Buffy stood in front of the painting, trying to fight the tears in her eyes.
‘You’re being ridiculous, Summers,’ she thought, briefly closing her eyes. ‘You’re in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, standing in the one place you’ve always wanted to be, looking at the painting you’ve dreamed about seeing since your mother first showed you a picture. Stop with the pity party.’
Reopening her eyes, she took in the beautiful art, admiring the strokes of color that swept over the canvas. Tilting her head for a closer look, Buffy stared at the painting in awe as she brushed her hair away from her cheek, wanting to get a better look.
“Beautiful.”
Stiffening at the sound of the familiar British accent, Buffy didn’t bother to turn around. “It is,” she said in a choked voice, swallowing hard as she gave a slight nod of agreement.
“I meant the admirer,” he replied with a slow smirk, reminiscing to a time several months ago when he’d first laid eyes on her.
Nearly laughing as the déjà vu overwhelmed her, Buffy shook her head as she sighed, blinking back the tears in her eyes. “Please tell me that line doesn’t normally work,” she said, biting her lip when she heard him chuckle behind her.
“It’s been known to,” he said, seeing her turn slightly, but she still wouldn’t look at him. “But only once. Amazing girl. Don’t know where I went wrong.”
“Maybe it wasn’t just you,” Buffy said, her gaze falling to the floor.
“Maybe not,” he murmured, turning his attention back to the painting. “The Artist's Garden at Giverny.”
A smile pulled at Buffy’s lips as the words practically rolled off his tongue, almost poetically. “Know anything about it?” she asked, never turning to face him.
“Nineteen years after he painted The Artist's Garden at Vetheuil. Never much cared for this one until someone pointed out to me that his work just need to… mature some more,” he said with a slight smile, repeating her words from so long ago.
“My thoughts exactly,” she murmured.
“I seem to remember why it started to grow on me… The description it was given to me by a girl I knew.”
Tilting her head to the side slightly, Buffy smiled softly to herself. “And you still remember what she said?”
“Because it was a water garden,” Spike quoted, stepping a little closer to her, brushing the hair away from her shoulders, sending a chill racing up and down her spine. “It gave everything such depth and richness. The way he painted them from overhead, intensifying the surroundings.”
“You have a good memory.”
“I’m William Reed,” he replied, ignoring what she’d just said.
Smiling softly, she slowly turned her gaze toward him, blushing when he took her hand in his and gently kissed the back of it. “Buffy Summers,” she said with an amused expression.
“So, Buffy Summers, are you in the art business?” he asked, tilting his head to look at her in interest.
“I dabble,” she said with a smile, watching as he raised an eyebrow in her direction.
“Dabble?” he asked after a moment, glancing around the museum, seeing that they were relatively alone. Taking a step forward, he hesitantly wrapped an arm around her waist, looking into her eyes, searching for something. “What are you doing here?” he asked gently, watching her with a pained expression.
Smiling softly, Buffy rested her hands lightly against his chest, unsure of what was happening between them, fighting the urge to push him away and pull him closer at the same time. “Living the dream.”
“This is your dream?” he asked, a line forming between his eyebrows as he studied her.
“It could have been,” she whispered, a sad smile on her face as her eyes filled with tears. “It just didn’t…”
“You could have told me,” he said quietly, studying her carefully. “I would have brought you here… I would have taken you anywhere.”
“I know,” she said, looking anywhere but at him. “But we could never… What do you want, Spike?” she asked in a drained voice.
“I want a fresh start,” he said simply, seeing her eyes widen as she looked up at him.
“Fresh starts are overrated,” she muttered, pulling away from him and moving to pass him, stopping when she felt a restraining hand on her arm.
“Are they?” Spike asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Aren’t they?” she countered in the same tone.
“Buffy-”
“There’s no us, Spike. There never could be, so why are you even doing this?”
“You don’t know that,” he replied, clenching his jaw as he looked away. “You have no idea what could have… You were going to leave anyway, weren’t you?” he asked, turning toward her with a blank expression. “Regardless of whether the O’Neill case was finished. Regardless of the fact that you wouldn’t have told me goodbye. You were ready to up and leave.”
“I was,” Buffy confirmed quietly, staring unseeingly at the painting in front of her.
“Well,” Spike said with a sardonic smile. “Isn’t that nice. And the other night? Just a bit of cold comfort?”
“You should know that’s not what it was,” she said, turning to look at him, seeing his jaw clench as he stared straight ahead. “I told you in the note- I meant everything I said, it’s just… the reason I said it… I thought I…”
“You thought you would never see me again,” he filled in.
“Spike, I-”
“Save me your explanations, Summers,” he said, turning to face her with a cold expression. “I know what you were trying to do… and I don’t care.”
Buffy’s eyes widened in shock as she watched him.
“I don’t care,” he repeated, his voice gaining more emotion as his eyes softened. “I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you,” he said, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. “So if you plan on running away again… plan on me finding you.”
“What are you saying?” she whispered, too scared to hope that what she was hearing was the truth.
“I want you back,” he said, his stomach tightening with apprehension. “I’m giving it up, Buffy, I’m giving it all up. Sod everything else- I want us. Regardless of what you say, there is an us.”
Buffy opened her mouth to respond, finding that the words wouldn’t come. Looking at the floor in shock, she tried to control her breathing as she shook her head. “We’re too different,” she whispered.
“And we’re exactly the same,” he replied with a smile.
“You really believe that?” she asked, closing her eyes when he leaned forward and tenderly brushed his lips over hers in a chaste kiss.
“Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. I always say what I mean,” he whispered, resting his hands on her hips, subtly pulling her closer.
“I want there to be an us,” she whispered, blinking the tears away as she looked at him, gently fisting her hands in his duster, pulling him lower for a tender kiss before resting her forehead against his with a soft smile. “We’ll probably end up killing each other.”
“It’s a distinct possibility,” he replied with a smirk.
“Are you sure about this?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Me either.”
Thanks so much to: demona424, Liz, Chelsea, spuffette, Cordykitten, Brittany, Olivia-luv, Jessica, ChrissieLinnit, txjmfan, kim, Tahmoe, flibble, Raspy_luv, willowmouse, Nicole, mjspuff, Smitten (Nic), Irishwoman39, Claire, baby spikes, Becky, SnoopyDance, SpuffyLove, pj & Furvus for reviewing!