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Chapter Twenty – Three

Buffy tapped her foot incessantly against the carpeted floor of the waiting room. The receptionist looked in and smiled reassuringly at her and Buffy slowed down her tapping for a minute before starting up full speed again.

She couldn't concentrate. She'd tried picking up a magazine and reading it and got maybe halfway through a paragraph before she realized she hadn't retained any of it. She stared at the dull framed pictures of landscapes on the walls, the cream colored walls and the gray carpet counting the black squares in it. Her mind wandered to how drab it all was and how it needed sprucing up. The scenery did not match what little she had seen of Dr. McClay.

She glanced up at the clock across the room. Soon. Soon he'd be out.

"Dr. McClay is very good at what she does," the receptionist told her.

Buffy's head jerked up and she nodded slowly. "How old is she? Can you
tell me that?"

"She's young, but wise beyond her years. At least, she's young compared to
me," the woman smiled. "He's in good hands."

"It's that obvious huh?" Buffy asked sheepishly.

"I've seen a lot over the years," the receptionist replied.

Buffy nodded, "Thanks."

"No problem."

Her tapping stopped and she stared off at nothing wondering if this
nervous feeling was something that Spike had felt when he'd had to bring
Drusilla the first time. She wondered how it must have felt for him when
they told her it was best for her to be admitted. And Drusilla. How had it
felt for her? Did she know she wasn't right? Had she grown up with it or
was it something that had struck her suddenly? Buffy found herself feeling
sorry for the woman. Her original stance had been to hate her for trying to
drag Spike down with her, but when faced with something like a mental
breakdown the likes of which Drusilla had – would she do the same thing?
Misery loves company, the saying goes. Doesn't the misery seem less if you
have another to share it with you? And what better way to feel in control of
a losing battle than to know you've taken someone down with you on the
way.

Buffy shivered at the thought just as the door opened and Spike came out.
She looked up at him and he smiled. "Hi."

"Hi," she greeted him softly and stood, unsure if she should go to him or
give him some breathing room.

"Ready to get out of here?" he asked.

She nodded, studying him. He didn't look to her as someone that had just
got read the riot act. He looked calm. Looks could be deceiving though, so
nothing was certain as of yet.

"Come on," he waved her over as he opened the door to the hall and they
stepped out.

She looked up at him as the door clicked shut behind him. He nodded for
her to follow him and off he went.

"Spike?" she asked cautiously.

"Yeah?"

"How'd it go?"

"Good."

They stepped into the elevator and he pushed the button for their floor
and leaned his back against the wall casually.

"Well?" she prompted.

"Do you want me to give you the play by play? I don't want to do that
Buffy."

She was hurt by that even though she knew that what he said to Dr.
McClay was personal and he didn't have to tell her.

"I know and you don't have to," she said slowly. "I just want to know if
maybe you told her. . . "

"About us?"

She nodded.

"I did. She said ‘Interesting'."

Buffy raised a brow, "She said ‘Interesting'. That's it?"

"Yes. We talked about families. Dad. Mom. My real mom, the death of my
real mom. . . all of that family stuff."

"So it was . . . okay?"

"Well, it's too early to tell how well it'll go and what she can do for me. But I
like her. I have more faith than I did when I first called."

"That's good," Buffy said, feeling hope.

The elevator dinged and opened. Stepping out, Spike took her hand and
kissed the back of it. She inwardly sighed with relief. His noncommittal and
distant demeanor had been worrying her.

"It's just . . . you know when you talk about things you haven't put much
thought into for a long time and it kind of leaves you feeling . . . well,
thoughtful?"

She nodded.

"That's how I feel right now. I haven't thought about my real mom in ages.
I never really allowed myself to and talking about her . . . brought some
memories back."

"Good ones?"

"Yes, good ones. And, some sad when I think of when she got sick . . . Do
you ever think of your real dad?"

The question caught her off guard though it probably shouldn't have
considering the topic of conversation.

She blinked at him, regaining her equilibrium a bit as images of the man
who'd abandoned her so long ago came surging up in her minds eye.

"Not really. He wasn't much of a dad when he was there to begin with. We
share blood, not a bond. Giles is my Dad," she told him.

Opening the car door for her, she climbed in and waited for him to come
around. He smiled at her as he slid in beside her. "I'm not going to break,
Buffy," he told her.

She looked away from him, "I know," she mumbled.

"I know you were just as nervous as me today," he told her. "Look at me
please, Buffy."

She looked back to him and met his gaze.

"I have a good feeling. Better than I have in a long time," he admitted.

"Was it scary when you had to take Drusilla to the doctor?" Buffy asked
hesitantly.

"It was," he nodded, looking down.

"Did she know?

"That she was sick?" he asked, looking up at her.

She nodded.

"I think so. When she was lucid anyway, I think she knew. She was scared
too."

Silence fell and Spike started the car, pulled out of the parking lot and
started on his way home.

Buffy leaned her head back and stared up at the roof of the car as he
drove. She closed her eyes. "So you talked about when we met?"

"Yes," he said simply.

"Spike, I love you."

"I know you do, kitten. I love you too."

"I know," she whispered and let her mind wander.



FLASHBACK



Buffy had just gotten home from baseball practice. She was hot, sweaty
and probably on the gross side, but she was dying to tell Spike how she'd
managed to hit a homerun during a scrimmage. He was, after all, the one
who had helped her hitting by pitching the ball to her at the park the past
weekend. She'd been having a hitting slump and the more frustrated she
got over it, the worse it became. Spike had helped her though. He made her
laugh, taught her how to relax and not focus on it and soon, she'd been a
hitting machine. Whipping off her hat on the couch, and kicking off her
cleats, she ran up the stairs calling his name.

His door was slightly open and she barged in, "Spike, guess what, I hit a
homerun—crap! Sorry!"

He was on his bed in a lip lock with the latest flavor of the month. She
couldn't even remember what this ones name was. He was going to kill her
this time for sure.

Buffy spun on heel, slammed the door shut behind her, and barreled into
her room before Spike could come after her and ream her out for barging
into his room AGAIN.

She started gathering some clean clothes to take down to the bathroom
with her so she could shower when she heard yelling from his room. She
couldn't help but strain to her; she was a curious fifteen year old. Hell, she
was just nosy.

"She's always ruining our good time, Spike! She comes in and you feel like
you have to run off to tend to her. She's fifteen for Christ's Sake; you don't
have to take care of her. She can take care of herself!" his girlfriend was
yelling at him.

Buffy glared at the wall.

"She had practice after school and she's been really nervous about the
hitting slump she's been in," Spike defended her.

"You're more interested in going after that tomboy than getting some
action from me?" the girl laughed scornfully.

"Don't talk about Buffy like that," Spike snapped.

"Like what? It's the truth isn't it? She's a freaking tomboy. My little sister
goes to school with her. She says that your darling little sister can beat up
the boys like a pro. According to my sister, her habits are deplorable. She's
disgusting—"

"Get the fuck out of my house right now," Spike said so coldly, Buffy felt
the cold front sweep through her room from his. Her eyes widened. He was
really going to throw her out? She wasn't exactly lying about her habits;
her mother was always telling her that she needed to act like more of a
lady. Hell, Spike told her the same thing at times. However, that was
usually after she'd beat him in a burping contest.

"Spike!" the girl protested.

"Get out! You don't talk about my sister like that, ever."

Apparently the girl was leaving as Buffy heard the distinct sound of
stomping reverberate through the house, shaking the floors and walls. The
door slamming punctuated the open hostility at being ordered to leave.

Buffy went to her door and opened it a crack to see if Spike was around.

"Hi, kitten."

Buffy eeped and jumped back as Spike appeared suddenly before her.

"Hi," she said softly.

"Can I come in?" he asked, smiling gently at her.

She nodded and opened her door wider.

He strolled in and sat down on her bed. "So, you hit a homerun?" he asked
casually as if he hadn't just told his current flame to get the fuck out of the
house; as if they were just continuing a conversation from earlier.

She blinked at him, "Uh, yeah."

His head tilted to the side and he gestured to the wall separating their
rooms. "You heard all that?"

"Kind of hard not to," she told him honestly.

He stood and came over to her, swiping a hand across her cheekbone,
brushing off the dirt that rest there. He chuckled, "You're a mess."

She smiled wryly, "Thanks. Spike, you didn't have to tell her to get out. It's
not like she's lying about me—"

"Not the point Buffy. She was rude." He shrugged then, nonchalantly. "I
was tired of her anyway."

Buffy gave him a look, "Oh really?" she asked, putting her hands on her
hips.

He copied her, teasing her, "Yes, really."

"But Spike, aren't you more interested in getting some action from her
than spending time with a tomboy like me?" she teased, only half serious.

"I'd rather spend time with you, Buffy," Spike told her seriously. "Don't
you know that you're my most favorite person?"

She smiled, her insides melting. "I am?"

"When you're not being disgusting," he grinned.

She slugged him playfully on the arm and laughed.

He sat back down on her bed. "So tell me about this homerun."

END FLASHBACK

Buffy rolled her head to look at Spike as he drove them home. He was always there, always. It had always been him. She wondered how she'd managed to miss it all those years. Sliding closer to him, she rested her head lightly on his shoulder.

"What's that then, Kitten?"

"I just love you."

He smiled and quickly kissed her forehead. "Love you too baby."





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