, wondering what to do, and she was there, staring out at him. He held her gaze for a few seconds, looked away, looked back and she was still there. Her expression was unreadable but there was something in it that gave him goosebumps. He shivered and tore his gaze away. Now he was worried. What if she did something stupid? He was halfway out of the car when her parents arrived.

Thank god He walked over to the driver's side as Dru's dad parked up. "Dan. I need to talk to you."

"Hello Spike." Dru's dad gave him a friendly wave as he got out of the car. "Long time no see."

"Uhh, yeah, look Dru's inside. She not too well. Make sure you look in on her."

Dan's face fell. "I see, is it...?"

"Fraid so. Look I'm sorry Dan. I did what I could. Moira." He nodded as Dru's mother got out of her side. She eyed him coldly.

"I thought I told you not to come round here." She pointed a finger at him. "I blame you for this William."

"Come on dear," Dan took his wife's arm. "The lad's done his best." He turned and nodded to Spike. "We'll look after her, don't worry. Pop round tomorrow, eh?"

"No!" Moira turned on Spike. "You are not welcome here, just leave my baby alone."

Bloody, fucking hell. Spike clenched his jaw to stop himself answering . Why was she always blaming him for Dru's problems? The last thing he wanted was to get into a slanging match with Mrs. Harris. He turned and stomped back to his car, stopping for a last look at Dru's window. She was still there and this time he could see her expression quite clearly. She was smiling.

He went straight to the supermarket and bought a large bottle of bourbon and some smokes. Then he went home and got mind numbingly drunk. By five o' clock he was out cold on the couch, phone in one hand, bottle in the other. The phone rang twice but he didn't hear it. It slipped from his fingers and clattered onto the floor. The remainder of the bourbon tipped over at some point and soaked the front of his tee-shirt. In his dream he was being pulled in two by an angel and a devil. And neither of them were about to let him go.


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Buffy had been determined to let him call her, but by five o'clock she still hadn't heard anything. She must have picked up the phone a dozen times, then put it down again. Just after five, her fingers were dialling his number of their own accord. She couldn't have stopped them if she'd tried. There was no answer. By half past five she was dialling again. Still nothing. There was only one W. Giles in the phone book. She scribbled down the address and got out her A to Z of the area. It was only a few blocks away he'd said. Her finger moved over the map. There it was. Now she knew where he lived. The hard bit was going to be stopping herself from going over there. What if Dru was still there? A sudden image of a carousel flashed into her mind. The one her parents had hired for her sixth birthday party. Waiting for it to stop, jumping impatiently because she wanted the kids to get off so she could have another turn. Pushing the little girl off the gaudily painted horse because she wasn't getting down fast enough. Then jumping smugly onto the horse and sticking her tongue out at her. "Gonna get you Buffy," the girl had cried as she ran to her mom. "You stole my best toy. Gonna get you."

Buffy shook her head to clear the image. Time to eat something -she was so hungry she was almost hallucinating. That wasn't a nice memory at all. The carousel horses had given her horrible nightmares, which she still had occasionally. Only now Drusilla was in the mix. She felt like she was waiting for Drusilla to get off, so she could get on. It suddenly seemed so cynical, with poor Spike in the middle. She placed the phone back in it's cradle. He'd ring when he was good and ready. Like he'd said. She had to trust him on that.


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Spike woke up just after eight o' clock. He lay still for a few moments, waiting for the room to stop spinning, then he staggered to the bathroom and threw up. Man, he'd been stupid.

He smelled like a brewery and the bourbon bottle was alarmingly empty. He hadn't drunk it all, had he? Peeling off his clothes, he stepped into the shower and washed off the nauseating smell. Somewhere, in the back of his pounding brain, there was something he had to do. As he towelled himself dry, he saw the phone lying on the floor. Christ, Buffy, she'd be waiting for his call, and it was half- past -eight. He slicked back his wet hair. Where did the day go? Throwing on a pair of sweatpants, he picked up the phone and remembered the card she'd given him. It was in his duster pocket, which was on his bed. He rummaged around in all the pockets, wondering where it had gone, but not giving it too much attention. Directory enquiries would have it. He punched in 192.

That done, he lay back on the bed and dialed Buffy's number. This afternoon he couldn't have imagined wanting to see her so soon. Had his speech all worked out. How he needed a little time to adjust to things. But right now, that all seemed like a load of bollocks. He was free. And he really wanted to see her. Okay, he wasn't exactly in the mood for love, and probably wasn't capable of anything more than a cuddle. But boy, did he need that cuddle right now. This was the awkward bit. Going from one girl to the next. He was always going to look the villain in this, but heck, this was what they both wanted. Why waste time waiting?





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