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Author's Chapter Notes:
You didn't think that they wiould have a break, did you?
Chapter 13


The next day Buffy got up early to skate in the morning and opened the shop at noon. Spike dropped her off at the gallery ten minutes until noon, wishing her a good day and headed off to his own office.



Buffy set her belongings in the back, ready to unlock the doors when the answering machine caught her attention. She grabbed a pad of paper and pressed play, thinking it was a customer. “Yes, this is Gladys Mayer from the Sunnydale Rehabilitation Center. I need to get in contact with Buffy Summers.”



With her heart thumping, instinctively knowing it was her mother, she dialed the number, preparing herself for the inevitable news. “This is Buffy Summers, I got a call from Gladys Mayer.”



A few clicks whirled in Buffy’s ear when she finally was connected. “Gladys here, may I help you?”



“Yes, I’m Buffy Summers, I believe you called?”



“Oh… yes dear… I’m sorry to say…” Buffy’s eyes closed, her suspicions were confirmed.



“She’s gone?”



“I’m terribly sorry dear. She never woke up this morning.” Tears ran unchecked down Buffy’s face. The nurse rattled off some information that Buffy didn’t hear. Her knees weakened, leaving Buffy sobbing on the cold floor. She should call someone. Willow? Hank? Spike? Dawn? The phone lay at her side, beeping from the disconnection. Without much thought, Buffy dialed Dawn’s cell phone number. Buffy didn’t have to say anything, Dawn knew. She could tell by Buffy’s voice.



The day was much of a blur, Buffy had no idea what was going on or who was with her. All she knew was her mother was gone and she was free. The pain of her mother’s death was surprisingly not painful. Buffy knew it was inevitable and saw it coming closer. The only pain she had was to lose her best friend, never again able to go visit her, talk to her, comb Joyce’s thinning hair. The heartbreak Buffy was feeling wasn’t directly related to her mother, it was because of Spike. Last night’s revelation that she loved him, truly loved him, broke her heart because she knew she what she had to do. Their relationship was based on something wrong, unnatural.



Sometime during the day, Dawn called Spike, only to find out that he was in a meeting. She left a message with Harmony that it was a family emergency, but by the time Spike came out of the meeting, Harmony was gone. He had no idea what he was walking into when he opened the door to the gallery. It was quite a shock to see Oz holding little his baby in the front room, rocking her asleep. Oz’s normally impassive face was twisted with sadness. Spike sprinted into the back, passing Xander on his way. Spike stepped in the normally warm work room to find almost all the ladies in his life sitting on the couch, huddled in a hug. Dawn and Willow flanked Buffy’s suddenly miniscule frame. Buffy peaked through a gap between Willow and Dawn to see him fall to his knees, tears running down his face, almost like how she first collapsed. She got up and went over to him. Kneeling on the floor, she took his shaking body to hers, trying to give the comfort that she knew he needed. Buffy knew he had been visiting Joyce without her, getting to know her, making her time pass faster. Willow and Dawn left the two lovers, embraced on the floor, alone.



The sun set as the moon rose and Spike held Buffy to his chest. Her breathing was slow and deep, indicating her sleep. Tears still ran down Spike’s face, he was quite fond of the older Summers’ woman. Doubt littered his mind, knowing that she could pull away from him again. Their agreement was based on sparing Joyce’s feelings and now that her feelings were inconsequential, would Buffy find him inconsequential?



~*~ ~*



The day of Joyce’s funeral was so bright and cheery, such a contradiction to the feelings of the few guests surrounding the grave, watching as a white casket lower into the ground. Spike held Buffy as she wept for her mother’s life. Willow, Oz, and Ilana stood behind them, tying to give Buffy the support she desperately needed. Xander stood with some people from the skating association Buffy belonged to. Dawn stood next to Buffy, weeping for the mother she never had and the one she did have and rejected. Hank held his obligatory husband spot on the other side of the casket appropriately sullen and stoic. When he showed up, Spike felt Buffy’s body stiffen automatically. He watched Hank through half closed eyes, directing Buffy away from him.



Roses flew through the air, hitting the ground that swallowed Joyce’s still body and people turned their back, retreating to their inner sanctums. Spike continued to hold Buffy, letting her pay tribute her mother. Hank walked up behind them knowing this would probably be the last time he would have a chance to talk to Buffy.

“Buffy.” Her body stiffened into a board. Spike looked over his shoulder at Hank, glaring. “I’m sorry… she was very special.”



Slowly, Buffy turned her body. Spike saw the fire flaming from the sadness, “Don’t.” Buffy held her chin held. “You have no idea how special she IS.” Without another word, Buffy strode towards Spike’s car, waiting for him. Dawn already had taken up residence in the backseat.



After a couple minutes, Buffy hazard a glance at the two men that were talking animatedly. Spike shook his finger and stood menacingly in front of Hank. She couldn’t hear their words, but knew it was about Buffy. She watched Hank say something nasty, she could tell by the way his mouth formed the words. She knew all to well the scathing words that that mouth could form. She saw Spike tense his jaw and strike. His fist flew so fast, Buffy didn’t even have time to register it before Hank was on the ground, clutching his jaw. Spike bended down close to Hank and said a few words. Then, he got up like nothing happened and walked to the car.



Back at their apartment, Buffy bandaged Spike’s knuckles in the bathroom. She noticed on the drive back that they became purple with tiny cuts marring his normally smooth skin. She ushered him past Dawn, Willow, Oz, Ilana, and Xander to fix them. She didn’t ask what the argument was about, and he didn’t offer her any explanation. He sat patiently on the toilet and let her fuss over him, reminding him of the first time he met Joyce and the way Buffy fussed over her. Tears flowed between the two in the tiny bathroom, ignoring the food and guests in the other room only to cling to the other.



Food in the refrigerator, guests long gone, and their thoughts and doubts hidden left the apartment’s tenants quiet. Buffy fell asleep once again in Spike’s warm embrace, wondering what would come tomorrow and how she would handle it.

Chapter 14



Sitting over at the dining table with a mug of coffee and the paper, Spike watched Buffy move around. She didn’t get up early to train. Her brushes were dry. Spike was worried. She took Joyce’s death so gracefully. Never screaming at the injustice, the insanity, only tears of sorrow and love. As it got closer to noon, Buffy watched Spike. He showed no signs of going to work, she shouldn’t question it because she showed no signs of going back to her life. He caught her staring at him, “I’m not going to work today, kitten.”



She looked shocked, “I thought… the big merger…” Buffy didn’t want him to put his life on hold for her necessities.



“Can wait, pet.” Spike walked up to Buffy, holding his arms wide. She stepped closer, into his embrace. His head tilted down, burying itself in her fragrant hair.



She let his embrace warm her bones and then pulled away slowly, “No, you go. I’ll be fine here.”



Spike looked down into her green eyes, nodding. He wrapped her back into his embrace and stood there for a minute, drinking in her comfort and pouring out his.



~*~*~



Spike climbed the apartment stairs, wearily. He unlocked the door, opening and getting into the dark chamber. Spike didn’t notice the loss of warmth in the apartment nor the lack of noise that usually came from Buffy. He went into the kitchen and made himself a drink, slowly looking over the mail. He sat quietly, unwinding from the countless phone calls he had today when it suddenly hit him. Buffy was not in the apartment. He looked at the clock, it was past eight, too late to be at the gallery. He moved quickly through the apartment, first to their room and then to her work room… it was empty. The painting supplies long gone from the shelves, canvases wrapped up and taken. He went back into their room and opened the drawers… empty. She had left.



Sitting on the couch, the one he bought for her, Spike sunk down into the cushions. She went through with her threat. Once her mother was out of the picture she would allow her father to fry in hell for his transgression and let Spike fry along with him.





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