Chapter Ten
“Buffy!” Spike shouted out for Buffy as soon as he arrived home.
Silence.
“Buffy, I saw your car, luv, where are you?”
She came out of her bedroom there a look of clear annoyance on her pixie face. “You don’t have to scream like a banshee--“ She stopped, her eyes widening. “Oh. My. God. What did you do to your hair?” she rushed up to him, reaching her hand out and touching it as if to make sure it was real. He grinned and leaned his head into her touch.
“Do you like it?” he asked studying her, trying to gauge her face for any signs of what she thought beyond shock.
“William, your curls are gone,” she said softly, almost mournfully.
He frowned, “Don’t you like it this way?”
“It’s. . . different.”
“That’s the whole sodding point, Buffy,” he said
tersely.
She stood back and crossed her arms. “All right, I
have an idea.”
“What is it?”
“Why don’t you tell me what the correct response
from me should be and I’ll just say it so you won’t bite my
head off every time I give my opinion on something. Since MY
opinion apparently sucks, and it’s not what you’re looking for,
why don’t you just TELL me what you want me to think and
say and do and I’ll do it so we won’t argue anymore?”
“I just want you to like it, Buffy,” Spike said gently. “I
want you to like me.”
“I do like you William, You’re my best friend. I just don’t
understand what’s going on with you and why. I want to
understand what’s happening with you but you won’t talk to
me.”
“Buffy—“ Spike started. The phone ringing cut him
off. “Just hold on. Hello? . . . Riley Finn?” His eyes darted to
Buffy, and his whole body tensed as anger unlike anything
he’d felt before ripped through him. “She’s right here,” he said
through clenched teeth and held out the phone to Buffy. She
averted her gaze from him and took the phone.
“We are not done,” Spike said angrily.
She nodded and took put the phone to her ear. “Hello?
Yeah, that was William. I’m good. . . Yeah, I didn’t expect to
hear from you so soon. . . “
As Buffy chatted, nervously, Spike bore holes into the
back of her head. His fists clenched and unclenched. He
wanted to punch the wall, the door . . . Riley Finn’s face.
“Sure, I’ll meet you after I get out of work. Yep, at
five.”
Wait, what? She was making PLANS with him? The
roar of anger ripped from his throat before he could stop
himself. William inside him wept.
“Uh, neighbors. Yeah, rowdy bunch. I gotta go Riley.
Okay. . . yep, bye.”
She hung up the phone and slowly turned to face
Spike.
“What the bleeding hell do you think you’re doing?”
Spike shouted at her. “You’re not going out with that wanker,
you understand me?”
“I’m sorry; did you change your name to Dad too?”
Buffy bit back at him.
“Do you remember what he did to me Buffy? How he
tormented me?”
“Yeah, in high school. I’d like to think we’ve all grown
up—“ she eyed him, “well, some of us anyway.”
“I don’t want you going out with him Buffy.”
“I don’t want you going out with Drusilla, but that’s not
going to change anything now is it?”
He stepped closer to her, grabbing her arms so that
they uncrossed and standing close enough that he could feel
her breasts against his chest and could smell the sweet
scent of her vanilla body lotion. He tilted her face up to meet
his. “Why Buffy? Why don’t you want me to see her?”
“What?” she whispered, her lip trembling slightly.
“Tell me why you don’t want me to see her,” he
stated, trying to calm his nerves and cease the hammering of
his heart in his chest. William didn’t crowd anyone; William
kept his distance and didn’t make such bold moves as this.
Spike wanted to though. Spike wanted her to tell him that she
was jealous of Dru. Spike wanted to rip Riley’s arms off and
beat him with them, and not because of what he did to him in
high school. No, he wanted to beat Riley for daring to move in
on Buffy. William was across the room sadly accepting that
Buffy was going out with Riley and lying to her when he
wished her a good time. He fought to keep himself rooted
where he was, fought to demand she tell him she was
jealous of Dru—she was, wasn’t she?
“Because I don’t like who you’ve become in the short
time you’ve known her. You’re not my William anymore.” She
stood back from him and shook her head. “I don’t even know
you anymore,” and she walked away from him.
“You do know me Buffy. This is me inside. This is the
man inside.” He called after her. He forced himself to stay
rooted where he was and not go after her. He wasn’t sure
which part of him wanted to take her in his arms and assure
her of him, but he knew it would scare her if he did.
“Then I was the one that was mistaken,” she said
sadly, “because I thought I knew you and I see now that I
was wrong.” She headed towards the door, grabbed her
purse on the kitchen table and started to open the door.
“Where are you going?” he asked, trying to keep the
desperation out of his voice.
“Out.”
“Where, Buffy?” he asked, striding across the room
and leaning over her, shutting the door with one hand as he
towered over her back.
“You don’t tell me anything anymore, why should I tell
you?”
“Because I’ll worry,” he said simply.
“Just let me go . . . Spike.”
He stared at the back of her head and released his
hand from the door. In an instant she was gone. He stared at
the door wondering why he felt saddened that she’d called
him Spike instead of William. Hadn’t he been on her case to do
just that? So then why should it bother him that she did it? It
wasn’t her accepting him as a man to call him Spike as he
had thought it would be. No, instead her calling him Spike
meant something entirely different—it meant something so
profound that he felt his world shift and give way. He just
lost something here.
Her. He lost her.
Calling him Spike meant she gave up on him. On whom
he was and who he could be, and, who he wanted to be.
This wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all, he thought, shaking
his head. If he lost Buffy he had nothing. This wasn’t
supposed to happen. He missed something here; he screwed
it all up. He’d been too hard on her. He’d tried too hard to
show her how he changed, how he wanted to change and
in the process he drove her clear away.
Letting out an anguished cry, Spike went for the
phone and dialed Dru’s number frantically.
“Dru, I need your help,” he said into the phone as
soon as Dru picked up.
“Has the sun set this evening?”
“Yes,” he croaked. “I thought she’d like it . . . like me.
What do I do?”
“All will be well, my darling. All will be well.”
“How?”
“The sun will always rise for you, my Spike. Don’t you
trust me?”
Spike slid to the floor, and let William out as tears
seeped from his eyes. “I don’t know,” he told her honestly.
“She is your light, but I am the night. In darkness there
is strength to be found. Do not fear the dark, Spike. Once you
accept the dark, you’ll learn to mix the two.”
“Mix the light and the dark?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Time. Give it time.”
“I don’t want time, I want Buffy!” Spike shouted.
“Ah, see. It’s already happening.”
“I don’t understand,” Spike whimpered frantically.
“It’s simple. One word answer. Love.”
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