Buffy didn’t know what to say. She knew what she wanted to say, which was something along the lines of ‘I-miss-you-too-and-please-just-hold-me’, but she kept her lips firmly sealed. He was standing in her room and he smelled so good—well, except for the haze of alcohol that clung to him—and he was looking at her with the look and it was all too much to take.
“I think you should go,” she whispered, suddenly finding the rug she was standing on incredibly interesting. She’d never noticed the blue threads in it before.
She heard him move closer to her, felt his proximity, and she tensed. He was making it very difficult for her to stay strong.
“Please...”
“Buffy, look at me.”
The plea in his voice, the way his voice quivered when he said her name, forced her eyes up from the oh-so-interesting carpet. How could she deny him when her name was like a prayer on his lips?
The intensity of his gaze was overwhelming and, for the first time, she truly understood what all those crappy romance novels she used to read meant when they said a look burned.
Because right now she felt like she was on fire.
She gasped.
His look, the look, was clear. He wanted her.
While the girlish fresh in love part of her rejoiced, the other more sensible side questioned his motives. Was that the only reason he was here?
“Spike...”
“Buffy.”
God damn it, he did it again.
And then his lips were on hers and everything else melted away.
Spike’s entire being was singing with joy. It hadn’t been his intention to kiss her. That wasn’t why he was here. But, god, how could he not? She looked at him, with those big hurt filled eyes of hers and all he wanted to do was soothe her, touch her, feel her lips against his. It was an instinct stronger than he was, but he fought it. The breathy little gasp was what did him in, broke his resolve.
She’d made the same sound before, several times in fact, on the night when they first made love.
That gasp said almost more than those expressive eyes of her.
I want you, I need you, please kiss me.
He’d reacted without thinking. Not a smart move, if he’d stopped to consider it, and under normal circumstances he might have. But there was nothing normal about this moment. The first touch of his lips against hers tore a desperate sob from deep within him.
It was like coming home.
His kiss quickly became hungry, hands fisting in her hair as he tilted her head to the side to deepen the contact.
On the first swipe of his tongue across her lips he felt it. Felt her entire body go stock still and rigid, and he reluctantly parted from her, giving her the space she obviously wanted.
“I’m sorry, shouldn’t ‘ave done that.”
He’s kissing me he’s kissing me he’s kissing me...
The mantra repeated over and over in Buffy’s mind, and for ten whole seconds she forgot everything except for the feel of his lips on hers.
At the gentle touch of his tongue to her mouth it all came crashing back.
For a moment she wished she could continue forgetting.
And she could taste the alcohol on his breath, reminding her of his inebriated state.
She froze and Spike slowly stepped away from her, taking his lips with him.
When he apologised it was like a punch to the gut.
Her arms folded across her chest defensively.
“So why did you? Is that why you came over?” Her expression was thunderous. “What was it you said to me one time... oh yes, that’s right. Something about seeing how far I would go?”
Spike was stunned. She can’t think that—
“Well?” Buffy’s voice was bordering on shrill now and she knew if she didn’t keep it down her mother would come to investigate, but she didn’t care. “Is that what this visit is about? One more little bit of fun before your next bet?”
That woke Spike up. “NO, Buffy,” he denied vehemently. “That’s not why I’m here at all.”
“So you don’t want me? What sort of game are you playing at, Spike?”
“It’s not a game!” Spike insisted. “I lo—”
Buffy steamrolled right over him, gesturing wildly as her temper rose. She didn’t hear—or wouldn’t listen—to a word he was trying to say. “Of course it is. Well, did you enjoy yourself, huh? Did I meet your expectations? Or was gullible little Buffy too easy to play?”
Spike took a step toward her and Buffy lashed out with her hand, barely missing his nose.
“Don’t you touch me,” she trembled. “You don’t get to touch me anymore.”
“Buffy, if you would just calm down we could talk about this.”
“Calm down? Don’t you tell me to calm down.” Buffy lashed out again, slapping Spike’s hands away when he reached for her. “I should have known getting involved with you would be a mistake.”
Spike’s movement was fluid, one second he was halfway across the room, the next he materialised right in front of her, one hand covering her mouth while the other held her close against him. Buffy’s slow blink was one of shock.
“Now you listen here,” he said slowly, emphasising the weight of what he was saying. “Nothing, nothing about us being together was a mistake.”
Buffy’s glare disagreed.
“I came over here to talk with you, to clear the bleedin’ air and convince you—without a shadow of a doubt—that the reason I’m with you is because I’m mad for you. I can hardly think straight when you’re not around.”
Buffy’s stomach did a backflip and her brow softened, hesitantly. She was desperate to trust him, wanting nothing other than for them to be together and happy, but her heart was still wary of being broken all over again. He had the ability to do that like no other, and that scared her.
Spike took Buffy’s more relaxed stance as a sign he was getting through to her, and he continued. “However, my plan is goin’ to be a mite difficult to accomplish if your mum tosses me out on my rear.”
He has a point...
“So,” Spike continued, his voice softening. “I’m goin’ to move my hand now, and I’m really hopin’ you won’t scream, or yell at me, or make any more ridiculous statements about us bein’ a mistake.”
When Spike removed his hand and gave her some breathing room she immediately walked over to her bed, perching on the edge.
“Can I sit down, or will that provoke another attack toward my nose?” he joked half-heartedly.
Buffy smiled weakly, moving to the side and creating some space, a silent gesture of consent.
“So...” Buffy said somewhat lamely. She took a deep breath to steel her nerves. “You wanted to talk. I’m listening, talk away.”
Spike had been thinking about this moment all afternoon, and now that it was here he wasn’t quite sure where to start. He didn’t kid himself into believing this bandaid conversation was going to be enough to fix things, but if he ever wanted to have Buffy’s trust—and love¬¬—again he had to start somewhere.
“I was afraid,” he confessed. “Afraid of losing you.”
Buffy frowned in confusion. “Afraid of—”
“Please,” Spike interrupted. “Let me say my piece and then I’ll answer any questions you have.”
Buffy nodded her agreement.
“I was afraid of losing you because you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
Spike’s confession brought instant tears to her eyes. She wiped at her eyes with her pyjama sleeves hastily, listening as he continued his explanation.
“And if past relationships have taught me anything, it’s that when things are goin’ well somethin’ is bound to come along and fuck things up.” He sighed. “I know you’re not Dru, but when Cordelia went for the jugular I panicked.”
Buffy didn’t fight the wave of jealousy that washed over her at the mention of his ex, nor the rage at the mention of Cordelia. She wished the blame for this could be put squarely on her shoulders for her meddling. But the fact of the matter was that Spike had listened to her.
Spike was glad Buffy was letting him speak without interruption, but nervous all the same, desperate to find out what was going on inside that head of hers. “I know it was stupid, I know I shouldn’t have listened to a word she said, but she went for my weak spot.”
He took her hand in his, his thumb brushing across her knuckles.
“You.”
She was his weak spot? The walls she’d built around her heart weakened.
“I couldn’t risk losing you.”
And just as quickly they hardened again. When it all came down to it, this was about trust. And it was blindingly clear that Spike didn’t trust her. She pulled her hand from his, folding both in her lap.
“And what, you really thought I’d drop you like a hot potato the second Angel was back in town? Is that it?”
She’d broken her promise to keep quiet but she couldn’t help it. He was beginning to piss her off.
Spike ran his hands through his hair nervously. “Yes... No...”
“Well, which one is it? Yes, no... you’re so indecisive, how can I be sure you actually wanted to be with me in the first place?”
Now it was Spike’s turn to be annoyed.
“I’ve never wanted anythin’ more, and you know it.”
“How could I? With the hot and cold act you pulled, kissing Harmony, then being all Flirty McFlirt on the bus to LA, and then you gave me the cold shoulder the second we got ba—”
Spike exploded with frustration. “You were with Capt’n Cardboard then if I remember rightly, that might’ve had somethin’ to do with it, don’tcha think?”
“Shh! Do you want my mom to come up here and kick you out?” Buffy shushed in warning. “Or call the cops?”
Spike clenched his jaw, trying to rein in his temper. “From the second we were together you were all I could bloody think about, dream about, and I wasn’t goin’ to let someone just walk in and—”
“Do you really think so little of me?” Buffy asked, her anger deflated and replaced with misery.
“No, of course not,” Spike replied instantly, his tone desperate. “I think the world of you.”
“Then why couldn’t you just trust me?”
There it was... the question that had been hanging between them, the unspoken pink elephant sitting in the corner waiting to be noticed. And, now that it was out there, it couldn’t be ignored.
“I don’t know,” Spike answered honestly.
Buffy’s misery compounded. Because this was it. They were done. Without trust they couldn’t be together. It felt like she was split in two.
“I guess we’re done here then,” she said miserably.
Spike blanked and then the weight of her words hit him like a tonne of bricks. “What? No, Buffy don’t say that.”
“What else is there to say?” she whispered. “You don’t trust me, and now you’ve given me plenty of reasons not to trust you.”
“We can work through it,” he implored.
Buffy shook her head. “It shouldn’t be this hard.”
Spike clenched his fists against his legs, desperately trying not to cry. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be...
He clutched desperately at straws, trying to draw out the conversation. Because when it ended he’d have to leave and he wasn’t ready to give up.
“Buffy, when we were... together, when we were intimate, we didn’t use any pro—”
“It’s fine,” Buffy interrupted quickly, embarrassment colouring her cheeks as flashes of their time together ran through her mind. “I’m on the pill. So you don’t need to worry about anything tying you to me.”
“What if I want to be tied to you?”
Buffy closed her eyes, warding off the tears that threatened to fall again. “Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”
“I’m serious,” Spike protested, reaching for her hands again and flinching when she pulled away from him. “Buffy, I’m crazy about you. I lo—”
“Don’t!” She didn’t want that, didn’t want him to say that. Not now. Not when it was abundantly clear they couldn’t be together with the trust issues between them.
Spike leaned forward and dropped his head between his knees. He didn’t want to push her too hard, didn’t want to make her run and spoil his chances of ever winning her back. The frantic feeling that she was slipping through his fingers didn’t lessen.
Buffy, thinking the affects of the alcohol he’d consumed was getting to him, raised from her spot on the edge of the mattress and walked out into the hall. Going to the linen cupboard she retrieved a blankets and pillow before returning to her room.
“You’ll stay here tonight; you can’t climb out the window like this.” She dropped the bedding on the floor by her bed.
It was a crumb, Spike reasoned. She wasn’t kicking him out of her house so maybe there was a chance that one day...
“Thanks, love.”
Buffy flinched at the term, but nodded once as she climbed into bed.
Spike set about making a bed then kicked off his shoes and lay down.
It was going to be a long night.
When Buffy woke the next morning there was a neatly folded pile beside her bed and she was alone. She rolled into a ball when she felt the tears coming on, and that’s when she saw it.
A carefully folded piece of paper placed on her pillow.
Reaching for it she opened it tentatively.
Two lines, two small little lines, but they were strong enough to open the floodgates.
You are my world and I’m not giving
you up without a fight.
Love, Spike
Clutching the note to her chest Buffy let the tears fall.
~~~~~~~~~~