“Hmm…I wonder where those two are at this time of the night.” Giles inquired, wrapping his arm around Joyce’s shoulder as the made their way up the sidewalk to the front door. “Buffy had mentioned at dinner that she was exhausted, I had assumed that meant they were coming home.”
“Oh Rupert, have you gotten so old that you don’t remember what being young is like?” Joyce laughed as he snorted in mock disgust at her comment. “They probably changed their minds when they got home or something. I, though, am old enough to know that it is way past my bedtime!”
An uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach told Dawn that something was wrong with the situation when they walked inside the dimly lit foyer and found Buffy’s purse perched on a table top. Knowing her older sister would never leave the house without the much needed contents in her purse, Dawn said, “Uh, Mom? Something feels off don’t ya think? I mean, Buffy told me herself that they wanted to spend some time alone and we both know that she would take her purse with her if they went out. Buffy without her lip gloss equals bad. So, where is Spike?”
Realizing Dawn had a valid point, Joyce ushered her to bed with a quick, “I’m sure everything is all right. You go on to bed, sweetheart, and I’ll peek in and check on Buffy. If she’s even here, ok?” Pressing a kiss to Dawn’s temple, Joyce steered her into her designated bedroom before continuing on down the hallway to the master suite. Finding the door shut, Joyce knocked lightly just in case they were indeed inside the room. When no one acknowledged her presence, she slowly eased the knob around and tentatively poked her head inside. “Buffy?” She whispered, seeing the tiny slip of her eldest’s form huddled in the middle of the enormous bed. “Sweetie?”
Knowing full well that her first born was a heavy sleeper, Joyce slipped across the room to stand next to the bed. Looking down at Buffy, who was snoring softly, Joyce noticed the violent red splotches of color on her face and her tear swollen eyes. Brushing a strand of hair from Buffy’s face, Joyce leaned down and placed a kiss on her forehead; sighing when Buffy softly whimpered, “Spike.”
Her heart was tugging her mind in different directions; Joyce was torn between waking Buffy up to find out what had happened that evening, but her motherly instincts were commanding her to let her saddened daughter sleep peacefully and talk to her about it in the morning. Reaching over to the bedside table, Joyce flicked off the lamp and left the room.
When Buffy awoke the next morning, she was momentarily disoriented by the lack of body heat coming from Spike’s side of the bed. Anguish washed over her as the memories of last night flooded her heart and mind. When the tears welled up in her red ringed and puffy eyes again, Buffy pulled the comforter over her head and went back to sleep.
After an undetermined amount of fitful sleep, Buffy finally forced herself to crawl out of her protective cocoon and wander downstairs for something to drink. Although her stomach was grumbling wildly, the thought of actually eating food was revolting. Listlessly, Buffy made her way down the stairs and to the kitchen; never once giving thought to the state of dress she was in, still clad in only Spike’s turquoise shirt from the day before. Stepping into the blindingly bright kitchen, Buffy stood awkwardly just inside the doorway when she noticed that her family was just sitting down to what she assumed to be lunch.
“Good mor…er, afternoon, sweetheart!” Joyce exclaimed, pushing her seat back and standing up. Her heart wrenching at the sight of Buffy; disheveled hair and puffy eyes, nearly swallowed whole by what was obviously Spike’s shirt. “I bet you’re hungry, let me fix you something real quick. Sit down.” Walking over to the refrigerator, she started rummaging around with the intentions of making Buffy one of her favorite foods, an extra cheese omelet.
“Thanks, but I don’t really feel like eating right now. I just came down for something to drink.” Joining her mother, Buffy reached inside the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water.
“Sure, honey. How are you feeling?” Joyce asked, hoping Buffy would tell her what had occurred between her and Spike.
“I’m fine.” Was her only reply; she tried to force a reassuring smile onto her face, but failed miserably.
“Yes, yes…your good mood is both obvious and contagious.” Giles commented from across the room with a teasing smile. “Why don’t you have a seat and talk about whatever is on your mind, Buffy. It will surely make you feel better to get it all out and not bottled up, right?”
Buffy wavered for a moment, but when she felt stinging in her eyes threatening another flood of unwanted tears, she said, “Maybe later, ok? I just can’t right now…not yet. I’m gonna go back upstairs.” Turning on her heel, Buffy high tailed it out of the kitchen before she was no longer able to keep the tears at bay. She had barely made it to the stairs when her mother’s voice sounded from behind her.
“Buffy, sweetheart, please tell me what’s wrong.” Joyce pleaded, reaching out a hand to touch Buffy on the shoulder.
The instant her mother touched her arm, Buffy’s resolve cracked and she threw herself into Joyce’s arms; emotions running rampant, her tears burst forward and she cried loudly for several minutes before trying to speak. “I kicked…him out…and I…miss him!” Sniffling between each block of words, her chest was heaving making it difficult to catch a breath. Taking several calming breaths, Buffy slid from her mother’s hold and sat on the bottom step.
“What happened that caused you to make him leave? Everything seemed more than fine between you two at dinner?” Joining her daughter on the steps, Joyce massaged circles on Buffy’s back in attempts to calm her down.
“Ms. Morgan gave me an envelope from Riley before we left the courthouse yesterday and inside it was like everything Spike had done wrong in his entire life. He’s like changed his name to hide what he’s done wrong. William Worthington isn’t the name he was born with; it was like Ashcroft or something. There were a lot of assaults and things like that, I figure more job related than anything…”
“So what caused the big blowout? I imagine it wasn’t related to work, right?”
“He was arrested a couple of times for beating his ex-girlfriend or fiancé or whatever she was to him.” Buffy paused to sniffle some more before explaining the rest of the evening.
When she was finished all Joyce could do was stare in disbelief. Being around Spike over the past couple of weeks and seeing him with her daughter, the look of pure adoration that shined from his eyes to the loving embraces she had witnessed more than once were making Buffy’s story hard to imagine. There was a small part of her that was angry Spike had never admitted his past indiscretions to Buffy, but mostly Joyce felt that his story was almost plausible. After all that her eldest daughter had been through, a good bit of it witnessed by Spike, Joyce thought that maybe he had been keeping it a secret to protect Buffy and her feelings. “Buffy, I know that what you need is time to figure out what you want, but I know that Spike loves you and you love him. If in the end you do decide to stay apart from him, then that is your right. He has hurt you and lied to you, but don’t let his past dictate what you do. The man I met, the one whose eyes shone with love every time you were around, I don’t believe that is who was presented to you in those papers. I honestly believe, from a mother’s perspective, that Spike let his past determine who he became and didn’t let it define who he is.”
Choked with emotion, from both what her mother said and from the pain still swirling in her heart, all Buffy could do was nod and allow Joyce to take her into her arms again. Knowing that she still needed a day or so to sort out all of her feelings about Spike, Buffy did make up her mind to go see him sometime during the weekend. Maybe once she calmed down she would be able to talk to him a bit more rationally and possibly be able to reconcile somewhere down the road. However, for now, Buffy planned on wallowing in self pity, soaking up her mother’s comfort and possibly a gallon or two of ice cream later that day.