I think it’s time I stopped the show
there’s something deep inside of me,
there’s someone I forgot to be,
take back your picture in the frame,
don’t think that I’ll be back again,
I just hope you understand
sometimes the clothes do not make the man.
All we have to do now
is take these lies and make them true
somehow,
all we have to see,
is that I don’t belong to you
and you don’t belong to me, yeah, yeah--
Freedom
Freedom
Freedom George Michael, Freedom 90
It was time to go. Cecily was gone, making a weekend out of shopping with her friends, and instead of planning to go out and get laid and drunk, Spike was packing. Looking at what he had, at what he could conceivably bring with him, didn’t leave him much. Everything was hers, her family’s, theirs, not his. Thankfully, his apartment was half furnished with a sofa, a kitchen table, some chairs and an easy boy. He’d have to get the rest, including a bed, the following day. He didn’t have a bachelor pad from which to draw from, no comfy, beat up couch in the garage or basement he could drag with him and set up in his apartment with a sense of satisfaction that he was returning to the wild.
He’d missed out on a lot, hadn’t he? Well, what he missed out on, he made up for in affairs. He chuckled humorlessly and stuffed some white undershirts in a suitcase.
He’d had to do some fancy footwork to make sure that what he could take, monetary wise, was his. He figured out what he made for pay and took that, making sure not to dip into any of the ‘extra’s’ Cecily’s father put in their joint account. If he’d been smart, he would have set up an account of his own long ago, but hey, live and learn, right? And he’d learned a lot thus far. They couldn’t go after what he made on his own. They just couldn’t. And thankfully, he didn’t spend all that much, so he had enough to get by for a while. He knew that come Monday, he was no longer going to have a job, and he was hoping he could find one soon before the slander started.
God, he was scared. Terrified, really. And whom could he go to talk to about it? Xander, no, they were still barely talking. Oz…no. Buffy? Maybe…Or he could just bite the bullet and call Xander. Tell him what he was doing and maybe get his friendship back on track.
He could have Xander help him get set up, show him the new pad and start off on the right foot with his old friend as well.
Whipping out his phone, Spike called his friend with trepidation. “Hey, it’s me.”
“Hey,” Xander said slowly, cautiously. “What’s up?”
“I need a favor.” And he held his breath.
Xander sighed, “What?”
“I’m moving out this weekend and I was wondering if you could help me out?”
During the brief silence that felt like minutes when it was really seconds, Spike held his breath.
“You’re moving out?” Xander asked in disbelief.
“Yes.”
“You’re leaving her?”
“Yes.”
“Dude, what time you need me?”
At first things had been strained with the two friends. Xander seemed hesitant to ask too many questions or to know too much lest he find what he learned undesirable. Plus, he admitted to feeling that maybe he ditched him, left him high and dry to deal with his miserable life on his own, and maybe he should have tried harder to help him get out.
“That wasn’t your responsibility,” Spike told him as they were walking through a discount furniture shop.
“I know, man, but I felt bad for up and leaving. Yet, I didn’t know what else to do. Anya was all worried that I’d do something like that, that I was doing something like that and I didn’t want to fuck things up with her, ya know?”
Spike nodded, “I know.”
“And then she made me keep quiet about Buffy being pregnant—“
“Whoa,” Spike stopped abruptly. “You knew about that?”
Xander looked down, shuffling his feet on the hardwood floor. “I did.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“What was I supposed to?” Xander asked, a slight whine in his tone. The tone of someone who felt trapped and guilty.
“Tell me, that was what you were supposed to do,” Spike said darkly, reaching for his cigarettes, and then realizing he couldn’t smoke in the store, threw up his hands with a disgruntled sigh. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”
“Whoa, now let’s swing the judgmental pendulum the other way there, friend. How was I supposed to know that this one you care about? This one you want to really be with? For all I knew, you would have been glad to not know and then if Cecily found out…it was better for me to stay out of the mess than get in the thick of it.”
“That what Anya told you to think or what you thought on your own?”
“You’re one to talk about being pussy-whipped,” Xander said easily, halfway matter-of-fact, and halfway sarcastic.
“I’m leaving aren’t I?”
“Yeah, but you wait until she’s gone to do it instead of telling her to her face.”
”Who the fuck cares how I did it? Just that I’m doing it. Jesus Christ, I can’t do anything right, can I?” Spike said incredulously, his voice rising, causing people to look and stare.
“Well, according to you, none of us can either.”
Spike shook his head. “You don’t know how hard it would have been to leave if she was there, Xander.”
Xander sighed heavily, shaking his head and rubbing the back of his neck. “Christ, man, I know. I’m sorry. You’re right. At least you’re leaving her. That’s all that counts, right?”
“And I’m going to try and do right by Buffy and my son.”
“You’ve got to. If you don’t…I don’t think the mob that is Buffy’s friends will let you survive.”
“Are you my friend again?” Spike asked lightly, slightly teasing his friend with a hint of seriousness. He needed to have his friend back, needed the support of him to help him through the crap that was inevitably going to hit the fan and soon.
Xander straightened, “I always have been, Spike. I just needed to take some time away from it all, ya know? I couldn’t stand to be around it and be part of it anymore, ya know?”
“I know,” Spike whispered, nodding. “I understand.”
”And I will stand by you. I’ll help you through the mess that is sure to come.”
Surprising them both, Xander hugged his friend, patting his back. “Good to have you back, man.”
Buffy was staring at the computer screen before her, getting lost in the sea that was looking for proper daycare. Her cell ringing beside her didn’t do much to jar her out of her studying and she grabbed it absently, still staring at the screen.
“Hello?”
“Hi, luv, it’s me.” Spike.
She decided to tease him. “Does ‘me’ have a name?” She asked, sitting back, a slight grin curling the corners of her mouth.
“You know very well who it is,” he teased her back, the smile in his voice apparent, tinged with weariness.
“Hello, Spike.”
“William,” he corrected.
“Right. William. What’s up?”
“What are you doing?”
“Looking up daycare facilities online and articles on what to look for, what not to look for…you?”
“I moved today, sweetheart.”
She froze. She’d grown accustomed to ‘luv’, ‘pet’, and the occasional ‘kitten’. She quickly learned that was just him; just part of his vocabulary, but sweetheart? That was new. And she did not like the way it warmed her and made her heart quicken. No, that would not do. And what was she doing teasing him as if they were old pals? Do you remember what he did, Buffy? the angry voice inside her head asked. “Spi—William—“
“I should have said that, I’m sorry,” he said softly, regretfully.
She swallowed hard and nodded. “Okay.”
“I wanted to know…could you come over? I wanted you to see it furnished. Well, partially furnished. I am getting more tomorrow in the way of furniture, but I have some now.”
She sighed heavily, “Um, well, now?”
“Yeah, kitten, now. Please?”
“Sure. Brandon’s going to be getting up soon, I’m sure. After I feed him, we’ll head over.”
“Thank you, Buffy. It means a lot to me.”
“Yeah, sure, welcome,” and she hung up. Tears stung her eyes and she pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. God, why was it so fucking hard to talk to him? Just a simple conversation filled her with so much. She liked it better when they were at each other’s throats. When he was so sweet to her it made her think of the man she had met and conceived Brandon with. That man was a liar. That man cheated on his wife. That man was not Spike, William, or whatever the hell his fucking name was. When he was like this, he was that man she had started falling so hard for and she had to fight to remember what he’d done and how she’d hurt for so long. How she’d spent many nights alone and wishing that he could be what she’d imagined him in her head to be. And now he was back in her life because she had opened her big, fat hormonal mouth and told him on a whim about Brandon. And now…now he was in her life, wanting to a Daddy to Brandon, wanting to be some kind of permanent fixture in their lives and it was just a reminder of all of it. It felt like too much.
The fact was she was lonely. She wanted someone special to curl up with and yet at the same time, she was afraid of it, afraid of making the wrong choices again. She was such a fuck-up when it came to relationships, and Spike—William—was just a reminder of that. He made her face her demons, and he didn’t even know it.
Sighing, she heard Brandon let out a softy cry, and she went to him. Swooping him up in her arms, she kissed him. “Your Daddy has requested your presence. Momma’s gonna feed you and off we’ll go for a little while, okay, baby?”
Brandon made gurgly noises at her and she smiled. Well, William had been able to give her one thing that she was she didn't want to take back.