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Author's Chapter Notes:
Woot, you all reviewed! Glad you are enjoying this... do you want the Epilogue? You know how to encourage it.
Chapter 21
Spike sat on the couch, looking at the new painting over the mantle… a gray whale sticking its grotesque head out of the water. He shook his head, only Buffy would find art in that. He listened for the noise of her coming home, to him, but only silence greeted him. He took another sip of his whiskey; the fire burned his throat, making him feel something.



Last night was like an epiphany that never was realized. They ended up sitting on a park bench in the middle of the elementary school playground. They sat quietly, not quite knowing how to fix the riff between them, but knowing the other person was ready and willing. They just weren’t able. They didn’t talk about her absence or the deal. She talked about the weather and he updated her on the different business deals he was working on. When dawn approached, he asked her back to the apartment, but she refused. She wasn’t ready for that. He watched her drive off in her car as light broke over the horizon, leaving him to go home to the apartment, now filled with Buffy’s belongings.



He walked into the living room and saw the huge canvas filled with the whale breaking the surface of the water, staring at him with his one big eye. He moved around the apartment and saw that she dumped the rest of her belongings in the spare bedroom. He noticed she hadn’t collected much. She had three suitcases and her art supplies. Venturing into the room, he saw familiar and new paintings. Spike didn’t sleep in the bed, too many memories, especially now that she was back. So there he was on the couch, drinking his whiskey as the sun peaked in the sky and the whale followed his every move. It felt like the whale was looking through him and knew every little secret and nuance Spike hid. Rubbing the palm of his hand over his eyes, Spike put his drink down and closed his eyes. Rest would be good.



~*~*~



Buffy knocked quietly, not really sure why she was knocking on her own apartment door. She was the one that paid the rent all these months, it was hers, right? Losing her confidence, Buffy stepped away from the door, ready to walk back down the stairs and out to her car when the door flew open. A shirtless Spike leaned against the jam with one arm above his head. His hair was ruffled and his eyes looked dark and sleepy as he peered out into the hallway to see who dare bother him. When his eyes fell on her she saw him change. He immediately stood straighter and tried to tame his wild hair with his fingers. Without words, Spike moved to let Buffy into the apartment.



Standing in the living room, she looked around. Yesterday, she was not really surprised to find him still living here, but she was amazed that he had not changed anything about the décor. Most of it was still hers. She turned back to face Spike only to find him looking at her like she was a steak and he was a starving man. With a shy smile she sat on the couch, looking at the whale painting. “Hey you moved it!”



“Yeah,” Spike scratched his eyebrow with his thumb as he made his way over to the chair. “he was staring at me.” The painting was leaning against the wall with the back of the canvas showing.



Buffy laughed, genuine laughter directed at him. “I think he can see into my soul.”



“Bloody hard to get any sleep when he’s staring holes through you,” Spike shook his head. Buffy looked around and saw his pillow and a blanket on the couch.



“You slept out here, why?”



“Couldn’t sleep in there,” he pointed at the bedroom, “when I know you were near… it’s ours.”



“Oh.” The couple fell silent, still not knowing where to go. Were they together again? Stepping into the apartment, Buffy wanted to throw herself at Spike and feel him again. His kisses, his touch, his voice vibrating through her.



“I don’t know what to say… what I need to say… what you need to hear.” A tear formed in Spike’s eye. “Whatever it is, I would say it and mean it… please, tell me what I need to do, say, be…” he dropped down on one knee and crawled over to her, kneeling a few inches from her. “I’ve been in hell these past months not knowing, not understanding… not with you.” His hands were shaking when they came up and rested on hers. “I’ve missed you… not just in the bed, but everywhere. I miss your company, your friendship. I just want to start over, can we do that?”



“I don’t think we can.” Buffy whispered, moving her hands so their palms were together.



“Can we try?” Spike looked in Buffy’s eyes, glistening with moisture. She smiled and nodded.



~*~*~



The day was spent in quiet amazement. They touched and cuddled on the couch. Talking softly as if they were revealing the most precious secrets of their world. “Where were you, pet?”



She looked up at him, “Huh? Oh, Bodega Bay.”



“Oh, was it nice?” Spike tightened his grip on her.



“Mmm, very nice. But colder. Want to see some pictures?” Spike nodded numbly, he was overcome with the need to know where she had been. She got up and held her hand out to him. Taking it, he was lead into the spare room, filled with her belongings. Buffy showed Spike some of the paintings she created during her absence: the beach that she lived on, the harbor, the valleys of spring flowers blooming, and her Uncle Rupert’s house.



“Looks like a lovely area, pet.” His hands rested on her hips while they stood back and looked at the paintings.



“Oh, it was… so peaceful.” Her wistful tone cut at Spike, deeply cut.



Letting her go, he turned and walked out of the room, “Guess that’s why you cut yourself off from everyone.”



Buffy followed him after she heard his hurt tone, “What? What’s wrong, William?”



“Nothing, everything is bloody perfect. You had a perfect house on a perfect beach near a perfect bay. Your life was bloody perfect!” Spike’s voice rose with every word.



“William?” Spike stalked over to his whiskey, pouring a half of a glass and swallowed it quickly. “What’s gotten into you?”



“What’s gotten into me? Come on, love, what do you expect from me? A happy dance? You left me.” Spike pointed at his chest. His lips twitched into a self-deprecating smile, “I loved you and you left me.” His lips jutted out in a pout with his declaration, Buffy’s heart melted despite the inclinatin to remind him why she left.. “You were…” he waved his hand towards the paintings in the spare room, “there, and I was here. No one would tell me anything.” She saw him fight the tears in his eyes. “Bloody uncle of yours returned all my letters.”



His jaw twitched and Buffy was afraid he would break the glass he was holding, “Calm down William… no one knew, at least…” she stopped and inhaled, “not many. The ones that did know, well… they stayed quiet because I didn’t want to be found.”



Spike collapsed on his knees, staring at Buffy, “Was it so awful? Was I that awful?”

Yes! Buffy wanted to rant at him. Yes, you raped me, took what little innocence I had! What did you expect me to do? Play mistress forever? I hated you! I hated you and you made me love you. But, she didn't rant at him. Couldn't rant at him. It didn't matter how they started, what mistakes they made. She knew he loved her, she loved him. Her soul may have been patched, but his was bleeding.

Buffy quickly walked over and knelt in front of him, “Oh no, William. Don’t think that.” Her hand came up and cupped his jaw. His tears ran openly down his face. “I needed time. I was so confused.” She felt her tears run down her own face. “I… I didn’t know how I felt, I was so confused. I hated you and yet...”



Spike looked up into her wet eyes, “What do you feel?”



“I… uh… I… William, I was so confused.”



“Are you still confused?”



“I… uh… William…” Buffy looked into his eyes, knowing he knew her secret.



“Are you still confused?” His voice dipped low, caressing her with words.



“No,” Buffy took one deep breath. “I love you.”



Hope bloomed in Spike when he finally heard her words, “Really? You mean that?” Buffy nodded as Spike grabbed her and hauled her closer. His arms banded tightly around her and he let the tears and insecurities wash out of him. “I’m so sorry, pet. I just wanted you, needed you, loved you so bloody much.”



Buffy smiled through her tears and labored breathing. “I love you too, William.”



Buffy clung to Spike and Spike clung to Buffy as their emotions finally made it to the surface, refusing to be pushed down. Spike moved his head back to look at her. With tear tracks down her face and makeup smeared, she couldn’t be any more beautiful. They melted together: lips, arms, torso, legs. It didn’t matter. They were together, they were one, they were perfect.





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