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Ch. 10: Old, Wounding Confessions

Buffy knew something was wrong for two reasons: one, Spike was no longer sucking her nipple; two, Spike was no longer talking. Both of these things contributed to the dispersal of the haze that had engulfed her, and the clearing made her wonder if she had stumbled onto some hidden field rigged with mines. She looked down at the bleached head leaning against her chest and suddenly felt scared.

Spike was still frozen, completely at a loss for words and actions; his own stupidity scared him. He wondered if he could pretend the words away, forget he had ever said anything, especially in this moment when they were so close. That was it! That was why he'd said it--because the lust had crazed him and made him say things that were never meant to be said. He rubbed his forehead on her belly and breathed in her scent, wondering if he could distract her. Slowly he began kissing her belly again.

"Spike? Wait, stop. Is something wrong?" Buffy asked. She'd become so attuned to him, to his moments of lust and of contemplation, and she knew the latter was at the forefront. Concerned, she lifted his head up to look at him. "Are you okay? All of a sudden you seemed to change or something. Is there something in the past that's bothering you?"

Spike's heart tumbled and collapsed. Her genuine distress at his own slip-up was only making the rocks on the hill sharper. Was there something in the past that was bothering him? "Not exactly, luv." Well, that wasn't a lie. It wasn't him that was going to be bothered. "It's nothing, pet. Don't worry about it." He tried to lean up and give her a kiss, but she stopped him.

"Spike, there's obviously something going on inside. As much as I love how this feels, I also love--" Buffy broke off, her eyes widening a little. Her words had fallen easily from her mouth, and she suddenly reined in her emotions, afraid they'd come out too soon. She tried to cover up her slip by reaching in to kiss him, but he stopped her.

"Love what, Buffy?" Spike asked, cocking his eyebrow. His heartbeat had quickened at hearing her almost-declaration, and he pressed her for more.

"You're trying to distract me, but we're talking about you." She pulled him up off his knees and onto the couch next to her. "Tell me. You can tell me anything. I'll still--" Buffy paused again. Looking down, she began rubbing his thigh in a comforting manner. "You can tell me anything."

Spike's heart warmed to her words, but this time he didn't press her. He closed his eyes, wishing he hadn't allowed his defenses to fall in the height of his lust. He ran his fingers through his hair and then took her hand into his.

"Wait a sec," Buffy said. She reached for her t-shirt and quickly put it on. "I just feel like this is a moment, and I feel silly with my breasts all hanging out." She gave a small grin and then put her hand back into his. "Tell me what's on your mind. What's in your past that gave you such willies?"

She looked so innocent, and for a moment he considered lying. But those hazel eyes staring at him so trustingly made him realize that lying would only make things worse. He took a deep breath, trying to figure out how he speak those things burdening his heart.

"Buffy, I know we haven't known each other for a very long time, but I feel like we have this connection. Do you feel it? It's not just me, is it?" he asked, looking fully into her eyes. Buffy nodded and squeezed his hand in reply. "And I don't know what you were about to say earlier, but I'm not afraid to say it. I love you, Buffy. God, I love you. And maybe it's not right for me to say it so quickly, but I know it. I feel it." His voice was heavy with emotion, and his clear blue eyes gazed at her with sincerity and love.

Buffy sat still, her external body unmoving but her heart running and leaping wildly. She felt the same way, had almost said as much not two minutes earlier, but she was afraid of being so vulnerable. She played with his fingers and then finally met his eyes. "I--I love you, too. I wanted to say it earlier, but I was afraid. I've never met anyone like you, been with anyone who makes me feel like this, who understands me and still wants to stick around." She placed her hands on his lovely cheekbones and kissed him softly. "And is incredibly hot," she teased.

He smiled at her, letting himself enjoy the comfort of her teasing and her beautiful face. He kissed her again, his tongue gently stroking hers in the motion that seemed so natural and right. He took a breath and then began talking again.

"I wanted you to know how I felt, how connected I feel to you, before I shared about my past. I know you say that my past doesn't matter, but I just wanted you to know-- to know that I love you, that I truly care about you." He paused, gently caressing her hand and sending blue vibrations through her body. "When I was younger, I was really nerdy. Insecure, quiet, bookish. Instead of talking to people, I wrote. Poetry, fiction, whatever came to mind. And there was this girl, Cecily. I thought she was beautiful, angelic, perfect." His eyes looked off into his past, remembering. "I was wrong. When she heard of my affections, she humiliated me, rejected me, said I was beneath her." He chuckled, hiding his hurt. "Well, you can imagine I wasn't feeling all that manly. She essentially lopped off my jewels, took away my confidence, my self-esteem, my ability to believe that I was worthwhile. And then I met another woman. Only briefly, but still. She made me feel like I was something. Like I had something to offer this world, that I was a man. I really only spent one summer night by the beach with her, but it was enough. I lost my virginity to her." He hesitated, looking down at their joined hands. "Her name was Joyce."

Buffy waited with patience, trying to figure out at what point in his story she was supposed to understand what had made him so uneasy earlier. His abrupt stop made her wonder, and then suddenly a dark wave of realization threatened to crash onto her. She couldn't accept what he seemed to be implying until he raised his eyes, his pained blue eyes that seemed to cry out with guilt and regret and pleas. Her fingers tightened around his, her knuckles becoming white, and her heart seemed to be squeezed inside both hands.

Her breath caught in her throat, and her voice was uneven. "Spike? What do you--I mean, why are you--huh? Please, explain." She held onto his hand, as if holding him would keep the waves from crashing down on her.

"Buffy, it was a long time ago, and I didn't know you. I didn't even know you existed. Please, don't let--"

"Wait. Just wait. Are you saying you slept with my mother? Joyce, your first, is my mother? My mom? My--" She suddenly wrenched her hands away from his. "What the fuck are you saying? You can't be serious. 'Cause that's just impossible. You can't. Tell me you're not saying what it sounds like. Tell me, Spike." She jumped up from the couch and looked at him with pleading eyes. "Tell, me. Please."

Spike rose slowly to face Buffy, who was now on the other side of the couch. "Buffy, I want to be honest with you, and that's why I'm telling you about this. Not quite how I'd imagined it, but there it is. But it doesn't change how I feel about you. That's just history, just a moment in my adolescence. It was--"

"Just a moment? Oh, sure. No big. You just lost your virginity to MY MOTHER! You don’t think that's a little fucked up? My virginity was lost in the back seat of a car. Very cliché. Very normal. Very teenage prom night. You? You get it on with an old woman? And when? Was that why my mom knew you? Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god," Buffy said, shaking her hands as if trying to rid them of some dirtiness.

"Luv, understand. She was there during a time when I needed some--"

"Some what? Some hot loving?" Buffy interrupted, her voice starting to rise in pitch and volume.

"Buffy, please listen. I--"

"I can't. I can't listen. I just--I need to go. I need to go now. But I can't, because I live here. So you--you need to go. Please. Just--just let yourself out. Now." She ran up the stairs, not even waiting for his response.

"Buffy, please! Hear me out--don't just walk away!" The only response was the slamming of a door. And then he crumpled, his head falling into his hands and the tears welling up. "God, what just happened? Can't believe I fucked this up." He clenched his jaw, walked out the door, and quietly shut it.

He lingered outside the door, glancing up at the Buffy's window. The night breeze floated across his cheeks, its coolness contrasting with the hot tears in his eyes. "I'm not going to give up on this, Buffy. I love you," he whispered in a low voice. With a final gaze, he turned and went inside his house.





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