The wind whistled through the open windows of the DeSoto as Spike sped toward Buffy’s house. He was nearly there, nearly there. Spike didn’t know if it was Willow’s little speech that had bolstered his courage—or his own stubbornness kicking back in—but either way he was on a mission.
Buffy loved him.
And he was going to do everything in his power to convince her that he felt the exact same way.
He didn’t really have much of a plan—no plan at all, actually—his entire focus has just been getting to the girl. It would all become clear when he was in her presence.
As the turn for Revello Drive approached that annoying little twinge in the pit of his stomach—the one that said she wouldn’t take him back, no matter what—flared up again. But Spike pushed it away. He was not going to let doubt ruin the best thing that had ever happened to him. Doubt had been what forced him to make that stupid bargain with Cordelia; doubt was what had made Buffy run. He’d lost her once and he wasn’t going to risk losing her again because of his own insecurities.
Buffy had never given him a reason to not trust her.
Now he just had to convince her that he could be trusted also. He wasn’t sure how he was going to do that exactly, just that he was.
What other choice did he have?
Buffy put her signature on the final application form, dropping the pen like it burned. She hated that she was being forced to do this. She didn’t want to leave Sunnydale, she didn’t want to leave her mother, or Willow and Xander, or her friends on the swim team.
Or Spike...
Moving away from everyone she loved was going to be the hardest thing she’d ever done. But she would do it. She’d pack her life up and move to the other side of the country.
For her mom.
What other choice did she have?
Spike cut the last corner sharply, tires scraping the gutter and causing him to wince in response.
That’s gonna leave a mark.
But Spike didn’t care, because he was finally where he needed to be.
He swerved across the road—cutting off another vehicle in the process—and hit the brakes. The car thunked as it struck the Summers’ driveway too fast, and at too sharp an angle, before coming to a sudden sharp stop. His body was lurched forward in his seat before his seatbelt hauled him back.
Time to see my girl.
Spike fumbled with the seatbelt, cursing when the blasted thing didn’t immediately release him from its clutches. Finally freeing himself from the confines of his car he slammed the door and bounded across the lawn, coming to a stop at the front door.
A quick straighten of his jacket and a rake of his hands through his hair and he was ready.
Clearing his throat Spike knocked on the door and waited.
When Buffy had first heard the loud revving of a car at the end of her street she’d stood and made her way to the front door. There was no question in her mind of who it could be, there was only one person she knew with a car that sounded like that. She knew who it was. It was Spike.
And now—judging by the footsteps on the veranda—he was on the other side of the door.
She reached a hand up, placing it against the wood, before resting her forehead against it in defeat.
It wasn’t fair.
Spike had promised he wasn’t giving up on her; his note saying as much was burning a hole in the back pocket of her jeans. She’d been hopeful. This morning she’d spent a good thirty minutes in the shower playing over and over in her mind their conversation from the night before.
“Nothing, nothing about us being together was a mistake.”
He’d been so certain.
“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 was with you was because I’m mad for you. I can hardly think straight when you’re not around.”
His confession made her heart beat almost out of her chest.
“I was afraid of losing you because you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
She’d never felt so special in all her life.
“What if I want to be tied to you?”
Her breath caught in her throat at the fantasies his words inspired.
“Buffy, I’m crazy about you. I lo—”
The look of conviction in his eyes when he told her he cared about her—when he’d almost said those three little words she’d been hoping for the day before—had broken through her armour. If he’d persisted last night Buffy doubted her resolve to stay strong would’ve held. But he hadn’t, because she’d asked, and that just made her love him even more.
And now he was obviously back for round two.
The timing sucked.
If she hadn’t received the phone call from her dad this morning maybe...
No. There were no maybes about it.
If her father hadn’t turned her world upside down Buffy was certain that she and Spike would have a future together. There were issues. Issues that weren’t so huge in the afternoon light, but valid all the same. But if Spike was willing to try then so was she.
Or would have been... she thought sadly.
What was the point of starting things up again, only to have her heart re-broken again when she had to move away? She didn’t think she could handle losing him again.
While the thought crossed her mind that maybe Spike could follow her cross country she immediately dismissed it. It was too much to ask or expect. And he had a life here; she couldn’t be responsible for taking that away from him.
The knock on the door broke through her reverie, and with a deep breath she realised she’d have to let him go.
When she opened the door, and saw how his face lit up, another little piece inside of her broke.
“Hello, Spike.”
One second he was fidgeting nervously on her doorstep, and the next she was before him. A smile stretched its way across his face of its own volition.
Buffy...
And then she said hello and his smile wavered ever so slightly.
She sounded so sad. Immediately the guilt hit him. Her unhappiness was due to him. And in that moment he resolved he was not going to rest until she was happy again. He’d make it his life’s mission to ensure a smile always graced her beautiful face.
“Hi, Buffy,” he greeted nervously. A hand reflexively ran through his hair, mussing it. “Can I come in?”
She seemed to hesitate for a moment before nodding, opening the door wider for him to enter.
“Thanks.”
Spike closed the door behind him, following her into the living room. It looked like she’d been busy, there were stacks of papers all over the place and...
Was that a pamphlet for Brown?
“Applying for colleges, love?”
He saw her distracted nod, before he reached for the brochure in question.
And found another.
And several more underneath that as well.
All of them Ivy League.
All of them on the east coast.
All of them as far from here, and from him, as possible.
The lump in his throat made a reappearance.
“Brown, Princeton, Dartmouth, Harvard, Yale, Penn, Cornell, Columbia. Applying for the whole lot, huh?”
“Yep,” Buffy replied. “They’re the best, you know.”
“Yeah,” Spike agreed distractedly.
A sick feeling that she was trying to put as many miles as possible between them both took root in his stomach. He tried to fight it, squash it, but his insecurities rose with a vengeance. Willow had been wrong, she had to have been. Why else would Buffy be moving?
“So...”
“Does the thought of being around me bother you that much?” The question was out before his mind caught up with his mouth.
No, of course not... was the reply on the tip of her tongue but Buffy swallowed it. It was the way out she’d been searching for. And it broke her heart to have to say the words.
“I just can’t be around you,” she whispered. “A clean break, that’s what we need. It’s better for both of us this way.”
Spike felt like he’d been sucker punched in the gut. No... No, she can’t mean that.
“What?”
“It’s for the best.”
It was the nonchalant way she shrugged that got to him, as if none of this mattered. As if her moving to the other side of the fucking country was no bigger decision than what to have for breakfast.
“Best for who,” Spike spat.
“For both of us.”
Her reply was quiet, as if she were trying to soften the blow, and it only incensed him further.
“What gives you the right to decide what’s best for me?” he snarled.
He was getting angry. This was a good thing. If she made him angry enough then maybe she wouldn’t hurt him. That was the last thing she wanted to do.
“Nothing,” she replied simply. “But I get to decide for me, and I’ve made my choice.”
“So that’s it.” Spike began pacing the lounge room erratically. He could not believe this was actually happening. “One fight and you just pack it all in and move.”
“It’s for the best.”
She did it again, said it in that soft, almost sad, voice, like she was trying to soften the blow for him. And Spike raged. It wasn’t supposed to go down like this.
They were supposed to be working things out.
He had to convince her not to walk away, that they were worth a second go. Spike hadn’t wanted to fling her feelings in her face but maybe it was the only way she’d listen.
“You said you loved me. Do you remember that?” He came to a stop directly in front of her, a hand lifting to tuck an errant lock of hair behind her ears. Her eyes fluttered shut at his touch and he began to hope that maybe he was getting through to her.
“You don’t give up on the people you love after one fight.”
Tears were shimmering in her eyes and he softly brushed her cheeks.
“I’ve made my decision. Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”
“But why!? ” He cried desperately. “Why are you leaving? We can work through this. It can be better, I can be better. You make me want to be a better man, Buffy. Please don’t give up on me.”
The tears flowed freely now, she wasn’t strong enough to hold them in. Not when she could see the misery shining from Spike’s eyes.
She was breaking his heart.
A sob caught in her throat.
It was time to finish this; she didn’t know how much longer she could stop herself from comforting Spike, especially when she was the reason for his distress.
“What did you expect, Spike? That I’d just forget how you used me? Forget how it was all a game? What kind of idiot do you take me for?”
“It wasn’t a game!” Spike raged. “And I don’t think you’re an idiot, although the way you’re acting now might convince me otherwise.”
He was lashing out, and he knew the instant the words left his mouth they were the wrong thing to say. She’d wounded him and he’d retaliated without thinking... it was his way.
“See, this is why we would never work together. The name calling, the lies, we’re just not good together.”
The finality in her words shook him to the core.
“No, we are good together. You know that. We can be again, just give me another chance... please?”
He sounded frantic even to his own ears but he didn’t care.
“I’m sorry. My mind’s made up.”
She’s thinking with her head, when it’s her heart that needs remindin’...
Spike closed the distance between them, his lips seeking hers in a desperate heart-filled kiss.
When Buffy felt his lips on hers her eyes widened. Obviously she wasn’t convincing him. Spike on the other hand was doing a damn fine job of convincing her of why she wanted to be with him. She responded without thinking, and that just wouldn’t do. Pressing her hands against his chest gently she ended the kiss and put some distance between them as quickly as possible. Keeping her hands to herself was hard enough without him tempting her.
One second she was kissing him back, and the next he was bereft her soft lips. She moved quicker than he could blink, putting the coffee table between them in her haste to create space.
“Please, Buffy,” he begged. “Don’t you see how good we are together?”
“No, Spike.”
“Please! You can’t tell me that kiss meant nothing to you.”
Spike knew she was hesitating when she began chewing on her bottom lip, and that spark of hope flared again. Willow’s words in the cafeteria came to him and he clutched on to them like a lifeline. She’d said it wasn’t too late, and he wasn’t ready to give up.
“Make her believe, without a shadow of a doubt, that you do love her. And only her. Trust needs to be repaired Spike. Make her believe.”
“You mean the world to me, Summers,” he confessed. “You’re everything I want. And I can be what you need; you just need to give me a chance. Please just give me a chance.”
“Spike...”
He could hear the hesitation in her voice again and hoped it meant he was getting through to her. And then he realised, after everything he had said, the one thing he hadn’t.
“I love you.”
Oh god, she wanted to rush to him, wrap him in her arms and never, never, never let go.
He loved her. He loved her.
And for a second she let the joy at hearing those words wash over her. For a second she let herself dream. Then reality came crashing down, the obstacles—large and small—that stood between them. Buffy wanted to be with Spike so badly, more than anything, but she wasn’t strong enough to fight for him.
This was going to be so much harder now, walking away, knowing that Spike—
Buffy choked on her tears.
She wasn’t strong enough to fight for him, but she could do the right thing.
She could let him go.
“I don’t.”
No, no... nononoo...
“You don’t mean that,” Spike denied vehemently, shaking his head. “We have a future together, we could—”
“I don’t agree. We tried, it didn’t work. And I don’t want to try again.”
He took a step closer to her and she backed away, twisting the metaphorical knife.
“Buffy, love, please...”
“I’m sorry, Spike.”
It was her quiet apology that did him in, finally opening the floodgates to unleashing his misery.
Buffy fled, unable to remain in Spike’s presence any longer. She flew up the stairs to her bedroom, sliding down against the door and slumping on the floor.
Spike was downstairs, crying, because of her.
She’d just thrown away the love of a man she cared about more than she could put into words, and it was all because of her dad’s selfish desire to control her.
When she heard the DeSoto back out of the driveway her misery compounded.
He was gone.
~~~~~~~~~~