When Jenny explained what Buffy was attempting to do this evening and that she had helped her, Rupert became upset. The girl should have been discouraged at all costs because, in his opinion, crossing paths with a drunken William held too much potential to end in disaster. He felt strongly about this after having witnessed his nephew inebriated one night. Rupert had wandered down to the kitchen for a late-night snack and found William sitting at the table, talking to an invisible Buffy and the things that came out of his mouth were fouler than the stench of the alcohol oozing out of his pores. He never bothered to tell Jenny of this and so, after their discussion when she’d gone to bed, Rupert chose to remain awake until Miss Summers returned. He simply wasn’t going to rest until he saw the young girl for himself to be sure she was all right.
Grabbing a book, he settled himself inside the den where he could see Buffy walk by on her way to the stairs, hoping he wouldn’t have long to wait and that she was unsuccessful in her search for his nephew.
~~~*~~~
She thanked God when Doyle pulled up to the main entrance of the Giles residence. All Buffy wanted was to get inside and hurry back to her room so she could allow the tears she’d held at bay on the ride home to fall.
She never made it.
As soon as Doyle bid her goodnight and the door closed between them, the salty liquid ran down her cheeks while tiny whimpers choked her throat uncontrollably.
Rupert snapped his book shut upon hearing voices coming from the main entrance of the house, knowing it could only be Doyle seeing Buffy safely inside. He cocked his head to the side and rose from his chair. The noise of the heavy wooden door clicking shut was immediately followed by the soft sounds of what he could only guess was crying.
Slow, steady footsteps were making their way closer to the doorway of the den where he stood, and with it, the distress in her voice increased, confirming his earlier suspicions of what might happen if she found William. What he witnessed when the young woman finally came into view tore at his heart.
She sat down on the staircase, buried her head in her hands and broke down bawling pitifully, her back shaking from the gut wrenching sobs that wracked her tiny body. Whatever words were exchanged between the couple must have been horrible indeed for her to be crying that hard. It didn’t matter to him who was to blame, which one of them or even if both had behaved badly towards the other, seeing a lady in a state such as this was too much for the gentleman in him to bear witness to.
The light pressure of a hand touching her shoulder caused Buffy to look up in surprise. She didn’t think anyone was awake and when she saw who it was, she wanted to crawl in a hole and die.
“I’m sorry.” She frantically wiped at her eyes but it was of no use. Between the lack of sleep and her encounter with William, her emotions had demanded release. “I wasn’t aware you, *hiccup*, you were awake.” He took a step back and held out his hand, his kind face so full of concern it caused fresh tears to spring in her eyes.
“Please... come with me.” He gently led her by the elbow into the den and sat her down, waiting to speak until she was sufficiently calmed down.
“I cannot tell you how very, very sorry I am for the predicament you two have found yourselves in.” Her tear stained cheeks and the occasional sniffles that hiccupped in her throat made her appearance almost child-like.
“It was... *hiccup*, just the alcohol talking.” She said this to herself, kept telling herself this after leaving the pub, trying to ignore the tug of doubt that said once inhibitions were lowered, a drunk was prone to speak the truth.
“Though he is not without his faults, I can assure you... William IS a good man.”
A good man. If she didn’t know it already, her dreams were a nightly reminder.
“You know,” he began, hoping to cheer her up if only a little. “He told me all about you a day or so after his arrival in England.”
“Oh, God,” she groaned, covering her face. She so did not want to hear this.
“Now, now, my dear,” he patted her hand. “Allow me to finish. Although he claims to have, as he put it EVER so eloquently,” he rolled his eyes in a tiresome fashion. “Met mules that were less stubborn than you, the woman he described you to be sounded to me as nothing less than... perfect.” He glanced to the side, brow furrowed as if remembering something. “Yes. I do believe that is the word I recall him saying.”
The small bubble of laughter she let out over William’s analogy of her was short lived as Giles finished. She remembered times, specific instances when William told her that, that she was perfect, but to say that to his Uncle? After everything that had happened? It was a contradiction to his present attitude, drunk or not.
“I don’t understand why he said that but I can tell you he doesn’t believe it. At least not anymore... trust me.” Oh my God! Although she knew this was an Uncle and not his father, she swore when Giles raised an eyebrow in challenge, it was just like looking at William.
“My point is,” he continued. “I believe he still cares for you... loves you. If he didn’t, then what other reason would he have for going out every night?” She looked at him confused. “Am I making any sense to you?”
“I think so.” It wasn’t a good thing William was out getting drunk but if it was because he still loved her... “But it could also be because he’s trying to forget.”
“It is possible,” he agreed. “But not probable. Not unless he has changed so much that I do not know my own nephew any more.”
But he wasn’t the man Giles knew anymore. Lorne told her all about the man his Uncle knew. And aside from a few core principles, William was a different person now. The experience of being an escort was enough to change any man. She wanted to say something but then Giles might ask questions she had no right to answer so she nodded rather than respond.
Sensing some discomfort on her part, he redirected the conversation. “You don’t have to believe me, my dear, that’s not what matters.” Taking his glasses off, he set them aside and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “The only thing that’s important is that you both need closure.”
“Yes,” she replied weakly. They certainly did.
“Whether it means resolving your differences so you can salvage your relationship or you agree to disagree and...” He extended his arm with an outward sweep rather than finish the sentence for fear of upsetting her even more than she was already.
“You’re right.” As much as she didn’t want to think about it, there was always a chance that William wouldn’t take her back... no matter how long they talked or what she said. She didn’t want to believe it, but that didn’t make it any less possible.
“I do hope that you haven’t allowed tonight’s happenings to taint your feelings about having come here?” He didn’t think so but wanted to hear her say it.
She shook her head. “No.” Looking him in the eyes, she told him in a voice full of certainty. “I love him. And that’s never going to change.”
His mouth curled up at the corners. “Very good, then.” Her expression alone answered his question before she ever said it.
He smiled warmly at her, making his blue eyes stand out. There was a shade’s difference between his and William’s, but the twinkle in them was the same. This was a gentle man with a big heart... much like her William.
“You really should get some rest now, my dear.” She agreed, allowing him to escort her to the bottom of the stairs. As he bid her goodnight, he could only hope that the repercussions of this evening’s events weren’t so bad as to destroy any chance the young couple stood.
~~~*~~~
The next afternoon...
He was angry with Lorne for having given Buffy his Uncle’s number, angry with Buffy for having shown up with her apologies, angry with his Aunt and Uncle because she never would have found him without their help, but right now, most of all... he was angry at the stranger who was currently staring back at him from the bathroom mirror.
Rummaging through several drawers until he found what he was searching for, he glanced one last time at the bloke in front of him. His sudden laughter came out like a madman’s, the maniacal sound of it bouncing off the walls to ring in his ears, infuriating him until it gave way to tears. Pulling his fist back, he landed a powerful punch to his reflection, cracking the mirror and causing blood to trickle from his injured knuckles down onto the floor.
Closing his eyes, he took several deep breaths, trying to still the shaking of his overwrought nerves. When at last he opened them, he looked to the multiple images of the man within the broken shards... and turned the clippers on.
Gone was the black leather duster, the dark clothes, the contact lenses and now gone were the bleached tips, the last sign that Spike ever existed. He wasn’t so daft as to believe he could escape his past by changing his appearance or that it couldn’t come back to haunt him either. Seeing Buffy last night was proof enough of that. Whether she knew it or not, she’d helped him realize that nothing would ever change what he’d already done to achieve his dream of owning Grisanti’s or the events that occurred along the way. He should thank her actually, if it didn’t mean having to face her again.
He grimaced as he recalled what he’d said to her last night. At the time, it pleased him in a sadistic, self gratifying way to watch her suffer, to make her hurt just as badly as he was, to gaze upon her pretty features with pleasure as they twisted with sorrow over his anger filled lies that she meant nothing to him. But as he watched her walk away that’s when he knew... the only one he’d managed to fool was himself.
He loved her... more than anything and with every fiber in his being... he still loved her.
~~~*~~~
Despite her body’s yearning for more sleep, when Buffy woke before noon she ignored it and chose to get up, shower then go downstairs in search of something to occupy her time. More than likely William wouldn’t be awake at this hour, not if he’d continued drinking after she left the pub last night. It made her sick to her stomach just thinking about it. He couldn’t keep this up forever. Even he knew he had to come back home eventually to take care of Grisanti’s. She sighed as she reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Buffy.” Jenny called to her from the den the moment she saw her. Waiting until the blonde made her way into the room, she asked. “Did you get enough sleep?” Given the circumstances, she was surprised to see her up so early... not so surprised to see her eyes were slightly puffy. Rupert had told her over breakfast about the condition Buffy came home in last night and also asked that his wife not interfere with things, saying that the couple needed to talk but it would happen in its own time and when they were ready.
“Yes.” She tried to act as chipper as she could. “I needed to get up, get some fresh air.”
“Fresh air.” She nodded. “I think that’s exactly what you need. If you’re feeling up to it, how would you like to go to town with me for a few hours? We could grab some lunch and then do some shopping?”
“Shopping?” She smiled brightly when Jenny winked. “Now that’s something I could never say no to.”
“Serious shopping. We’ll buy tons of things we don’t need and then watch Rupert clean his glasses after we tell him how much we spent.” That got a chuckle out of the girl.
“Sounds like a plan to me.” Getting away from the house and having her attention diverted for awhile sounded wonderful. Her problems weren’t going to go away, but if she could push them aside for even an hour or two, clear her head, she would hopefully be in a better frame of mind. And hopefully William would be in his right mind and willing to talk by then.
“It’s settled then. I’ll have Doyle bring the car around in ohhhhh, say, fifteen minutes? Is that enough time for you to get ready?”
“Why wait? All I need is my purse.”
“I like the way you think.” She stood and threw the newspaper she’d been reading down. “Let’s go then, I can hear Harrods calling my name.”
~~~*~~~
“Good Lord! What in the name of Her Majesty have you done to your hair? Or should I say lack thereof?”
William shrugged at Rupert’s look of astonishment then ran a hand over his new brush-cut. “Jus’ felt like it.” He made sure to conceal the hand he used to assault the mirror with, not wanting to explain the how’s and why’s his Uncle was sure to ask if he saw.
“And you didn’t see fit to have a barber cut it for you?”
“You can tell?” Huh, he didn’t think it looked half bad. Rupert shook his head back and forth, chuckling. Seeing that kind of reaction made him start to laugh as well. Yes, he was still upset that his Uncle had something to do with Buffy being here, but what difference did it make? She was here and that was that. His only concern now was how to get her to leave.
When the laughter finally ceased, Rupert waved a hand at the empty chair next to him.
“Tea?”
“Could use some I s’pose.” As he sat down to the table in the center of the large kitchen, the memories of spending countless hours in here with Jean Philippe came back to him. This was still his favorite room in the whole house, the place he felt most comfortable, the place that reminded him he should be at his restaurant right now... not here. “Where’s Uncle Jean?” He noted it was quarter to five. The chef was normally here bustling about in preparation for dinner which was always served at six.
“I believe he’s still at the market, most likely getting himself worked up over the produce.” Both men shared a chuckle of mutual understanding over the fickle Frenchman and the tirades he’d throw if a tomato wasn’t ‘firm’ or ‘ripe’ enough.
“He never did trust the staff to do his shoppin’ for him.” A servant quickly brought a place setting for him and made sure he had everything he needed before returning to her duties. He’d never seen her before but the fact she was about Buffy’s age, had blonde hair and green eyes reminded him of her. God he needed a drink.
William stared at his tea as if deep in thought, continuing to stir it long after the sugar had dissolved. Rupert knew he had to say something. He didn’t want the lad to harbor any resentment towards Jenny or himself concerning Buffy’s presence here in the house.
“William?”
“Yes?”
“Though I’m sure you do not want to discuss the matter of Buffy being here at the estate, there are a few things I feel inclined to mention.”
Bloody fuckin’ hell! He should have known they never would have allowed her to stay at a hotel. Great! Not only was she in England but she was somewhere here in the house right now. God only knew if she was currently on the hunt for him, so the sooner he let his Uncle have his say, the sooner he could head downtown to avoid her. And this time, he’d pick a pub where no one would find him. “Had a feelin’ you would.”
“Right. Ahem,” he cleared his throat. “First and foremost, I do not need to guess things went badly last night considering Buffy came home in tears.”
William lowered his eyes to the table, exhaling loudly through his nose. No bloody surprise there. Oh well, it was done now and he couldn’t take it back.
“It was upsetting to see her like that but I also feel it was a poor decision on her part in trying to find you at that hour.” He paused. “I want you to understand something. Your Aunt and I did not invite Buffy here to... harass you, nor do we take pleasure by meddling in your personal affairs. Please do forgive us, William, we only acted out of concern.”
William had no other response but to give him a single nod, knowing Rupert spoke the truth. He could count on one hand the number of times his Uncle had ever interfered in his business and of course it was always because he thought it was for the best. And as luck, or his luck would have it, the older man’s track record for being correct was flawless.
Rupert took his glasses off to pinch the bridge of his nose tightly for a few seconds before leaning his elbows on the table.
“You still love her... don’t you?”
It wasn’t a question to be taken at face value. The way Rupert posed the inquiry made it clear he was not only stating it as fact, but also daring William to deny it. “Yes,” he conceded. It always amazed him how easily his Uncle saw through him, could read him, and he didn’t possess any 'abilities' like those of his Aunt or Lorne.
“Then why push her away?”
`Cuz she bloody well scares me, tha’s why. And, deep down he was afraid... of himself, of his love for her, of the possibility he’d give in, take her back like he wanted to so very badly and then forever be afraid that if he did, she might break his heart all over again.
William either couldn’t or wouldn’t give him an answer, so he pressed. “Would it be so terribly difficult for you to sit down with the girl in a civil manner and hear what she flew all the way out here to tell you?”
He shrugged, feigning indifference. “She jus’ wants to clear her guilty conscience. Tha’s all.” It was easier to believe that than to allow himself to feel any hope.
“Ppfff,” he scoffed. “You and I both know you don’t believe that rubbish.”
“Doesn’ matter what I believe. The chit’s always lookin’ for somethin’ to go wrong so she can take off runnin’. Well, `m not in the mood to be left behind anymore jus’ cuz she’s scared of gettin’ hurt from bein’ in a relationship.”
“My God, man! Do you even hear yourself?” he asked flabbergasted. “However true that MAY have been, it is certainly not the case now. She wouldn’t have placed herself in such a vulnerable position as to fly all the way out here to see you just...” He laid on the sarcasm and raised an eyebrow. “... to clear a guilty conscience.”
“What do you want me to say... that I’ll hear her out? Fine! And when I don’ take her back, what will you want then?”
“Oh, good heavens, you’re missing the point entirely. To put it simply, it’s apparent for anyone to see that she has overcome this... fear you claim she had. And now that she has, you’re unwilling to accept it,” he said pointedly. “I strongly advise you to consider what you stand to lose. The question you must ask yourself is do you really want to throw away this chance at love by falling victim to your own insecurities?”
Had she? Had she finally let go of everything that prevented her from loving him? And did he? Did he want to lose forever the woman he loved because he refused to see it?
“Think about what I said.” Rupert stood and patted William’s shoulder in fatherly fashion. “For both your sakes.”
His Uncle walked off, leaving him alone with his thoughts, thoughts and questions for which he didn’t have the energy or inclination to mull over right now. Now was the time to leave the house before Buffy could find him. Leave the house and his problems behind to go out and just... forget for awhile.
~~~*~~~
“To shop is heavenly, to spend outrageous amounts of money...*sigh*... divine,” Jenny smiled when Buffy giggled at her quip. It made her feel good to know the girl had enjoyed their outing and of course, she was mindful not to mention anything that would remind Buffy of William and why she was here. The young woman needed the opportunity this afternoon provided to set her troubles aside, allow her mind to rest and to regroup emotionally.
“I think we wore out every sales lady on Bond Street,” Buffy joked as they pulled their bags from the trunk of the car.
Both women were content to carry their own things rather than have Doyle do it for them. He bounded ahead of them to get the door as they continued to laugh and joke all the way inside the house.
He was two steps away from the bottom of the stairs, on his way out for the evening when the front doors opened. Bugger! William went rigid when he saw his Aunt and Buffy giggling like a pair of old friends. Was it too much to ask that they wouldn’t notice him?
Buffy’s laughter died on her lips suddenly, causing Jenny to look in the direction of her stare to find the cause. There was a moment’s pause before she found her voice, recognizing the need to leave the couple alone.
“Well,” she turned to Buffy. “I need to put these bags away and freshen up for dinner.”
Buffy was stunned and not from the obvious change in William’s hair, it was just the fact that he was standing there, staring right back at her. “Huh?” She managed to tear her gaze away when Jenny grabbed her hand and gave it a quick squeeze.
“I’ll see you later.” She gave Buffy a meaningful look and squeezed her hand again before letting go. Walking up to her nephew, she planted a kiss to his cheek and commented on his hair cut before excusing herself, noting his eyes were fixed on Buffy, who, was still standing there, frozen from the unexpected sight of him.
It took Buffy a few seconds after Jenny left to gather her nerve. She willed her feet to move, feeling scared but at the same time relieved to see him, hoping and praying he would talk to her. One step at a time, she slowly made her way, stopping when she was five feet in front of him.
“Hi.”
Her voice came out hesitant and soft, but it was enough to snap him out of his daze as if she’d shouted.
“Thought I told you to go home.” He settled on an icy greeting, one he hoped would send her packing.
She’d braced herself for just this kind of comment and though it stung, she was determined to brush it off. “Not until we talk.”
Stubborn bint, he thought when she stood her ground. “There’s nothin’ left to say.”
“Like hell there isn’t.” She set her bags aside and settled her hands on her hips. “Maybe you have nothing left to say. But I do.”
“Save your breath, Goldilocks. `M not interested.” He rolled his eyes when she didn’t crumble, figures. Well, since she was here, maybe it was best to get it over with now, let her say her peace so he could finally get some for himself. He leaned against the railing. “Tell you what. If tha’s what it’s goin’ to take for you to leave me the bloody hell alone... then start talkin’.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll give you three minutes since I’ve more important places to be than here, listenin’ to-”
“Oh-my-God, William, what happened?” When he checked the time, she was alarmed to see a series of tiny cuts littering his knuckles. She instinctually reached for his hand but he jerked it away, recoiling from her touch as if it were pure poison and even proceeded to back up several steps, his face tight. To see that, to watch him put distance between them when at one time he couldn’t keep his hands off her made her heart ache beyond what she’d thought possible. “Sorry. I-I was jus’... I’m sorry... for... everything.”
“You can stop apologizin’ any time, pet, `m not daft. You’re sorry, I get it.” No way was he going to allow her to touch him. If he did then he might be the one to crumble.
“But you don’t believe me.”
He chuckled at this. “Oh, I believe you alright, I believe you mean every one of your bloody apologies. `M jus’ not acceptin’ them.” Shaking his head, he gave her his reason. “Too much has been said and done.”
It was frustrating her to no end that she couldn’t get through to him. “Look, I didn’t come all the way here just to have things end like this.” Now he was irritating the shit out of her when his expression went from amusement to that of complete disinterest, as if he wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to what she was saying.
He smirked and tilted his head while informing her. “Sorry you wasted your time.” It pleased him to see he was beginning to push her buttons. With any luck, she’d give up, proving his Uncle wrong for once.
“Erghh, you can be such a...” She stopped herself from finishing that sentence and closed her eyes momentarily; she didn’t want this to turn into an argument. “Look, I may as well start by saying that at Lorne’s Halloween party when I spo-”
“Listen, Buffy,” he interrupted. “There’s no need to rehash the past, I was there, remember? I know what happened.”
“Fine,” she said, exhausted, unable to keep her voice from conveying just how tired she still felt. He had a point, a good one she knew she couldn’t disagree with. “You’re right.” What she needed to focus on was the reason behind why she was standing here in the first place... because she loved him.
He noticed the subtle change in her demeanor, recognized that she was honestly agreeing with him, bolstering his confidence that this is where she would leave the subject... leave it, leave him and leave England. But the relief was short lived when he realized exactly where it was she was going to go next in this conversation he was so briefly convinced was over. He never knew just how bloody scared this woman could make him. Her shoulders sagged as if weary but the strength behind the moss green beauty of her eyes paralyzed him, even as he held tight to his resolve.
Taking a deep, calming breath, she spoke. “You can give me any look you choose, act however you want, throw all the words you want at me you feel necessary and even choose exactly how to say them... be it sarcastic, cruel or... whatever.” Her body relaxed even more as she gave in to trust her instincts, allowed her heart to dictate what she said rather than try and think it through or worry over her choice of words and how it sounded to him. “And none of it will make a difference. There’s nothing you could do or say that will ever change how I feel.” She took an unconscious step forward, her voice becoming shaky. “I love you... so much. And whether or not you believe me doesn’t make it any less true.”
It wasn’t until she finished that she understood just how important it was to say this to his face, more important than if she’d spent hours on end and tried a thousand other ways to tell him. Only the message mattered, not how she could have dressed it up before presenting it. Whatever happened now... whatever he did was no longer within her control.
He quickly pulled the mask of indifference back over his face. “Are you finished?”
“Yes.”
He began clapping, allowing a sardonic smirk to accompany the scornful reply to her heartfelt appeal.
“You know, pet, that was a bloody good speech.” He chuckled. “You almost had me convinced.”
“I see,” she said softly and nodded, doing her best to hold herself together. “So this is how it’s going to be?” `
The smile on his lips was traded out for a look that would leave no doubt in her mind as to his answer. He waited patiently to hear what she would say after she lowered her eyes to the ground and went silent for a moment.
“I’ll be on the next available flight home then and... and I promise to leave you alone.” She didn’t want to, but what good would it do to stay and fight with him if he was never going to be ready or willing to let her love him? Looking up at him one last time made her wish she hadn’t. She felt her heart break a little bit more for the man who folded his arms over his chest in response but not before glancing at his watch again to be sure she understood he was anxious to be on his way as well. She turned to begin the climb towards her room, seeking solitude right now though knowing there was no solace to be found in it.
He let her get halfway up the stairs before saying anything.
“What? No goodbye?” he asked as if insulted but inside, he could scarcely believe what he was seeing... his girl was really giving up. Watching her place a hand on the railing, he held a mental breath as she slowly turned halfway around in order to look at him.
“No, William... I’ll never be able to say that to you.”
~~~*~~~
At a small table in the back of the pub, William sat alone, his first drink of the evening now warm yet still staring back at him, mocking his ambivalence.
He’d struggled... hard. Warred with himself over many things to include leaving the house at all tonight. The look in her eyes, the conviction in her voice, the waves of emotion that rolled off her body to hit him squarely in the chest... it was already starting to haunt him.
Picking his cigarette up, he took a long drag, savoring the ashen taste as it filled his lungs, watching the smoke furl out from his nose before finally throwing it to the floor, ignoring the ashtray altogether as he crushed it under his boot. He believed her, believed every word she said, had loved her for saying it and the courage it took to do it. Bloody hell, it took all the courage he had just to stand there and listen to it. But he’d done it. And now here he sat while she was back at the estate, either packing her things or on her way to the airport.
She’d offered her heart to him on a silver platter, allowed her happiness to hang openly in the balance, solely dependant on him. And what did he do? At the decisive moment, he pushed... just a little bit more. Here she’d given him complete control of both their destinies and all he could think to do was push. He chuckled at this, trying to grasp the concept... Buffy... giving up control... to him, no less. It all seemed so surreal.
He looked down at his glass for what must have been the hundredth time tonight. Water, that once had been ice, sat atop the whiskey, floating on the bed of heavy malt, waiting, wanting it seemed, for that subtlest of movements that would disrupt the symbiotic relationship. Leaning forward, he tapped a finger to the side of it, watching as the mixture began to swirl, the water slowly mixing to sink and become one with the liquid beneath that held more substance.
He ‘hmmph’ed. In an odd sort of way, he could relate, to the ice, the water. In the days before Buffy, Spike had kept him safe, kept his emotions frozen to protect him from feeling anything at all for anybody while performing ‘a job’.
But it all changed... from the very first night he’d spent with her. The warmth that was Buffy had effortlessly melted away any and all defenses he could have hoped to use. And before he knew it, he was drowning in her. Drowning, sinking, surrounded on all sides by her, wanting to be one with her and her world... just like the two liquids in the glass.
~~~*~~~
It was mid evening by the time she finished packing, leaving only her personal toiletries out to shower with in the morning and a change of clothes. The first available flight back to the States wasn’t until nine AM and truthfully, it made no difference to her if it were three days from now or a ‘red eye’ leaving tonight. She wasn’t in a rush to leave and simply didn’t care if she stayed. Nothing seemed to matter to her one way or another, not anymore and not without him. As cliché as it sounded, she’d made her bed and was now laying in it.
She’d gone straight to her room after their conversation and cried, cried until she ran dry of tears. She had nothing left to give, nothing left with which to vent her grief. After that, she slowly slipped into an apathetic state, became detached, numb as she went through the motions of what she had to do... calling the airlines, talking with Jenny and Giles, packing...
She picked up the two suitcases, one her own, the other Jenny’s which she’d given her in order to take home those things she’d bought earlier that day. Walking out of her room, she headed down the hallway with the intention of placing her luggage in the foyer for Doyle so he could load them in the car. As she neared the top landing of the stairs however, her nose picked up the faint smell of... cigarettes?
There was no one around in the immediate area that she could see and it confused her. She knew that both Jenny and Giles didn’t smoke and any of the staff that did confined it to a back porch off the kitchen. Only one person she could think of would dare to smoke in the house, only one person she knew for sure that did smoke, but it couldn’t be him. He’d gone out, just like he did every night.
Setting the suitcases down, she wandered cautiously past the stairs, down the hallway opposite from where she came, following the trail of nicotine, the odor growing stronger with every step. She passed rooms to her left and right; first one set then two and three, stopping when the scent became so powerful it stung her nose. It was coming from the door to her left.
The sound of footsteps outside his room broke through the silence and his concentration from scribbling in his notebook. He’d left the pub, never having touched his drink, came back here to start working out a new recipe to create for Grisanti’s. Setting the notebook and his glasses on the nightstand, he sat up to swing his feet over the side of the bed, scratched his bare chest and prepared to put his shirt back on. The soft pad of feet on the hallway tile and the short gait suggested it was Jenny since the servants weren’t around on the first floor at this hour. The sound grew louder as it neared him and then slowed before stopping just outside the room, but the expected knock to his door never came. As the seconds wore on, a feeling from deep within gripped him like a vice. He pulled the waistline of his jeans up as he stood, but without his belt, they inched their way down again, riding low on his hips.
It was him. There was no doubt... she knew it, felt it. Unable to stop herself, she walked up to his door, wanting, needing to feel as close to him as she possibly could despite the physical barrier between them. She hated the way things had played out. If only she… no, it wouldn’t do her any good to dwell on the past, she knew that, it was why she was leaving. What’s done was... is done. She’d have to find a way to live with it... learn to live without him.
Buffy. He wasn’t sure how he knew, he just did. The grip to his being tightened its hold, squeezing his heart even as it swelled for her, pulling his feet slowly in the direction of the door until he stood before it. He found himself wanting as he held his breath, waiting and wanting for her to knock, struggling with how to react if she did.
He was hurting, he was tired... so tired from hurting so damned much. FUCK!!! He was even tired of hurting her. But he hadn’t been able to stop, couldn’t stop. It wouldn’t work out... his past, their past... FUCK!!! His heart refused to believe it, though, even now. And no matter how many times he told himself, he couldn’t quite believe it either.
She put her hand against the door, trying to reach him through it, caressing the wood as if it were him. Closing her eyes, memories flooded her mind... of his warm smile, the sound of his laughter, the small caring touches he gave so freely and then those feelings. The strong feelings that surrounded every intimate moment they shared, how their hearts became entangled along with their bodies as he made love to her, how there was nothing she could do to stop the powerful pull of his love and in the end... didn’t want to. She released a breathy, knowing sigh, the truth finally forcing her eyes open to acknowledge... time would never be able to erase the greatest love she’d ever known... and lost.
On impulse, he placed a hand over the door and closed his eyes. His nostrils flared as he extended his senses, willing a way with which to feel her through the barricade of heavy pine, some way to send her the message his soul was screaming so loud it was deafening. He focused... harder, and the imagined connection grew stronger, his chest heaving against the weight of it as it bore down on him, making him want to cry out her name. All he had to do was turn the knob, just open the door and she would be there. She would be standing right there for him... so he could take her into his arms.
He leaned his forehead against the door, his palm sliding down, against the grain of the wood, his breath turning ragged as he fought his pride, struggled for the inner strength to remove the barrier between them so he could pull her into his embrace, hear her voice reassure him that things really hadn’t gone so far they couldn’t come back from it. His heart pounded beneath his ribs, his fist clenching the small, metal knob within it ever tighter, his entire body stiffening as it took the final, deep readying breath it needed to do his heart’s bidding.
The door flung open, wide, the force he used causing it to bang loudly against the wall and... she wasn’t there, she was... gone.
He stepped forward, looked down the hall... but there was nothing. The muscles in his legs twitched, the desire to run after her strong but they simply wouldn’t budge. He just stood there. She’d walked away from him, so many times... again. Whatever he’d done to drive her away, it was still her decision. She said she loved him, but in the end... his girl had given up on him. Maybe it was for the best, maybe... he was better off without her.
Authors note, I don’t know about all the other authors out there and their methodologies, but I literally had to strap on my iPod and listen to a handful of the saddest songs ever produced in the music industry over and over while I wrote this to put, and keep, myself in the right frame of mind/mood... and it was e-x-h-a-u-s-t-i-n-g. Being a happy-go-lucky person at heart, this chapter took a lot out of me emotionally, reaffirming my decision to never write another story that involves this kind of angst again. And I swear, I swear, I swear on all my dead relative’s graves that I’m not trying to drag this out for any reason whatsoever. In saying that, I hope everyone enjoyed and didn’t find it to be ‘too much’ in any way... that wasn’t the intention. I hope you all have a wonderful week and I promise to be hard at work on the next chapter. Take care.