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Third

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Buffy thought she was about to snap the railing like a twig between her fingers as she struggled to keep herself on both feet. The shock was pulling back and with it came a weakness she had never experienced before. Resting her eyes in his was as bittersweet as any moment could be; only this moment stretched out into a minute and there was nothing the Slayer could do to stop it from expanding.

She was lost and the subtle confusion poured into her like fine threads of blue silk, stemming from his gaze, and the thousand emotions she saw it reflect.

Dawn looked from her sister to the vampire and then back again. The air was positively quivering with unspoken words, with questions and with the searching for answers. Couldn’t one of them please put an end to it?

Spike felt his whole spirit come alive and thank him for giving it what it needed...

At the thought, however, he drew a small breath and knew he couldn’t stay. It was too dangerous. He’d be trapped for good this time. In her.

She was still staring at him, and she could see the slow change in his posture. She could see that he was getting ready to once more just disappear and a wave of panic rose through her with a speed that almost made her knees buckle.

“W-When did you come back?” she asked in order to stop him, voice wavering as she was still fighting back the rumble of emotions inside of her.

“A minute ago,” he replied. “I have to...” he added, making a small wave toward the door as he started the sentence, which she cut off by asking:

“Why did you come here?” and taking one step down, her hand sliding down the railing to then grip it just as tightly again.

She was scared. Scared of him and of herself and of what surrounded them right then and there, and perhaps the fear would lift once he was out of sight, but she wouldn’t allow him to leave with nothing but that simple wave as an explanation. He couldn’t possibly expect her to. Not when he had returned for something else. She wanted to know what.

Spike hesitated, meeting her gaze and seeing only a trace of wondering annoyance in them, though the overlapping questions seemed to push most of the emotion aside, and he still didn’t know how to answer her.

“That was me,” Dawn did it for him and Buffy furrowed her brow questioningly as she turned her head to her sister. “I wrote him,” the younger added.

“You wrote him?” Buffy repeated, disbelievingly. “How did you even find him?”

Dawn smiled a small smile.

“Well...Willow helped with that,” she replied.

“Oh,” Buffy said, blinking and moving her gaze from Dawn’s. Feeling too insecure to let it rest in his again, she let it stop on a spot at the last step of the stairs. “So why did you write him?” she finally asked, raising her head to look at Dawn once more.

“She was worried,” Spike was the one to answer her this time, and Buffy slowly looked at him. “About you,” he added.

“Why?” she wondered quietly.

“Because I can see when you’re ill,” Dawn stated, though Buffy kept her eyes in the vampire’s as the teen continued: “’Cause it started when he left. I thought if you could just see him, then...”

“’Then’ what?” Buffy interrupted, her gaze suddenly growing close to challenging as she held Spike’s, taking a step down she finished: “He’d fix me? Did you really think you could come here and just make everything...?” she trailed off, her eyes suddenly shifting into an expression of pain before she took the last step and let the railing go.

“I knew something was wrong,” he replied carefully. “But I didn’t know... didn’t know...” he trailed off, shaking his head slightly. “I shouldn’t have come. Should I?”

She swallowed, biting her jaws together as she arranged her face into a mask of disengagement, replying:

“You’re asking me? It’s not like I could’ve stopped you from turning up.” He could hear the building accusations clearly and he prepared himself to take whatever she had to throw at him. She continued, voice growing just a bit louder: “You just come and go as you please. That’s what you’ve always done, isn’t it? It’s not like I’m surprised or anything. It’s not like I was expecting you to stay away this time. I knew you’d come back! It’s your pattern. It’s your thing!”

She didn’t know what this ball of ache was doing in her chest, but it was evident now. She recognized it. It had been there for a while, but what it was doing proclaiming itself a part of this conversation was a question mark. However, it seemed to be at the beginning of untwining itself, and the ache merely heightened with every passing moment.

“Buffy,” Dawn tried and now Buffy turned her head to her sister with an impatient scowl.

“Stay out of this,” she warned. “You’ve done enough.”

Dawn stared at her; then looked at Spike before heading for the stairs, ascending them quickly.

“That was uncalled for, Slayer,” Spike grumbled and she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Why are you still here?” she demanded, her face now cut in stone and her eyes cold.

“You want me to leave?”

“Yes, I want you to leave,” she spat and he cocked an eyebrow before nodding.

“You’re right,” he said as he placed his hand on the knob. “I’ve been repeating this pattern for way too long. Time to break it.”

Something inside of him was professing its grief as he came to the realization that he was resting his eyes on her for the very last time.

She blinked, for a moment looking as though she was about to say something more, but then she merely gave a small nod, unfolding her arms and turning around. Taking three steps up the stairs the sound of the knob turning and the door sliding open made her pause. Her heart slowed beneath her breast and she suddenly had to fight for breath.

She swirled around and the room began to twirl.

Spike looked back at her just as she lost her balance and he moved the next second, catching her before she fell and prompting her up against him as her hands rested on his shoulders. She looked up at him with an expression he almost would have wanted to label pleading, her eyes glazed, and then her head bopped forward against his chest as she fainted.

He lifted her cautiously and carried her with him into the living room where he bent down to place her on the couch, but her hands had slid up and locked together behind his neck as he had secured his hold on her, and now they wouldn’t let him go. He tried to loosen them, but finally gave up and simply lifted her again, turning around to sit down, taking her onto his lap as he still held her.

Her head fell against his shoulder. He brought the hand not supporting her back up to brush her hair gently away from her face, but caught himself and shook his head a little as he moved the hand away. He had no right.

Buffy slowly swam up through the darkness and the first thing she felt was the leather of his duster beneath her cheek. Then the fact that the short, bleached strands of his hair at the nape of his neck scraped against her index fingers. She curled herself up and unlocked her fingers to slide her arms around his neck instead. Nestling her face against his throat she inhaled.

Spike blinked, then carefully held her to him.

“Buffy,” he mumbled. “You okay?”

She had no real idea as to why the feeling suddenly overwhelmed her at that particular moment, but as the soothing sound of his voice hit her ears with all its concern and honest caring an uncontrollable sob rose out of her throat. Tears filled her eyes with no second thought.

She pressed herself to him as she began to cry and her body was shaking as she cried hard, holding him tight. He didn’t know what to do, or how to comfort her. At a complete loss he simply held her back, stroking one hand over her back and then up to her neck to bury it in her blonde locks.

For a long time they just sat like that, the sobs kept on sending trembles through her body and he closed his eyes, wishing she would tell him what was wrong.

She slowly began to grow calmer, and after a few more minutes she was merely sniffling, drawing an unsteady breath before pulling back to look up at him. He couldn’t help but move one hand up to brush carefully at her tears, sliding his thumb over first her left cheek and then her right before he smiled barely noticeably, moving the hand back to support her frame and placing it by the small of her back.

“You all right?” he asked again, voice low and soft and she blinked at a few lingering droplets before she nodded slowly.

Her right arm was wrapped around his shoulders and her left hand was by her right, resting by the side of his throat. Her fingers fidgeted slightly with the lapel of his duster and they kept sending small, pleasurable shivers down his spine.

Their noses were almost touching and their eyes unable to release the other’s.

“You sure?” he wondered and she nodded once more. “Do you wanna tell me what that was all about?” he inquired now and she shook her head a little as response, her eyes growing slightly wider.

Then her face suddenly softened and she wrapped her arms around him again before resting her forehead against his shoulder.

“Please, don’t ask,” she murmured. “Just sit here with me for a little while longer.”

How could he question that? All he wanted was to just sit there with her for a little while longer, and as silence spun its web around them he closed his eyes again.

If only I didn’t have to go, he thought mournfully to himself, holding her closer. But no matter how incredible this feeling is, nothing’s changed. Nothing’s changed at all.





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