“Do you know the poem ‘The Darkling Thrush’, by Thomas Hardy?” she asked, her eyes fixed on his as she spoke.
He nodded. “I know it.” A frown crossed his features. “Why?”
“I think about it sometimes.” She said simply. “About how it applies to my life.”
“It’s about a bird.” Spike stated simply, and she rolled her eyes at that.
“Oh come on,” she said, “I think I know you well enough to know that you understand metaphors. The bird isn’t just a bird.”
“Okay,” he said, smiling slightly at the thought that she knew him. She knew him already. “I was just testing you pet.”
“Thought as much- you big loser.” She punched his arm and he smiled at her affectionately.
How could he ever have thought that this sweet girl could be the monster that his ‘new friends’ had described her as? They knew nothing. He had known nothing.
“A year ago,” she started, “I had everything. But nothing at the same time.” She closed her eyes slightly as the memories of her popularity flitted through her senses like long-forgotten normalities. “It’s the strangest thing,” she said softly, “To think of all those friends; all those times we laughed and joked. All the times we talked about how happy we were. How we’d be friends forever. And the whole time, I never even felt fractionally as happy as I do now. Now I have no more than three friends, and a son to raise all alone. It’s crazy”
“Four friends.” Spike said, and for a moment she was slightly confused. Then it occurred to her that he was referring to himself as a friend, and she smiled softly before saying,
“I hope so Spike. I really do.”
His smile mirrored hers. And then she sighed, picking her harrowing story back up again.
“I was an idiot. A complete no-brainer.” She said, rolling her eyes, “That’s the only explanation I can possibly offer as to why I ended up dating Liam Angel.”
Spike snorted, “Idiot just about covers it.” He joked, but he soon saw that it wasn’t the time.
“I think he was cheating on me with Drusilla for a long time before he actually broke up with me.” She said, her eyes casting down as she felt the age old pain, still burning her insides. “In fact, I think he might even have been with her that… that night.”
Spike squeezed her hand; letting that caring side she felt she had gotten to know, shine through once more. “Buffy,” he said, “If it’s too difficult, we don’t have to talk about it.”
She shook her head. “No,” she said, “No. I’ve never told a soul about what really happened, and it’s killing me Spike. It’s killing me.” She opened her eyes with a new-found conviction. “I need to talk about it. I have to talk about it.”
Spike nodded, a slight smile appearing on his face at the strength he’d witnessed in her expression. Not to mention the trust she was placing in him. He only hoped he could prove to be the friend that she was hoping for.
“Angel invited me to a party. A college party- with alcohol and frat boys.” She closed her eyes, unable to look at him, but wanting to continue. “He said he’d meet me there, but he never showed up. I know he was with Drusilla.” She gulped, but then felt his hand touching hers again. “I was raped at that party.”
There was silence.
“I’d never slept with a man before.”
Still, Spike didn’t speak.
“Then when Angel found out that I was pregnant- he ended it.”
Spike’s grip on her hand tightened, and she looked up with surprise at the beautifully protective expression on his face.
“The bloody…”
“He told the others that I’d been sleeping around, and my friends, my best friends- deserted me.”
A tear slipped down her cheek.
“I told my parents, and they asked who the father was. I told them I didn’t know, and they told me to leave.”
Spike raised his fingers to her eyelids, wiping away the falling tears.
“That was then,” she said, finally looking back up at him again. “And this is now. I’ve worked through everything that’s happened to me, and come out a stronger person because of it.” She glanced away again self-consciously, “You’re the only person I’ve ever…”
His fingers touched her chin, pulling her back round to look into his delving eyes once more.
“Buffy,” he said; her name a tune on his lips. “I’m glad you told me. I’m glad.”
She stared at him a moment, her eyes completely blank. And then she nodded; falling against his chest and allowing him to embrace her.
It was over.
Somebody knew.
She didn’t have to carry it all alone anymore.
And he wasn’t going to use it against her.
Softly, against her ear, Spike began to recite from memory, the poem that she had mentioned at the beginning of her story.
“I leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-gray,
And Winter's dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.
The land's sharp features seemed to be
The Century's corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon the earth
Seemed fervourless as I.
At once a voice arose among
The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
Upon the growing gloom.
So little cause for carolings
Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
And I was unaware.”
“It was my son who pulled me through everything.” She admitted into his chest; finding it easier to speak now that his arms were around her. “He was the metaphorical bird in the poem.”
Spike’s hand began to stroke her golden hair in a soothing manor, practically of it’s own accord.
“All around me there was hopelessness.” The young girl continued. “And yet- there he was. My son. A tiny peace of me. Mine. Mine to love forever.” She pulled back to look into Spike’s eyes, her face aglow with an expression he’d never truly seen her wearing before. “Spike, when he smiles at me with his child-like naivety, it’s like he knows something that I don’t: Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew And I was unaware.” She quoted. “Harrison kept me alive.”
He gazed at her, loving the happy glint in her eyes.
“I’m glad.” He said. “Buffy I’m so glad. And…” he paused, raising a hand to cup her cheek. “I’m sorry. Sorry I nearly believed them. Sorry for what I nearly did.”
She raised her hand to his. Feeling scared. Feeling anxious.
But feeling excited.
Was she supposed to be feeling this way.
“It’s okay.” She said softly, “You came clean. You rang true.”
He looked down.
“But I was going to-”
“But you didn’t.”
“Pet…”
“Spike, it’s okay. I forgive you.” She said. “And I thank you. I thank you for being the only person I’ve ever felt truly comfortable in telling.”
His gaze was full of wonderment.
Why him? After everything he’d done? Everything he’d planned to do.
“It’s okay.”
They both felt the pull; the luring nature of each other’s lips.
Their eyes remained locked on each other, until Buffy’s fluttered closed as her nose brushed his.
Spike audibly sighed when their mouths finally touched in their very first kiss. And it was beautiful.
Buffy hadn’t kissed a man in a year, no matter what her ex-best-friends said, but she had never forgotten what it felt like. She remembered Angel’s kisses as if she had been experiencing them only yesterday. Hard and fast, with tongues duelling and hands wandering.
Spike’s kiss felt nothing like Angel’s.
Spike’s kiss felt like nothing on earth. It felt like heaven; pure, undiluted heaven to be exact.
Despite all names and appearances, it was Spike who was an Angel. Spike.
His lips were like perfectly formed rose-petals. Gentle and soft, but passionate and loving at the same time. His hands were in her hair, caressing her cheeks like she was something precious and rare.
Like she was someone truly worthy.
Worthy in a way she had never been before.
“Spike…” she murmured; her hot breath melting his insides and seeping into his heart.
God, he didn’t deserve her. After everything he’d put her through, he didn’t deserve to have his lips on hers.
“Buffy,” he said, pulling back just slightly to rest his forehead against hers, “Pet, you’re incredible; beautiful and wonderful…”
She pulled back, an odd look in her eyes, “But?”
“No but,” he said, shaking her head. “There is no but. I just want to be sure that you won’t regret letting me kiss you.”
Her eyes had cleared.
“I won’t regret it.”
“But I…”
“Set me free.” She whispered. And she took his hands in hers. “Now… About this deal…”
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A/N: Well, it's certainly been a long time since I've posted an update for this story, but being back at school has proved to be both incredibly time-consuming, and wholly inspiring [damn that combination]. I hope you all enjoyed the latest chapter, and I promise to be faster with the next update.
Now, please please please REVIEW! :] Thank you guys!
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