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Twenty seven

Spike looked up at her, his eyebrows knit. “You’ve been crying.” The sight twisted his insides. He always hated it when Buffy cried.

She nodded, “Yes, I was.”

He nodded and looked down, “Thinking of Angel.” Of course she was thinking of her husband. Why wouldn’t she be?

“Yes.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?” he asked, popping his head up.

She looked at him incredulously, “Do you really want to hear about it?”

He raked a hand through his hair and shrugged. He thought of it as penance. If he listened to her mourn her marriage, mourn Angel leaving, then he would be doing something right out of what he’d done
wrong. “Not gonna sit here and lie to you and tell
you that I particularly enjoy the fact that you’re
mourning Angel’s departure, but on the other hand, he
was your husband and you did love him.” Honest
answer, for the first time in how long?

She stared at him, “Lindsey’s still sleeping right?”

“Yeah. Listen, Buffy, last night, yesterday . . . for the past couple days we’ve said some hurtful things to each other. We’ve gone a few rounds and been at each other’s throats and while verbally sparring with you has always been fun, these past few days haven’t been fun. It’s been bloody hard. I’m man enough to admit that I’ve been an insensitive prat about things. Your husband takes off on you—“ With my help too, he added in his mind.

Buffy winced.

“Sorry,” Spike said, wincing too. “I guess this whole mess just brought out some things between us – all of us, including Angel – that we’ve never dealt with. That we’ve just kept hidden away, hoping they’d go away.” Like the fact that I can’t stop loving you and wanting to protect you . . . though I’ve done a bang up job of that haven’t I? he thought despondently. I’ve helped hurt you more than protect you. This is what my love did to you, Buffy.

Buffy nodded slowly, staring off into
space. “Sometimes the skeletons in your closet don’t
want to stay in there anymore.”

“Yep. Things have a way of coming back at you the more you try to shove them down.” God, how am I going to tell you what I did? He wondered.

“So when we’re done facing those things that don’t want to be ignored anymore, will things get back to normal again?” Buffy asked in a small voice.

Spike shook his head sympathetically, and stood. “I don’t things will ever be back to normal, do you?” But hopefully they can be better, if you let me make it up to you. All of it.

“Wishful thinking.”

“He’s not coming back, Buffy.”

“How do you know?” she asked, her voice rising with hurt.

“Do you really want him back? He left Buffy. He took off with another woman. Do you really want him to come back after that?” Yes, that’s right, he thought. I might have brought her here, but he had a choice too. He chose to leave. He just wished he could feel the truth in that much more than the guilt pressing on him, crowding him and making it difficult to breathe.

Buffy stayed silent and still for a few beats and then said on a whisper, “I want him to suffer.”

“Anger phase in effect?” he asked lightly, smiling slightly.

“I’ve been angry a lot these past couple days Spike, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“So have I.” More than you know, he told her in his mind. Angry at me, at the world, at Angel at you . . . at everything and everyone that has ever interfered with us being together. It is fate Buffy. Fate meant for us to be together.

“You must have really cared more about her than you’ve let on—“

“No, God, Buffy, it has nothing to do with her,” Spike sighed, frustrated and shook his head. “I hate that he’s hurt you like this. I hate that I . . . I feel so
guilty because I’m the cause for it. I brought her here; I
didn’t know things would turn out, how they’d take
such a wrong turn with you and I at each other’s
throats and your hurt and anger. . . And I get it Buffy; I
get what’s happening to you at the same time I want to
wring your lovely neck for all this time and torture.”
Well, he thought, that was some of the truth at least.

“You couldn’t have known that this would happen, Spike. I know I blamed you for it and I yelled at you for it, but you didn’t know. It’s just you’re here and Angel’s not and he’s the one I really want—“

He took her in his arms before she could finish that thought. He knew. He knew what she was saying. That she wanted to take it all out on Angel. She wanted to rail at the man that left, but instead she was
railing at the man that was in front of her. Oh God,
Buffy, he though. If you knew, if you only knew that your
anger at me wasn’t completely misplaced. . He held
her tight and tears dripped from his eyes as the desire
to tell her coupled with the fear of telling her
threatened to overtake him. “I know. I’m sorry,” he
whispered before releasing her just as quickly as he’d
grabbed her and practically running out her room.



Buffy was exhausted when she awoke the next
morning to the sound of her alarm. Reaching over she
slapped it off and rolled on her back, having no energy
at the moment to get up and face the day. She wasn’t just physically exhausted, but emotionally and mentally as well. Last night her mind had decided to replay everything that had happened since Angel left. Every moment Spike had the chance to share and never did. Every time he acted as if he didn’t know and was hurt by Fred’s departure. Though he had been upfront about the fact that he wasn’t heartbroken over Fred’s leaving. Just mad. And not necessarily just at Angel, but at Fred too. Curious and yet understandable.

Rolling out of bed, she sat up and stretched, listening with satisfaction as she heard her joints cracking. Yawning, she stumbled out to see if Lindsey was awake. She was out like a light still and Buffy quickly showered, hoping that would help wake her up.

Not so much. If anything it made her want to crawl back in bed and sleep the day away. Sleep until the past twenty four hours were obliterated. Make it all a dream; make it all go ‘poof’.

Going through the motions of getting ready, she heard Spike enter the house and she wondered how long it’d take him to come upstairs. When she heard the familiar sound of him running up the stairs, she braced herself.

She was putting her earrings in when he knocked softly on her slightly ajar door. “Buffy?”

“She’s still asleep,” Buffy said.

“I figured as much.”

He stood there awkwardly at the door and Buffy wanted to weep just by looking at him. She hadn’t realized how three short weeks could accustom her to being smothered in his kisses and affection before work. What a way to start the day. Frustrated with her body’s desire and . . . and need to be in his arms, she stalked to the door and slipped past him, not even bothering to look at him. Starting for the stairs, she halted when she heard him speak softly to her.

“Do you think you’ll ever be willing to hear me out?”

He sounded so pathetically sad that she felt her heart crack just that much more. She took pause, her hand on the railing, her body facing away from him. “Yes,” she replied honestly. “But only because I don’t want to be in the dark any longer over anything. Though how much truth will you really tell me?”

“I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

“You promise?” she snorted. “Yeah, that’s . . . so empty to me. Do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Don’t ever give me your word on anything unless it has to do with Lindsey, all right?”

“Buffy, I . . . God, if you knew how sorry I was. If you knew how many times I wanted to tell you but was so afraid to. It tore me up inside to keep it from you. I was so afraid of losing you, of losing Lindsey . . .” he trailed off. “I was a coward.”

She turned slightly to see him, to see his eyes fill with tears and regret. Before she could stop herself, the words, the cutting words were out of her mouth. “And the Oscar goes to . . . “ shaking her head, she practically ran down the stairs, not at all surprised to hear Spike following her.

“It’s not like that,” he all but growled at her, grabbing her arm and spinning her to face him. “It’s not like that at all. You have no idea what I’ve gone through—“

“No, you’re right, I don’t. But you knew what I was going through and you never said anything.”

“If I had told you, if I had told you all of it—would you have let me in your life? In Lindsey’s? Or would you have shut me out and kept me from my daughter?”

Buffy raised her chin defiantly. “Guess we’ll never know now will we?”

“Exactly, Buffy. You wouldn’t have. I know you Princess. You forget how well I know you. It ate me up inside to keep it from you. Did you know that I sat in that driveway when I arrived with her and told her I couldn’t do it? Then Peaches came out and saw her before I could turn around—“

“Why didn’t you wake me up? Why didn’t you fucking say anything? You let them just go.” Her eyes filled with tears, remembering that day, remembering the worry and the sense of loss she felt. This was the worst part of it all—having to relive it. Scratch that. Having to relive it and knowing that Spike, who claimed to love her, had known the whole time, had kept it from her and hadn’t given her the chance to try and stop Angel from leaving--that was the worst part.

“Buffy,” he whimpered and crushed her to him, holding on tight and burying his face in her hair. “I’m so sorry. Please, please, Buffy, forgive me. I never—“

“Momma? Daddy?”

Lindsey was coming down the stair, rubbing at her eyes. Buffy pushed at Spike and went to greet her daughter. “You okay, baby?”

Lindsey nodded and yawned. “I’m hungry.”

Spike snapped into action. “What would you like sweetheart?”

“Pancakes.”

“Want to help your dear old Dad?”

Lindsey perked up and nodded. “Will you help Momma?” she asked Buffy.

“I can’t today, baby. I’ve got to get to work, but another time okay?”

Lindsey studied her mother for a minute. “Momma, were you crying?”

“I had something in my eye, that’s all. Daddy helped me get it out.”

“Did Daddy have something in his eye too because he looks like he was crying too.”

Buffy nodded, thinking of how incredibly perceptive Lindsey was. “ Yep, there sure was. Now give me a kiss so I can have a good day.”

Lindsey jumped into her mother’s arms and kissed her sloppily on the cheek before Buffy released her and Lindsey tore into the kitchen.

Buffy gathered her purse and again, Spike’s voice stopped her.

“We’ll talk when you get home?”

“We’ll see,” Buffy murmured and left.





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