However, he was beginning to doubt that there was enough alcohol in that place to fix his mood. He needed a real release. He needed violence and bloodshed.
His gaze fixed on a burly man who had been monopolizing the pool table for most of the night, and he grinned slowly. Nothing got someone ready for a fight quicker than losing money, and Spike was sure he could arrange himself a good brawl. It wouldn't be as satisfying as a hunt and a kill, but it would do.
Spike downed the rest of his drink then stood and made his way to the pool table.
Buffy paced in front of the couch. Spike had been gone for hours, and she had no idea where he'd gone. She'd tried reaching out through the claim, but with the dark haze she had found in Spike's mind, she had quickly decided it was best just to keep as pulled back from him as she could. His current mood was not one she wanted to share.
Her stomach growled softly, but she ignored it, her focus completely on Spike. Her emotions ran back and forth between angry and worried as her thoughts bounced from the way he'd just left after dropping the whole immortal bombshell on her to concern over where he could be and if he was in any sort of trouble, and back again.
She stopped in mid-pace when she heard the door open and gasped as she turned and saw Spike. It was obvious he'd been in a fight, and Buffy gave into her first urge, which was to run over to him and help him out of his coat. "Where have you been? What happened?" she asked quickly.
Spike winced in pain as the duster slid off into Buffy's arms. "Went to a bar. Got in a bit of a fight. I'm fine."
Buffy's concern began to fade, and she tossed the duster over the edge of the couch before crossing her arms in front of her. "You were in a bar fight?"
"Yeah. What of it?"
"I have been worried about you all night, and then here you come just walking in after being gone for hours, all beat up from a bar fight!" Buffy yelled. "What is wrong with you, huh?"
Spike stepped back, his annoyance at her yelling making him totally miss the part where she admitted to worrying about him. "I needed to get out for a bit! And what's with you, huh? You tell me to leave you alone all the sodding time, and when I finally do, I come home to finding you playing nagging wife!"
"Oh, don't you even make this about me," Buffy snapped. "You left me here alone and didn't even tell me where you were going!"
"Yeah, cause when I left, you really wanted to talk to me."
"You could've left a note!"
Spike held up a hand. "I'm not in the mood for this, Buffy. I needed a drink, and I needed a brawl, so I went out."
"You needed a brawl? What the hell does that mean? You like getting your face beat in?"
"The other guy looks a lot worse." At the look of horror that went across Buffy's face at that, Spike sighed. "He's alive. I didn't kill, didn't feed—which you should know, since you would've felt it if I had. I didn't do anything he can't heal from. And yeah, I need a fight now and then. Demon, craves violence—stop me when I get to something that you don't already know."
Buffy's eyes narrowed. "I know all of that."
"Yeah, well, then you can just accept the fact that I need a fight now and then. You won't let me feed, so I can't get what I need there, and our sex life is a bloody joke so that doesn't help matters much either."
Buffy's mouth fell open slightly and her eyes filled with hurt. "Our sex life is a joke?" she asked in a small voice.
Spike sighed when he realized what he'd said. "I didn't mean it like that. The sex itself is good, kitten—you know it is. But you go hot and cold on me all the time, and I can't count on getting it every time I need it."
"So it's my fault that you go out and get into bar fights because I don't have sex with you enough?"
"Well, yeah."
Buffy threw her hands up in disgust. "You're a pig." She turned to storm off, but quickly realized there wasn't really anywhere to go in the hotel to get away from him, so she sat down on the couch instead, pointedly not looking at him.
"Bollocks," Spike muttered. Then he spoke louder. "Buffy, I didn't… Come on, I'm drunk and I just got into a bloody fight. You can't honestly expect to have a real conversation about any of this right now."
"There's no conversation to have, Spike."
Spike's anger rose again at that. "There bloody well is! I am so tired of this from you. You go back and forth on me all the time so I never know which version of you I'm gonna get. And nothing I do is ever good enough for you. I try to act like a man, you throw it back in my face. I act like a demon, and I disgust you. What can I do?"
Buffy turned, her eyes red with tears even as her muscles trembled with anger. "Take it all back! Erase all of this, so I can just go back to my life!"
"Well I can't! We're stuck with each other forever, whether you like it or not!"
Silence hung between them for long moments until Buffy finally whispered, just loud enough for Spike's vampiric hearing to detect, "I can't keep doing this."
He responded honestly. "Neither can I."
"So what are we going to do?"
The question was the elephant that had followed them since he'd first claimed her, and now it was out in the open. Neither one of them could go back to the lives they'd led before meeting, and the one they'd started together wasn't working either. On top of that, every attempt Spike had made to make things work between them had fallen flat. So where did that leave them?
His head and body ached, and Spike wished he could go to bed and save this for later, but he also knew he couldn't. They couldn't go on with this game of tug of war any longer, and with Buffy so apt to change her mood in a blink, he had to take advantage of the moment when it came. He walked over the couch and sat beside Buffy, close to her, but not touching.
"We're in this for the long haul now," Spike said. "I can't take it back. I'm sorry."
"Sorry you claimed me?" Buffy asked.
Spike shook his head. "No. I know you probably want me to be, but I can't. I'm a right selfish bastard, I know, but I want you. You're mine, and I can't see that as a bad thing—even if you do have a habit of driving me around the sodding bend. I've always been love's bitch, and now you're the woman I love, so all I want is to be with you. Simple as that. But I am sorry for the way it all happened. I've hurt you. I know that. And I'm sorry."
Buffy looked at him, the expression on her face one Spike couldn't quite figure out. But she wasn't yelling at him, so he decided to take that as a good sign. "Would you do it all over again?"
"No," Spike replied, shaking his head. "I would've claimed you that first time in the warehouse and then gone off with you someplace nice." He offered her a small smile.
"Too bad you're so flammable. We could've gone to Mexico, been beach bums."
"Beach still looks pretty in the night time, pet."
Buffy gave a half smile, though pain was still clear in her eyes. Spike felt something clutch the inside of his chest, and he was surprised to note that it was genuine guilt. He'd spent over a century living without guilt, without regrets, and now…he hurt because he'd hurt this girl. It wasn't the way things were supposed to be, not with him being a vampire, but it was the truth all the same. The longer he was around her, the more he thought about the things he'd done to her, the worse it made him feel.
He wanted to make it up to her. Not because he wanted to get her to love him, but because he thought she deserved it. It was a strange moment of epiphany for him, and he wondered if it would all seem the same in the morning when the haze of too much drink was gone.
Buffy didn't just feel the way she did towards him because she hated vampires. She felt the way she did because he was her tormenter. He'd taken her life as much as if he'd drained her dry—only worse because now he'd forced her into what for her must be something akin to hell.
But he couldn't change anything about the past. He couldn't go back in time and whisk her off the first time they met so he could treat her right from the very beginning. And even if he could, who was to say it would bring them any place different? All he had to work with now was the present, and what it would mean for their future. Odds were they had a lot of future stretched ahead of them at that, and he couldn't go on they way they had been any more than she could.
He cupped her cheek, grateful when she didn't pull away from his touch. "What do you need to make you happy, pet? Tell me."
Buffy swallowed, her gaze seeming to search Spike's for long moments before she answered. "I need…I need to know who killed my mother. It's been all I've focused on for so long, and I can't just stop my search. If it wasn't you that did it, then I need to know who did. There's someone out there that took my mother's life, and all that knowing that does is eat away at me. She needs her peace, Spike. I have to give it to her."
It wasn't the answer Spike had been expecting, though he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. When he'd met her, Buffy had been consumed by the need to avenge her mother, willingly pitting herself more than once against a vampire that she had been no match for in order to try to fulfill that need. Of course it was something that still weighed on her. At least she'd seemed to accept that it really wasn't him who had killed Joyce.
"Then we'll find who it was," Spike told her. "I've got a connection to the demon world—obviously. I can help you."
For the first time since he'd claimed her, Spike saw hope in Buffy's eyes. "Can you? Will you?"
"Of course, pet. You're my mate, Buffy. Your fight is mine now."
"How are you going to help me?"
"Well, she died in Los Angeles, right? I figure we can start by going back there. It's been several years, yeah, but the death of a Slayer isn't something that stays quiet. Whoever killed her is probably still bragging about it to this day—you can take my word on that one. I can get into places you can't, and I can look around, listen to who's still talking. Hopefully, I'll find who did it."
"And then what?" Buffy asked.
"I kill them," Spike replied with a shrug.
Buffy shook her head. "No. I kill them."
"Buffy, listen to me. Whoever offed your mum has got to be strong—killin' a Slayer isn't an easy task. Had things gone differently, I would've killed you when you came after me. I'm not letting you put yourself in that sort of danger. You want your mother's murderer dead, fine—he's as good as dead. But you're not going to be the one to do it."
Buffy raised her chin. "I'm stronger now than I was."
"Doesn't make a difference," Spike replied.
"I don't need to be protected, Spike," Buffy snapped. "I'm not incapable of fighting."
"I never said you were. But I'm not going to let you put yourself in unnecessary danger either."
"Avenging the death of my mother isn't 'unnecessary danger.'"
"It is if I can do it for you!" Buffy opened her mouth to protest again at that, and Spike realized quickly that he wasn't going to get her to see things his way, so he spoke again. "Look, how about this—when we find out who it was, we decide how we're going to handle it, all right?"
Buffy knew he was placating her, but she was willing to go along with it for the time being. After they found out who it was, she could do what needed to be done. "Okay. Can we start for L.A. tomorrow night?"
"If that's what you want to do, yeah, we can."
She gave him a genuine smile before she surprised Spike by siding up to him and resting her head against him. He put his arm around her, but said nothing, not wanting to spoil this moment between them. Tonight had been the exact opposite of everything else between them, starting with the anger and hurtful words and ending with something close to peace. He wasn't fool enough to think it would be smooth sailing for them from that point on, but at least there seemed to be the possibility that they could be moving towards something other than the constant conflict that had plagued their relationship.
Maybe it was progress. Spike could only hope.
Eventually, Buffy's breathing pattern changed, and Spike realized she'd fallen asleep. He smiled softly and kissed the top of her head before he picked her up and carried her to the bed to tuck her in.
See? I can move things along!
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