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Ch. 30 Hindsight's 20/20

The next few days kept Spike busy. So busy, in fact, that he didn't have much time to think about certain blondes named Buffy Summers.

The apartment in Queens had been a go, a little cramped for both Angel and Spike's taste, but beggars couldn't be choosers, so they had crossed the T's, dotted the I's, and moved in the next day. Though living in Manhattan would have been more convenient, there were just some luxuries that they couldn't afford - such as the outrageous rent of any two bedroom apartment - and if they had to be bridge-and-tunnel people, then so be it.

After successfully securing living quarters, they needed to spend time getting to know the area, which meant getting up close and personal with the subway system - a phenomenon Spike viewed as "bloody ingenious" - getting acquainted with the best, cheapest take-out, and finding a job.

Surprisingly enough, it was only two days after they had moved into the apartment when Spike landed a job at 'The Music Box', a record store owned by an interesting - for lack of a better term - woman named Anya. It was convenient, located in Midtown by Time Square, and it had some nice perks, namely a steep employee discount, but it definitely wasn't enough to pay the rent.

Still, it put Spike in good spirits to finally feel that he was somehow… contributing instead of dumping all the monetary load on Angel.

"Thank you," he repeated again as he backed out through the front door of 'The Music Box.' The bells jingled merrily and Anya waved her hand, dismissively.

"If you say that one more time, I might change my mind," she said, bending back over to look at the rubber-banded receipts under the cash register.

What a beautiful day in the neighborhood, Spike grinned as he was greeted by the bright shining sun and the inviting movements of the ever-busy city. People all around were walking this way and that, talking on cell phones and such, and it was all Spike could do to keep himself from jumping up and down and shouting "I have a job! That's right! This cad here's back in bloody business! Yeah!"

Suddenly, something across the way caught his eye. Or rather, someone, a very familiar blonde someone. His temporary giddiness disappeared and was replaced by that heart-pounding, nerve frying sensation that had always come over him whenever she was in close proximity. It was accompanied by a something he couldn't really describe; some peculiar mixture of hope, jealousy, sadness, want, and defeat. He really was turning into some sort of blubbering ponce, wasn't he?

Spike hadn't seen Buffy for the past few days and whether it was because he was avoiding her or not trying hard enough to look for her, he wasn't sure. He knew she needed her space and that it was wrong to charge back into her life as he did, but as he watched her walking in the other direction on the other side of the street, he was faced with some overwhelming need to see her.

He let himself stare at her a while longer, pondering his two options: To see or not to see Buffy.

Oh, what the hell.

He was Spike. Spike didn't ponder, Spike didn't think, and if the years had taught him anything, he would have known by now that thinking things through was not his forte and seemed to lead to… things that were less than good.

So he ran across the street, ignoring the curses, flipped up middle fingers, and honks that bombarded him from the cars that had to slam down their brakes to avoid hitting him.

"Buffy!" He called out, panting. He really needed to cut down on those smokes.

She stopped dead in her tracks and he took the time to catch up to her.

"Spike…" she turned and fixed him with a cold stare, making him gulp. He should have expected that. "What are you doing here?"

Spike frowned and felt himself deflate. He almost wished he had thought this over before running after her like a madman when he knew she wouldn't want to see him. "I, uh, I just got a job," he said, a little uncertain.

Buffy nodded and buried her hands into the pockets of her jacket. "That's great," she said, sounding like it was anything but great, "But that's not what I meant. What are you doing here."

She tilted her chin to gesture to the space between them and Spike shifted from his left foot to his right.

"I saw you walking and I just wanted to talk…." Spike let his voice trail off as a gust of wind blew against them, pulling against their clothes and tugging at their hair.

Buffy shot him a disdainful look, "Don't you think we've said enough?"

She turned around and started walking again. She didn't say anything when Spike fell into step with her.

"So, uh, where're you off to?" He asked, trying to keep the tone light.

"Work."

"Really. What do you do?"

"I teach."

The tension in his attempt to make conversation was killing him. He knew that it was his fault, but so much of him so desperately wished that she could just… talk to him.

She must have seen the distressed look on his face, because her voice softened by a hair and she said, "I teach piano to little … lost children."

Spike nodded, grabbing onto this tiny window, this tiny crack of a window she had shown him. "You were always good with the little ones, pet."

"I guess."

And then she closed up again.

For a few long seconds, they walked, not saying anything until curiosity got a hold of Buffy and refused to let go. She looked to her side at Spike and was surprised to see him looking down at her. For a second, their eyes held each other, but moment was short-lived and they looked away.

Finally, she asked, "Was it everything you'd dream it'd be?"

At first, Spike was confused, then he realized she was talking about the past few years, the reason he left in the first place - his band. They had such high hopes and limitless dreams back in high school. It almost made him want to scoff at their own stupidity. His own stupidity. How could he have preferred to chase an empty dream than hold fast onto what he had? It was more than the fame and the expectation of success, he knew that much. He also knew that even if he hadn't left, eventually his past would have caught up to him someway, somehow and he would have ended up hurting Buffy in a different way, but… what if…

Hindsight was 20/20.

"Not in the least," he shook his head and let out a short, humorless laugh.

Buffy smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes, "That's too bad."

"Yeah," he nodded, "It really is. But in a way,… it was good for me. Not good for me in the good way, mind you, but it - it opened my eyes."

She waited for him to continue, so he did, trying to sort out the thoughts in his mind, "I got involved in things I shouldn’t have gotten involved in… done some things I'm not proud of. Eventually, things got so fucked up, Oz forced me to see this doctor. At first, it was a push and shove thing, you know? But this doctor - Travers - he got me to see some things in myself that I've pushed away…"

"That couldn't have been easy," Buffy said carefully, looking up at him. "For him or you."

"Oh, it wasn't, love. It was one hell of a ride," Spike shook his head and chuckled. "But we talked about… a lot of paths. I realized that the route I had chosen was just, just dark. At first, I didn't care much for changing, but - " he broke off, shaking his head.

"What made you want to change?"

Spike turned and gave her a pointed look which sent her icy wall springing back up.

"Spike, I can't - " She shook her head and walked faster, refusing to look at him.

"Buffy, wait," he jogged a little to catch up, "I shouldn't have - I'm sorry. I just… I'm not asking for anything from you, okay? Just don't… shove me away. Please? Just let me be here."

Buffy snorted, "You want to be here, Spike? Then fine. Be here. Be everywhere, I don't care. But if you're asking me to let you in? - " she pressed her hand to her heart " - I can't do that. Not now, probably not ever. You’ve already done the shoving and I think… now you just need to let go and accept it. We're through."

Spike squeezed his eyes shut, defeated.

Buffy stopped and turned around to face him. "I don't trust you, and - "

Her voice caught in her throat as she saw the anguish in Spike's face. She was sure it was mirrored in her own and she struggled to bite down the emotion crawling up, threatening to spill out. Seeing him killed her… made her feel like she was dying all over again.

"Quite frankly," she continued, holding her breath, "I just don't care anymore."

She couldn't tell him how much she cared. She couldn't admit to herself how much she cared.

Spike nodded and moved to turn away. Before he could disappear into the crowd, Buffy called his name. He whirled around, eyes hopeful, eager to just… hear her speak to him again.

"Just out of curiosity," her voice sounded a little lighter than a few seconds ago, "When you were off being a… a big star. Did you ever wonder what it'd have been like if I was there by your side?"

Her voice was constrained in a soft, painful way and Spike felt his heart breaking at her question. He took a few steps towards her and held his hand up tentatively to her cheek. When she didn't push him away, he let out a breath of relief. She didn't lean in to him, but… at least she wasn't pushing…

"Every single day."





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