Chapter Five: Merry Christmas
Spike talked to himself the whole way there, convincing himself that the night before had not been a dream as he had been led to believe. It couldn’t have been. It had to be real. The things he saw and felt, the way he felt now about her…it had to be real.
He made it to her apartment in record time despite the weather having slowed Boston down just a bit. He was on a mission dammit, and he was going to see through this particular mission.
His whole life depended on it.
He remembered now exactly what floor she was on – he remembered everything. Now that he accepted what he felt, now that he was blessedly aware, he remembered everything. Such as how she liked her coffee, how she stuck two pencils in her hair and pulled it in a bun when she was annoyed with it, how she liked peppermint patties, but didn’t like candy canes, the sound of her laugh when she was talking with Tara, her smile that a few times, he’d been on the receiving end of – and there was more. More that he wanted to learn and needed to learn, but what he knew, what he’d learned through the night was enough to tell him that he’d be a damn fool to let her go.
Changes were in effect, starting now. Starting with Buffy.
Rapping on her door, Spike bounced on the balls of his feet, willing her to come to the door, willing the door to open and let him in her life that much sooner.
He rapped again and heard a groggy, “Coming!”
Checking his watch with a frown, Spike grimaced. It was seven in the morning, no wonder she was groggy, and with all that wine she’d had the night before too.
The door opened slowly and Spike smiled broadly.
She was indeed rumpled from sleep. Her hair was ratted on one side, her make up was smeared under her eyes, giving her that chic smoky look and her eyes were slightly bloodshot. Her clothes were wrinkled, and her hose had a run in them. To Spike though, the besotted man that he was, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever clapped eyes on.
“Merry Christmas, luv,” he greeted her when she stood there, staring at him.
“Have you come to fire me?” she asked. Then, slightly puzzled and impressed: “You remembered where I live?”
He shook his head, “I have not come to fire you, and yes, I did remember. I remember more than you think, Buffy.”
“What are you doing here?” she asked bluntly.
“I came to talk with you about a few things do you mind if I…?”
Her eyebrows knit. “Do I mind if you talk to me? Mr. Pratt if this is about yesterday--”
“Well yes, it is, and yet not.”
“It either is or it isn’t.”
“It isn’t then.”
“You’re lying.”
“You’re right I am, but I’m willing to try just about anything to get inside.”
“You want to come inside and talk to me? Don’t you have places to be, Mr. Pratt? It is Christmas; don’t you have…somewhere to be?”
“The only place I want to be, Buffy, is right here, talking to you.”
“Are you drunk?”
“Very sober, though I’m sure you’re feeling a little hung from all the wine you had last night.”
Buffy froze and Spike winced.
“How did you know I had wine last night?” she asked evenly.
Good job, mate. Always just blurting shit out and not thinking it through aren’t you? Always acting before you think, always speaking before you think, too. Perhaps a plan would have been in order before you came over here?
“I—Can I come in?” he asked, hopefully.
“Not until you told me how you knew I had wine,” Buffy reasoned.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, trust me.”
“I don’t trust you already, so…you might as well just tell me,” she returned matter-of-factly.
“Ouch, pet.”
“Waiting.” And she crossed her arms across her chest and tapped her foot.
“I was visited last night by three ghosts and the Ghost of Christmas Present showed me what you were doing last night--”
“Yeah. Ok. I’ll see you on Monday, William--” and she started to shut the door. Spike quickly put his hand on the door and pushed back, and then shoved his foot at the door, stopping her from closing it.
“That’s what it took for you to call me William?” he asked incredulously.
“What are you doing?”
“Buffy, can I just come in and talk with you for a bit? Please? It’s Christmas; can you find it in your heart to let me in on Christmas?”
After some deliberation on Buffy’s part, she finally stepped away from the door, gesturing for him to enter. “All right, fine, come in. You’re probably not exactly fit to be out in society right now, and God only knows what you’d do if I made you go be in it.”
“So, I just have to act crazy for you to take me in?” he asked as he entered her apartment, taking it in the way he had that eventful night.
“Well, whatever break you’re going through, it’s probably safer to do it here than out there.”
Spike grinned at her, “You’re funny.”
“Thanks,” she said dryly. “So…how did you really know about my wine drinking last night? Just a guess or…?”
“I saw you. I’m not crazy, pet. I know it seems that way, but I’m really not. You were going out last night, your sister Dawn was supposed to come up, but she cancelled to spend the holidays with her boyfriend. You were pretty upset about it. Brave girl that you are though – and proud-- you didn’t let her know how much it upset you.”
“Yeah, you’re really gonna have to go now. If you’re about to have some kind of mental collapse, I actually don’t want it to be here.”
“I know your mom died and your father has a new wife and family. You pay to put Dawn through school and when you were eighteen, Scott something-or-other broke up with you,” Spike blurted out quickly, to prove to her further that he was telling the truth.
“Get out!” Buffy yelled at him, opening the door and pointing to the hall.
“Buffy, let’s talk this out.”
“No, see,” Buffy said adamantly, shaking her head, “this isn’t something we talk out. This isn’t like a problem we have to solve. You’re a fucking loon, get out of my apartment!”
“Pet, if you’d just listen to me--”
“The more you talk, the more you freak me out!”
“Is that why you’re shouting?”
“Yes! How do you know all this stuff? Did you go digging for it?”
“A file on you wouldn’t tell me about your drinking last night,” he said logically. If he was at least calm, maybe she’d calm. “Or Dawn. Or Tara calling you and inviting you over. Have you decided to go over there today?”
Her mouth dropped open and she made like a guppy.
He grinned. “You’re just adorable.”
“All right,” she conceded, “You stay. I’ll go.”
Sprinting after her, Spike caught her just before she made it fully out the door.
“Let me go, psycho!” Buffy hollered at him.
Kicking the door shut, Spike turned her to him. “Only if you let me talk. Just let me say my peace and get out what I need to get out and then I’ll leave if you want me to, all right?”
Meeting his eyes, she stared hard into them for a long time before relaxing. “Fine.”
Releasing her, Spike ran a hand through his hair and started to pace. “Do you mind sitting?”
Clamping her mouth shut, Buffy shook her head and demurely walked over to her couch. Settling into it, she looked up at him, waiting patiently.
He grinned down at her. “You remind me of yesterday when you came to see me about Wood. Sitting there so proper.”
Self-consciously patting her ratted hair, Buffy grimaced. “Nothing really ‘proper’ about me right now.”
“You’re beautiful to me just the same,” he told her fondly.
“William?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you get to talking please?”
He nodded briskly, scratching the back of his head, “Right then. All right. Last night I…well, I was sleeping. All snug as a bug in a rug like and I got woken up by Dru of all people, only it wasn’t Dru.”
Buffy raised her hand.
“Yeah?”
“Who’s Dru?”
“She’s my ex. The girl that single-handedly ripped my heart out and stomped on it and left me there to bleed openly like a gaping wound.” He pointed at her. “Why did you raise your hand?”
“I don’t know. You were just so into what you were saying, I didn’t want to rudely interrupt. That image of the bleeding was quite descriptive and more than a little gross by the way.”
“Thanks, pet. You don’t have to raise your hand. This is your place after all.”
“Yeah, but you’re the crazy in the room, so…”
“Love that sharp tongue of yours, Buffy.”
“That’s great. Keep talkin’.”
“Right, so, it was Dru. Except not Dru.”
“Ghost of Christmas Past?” Buffy offered.
“How’d you know?”
“Well, if the Ghost of Christmas Present came, then the Ghost of Christmas Past had to come first.” She rolled her eyes very dramatically. “Everyone knows that.”
“Right then, okay, so Dru takes me on a little trip and what I saw was disturbing to say the very least…”
He relayed his night, and she listened with rapt attention. When he explained the parts with her involved, she winced a few times, fidgeted a few times, and looked away a few times as well. But she didn’t kick him out or tell him he was nuts.
“And so when I got back from seeing us in the future, Buffy, I knew,” he said, finishing up and kneeling before her.
“Knew what?” she whispered.
Putting a finger under her chin and tipping her head to look at him, he declared with full honesty and with more than a little fear, “I’m in love with you, Buffy Summers.”
Her eyes widened and she made like a guppy again. “Y-y-you can’t be!”
“I am. I’ve had feelings for you all this time, Buffy--”
“And all that you just told me…God, William…” she shook her head and got up from her spot on the couch, moving away from him, too far in his opinion. Instead of staying on his knees this time around, he got up and stayed where he was, letting her have the floor this time.
“You just come over at seven in the morning and start spewing all this stuff about Ghosts and past, presents and futures and me engaged and you expect me to just…” She trailed off, staring into space thoughtfully. “But then you tell me things that happened, things that you possibly couldn’t know.” She shook her head and looked up at him. “I’ve heard that just before people crack up, they have a form of ESP.”
“Buffy, love, I know it sounds far fetched, but it’s true, luv, it is. Somewhere deep inside you, you know it is. You know it.”
They stared at each other for a long time and Spike could see the inner battle she was engaging in with herself. He didn’t necessarily blame her, it did sound crazy. He just needed a little crumb from her…
Finally, she opened her mouth to speak and Spike held his breath in fear. She held his heart in her hands now; she could make or break him with a single word. Not that he’d go back to his old lifestyle, and at that point was already ‘old’ to him, but he’d be a mess without her, and he wasn’t afraid to admit it. He was after all, love’s bitch.
“Do you want some breakfast?”