Chapter Two: Ghost of Women Past
Spike arrived home that night feeling weary and contemplative. It had started snowing on the way home, something that usually made him smile, but on this particular evening, he didn’t care to revel in it. His thoughts were on Buffy, what she’d said and how he’d upset her enough to leave the office for the rest of the day. Something she’d never done even when she was sick and he ordered her to go home.
What had she meant by “Because you break my heart”? Had he unintentionally done it already? His own picked up speed at the thought. Was it possible that Buffy had feelings for him? The thought was thrilling and daunting at the same time. Thrilling because this was Buffy, a wet dream come to life, and he found her simply fascinating. She stood for everything he was not and everything the women he took up with were not: innocence, purity and light. He didn’t wish to taint her, didn’t want to drag her down in his world of darkness and break her heart as he most certainly would. Or already had as the case may be. Therein laid the daunting aspect of Buffy possibly having feelings for him.
Staring out as his spacious luxury apartment, Spike sighed. He loved his apartment. He took great pains to make sure it was homey enough for him. It held the color schemes he loved –- red, cream, black and silver-- and it was adorned with posters of old movies and covers of favorite books he’d had framed. He loved being at home. He never minded being alone. Now he did, though, now he minded.
He’d been hoping to elicit a night of fun with any one of his mistresses, but they had family gatherings to attend and with the exception of Harmony, he was not invited. Usually, he didn’t mind, but tonight he did. Tonight he wanted a warm body to lose himself in, to reaffirm that he was a powerful and rich man that could have anything he so chose, and being free of commitments was what he chose.
Pressing the button on his answering machine his father’s voice, another William, rang out. “William, my boy. It’s your father. Your mother and I are attempting one last time to persuade you to come out here and spend the holidays with your family. Surely you can put aside work to spend some time with your parents and siblings. Call me.”
Spike sighed and sank into his stiff black sofa and kicked off his shoes, sinking his sock covered toes into the plush cream carpet. He stared blankly at his Hi-Def TV mounted on the wall and shook his head. The last thing he needed was to spend the holidays with his family in England. To have to see his siblings married with kids, with a family that they nurtured and loved, and to know that he had nothing and somehow fell short despite his successes because of it. It was just too much for Spike to handle. Inevitably, they’d all ask when he was going to settle down and he’d fight them tooth and nail about it. He didn’t need to settle down. He had sex, he had women in his life, he didn’t need to fucking settle down! He’d given up those pipe dreams a long time ago. William of old no longer existed thank-you-very-much, marriage and all that rot was just a means of control and he wanted no part of it. Period. End of story.
One would think though that if he were perfectly happy with that conclusion, he’d have no problem defending his lifestyle and seeing his family. Growling, Spike got up and started to pace. Okay, so there was no reason why he had to spend tonight alone, even if he had chosen to spend Christmas alone. And, he could always take Harmony up on her offer if he found himself desperate the following day. But, for now, he was feeling pretty desperate so he decided it was time to score some tail.
Spike barely registered the female leaving his red and black bedroom, dropping a quick kiss and a thank you on her way out the door. He didn’t even remember her name, and it didn’t matter much either. He wanted some action and he got some action, someone to make him feel good and forget about Buffy for a spell. Though, he hadn’t exactly forgotten Buffy in his travels. She’d still been there, tormenting him with her angelic qualities the entire night. So, he’d chosen a brunette beauty and she’d delivered with all the naughty deeds he’d been itching to engage in.
Rolling over in his black silk sheets, Spike promptly fell into a deep sleep, his mind too tired to contemplate anything anymore.
“Wake up, bad boy…wake up, up, up!”
Spike groaned and rolled from his back to his side, trying to block out the annoying and yet disturbingly familiar voice chirping in his room.
“Wake up, my Spike.”
There was only one woman that ever said that and now he knew why that voice was familiar. He sat up like a shot in bed. “Dru?”
She giggled from her spot on top of his dresser, dressed in a long black skirt and red lace top, her dark hair pinned back and her red lips formed in a perfectly crazy sneer. “Hello, my Spike.”
“What the bloody fuck are you doing here?” he demanded.
“Tsk, tsk. Such bad language,” Dru admonished, twitching a finger back and forth.
“I’ll have worse fucking language than that if you don’t start talking! I’ll have the police on your ass you crazy bint--”
“It’d be difficult to arrest a ghost, don’t you think?” she asked, fluttering her lashes innocently.
“What?” he asked hoarsely. Sure he pretty much hated the bitch now, but that didn’t mean he wished her dead.
“I am not actually your Dru. I just look like her.”
“Why?” Spike asked slowly.
“Because I am the Ghost of Women Past, and Dru was a large part of you past, was she not?”
“You’re what?”
“The Ghost of Women Past. I, William, am the first of two others specter’s that will visit you tonight.”
“Why?” he whispered, fearful. “What is this? A sodding Dickens novel?”
Dru smiled. “We’re going to show you.”
“Show me what?”
She smiled eerily. “You’ll see. Get up, get dressed. I’ll even turn my head.”
“I don’t want to,” he said petulantly.
“Do you want to travel naked then, William, hmmm?”
“N-no.”
“Then get up and get dressed. And dress warm, will you?”
Spike wasn’t sure why he was doing this and where they were going, but with extreme reluctance he crawled out of bed and dressed. Something told him that she’d keep good on her suggestion to travel with him naked if he didn’t do as asked.
Slipping on his black jeans, black t-shirt, socks, shoes and duster, Spike was ready to go, albeit very reluctantly.
“Where are we--” And the room spun before he could get the question out. As if watching a play, before him was himself, sitting at a seedy punk bar, nursing a beer.
This scene seemed achingly familiar.
“What are you showing me?” Spike whispered to Dru, or the Ghost that looked like Dru, rather.
“Just watch,” she purred.
“Can they see us?”
“No one can see or hear us.”
Spike’s belly clenched as he watched his Dru, his once upon a time Dark Princess, stroll into the bar as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She was wearing the same outfit as the Ghost had on.
Arrows penetrated Spike’s heart. He knew what was about to happen, and like witnessing a car wreck, he found it difficult to turn away.
“William,” Dru purred to Spike sitting at the bar, settling down next to him, a seductive grin on her ruby red lips, her eyes painted dark.
Spike looked up at her, “Sod off.”
“Now, now, don’t be like that. Why are you being like that?”
“You were with another man in our bed, Dru. How did you think I’d be after seeing that?”
Dru clucked her tongue and shook her head. “You silly boy, Mommy needs to have her fun. You need to learn to share like a good boy. Good boys share Mommy.”
Spike, the Spike watching the scene, wanted to shake his old self for he was starting to cry like a ponce. He watched in horror as his former self turned to Dru and began pleading with her.
“Why, Dru, why? You and I, we were forever. We’re perfect for one another, yeah? Why do you have to be with other blokes? Don’t I keep you satisfied?”
Dru laughed derisively. “Oh, William. You have much to learn. You have kept me satisfied in all that you do…all that I’ve had to teach you. I made you into who you are. For that, you shouldn’t be so unhappy with me. You should be grateful. I made you Spike. I made you.”
It was true. She had. She’d taken an unpopular miserable sod and turned him into someone people stood up and noticed. William was a geek; Spike was a force to be reckoned with. And it was all under Drusilla’s tutelage, all under her guidance, for she saw him, saw the man underneath the glasses and mop of hair. And in one fell swoop, on that fateful day, he’d lost her.
Spike shut his eyes as he watched the scene he knew all too well. The scene of his heart breaking and of him making Drusilla decide between him and the other bloke, only to have her choose the other bloke, later on finding out, there were many blokes.
“I can’t watch this anymore,” Spike told the ghost. “I can’t watch him beg. He’s pathetic.”
“He’s you.”
“I know he’s me!”
“Dru,” he heard himself say. “It’s me or him. I can’t share you like that. I won’t.”
“Grow a set!” Spike shouted at his former self. “Stop crying and whining like a bitch!”
Looking at him sympathetically, Dru patted him on the head and said simply, “Him.” She trotted off then, once again as if she hadn’t a care in the world.
The Spike in the bar sobbed in his beer, and the Spike watching turned away in disgust. “Get me out of here, please,” he whispered to the ghost, shutting his eyes.
“Do you remember what happened after this?” Dru the Ghost asked.
Spike glared at her. “I took up with Winifred.”
“Ahh..” Dru smiled knowingly. “The nice woman who wanted nothing more than to mend your broken heart.”
“Look--”
“Spike, please don’t go. We can work this out!” Winifred.
Spike’s head snapped to the new scene unfolding before him. They were in Winifred’s, or rather Fred’s, very pink bedroom. Her hair was mussed and black mascara was running down her cheeks. She was on the bed, sitting up, the covers pulled up over her lap and she had a tank top on. His other self was zipping up and throwing a t-shirt on.
“Sorry, babe, I gotta go. Thanks for the last shag though,” he drawled and sauntered out, carrying his shoes.
“But I just told you I loved you!” Fred shouted to him and burst into tears, sobbing her hear out.
Spike shut his eyes at the sight. He’d done that to her? He’d hurt her that bad? He hadn’t even realized. “I’m sorry, Fred,” he whispered, sitting on the bed next to her. “I’m sorry I was such an ass. I didn’t mean to…I was hurt too…” Seeing how he’d left her so callously while she sobbed her heart out, tugged at his long frozen heart strings.
Winifred had been so kind to him, so patient and understanding. She’d let him unload on her about Dru and his heartbreak. He’d even cried in her arms. But then she’d gone and told him she loved him. That had been it for him. He didn’t want to be in a serious relationship; he just wanted to blow through them the way Dru had blown through him.
Shutting his eyes, he pleaded with the ghost; the sound of Fred’s crying breaking his heart, “Take me out of here, please.”
“Maybe this will be more to your liking, hmmm?”
Opening his eyes, Spike found a girl with honey blond hair standing before him, her back to him. She was hunched over some kind of table with blue yoga pants stained with blotches of paint and a tight white t-shirt in the same state. She wore no shoes and before her on a high wall was a sheet, hanging down.
“Buffy,” he breathed and came round the table to drink her in. After what he’d just seen, she was a sight for sore eyes. She would never have done what Dru did to him, never, and he could never conceive of doing to her what he did to Fred. And yet her words from earlier that day came back to him Because you break my heart.
He chuckled when he saw what she was doing. She had her hands dipped in gooey paint in a paint tray; there were about four trays, all different colors: red, blue, yellow and green. Her hair fell around her face, hiding her from his hungry gaze, but he could tell she was young. His eyes drifted back to her form. Underneath those pencil skirts and buttoned up to the neck blouses, was a luscious body, just as he’d suspected.
“How old is she?” he asked Dru.
“Eighteen.”
Same age I was when Dru dumped me.
“She’s so beautiful,” Spike gushed.
“Isn’t she?” Dru mused. “She’s all relaxed and--”
“Happy,” Spike finished. “She looks happy.”
And, as if she’d heard him, Buffy looked up, her hair falling back from her face and she narrowed her eyes at the sheet. Spike smiled, excited to see what she was going to do. She lifted her hands covered in blue paint and with determined strides, made her way to her ‘canvas’ and smeared her hands on the sheet. She giggled and hummed in delight and Spike couldn’t help but laugh.
“I want to join her!” he exclaimed.
“Her fun is contagious,” Dru commented and smiled sweetly.
“Buffy, Scott’s here to see you.”
Spike scowled. Who dared interrupt her fun, which was now his fun, and who the bleeding hell was Scott?
Both Buffy and Spike looked over to find a dark haired girl that looked to be about ten, standing in the doorway. Her eyes widened with mischief at the sight of Buffy’s hands splayed on the sheet.
“Don’t even think about it, Dawn,” Buffy told her. “Can you let him in here?”
Spike was bewildered. He didn’t know she had a sister!
Grumbling, Dawn went to get Scott and Spike crossed his arms, “That’s right; now we’ll get a good look at who this Scott is.”
A minute later, a dark haired fellow with gray eyes came waltzing in, dressed as if he’d just walked out of The Gap.
Spike snorted. That was not Buffy’s type at all, and that fact was nailed even further home when Scott made a disgusted face while watching Buffy smear her hands in the red paint.
“Buffy, I wanted to talk with you…” the boy started.
“Sure, Scott. About what?”
Spike had to chuckle, Buffy was barely paying him any mind; apparently this Scott guy didn’t matter much to her.
“I—we—I want to break up with you.”
Spike’s eyes widened and Buffy froze. She looked up at him. “What?” she asked.
“I think we should break up,” Scott amended. “I mean, you’re going off to college, I’m going off to college. I think we should see other people.”
Buffy smirked. “You mean, you want to bang other people, right?”
Scott shuffled his feet and looked down, shrugging slightly.
Coming over to him, Buffy placed a hand on his shoulder. “Scott, it’s okay. Really. I’ve wanted to break up with you for a while now anyway. I just didn’t want to hurt your delicate sensibilities. Seeing as how you cried during The Lake House the other night, I didn’t want to crush you with my refusal to sleep with you on top of my desire to no longer date you.” She spoke so gently and sympathetically, Spike almost believed she truly was sorry. The glint in her green eyes gave her away, and the words were really just dripping in sarcasm.
Scott stared at her, as if he too were trying to figure out if she was being honest when he realized, at the same time Spike did, that Buffy’s hand was covered in paint and rivulets of red were dripping down the front of his fifty dollar shirt.
“Bitch! This is my favorite shirt! ” Scott screamed at her and ran off.
Spike laughed when Buffy burst into laughter. A second later Dawn, followed by an older lady with golden hair like Buffy’s, came into the room. He had to assume it was her mother.
“Buffy, what just happened with Scott?” her mother asked, concerned.
Buffy was laughing so hard she was crying. “Oh, he broke up with me, mom. Gave me the ‘I’m going to school, you’re going to school’ spiel.”
Her mother looked confused. “Aren’t you both going to the same school?”
Buffy laughed harder. “Exactly. He’s an idiot. Good riddance! He was so high-maintenance. Anyone that takes longer than I do to get ready to go out has to go.”
Her mother laughed. “I always did think he was a bit much for you.”
“Yeah, he was a snob,” Dawn joined in.
“Buffy, honey, why don’t you wash up and help me with dinner? Dawn has agreed to set the table.”
“Sure thing, Mom,” Buffy chirped.
Cupping the side of her face with her hand, Buffy’s mom looked at her imploringly. “Sure you’re not hurt sweetheart?”
Buffy smiled, “I’ll all right, Mom, honestly.”
“What do you say we use it as an excuse to gorge ourselves on ice cream and go shopping after dinner? I’m sure your father won’t mind.”
Buffy smiled brilliantly. “Can we go to the bookstore?”
Her mom smiled, “Of course.”
“Can I come?” Dawn chimed in.
Buffy grinned, “Of course, brat!”
Spike took a step to follow Buffy as she started out of the room followed by her sister and mother, and he ended up stepping back into his bedroom.
“I wanted to see more!” he shouted at Dru.
Dru shrugged and plopped herself back down on the dresser. “That’s all you needed to see. A window into her world.”
Spike smiled wistfully. “She seemed so happy. So content. She didn’t beg him for another chance, she just let him go.”
“Buffy was a very together girl at that age. She marched to the tune of a different drummer and no one got in her way.”
Sitting down on his bed, Spike nodded wistfully. “I wish I could have been like that. Happy with who I was. Instead I was miserable and took up with the likes of…well, you.”
Dru laughed, “Not me, it was her. I’m just a form of her.”
“Yeah, just the same though,” he muttered.
“Best that you get some rest now, Spike. The other two will be here soon,” and with that Dru disappeared.
“But why did you show me her?” he demanded, calling out to the Ghost. “Why did you show me her?” he whispered. Not that he hadn’t appreciated seeing her; he’d been granted a gift by seeing a window into her world and he found he was full of all sorts of questions: Did she still paint? What happened to Scott? Did she get another boyfriend soon after? Did she have many boyfriends? Did she ever suffer from self-doubt the way he did?
Crawling back into his bed, he stared up at the ceiling thinking how different life would have been had he not cared so much about being popular and sought after. Buffy had been a free spirit at eighteen, and he had been nothing but miserable. It wasn’t as if he’d had any reason to be miserable either. He had family dinners like the Summers’ did, he loved his parents the way Buffy seemed to, and he enjoyed his siblings…to a point. He said to a point for his siblings were stars and he’d been boring and drab William. He’d wanted to shine like them, wanted to be the star of the family. And now…now he was nothing more than the black sheep. He wasn’t the “good son” anymore. Course, to him being the “good son” meant plain and nerdy, to them though, he’d been reliable and dependable.
Not any longer. Now they felt they couldn’t count on him for anything, and he could hear the sadness when he’d call and cancel on the big holidays and fail to call after a major even in their lives. He hurt them.
And I hurt myself, was the last thought Spike had just before he fell back to sleep.