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Chapter 19


Buffy walked over to Spike, slid her arms around his waist and leaned her uninjured cheek against his chest. It had all been too good to be true. This wonderful feeling that something real was happening in her life at last. Spike saying he loved her. Her loving him back. Those things were real, but they weren’t going to get a chance to find out how real. All her plans, hopes and dreams for this year, and beyond, had come crashing down on her in just a few short hours.

The last time her life had turned around this dramatically had been when her mom had died, but then she’d been a child. It had hurt, and she’d missed her like crazy, but although she’d never forgotten her, she’d grown into a new life with her father at the centre, and bounced back. Now she was an adult. She didn’t think like a child any more. She understood how these things hurt, and she couldn’t see how she was ever going to bounce back from this. Better to shut down now. The longer she kept loving him, the more it was going to hurt when she left.

And she had no choice but to leave. Her father had made that very clear. Her being in England was just too much for him to worry about. He’d been frantic during the call, wanted to jump on the first plane over and take her straight back with him. She was everything to him. Especially since her mom had died. And hadn’t he always looked after her? Would always look after her.

And of course she loved her father, and didn’t want to hurt him. She had a good life waiting for her back in the States, and her father had been the kindest, nicest dad she could have hoped for. Everything he’d done had been out of love and concern for her. How could she repay him by breaking his heart? Better that she suffered. She couldn’t do that to him.

And then there was Spike. The best thing that had ever happened to her. It was going to hurt him too. This was going to be the hardest thing she’d ever had to do.

-----------------------------------

Spike held on to her as her words sank in. Leaving? She couldn’t leave him, not now. She was an adult, able to make up her own mind, surely her father couldn’t force her to go if she didn’t want to?

“Let’s go back inside Buffy, you’re shivering, then you can tell me what he said. If you want to that is.” He looked down into her face. “Okay?”

She nodded and allowed herself to be led back inside. They both stood in the kitchen, neither of them speaking. Spike remembered what he’d said only a few nights ago, about her going back to the States at the end of the year, and how she’d changed the subject. It had seemed too far in the future to worry about then, but now? It was happening.

No, dammit, it wasn’t. Not if he had anything to do with it.

“So, what did he say?”

Buffy’s voice was hardly there as she spoke. "He wants me back right away. He’s really worried about me. Seems to think I’m going to get kidnapped or something.”

“And are you?”

“I don’t know.” She half shouted it, then immediately looked contrite. “Spike, I...

“Hey, come here.” He held his arms out to her, but she didn’t move so he went to her and pulled her to him. She was so tense, she was shaking with it. He rubbed a hand up and down her back, spoke soothingly to her, but he couldn’t get her to relax. Couldn’t get her to sit down. So he picked her up and carried her into the television room. She lay stiffly in his arms as he sat down with her on his lap. Almost pulling away from him. And he couldn’t bear it.

“Buffy, love, look at me. Don’t do this. Don’t let him do this to us.” She didn’t give any indication she’d heard. “Please, Buffy, look at me.”

She turned to him and he saw something that frightened him. She was already going away, distancing herself. What the hell had her dad said to her?

“Buffy, love, you’re scaring me. You’re not really going, are you?”

“I don’t have a choice, Spike.” She spoke almost mechanically. “Dad was right, I can’t look after myself.” She pointed to her cheek. “Look at me.”

“Bloody bollocks.” He was getting angry now. “Your dad snaps his fingers, and you go running. What about me? You told me you loved me. What was that all about?”

“It was all about...” She gave a great choking sob and buried her face in her hands, and for a few moment he just sat and watched her cry.

"I meant it Buffy, when I said I loved you.”

She lifted her head. “And you think I didn’t?”

“No, Buffy, I thought you did. That’s why I can’t understand this.” He waved his hand uselessly in the air. He wasn’t getting through to her. “How can you shut me out, just like that?”

“I’m not...I’ve got to don’t you see?”

“No, I don’t. What? You stop loving me, just like that? I don’t believe you.”

She made to stand up, but he pulled her down. “You’re not going anywhere until you look me in the eye and tell me that you don’t love me. Say it Buffy.” She strained away from him, but he held her tight. She wasn’t just going to walk away from this, just because of some stupid notion that she had no free will of her own. Her father didn’t own her, why couldn’t she see that?

At least she wasn’t saying it. She wasn’t looking at him, but she hadn’t said she didn’t love him either. He’d get through to her even if he had to tie her up to make her listen. He couldn’t believe that this was the same girl who had been moaning his name in ecstasy, not half an hour ago.

“Listen Buffy.” He held her by her arms, half facing him, realising this was the best he was going to get. “I’m going to talk, then you are. Then if you want me to, I’ll walk out that door, and you can go back to the States to whatever it is that’s so important to you there. Deal?”

She gave a very small nod. The only indication that she was listening.

“Right.” He took a breath to steady himself. “I’m going to let go of you now. You won’t run away will you?” She shook her head, so he loosened his hold. “Right.” What could he say? Plead with her, beg her. He only knew that he wanted her here, with him, and that it would break his heart if she wasn’t here. How did he tell her that? How did he make it sound right?

“Buffy, when I got that phone call this afternoon, and they said you’d been hurt I... Well, the last time I felt anything like that was when my mum died. And I don’t say this lightly, Buffy. I’m not using it as emotional blackmail, it’s just the truth. She died right in front of me, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. But somehow I felt I should have been able to do something. I was only ten, and it was a long time before I realised that it wasn’t my fault."

Buffy slowly lifted her head as he spoke, her eyes growing wide. He took another breath and continued. “That’s how I felt this afternoon, when I saw you. I felt like it was my fault. That I should have been there to protect you. That I should have been able to do something about it, but I didn’t.”

“But it wasn’t your fault, Spike.” She looked a little dazed. “How can it be your fault?”

“I know that. It’s just how I feel about it, do you understand?”

“I think so.” She was relaxing just a little. Not holding herself so stiffly. He hadn’t wanted to say that. Not emotional blackmail? Who was he kidding. But it was deep, personal stuff. She had to know what it meant for him to say it. He didn’t talk about his mum’s death to anyone. Not even his dad.

He could feel her coming back, leaning in to him. Ever so slightly.

“That’s all I have to say, Buffy. It’s your turn now.”

------------------------------

Buffy turned and looked at him properly, for the first time since she’d made the phone call. This was Spike, the man she’d said she loved. The only man she’d ever had sex with. Who’d made her feel stuff she’d never felt before. He didn’t deserve what she was doing to him. And that was her punishment, she realised. For the rest of her life, she’d carry this around with her.

He was gazing back at her, expectantly, a slight glimmer of hope in his eyes, thinking he’d changed her mind. Didn’t he know that she wanted to stay with all her heart? Didn’t he realise that she couldn’t? She leaned towards him and kissed him on the lips. A small, sweet kiss, then she slid off his lap and moved to the other end of the couch. The glimmer of hope faded from his eyes as she left him.

“Was that goodbye?”

“Shh, Spike, it’s my turn, remember?” Where to begin?

“This thing that happened this afternoon. It scared me, made me realise some things. But I still don’t see how you could think it was your fault.” She nodded her head, indicating she wanted an answer.

“Human nature, Buff. I love you, so I want to keep you safe. Just like your dad. Bet he’s feeling much like I do at the moment.”

Buffy thought about it for a moment. He was good at this stuff. Always seemed to know the right thing to say. “Okay, I get that. But when I was waiting for you to fetch me, take me home, I was doing just that. Waiting for you to come and look after me.”

“Like you looked after me when Angelus cracked me with that bottle. That’s okay too, Buff, it doesn’t make you weak. The important thing is what you do next.”

What she did next? Her whole life hinged on what she did next.

“I feel like I’m being forced to make a terrible choice. If I stay here with you, then I’ll destroy my dad. And that won’t make any of us happy. I owe him everything, Spike. Since mom died, I’ve been his whole world. He has hopes for me, expectations. This, coming to England, was just a detour in the plan. That’s why he agreed to it. I’ll always be his little girl, Spike. Nothing’s changed.”

Spike stood up abruptly, stared at her for a few seconds, then walked out of the room. It took the slamming of the front door to rouse her into action. He’d gone, and she hadn’t finished talking. The hell with that. He’d had his say. She jumped up and ran after him, catching him just as he was getting into his car. It had started raining, but this time she didn’t notice. He was leaving her, and she hadn’t explained anything to him yet. She had to let him know why she was doing this. How much it was hurting her.

She reached for his hand as he moved to unlock the car door. “Spike, you didn’t let me finish.”

He took a deep breath and turned to face her. “Because I didn’t like what I was hearing.”

“Some things are hard to listen to.”

“Yeah, especially that crap.” He shook her hand off. “Made me want to throw up.”

She took a step back. He’d never spoken to her like this before. Nobody spoke to her like this.

“You’re asking me to choose, between you and my dad, and it’s not fair, Spike.”

The rain was hammering down in earnest now, soaking them both. Buffy wiped it off her face as it dripped off her hair. “Do you think this is easy for me, Spike?”

“Is that the way you see this? Either or, black and white? You’ve got some serious growing up to do. After all the things we’ve done together, in bed, on the bathroom floor, you can honestly stand there and still call yourself his little girl. You’re long past that Buffy.”

Buffy felt herself colouring as he spoke. These were precious memories, how could he speak of them in such a callous fashion? Then he grabbed her elbows, and held her still.

“I’m fed up of always being the one who says the right things, Buffy. You know, both you and Xander have called me a saint in the last few days. Well I’m not. I’m not trying to manipulate you into anything, and I’m sorry you see it that way. I just thought we could be two grown-ups doing what grown-ups do. I didn’t think I’d have to go to bed with your dad too."

“Then what was all that stuff about your mum? Wasn’t that supposed to make me feel sorry for you?”

The moment the words came out, she knew it was totally and utterly the very worst thing she could have said. He let go of her elbows abruptly.

“Well, I wish I hadn’t said it then.” He spoke calmly and quietly. "Goodbye Buffy." Then he opened his car door and tried to get inside.

“No.” She pulled at his sleeve, but he shook her off, slid in and slammed the door. As he put the keys in the ignition she ran round to the other side and managed to get the passenger door open. She jumped in just as he was starting to back off the drive, and was jolted against the seat as he slammed on the brakes.

“You stupid...” A strong arm grabbed her and pulled her in as the momentum caused the car door to slam. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Reckon so.” His face was wet. Rain or tears, she couldn’t tell.

He turned away from her, put his hands on the steering wheel and closed his eyes. “Go inside Buffy, you’re soaked.”

“So are you.” How the hell did she put this right? She placed her hand tentatively over his, feeling his muscles flinch as she did so. The words she said next were going to be the most important ones she’d ever uttered. But would he want to hear them?

-----------------------------------

Spike kept his eyes tightly shut. If he looked at her he was going to cry, and he’d made enough of a prat of himself already. He felt her hand cover his, wished she’d get out of the car so he could go home. Hoped she wouldn’t. Wished he’d never met her. Glad he had. He didn’t know what to feel.

Then she was talking, and he had no choice but to listen, because she was Buffy and she’d throw herself under the car to make him listen if she had to. He gave a dry little laugh and dropped his head to the steering wheel. He’d said some cruel things to her, but she’d given as good as she’d got. And he deserved it. Should never have brought his mum into it. Those memories still brought out the worst in him.

“Spike, are you listening?”

He gave a slight nod in reply. Done with talking, and he had no idea what she was going to say. Still didn’t know if she was leaving him or not. Everything hung in the balance.

“Don’t interrupt me. I want to say all of this. Then if you still think I’m talking a load of crap, I’ll get out of the car and let you drive away. Deal?”

He nodded again. The tension was killing him. He was love’s biggest bitch right now. The way she’d jumped in the car...If she said she wanted him now, god-help-him, he’d follow her back into the house like a puppy, with his tail wagging and his tongue hanging out. She had no idea how much she held his life in her hands right now.

--------------------------------

“I thought I had grown up, Spike. Yeah, I had a few doubts along the way, but I thought I was getting there. When I went to that club wearing that top . . . Well, it was a stupid thing to do, but there was a point in the evening when I had the whole rugby club eating out of my hand. They were all looking at me. It made me feel really powerful. Then when I fixed your head, that’s when I decided I wanted you.”

Spike opened his eyes and looked sideways at her.

“Yeah, didn’t quite go according to plan though, did it? But we got there in the end. Then when you made love to me, I thought that qualified pretty high in the growing up stakes. Buffy Summers is no longer a virgin. I wanted to run home and tell everyone. I’ve grown up at last, I’m one of you now.”

He was still gazing at her quietly, as a few stray tears tracked down his cheeks and she reached over and wiped them off with her finger. “Are these tears for me Spike? Because I don’t deserve them.” She placed a finger over his mouth as he opened it to say something. “It’s true Spike. I’ve been so stupid. Couldn’t see what was under my nose. Thought growing up was about doing naughty things in hot-tubs, wearing trashy clothes."

Spike managed a bit of a smile. “Hot tubs are good.”

“Yeah, but growing up is more about this isn’t it? Commitment, and letting go. What does it say in the bible - something about putting away childish things. I love my dad, but he’ll survive without me. I want to stay here, with you Spike. If you still want me to, that is.”

She stopped and took a deep breath. He’d listened, like he always did, let her have her say. She didn’t know what else to say. Except for one more thing. “I’m sorry about your mom. I do know how you feel about that, which makes what I said even worse.”

“Have I said enough to put this right, Spike?”

There was an agonising spilt-second of a wait before he reached for her and pulled her against him. He buried his face in her shoulder and his voice was so muffled that she could hardly hear what he said.

“Yes, Buffy, you have, please stay.” He looked at her then, his eyes shining with tears, relief written all over his face. "And your hair’s wet.” He lifted one of the lank strands and curled it round his finger. "That’s why I wasn’t that worried.”

“No?” She raised her eyebrows in mock disbelief. “How’s that?”

“Well, I reckoned you had to be serious if you were willing to stand there in the rain and get your hair wet. You wouldn’t have done that if you hadn’t cared.”

“Oh Spike . . . I do care.” She flung herself back on him, holding him tight. Pressing her damaged cheek against his face, but hardly feeling it. “You’ll never know how much I care for you.”

“But you’re gonna keep telling me . . . right?”

“I reckon so."

They sat and held each other. Neither of them speaking. She'd said commitment, and she'd meant it. And he hadn't flinched. Had just accepted it. Now she really was starting to understand what love was all about. She gave him an extra hard hug and he pulled back a little.

"Hey, watch your cheek, Buffy." He gently caressed the side of her face. "Is it sore?"

"A little, but I'll survive. Are you coming back in?”

“No.”

“Spike?” Her heart did a little double take.

“Relax Buffy. You go get some things and come over to my flat.”

She squeezed his hand and nodded in understanding. Right now they both needed to distance themselves from this place. He didn’t need the spectre of her dad hanging over everything they did. She ran into the house, up to her bedroom and threw a few clothes and toiletries into a bag. Before she left, she switched on her computer and logged on to her e-mail, clicked new message and wrote:

Hi dad,
Just wanted to let you know that I love you. Please don’t worry about me, I’m okay, and I’m safe. Sorry about the car, but cars get stolen. Especially expensive sports cars! I

’m spending this weekend with Wordsworth in the English Lakes, but I’ll call you on Monday and explain everything.
Remember that I’ll always really love you,
Buffy.


As she hit send, she felt the weight of the world lifting from her shoulders. She logged off, and went downstairs to join Spike. Maybe she still had a lot to learn, but she was getting there.

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Across the Atlantic, a good looking, middle-aged man reached for his computer mouse and scrolled down to the new message. What the hell was he going to do about Buffy? He missed her like mad, but dragging her home? Was it the right thing too do? Perhaps the kidnapping thing had been a bit much, but she had to know how much he worried about her. She’d refused to have any sort of personal security around her, and look where it had got her. There was no option. She had to come home. She had a life here. No shortage of eligible, rich men who would give her the life she had come to expect.

He opened the message and his eyes narrowed as he read it. It was so like her. And he was never one to walk away from a challenge.

“Joyce, would you come in here for a moment.” He clicked off the intercom and leaned back into his plush leather chair, waiting for his secretary to arrive.

“Can I get you something, Hank?" She popped her head around his office door, a sheaf of papers in her hand.

“Yes Joyce. Book me onto the first available flight to London. And go out and get me a bottle of that perfume that Buffy likes.” He reached into his jacket pocket and took out his wallet. "And one for yourself of course.” He winked at her as he handed her the money, holding it just out of reach. As she went to take it from him, he grabbed her hand and pulled her on to his lap.

“I’m going to be away for a few days, sorting out my wayward daughter.” His finger trailed along the top of her breasts. “So hurry back. Need to say a proper goodbye.”

Joyce dropped her papers onto his desk, and turned her attention back to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “Buffy’s a big girl, Hank. She doesn’t need you breathing down her neck. She’s got her own life, and so have you. You've got to let her get on with it, she's nineteen you know. Hardly a baby."

She took his hand and placed it on her stomach. “You’ve got the two of us to worry about now, so don’t stay too long, we’re gonna miss you.”

He patted her stomach, proudly. “Yeah, gonna miss you both, too. But you've got to understand about Buffy. I probably have overdone the protective father act, that's why I'm so worried about her. We were hard on her because she was so headstrong." He smiled at the memories. "You wouldn't believe some of the things she got up to. We were so terrified she was going to end up hurt or something, that we went to the other extreme and didn't let her do anything. Guess that's why she needed to get away. But I can't help it. She'll always be my little girl, Joyce. I've got to bring her home."


--------------------------------

Drusilla stood up as Johnny walked into the pub.

“So, what do you think Johnny? Didn’t I do well?”

He slipped an arm around her shoulder and air-kissed her cheek.

“You’re a good girl Dru, she’s a beauty.”

Dru held on to his arm as he went to sit down. “Does this mean I can play with the big boys now? You promised.”

Johnny removed her arm and sat himself down, patting the seat beside him. She scurried to sit down, excitement written all over her face.

“Oh, please Johnny. That other stuff, it’s crap, doesn’t do anything.”

He took out his wallet and handed a ten pound note to Dru’s friend. “Go get some drinks.” The youth scurried off and Johnny turned back to Dru. “Listen darlin’, you really don’t want to get into that stuff. Never wanted that for you.”

“But you said.” Dru sidled up to him and ran her hand up his arm. “Car like that, what’s it worth? Forty, fifty thousand quid. Gonna make you a nice profit. Gotta be worth something for me. Huh?”

Johnny looked at her for a couple of seconds, then he removed her arm and picked up his cigarettes. “Okay Dru, but it’s on your own head. Don’t come running back to me when you can’t handle it.”

“I can handle it, don’t worry about me. I only want to try it a couple of times, see what it’s like. I’ll stop if it’s bad.”

Johnny lit up his cigarette and blew out a long plume of smoke. “That’s what they all say. Okay,” he fished a pen out of his pocket and reached for a beer mat. “Here’s the address, tomorrow evening, after nine. Tell them I sent you. And Dru...”

She looked up from the beer mat she was reading, “Yeah?”

Johnny patted her on the shoulder. “You’ve done good.”





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