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PULSE 10

A/N Thanks top Meli and Kar for their time and effort. To slackerace for coming through for me...and waiting for me to get off my butt and officially post this version. Thanks :)

Reflection
def: REFLECTION, n. An action of the mind whereby we obtain a clearer view
of our relation to the things of yesterday and are able to avoid the
perils that we shall not again encounter. "THE DEVIL'S DICTIONARY ((C)1911 Released April 15 1993)"



Spike lay in bed, his mind awash with the events of the night that that had just passed. The sun began to break over the surrounding houses and fill the room with a soft glow. Regret and anger flowed through him, hurt permeated through out every fibre of his being. Memories of emotions, words and time together with Buffy became a jumble of internal conflict. Spike tried to remember what he could have done to make Buffy do what she’d done last night. Spike’s first mistake had been to think everything was just peachy between them, and not recognise the emerging chaos that had shrouded them last night for what it had been.

Fucking chaos.

Thoughts churned and twisted around each other, leaving deep and painful crevices as Spike abundantly self-inflicted anguish on himself. What had he done to contribute to this whole bloody mess? The answer was so fucking simple. Nearly every word that he’d said to her, every moment that had passed between them or any time he’d touch her had contributed to last night’s mess. Memories flashed in front of his eyes as he tried to remember every second that had passed between them. How they’d gotten beyond the first fuck --- and that was all he could describe it as, the first fuck --- baffled Spike.


Rubbing his tired eyes and letting out a long yawn, he just couldn’t succumb to his body’s need to sleep. Spike’s mind wouldn’t shut up from the feelings of hurt, betrayal and denial of what had happened in the early part of the night. The hurt and betrayal he could justify but the denial was just too hard step to take. Denial that he didn’t contribute in anyway to Buffy’s abhorrent behaviour last night which he knew was a load of bollocks. Spike was just too bloody stubborn to perceive that the way he’d been treating the woman he’d begun to call his own was abhorrent in its own right.

Now it was so bloody clear to Spike.

It felt kind of strange having a sudden attack of his conscience considering that he’d been the victim last night. Spike couldn’t ignore the actuality that Buffy had been subjected to some atrocious treatment by him. Especially when she’d tried to tell him the way that she’d been feeling about the relationship, Spike had just dismissed Buffy or anything that she’d tried to discuss with him. Something inside of him snapped into place as he made himself stop dwelling on who did what to whom or who didn’t say the right thing. They’d both done some serious damage to each other and Spike had no idea how they were going to get out of this despair they’d plummeted into.

Where do you go when your world seems to have shattered into shards around you, imbedding its sharp edges into your soul? Making it cry and bleed for something that never really had in the first place and never realising what you did have until it was gone. Spike shook his head as realisations came in the form of cliché to smack him straight across his face --- bloody typical --- his conscience would do this to him. Whatever they’d shared together up to last night had been lost, the intensity of feelings, pleasure and tenderness vanished --- maybe never to be seen again. The thought of that alone sent a shiver down his spine, Spike had to consider where they went from here.

Did he really want to move on from here? The choice was clear: let her go or try and salvage something from the pandemonium if that at all possible. He swallowed hard at just what he was considering, one part of him just wanted to push Buffy so far away that she would be totally eradicated from his memory. Another part of him just wanted to go back to her take her into his arms and kiss the pain away. To forgive her and hope that Buffy would forgive him for everything that he had done to her.


Forgiveness.

That was a concept that he just wasn’t sure how to apply in this situation. He was so wound up and confused as to which way to go, what to do or what to say. Forgiveness was such a contradiction mixed with irony, as if they needed to absolve each other. It created more questions than a simple answer. He wanted to make what happened disappear, or at least help himself overcome the pain he felt. He’d never felt so alone than he did at this moment, trying to make sense of everything. The internal battle raged deep within him, going round and round in circles making him even more confused.


Taking a deep breath he pulled himself off the bed and left the room turning at the doorway towards the guestroom and the cause of his conflict. Spike didn’t understand what carried him towards Buffy, he just knew that he had to see her. No rhythm or reason to explain why he felt something calling him to her. Spike stopped just in the doorway of the guestroom. He leaned on the doorframe for support; otherwise he was sure he’d fall to his knees with a sense of loss he just couldn’t describe.

Buffy lay on the bed facing the door, her body drawn into a foetal position as she hugged herself, the blanket that he’d covered her with lay kicked at the end of the bed. Buffy’s clothes were twisted around her body, rumpled and dishevelled like the girl that lay on the bed. Hair hung half over her face which was still rigid with stress. Her breathing shallow, Buffy looked like she’d been to hell and back.

Spike couldn’t miss the sharp intake of breath or the rigidity of her muscles as he took a small step into the room. Choosing the safest option he could think of Spike made his way to the chair in front of the dressing table, and slowly sat down. He sat directly opposite to where Buffy lay, and Spike didn’t miss the slight squinting of eyes that tried to locate where he was as she continued to try and feign sleep.

“I know you’re awake, love,” Spike spoke almost in a whisper. “Don’t play games. I think we’ve both had enough of them, don’t you?”

“Yes, I guess we have,” Buffy whispered back at him as she opened her eyes and acknowledged his presence. “I’m sorry William.”

“I know that you are Buffy,” Spike ran a hand up and down the back of his head. “Been thinking about it and as fucked up as this is I know that you are. But it doesn’t change anything that happened. Won’t make it disappear like magic.”


“I don’t know what else to say to you.” Buffy pulled herself up to a sitting position on the bed and tucked her hair behind her ears. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, love.” Spike leaned himself forward onto the edge of the chair. “I’m still trying to understand this whole fucking mess and how the bloody hell we got ourselves into it.”

“I tried to explain why…” Buffy stumbled on her words, “tried to explain to you why I did these awful things to you. But it’s hard when I can’t justify why I did them.”

“Love, I get the gist of it,” Spike rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand showing his internal frustration. “What we both did to ourselves and each other that lead to this….”

“Did to ourselves? To each other?” Buffy couldn’t fathom what he was saying, it was bad enough that she felt like someone had driven over her with a bulldozer and trying to comprehend what he was going on about was just to difficult. “What I did to you was inexcusable and so vicious. I can’t properly…”

“Something made you do it, Buffy.” Spike moved over to the bed, making Buffy pull her legs back up against her chest as she tried to comfort herself. “This isn’t easy to say Buffy, but we both have something to answer for. You need to understand that being sorry or not being able to explain doesn’t change much. I’m hurt and angry but I’m not such an unfeeling ponce that I didn’t hear what you had to say. Hard to digest what you said, but I would be a git if I didn’t realise that there was some truth to your words.”

“You have every right to be angry with me,” Buffy looked down at her hands which where twisting around themselves, as she held onto her knees tighter. “I did something horrible and unforgivable…”

“Forgiveness? Buffy is that what you want from me?” Spike leaned over and grasped her chin. “I can’t get my head around that right now. What I’m trying to say is that we both have something to answer for. All actions have consequences, as distasteful as they are, and you have to deal with how you acted. I have to deal with what I did that made you so desperate that you’d do what you did to me.”

“I don’t understand?”

“Neither do I, Buffy, and that’s what’s so pitiful about us right now.” Spike lifted her head up higher in his hands. “You have to deal with whatever your demons are, and me….I don’t know.”

“I…”

“Buffy, I don’t really want to hear any more,” Spike stood up and moved away from the bed. “You should wash your face and straighten yourself up.”

“But,” Buffy cringed away from him, “I can’t stand leaving things like this.”

“Too bad. What did you expect Buffy? A bed of roses when you woke up?” Spike turned around to walk out the door looking back he said his final words. “I think that one day I could forgive you Buffy, but not today. Maybe one day we can move beyond all this and be friends? I don’t know.”

Buffy watched as he left the room. Closing the door behind him felt so symbolic, like he was shutting her out of his existence. A single tear ran down her face as she tried to obliterate the pain that cut its way along her body. Trembling, Buffy wiped the trail of moisture from her face. She deserved no better from the man she’d violated so much, but why did it have to hurt so much? Deep feelings that felt so betrayed by her actions last night came to the surface and lashed at her hardened heart, she knew one thing for sure.

“We’ll never be friends,” Buffy whispered to no one.


~~**~~**~~

Buffy sighed as she heard Spike walk down the hall and then as his feet thumped against the stairs as he made his way to the first floor. Gathering what strength she had left, Buffy moved and sat at the edge of the bed, running her hand over the imprint of Spike’s body and wishing that she could take back everything that she’d done the previous night. But she couldn’t. Not a single damn thing she said or did would ever erase last night; her ‘sorry’ would never change anything and that made Buffy feel even more ashamed of herself.

If only….

Shaking her head, Buffy stopped thinking of ‘maybes’ or ‘ifs’ and made herself pull her hand away from where Spike had been sitting. She knew that she just couldn’t leave things as they were, even though Spike had said that he didn’t want to hear anything more on the subject. Buffy couldn’t and wouldn’t leave things this way between them. Spike said that he could understand to some extent why she did what she did. That they’d both done some damage to each other and that both of them had something to answer for.

Something that Buffy couldn’t deny, but that didn’t alleviate any pain or disgrace that she felt. If anything, it only heightened her sense of loss and betrayal of herself in self-denigration at what she’d done. Buffy needed to do something ---anything--- that would help her regain some dignity. She needed to lose the numb emotions she felt and believe in herself or something once more.

Her face tightened as she ran her hands over it, drawing her eyes to the dressing table mirror. The mirror reflected a woman who appeared pitifully drained. Her clothes were all rumpled and stained with dirt and tears. Picking at her sleeves, Buffy decided her next course of action. Pulling herself off the bed, Buffy stood and walked to the door. She allowed herself to rest against the cold wood for just a moment, her ear leaning on the door while she attempted to assure herself that no one was waiting on the other side. Satisfied that no one was, she opened it slightly and peered into the hallway, opening it further when she was sure no one was there.

Stepping out into the hallway with silent footsteps she slowly made her way to the master bedroom, sneaking in like a thief she went over to the wardrobe. Opening the door, she found what she’d been looking for, some clothes that she’d left here when she’d slept over and hadn’t wanted to waste time in going home to change. Grabbing every article of clothing that hung in the wardrobe, Buffy then removed any lingerie that remained in the set of draws. Moving out of the room back into the hallway, she went to the linen closet at the far end, and removed a single towel making her way to the bathroom.

Downstairs Spike couldn’t miss the soft sounds coming from upstairs, he could faintly hear doors open and close, his jaw tightened as he tried to guess just what Buffy was up to. He had a good mind to go upstairs and tell her to hurry up with whatever she was doing, Spike was still surprised that Buffy was still in the house. Turning on the kettle, Spike started to make himself a coffee, as much as he needed something stronger he doubted that it would really help achieve anything.

He frowned as he heard water course through the plumbing within the house. Bloody hell, what next? His jaw muscle twitched as frustration tore through him. When would the chit leave? Hadn’t they said enough to each other? Spike was unsure of what Buffy wanted to achieve by staying in his house. You’d think that this was the last place that she’d want to be. Spike knew that if that had been him, he’d be too ashamed to stay. He would have high tailed it out of there when he’d had the first opportunity. Pouring the hot liquid from the kettle into his mug, he stirred the contents and took a sip of the scalding coffee. Scalding his tongue, he did not even cringe. He doubted that today of all days that anything would make him cringe.

~~**~~**~~

The warm water flowed over Buffy as she leaned into the wall with the palms of her hands, her head stuck under the flow of water. Her eyes were closed to the world as she attempted to block it out. Droplets of water poured into her mouth as she swallowed air, making her gag at times, but she didn’t care. Finally lifting her head to take a long needed breath, Buffy grabbed the soap and began to glide it down her body, grabbing the loofah—something else she’d brought into this house. She began to scrub harshly at her skin, each stroke leaving it red and raw. It was as if she was trying symbolically to wash her misdeeds away. Her skin stung with each forceful passing of the loofah and tears formed in her eyes. Tears not for the physical pain, but for the pain that cried out from within. Spike had talked about cause and effect, well here was her effect. Tears for what she’d done flowed from her eyes, tears of regret for what should have been between them, and tears for the future that they’d never have. Buffy had to make it right—she just had to—even though she knew nothing could be as it had been. There had to be something salvageable from all this mess. Her head hurt as she tried to force the emotions back into herself, but a single ray of hope still shone from somewhere within. Hope for something she couldn’t describe.

Just something. Anything.


Only grief filled the void that now pierced her being; only regret cascaded through her veins and an aching shame filled her heart. Last night she only remembered the hurt and pain that fuelled her to strike out at Spike with such vengeance as she’d tied him to the bed. Now different memories filled her thoughts as misery began to creep inside of her—memories of tender caresses and moments of absolute silence when they made love as they marvelled in each other, and a sense of wounder that she’d experienced with no other man.

Buffy looked at her hands splayed out against the tiles, remembering a time when they were once covered by the man that stood in the kitchen below, entwined with his as they’d moved together in the shower. The way Spike nipped at her neck as she arched her back against him, trying to get him deeper inside her core, and finally when she was about to come—his words of encouragement. “That’s my girl…come for me.”

Buffy flinched at the memory. My girl. Spike had always called her his girl and that’s what she’d wanted to be. To belong to someone, to belong to him. Turning off the shower, Buffy pulled the shower curtain back and stepped out of the bath, dripping water onto the tiled floor. Grabbing a towel, she wiped the moisture from her skin. Stop it! Stop thinking! Stop it! Torturing herself was going to get her nowhere. Stop it. You fucked up. Stop it! After she dried herself off, Buffy grabbed her fresh clothing and dressed as quickly as she could. She then exited the bathroom and headed for the staircase. It was time to get this ‘discussion’ started and see where it took her….and give herself back some dignity.


~~***~~~***~~~***~~


Spike leaned against the kitchen bench, his back to the window as he stood his ground while footsteps came closer and became louder. The rhythmic banging of Buffy’s feet on the staircase became like the beat of his heart bounding and increasing in pace. One hand gripped the bench the other held the coffee that he continued to sip as he awaited her arrival. His gaze honed in onto the archway into the kitchen from the front landing. The air seemed to become electrified as she approached. Spike tried to relax as he spied her feet coming to rest on the bottom stair before she stopped in hesitation, her hand resting on the end of the rail. She still didn’t move from the staircase.

Buffy just couldn’t make herself take that final step that would lead to her confronting the man that filled her with such anguish and conflict. Courage had forsaken and abandoned her making her stop, Buffy hadn’t the fortitude for one more step. A shudder filled her as Buffy remembered a previous conversation she’d had with Melissa, the nurse at work who had tried to get Buffy to see sense and go speak with Spike. Melissa's words were still so clear, “What have you got to lose?” Buffy’s answer had been more of a prediction than a response. “Everything.” That had been the solemn truth, Buffy had lost everything ---she’d gambled and squandered more than she could ever imagine.

“Buffy, get off the stairs,” Spike finally gave in to the daunting silence and spoke. “You can’t hide there all day you know.”

A sharp jolt ran down her spine making her take that final step onto the landing and move her feet to make a trail to the kitchen. With her eyes cast to the ground, Buffy walked over to the kitchen table and halted in front of a chair, grasping its top for support. Spike placed his cup onto the bench, causing a soft clunk of the ceramic against the wood, making Buffy’s gaze snap up as the noise drew her attention. Immediately their glances locked together, Buffy couldn’t miss the fatigue, regret or disappointment that filled Spike’s eyes.

“I’m sorry Spike,” Buffy couldn’t help herself saying it again and again.

“Buffy stop saying you’re sorry. I know that you are and it’s getting old love.”

“I don’t know…” Buffy stumbled on her words.

“Enough.” Spike walked towards where she stood, “I think that we have established you’re sorry, and we need to move on.”

“Move on?” Buffy grimaced. “Move on to where?”

“How am I meant to know Buffy?” Spike tilted his head and lightly scratched his forehead. “It’s just too soon to say what Buffy…I’m beginning to sound like a broken record, but I can’t think about forgiveness at the moment only about getting through today.”

“Oh,” Buffy’s grip on the chair tightened, “I can’t bear the thought of leaving things between us the way they are.”

“There is no more ‘us’ Buffy.”

“I know that, Spike.” Buffy tried to hold back the tears. “Don’t you think that you’ve made that clear to me?”

“Maybe one day Buffy, I’ll wake up and it won’t hurt so much that I wish that I’d never laid eyes on you.” Spike picked up his cup and took another sip. As he peered at her over the cup, he didn’t miss her quickly wiping the moisture from her eyes. “Buffy…”

“Do you regret what’s happened between us so much?” Buffy felt herself begin to tremble. “Regret everything before last night?”

“Yeah, some things, Buffy.” Spike placed the cup on the bench and walked to where she stood. “I did a lot of things that I’m ashamed of and never should have done to you. Like I should have listened to you more and I regret hurting you the second time we slept together ---you know, in the physio room. I should have done a lot of things Buffy, but I didn’t and it’s all irrelevant now. Payback’s a bitch hey?”

“Spike…”

“Buffy please leave it alone. I think that we’ve both rehashed things enough,” Spike fought back a yawn. “I’m tired and nothing’s going to change today.”

“But…”

“But nothing, Buffy. Just let it go,” Spike said quietly “I’m trying too.”

“I don’t want to let it go,” Buffy spat out. “I don’t want to. Not yet.”

“Then just what do you want Buffy?” Spike had had enough of her giving him the run around. “What do you want from me that would make it all better for the little lost girl?”

“That you’ll try and forgive me,” Buffy closed her eyes as if to making a wish. “That you won’t let us go and maybe just maybe we can salvage something worth fighting for.”

“And how do you propose we do that Buffy, if I forgive you all?”

“We could start by trying to be civil to each other,” Buffy face shone with hope, “maybe even become friends one day.”

Spike mouth dropped open at her suggestion. She wanted to be friends after what had happened last night? He turned around so that she would see the indignation flash across his face and him bitting his lip as he tried to stifle the ridiculing laugh that tried to break from his throat. Yet somewhere deep down inside himself Spike couldn’t help but feel the pull from unknown feelings to try and be just what she wanted. He didn’t know if he could do it, but maybe just maybe he might try to be what she wanted.

Friends.





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