January 12, 2006
I needed to hear what Giles said about my father. I really did. It had more effect than when my mom said it, or when Spike called him an asshole, and when even I called him an asshole. I feel like I’ve been waiting for someone aside from the usual suspects to tell me it wasn’t me; it was him. Judith hinted at it, she knew, but she couldn’t exactly say anything.
I feel like Giles planted a seed with his words, and the more I hear them, the more I play them over and over, the more they’ll grow and wrap around my mind like a vine until I’m covered. Until I believe.
“Fred, Christ, I’m sorry to be bothering you,” Spike said into his phone. Sitting on his bed in his hotel room, he sat hunched over, cradling his phone to his ear.
“Spike? What’s happening? Where are you?”
“I’m in Boston.”
“Massachusetts?” she sounded stunned.
“Yeah, I caught the first flight out. Buffy, she called, she checked herself into a mental health facility.”
“Oh my,” Fred gasped.
“Yeah, she was thinking about dying and suicide. Fred, I saw her today and she told me. She told me she loved me.”
“And?”
“I told her I loved her, too. She accused me of transferring my feelings for Joyce to her. Then the goddamned nurse came in, and then security, and I had to go.”
“You sound frantic.”
“I am!”
“Spike, calm down. Buffy is in a safe place. How about you, hmm?”
“I’m fine, I’m not thinking crazy thoughts if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m sorry to be calling like this, but I just don’t know what to do. Fred, how do I help her? What if she won’t see me after today? You know I even contemplated checking myself in if it meant I could be there with her.”
“Wow,” Fred gasped.
“What?”
“You really love her…it’s just amazing how much. I didn’t think that kind of love was possible in this day and age. People are so jaded and cynical these days, it’s a rarity you find the kind of love you feel for Buffy.”
Spike sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead. “What do I do?”
“Patience and time, Spike, that’s what she needs right now. In the meantime, you need to take care of you. You will be of no help to her if you don’t take care of yourself.”
Spike started to cry. “I just want this nightmare to be over. I’m wishing all sorts of things I shouldn’t be wishing!”
“Like what?”
“I can’t say— they’re horrible!”
“Spike, wishes are just that, wishes. It doesn’t hurt anyone to make a wish.”
“What about that saying, ‘Be careful what you wish for’?”
“And how many times do people actually get what they wish for?”
“True. I wish…”
“Go on.”
“I wish I’d met Buffy first,” he whispered. “I wish I’d known her first. I know I would have loved her, I know it.”
“Perhaps you would have, but it wasn’t the right time for either of you.”
“I don’t fucking care, Fred!” Spike shouted.
“Spike, you can’t change the past or the choices that were made. The fact is, you simply did not know Buffy then. You met her mother first and you did love her, no?”
“I did,” Spike whispered, “In my own way.”
“Spike, you had no way of knowing what would happen. Listen, you want to help Buffy and yourself? Then stop this merry-go-round of self-pity and stop with the ‘should haves’, the ‘could haves’, and the ‘might haves’. All they are going to do is make things worse. What’s done is done and you had no way of knowing. I imagine Buffy is feeling pretty lousy enough right now, the last thing she needs is you bashing on yourself as well. That will only serve to set her back further. If you want to move forward, then accept that yes; you do love Buffy now, yes; she is your late wife’s daughter, but no; it is not wrong. Just different. A tad unconventional, but not sick. For heaven’s sake, you’re only eight years apart.”
Taking a shuddering breath, Spike fought to gather control of himself. Settling back against the bed headboard, he wiped the tears from his eyes and nodded. “You’re right,” he said, “You’re right. I’m not going to help either of us if I don’t get it together.”
“You do want to work things out with her, right? You want to be with her, right?”
“I do,” Spike gushed, “I want to be free to love her. I want that so much.”
“Concentrate on that. Think on the future. Buffy needs that now, and so do you.”
Spike took another deep breath, “Yes, you’re right. Thank you.”
“I’m here if you need to talk, Spike, you know that.”
“You might regret telling me that,” he chuckled lightly.
“I haven’t yet, so I doubt I will. What will you do now?”
“I’m going to get some room service, watch some TV, and turn in. I’m feeling pretty exhausted. Tomorrow, I’m going to stop by and see her… or should I wait a day?”
“What do you want to do?”
“See her tomorrow.”
“Then see her tomorrow,” Fred said simply.
“I just hope she lets me,” Spike murmured.
“Your stepfather is here.”
Buffy looked up from her notebook to find Bea with a disapproving and annoyed frown on her pudgy features. Buffy set her pen down and stared at Bea, trying to decide what to do.
“Can you not call him that?” Buffy said, biding herself some time while she pondered if she should see him or not.
Bea stood tall. “Isn’t that what he is?”
“Not really. It’s complicated. He’s only eight years older.”
“Look, do you want to see him or not?”
Inhaling, Buffy shook her head. “Not today,” she said, exhaling.
Bea shrugged and walked out of the room and Buffy stared down at her notebook. I will see him. Just not today, she told herself to keep the tears at bay. Picking up her pen, she went back to working on her letter to her mother.
Bundled up, Buffy followed Giles out of the building for their session. As soon as the chill of the air hit her, she felt better. She was out in the world and it wasn’t as scary anymore. It felt good. Course, she was also still in the confines of the hospital, and a chain link fence closed them off from “out there”, so she was out in the world, and yet not. She was in a space outside of reality, just like those magic circles she read about in her Wiccan books.
Lifting her head up to the sky, she smiled and shut her eyes. It was a gray day, as most days in Boston were during the winter, but it felt wonderful anyway. Taking deep breaths, Buffy was oblivious to Giles until he cleared his throat.
She looked at him sheepishly, “Sorry.”
He smiled, “Don’t be. Feels good to be out, no?”
Buffy nodded profusely, “It really does. I feel the negativity inside me just melting away.”
“Good,” Giles smiled and handed her a black Sharpie.
“Okay,” she said, discombobulated.
Giles chuckled and dug in his pocket. “That probably makes no sense without these,” and he produced an assortment of colored balloons and string.
“Yeah, it’s all making sense to me now. Totally,” Buffy said dryly. “What are we doing?”
“You, what are you doing.”
“Okay, what am I doing?”
“You’re going to blow up these balloons and write on them with that Sharpie what you wish to get rid of. Then, we’re going to tie string on them, and release them. One of them though, one you select special, stands for your mother. I want you to read your letter, and then tie it to that balloon you choose for her and release it. Tomorrow, we’ll do the same for your father.”
Buffy gulped and took a deep breath.
“You think you can do it?” Giles asked.
“I can. I just might slobber all over the place.”
Giles smiled, “That’s fine. I’ve seen you, uh, slobber before.”
Buffy giggled and sat down on the park bench just behind Giles. “All right, she said, looking up at him and holding out her hand. “Let’s get to work.”
Chapter Twenty-six
“Why did you opt to not see Spike today?” Giles asked as he watched Buffy blow up her balloons. She would blow half the balloon and then place it over a helium tank one of the nurses brought out for their activity.
Taking her mouth of a blue balloon, she moved her sore lips around and rolled her eyes, placing the balloon around the knob of the tank to fill up. “Was wondering when you’d get to that.” She handed him the balloon to tie off and add string to while she grabbed a pink balloon, the one she decided would stand for her mother. “I wasn’t ready to see him. I felt like I had to get my head together first and try to wrap my mind around all that he’d told me.”
“You know what I think?”
“No, but I’m sure you’re gonna tell me,” Buffy drawled, stretching out the ‘neck’ of the pink balloon.
“I think when you say you wanted to get your head together before seeing him; you meant you want to see if you can not feel for him what you do. That given enough time, you’ll stop, miraculously.”
Buffy nudged him with her elbow. “Cheeky bugger.”
“Am I right?”
“Yes, unfortunately.”
Giles smiled. “It is part of my job, Buffy. Why do you want to not feel for him?”
“Why do you encourage it? Isn’t it your job to discourage me from having feelings for him?”
“Now why would I do that when I think he’s good for you?”
Buffy’s eyes bugged. “You think he’s good for me?”
Giles chuckled. “Yes, I do. Very much so. Buffy, that day you denied seeing him, you cried all day long, after you made the decision to see him, you stopped.”
“But now I have a whole new set of issues now that I have seen him!”
“Only because you’re making them that way. I will admit I had my reservations about the two of you, but after having met him and worked with you some, I don’t see the wrong here. I will also admit it sounds funny, but the reality and the truth of it, is that it’s normal and natural. First, there’s only an eight year age difference, second, you two barely knew each other, having never lived under the same roof before, only knowing of each other and third, I imagine there are quite a few similarities between the two of you aside from your mother that you both share. Am I right?”
“Yes,” Buffy said slowly.
“Buffy,” Giles said earnestly, turning toward her. “He loves you a great deal, and what’s more, you love him. He’s come all this way to help you and be there for you. Don’t turn him away, and don’t turn what you have with him away. I am not going to lie to you and tell you that there are not going to be a few hurdles to get over, but that’s any relationship. Allow yourself happiness. Allow yourself him. My job is to lead you to what’s healthy and good, to what’s right for you to get well, to stay well. Buffy, hold onto Spike and don’t let go.”
“Giles?” Buffy asked softly, nibbling her bottom lip.
“Yes?”
“You spied on us when he visited, didn’t you?”
He narrowed his eyes slightly. “Cheeky bugger.”
Emblazoned on one blue balloon was the word “ANGER”. Buffy looked to Giles who frowned.
“What?” she asked.
“Don’t skimp on it, fill that balloon with all that you’re angry about,” he directed.
“Okay, then.” Taking the Sharpie, Buffy began to fill the balloon as directed, telling him out loud what she was angry about. “My father hating me…my father being an asshole…my attitude toward my mother for the past five years…myself…myself…not being able to forgive myself… not being able to forgive her…my father…” She stared at the balloon and then at him. “It doesn’t seem like a lot now, does it?”
“Being angry with yourself packs quite a bit, Buffy. All those things you listed don’t make them any less just because they don’t make an impressive list. They say depression is anger turned inwards. You’ve had all these things pile upon each other over and over in different ways with different scenarios. Trust me, you have quite a bit.”
Standing, Buffy held up the balloon over her head. “Goodbye, Anger!”
“Again!” Giles encouraged.
“Goodbye, Anger!” Buffy shouted and watched the balloon take off, get caught in a tree and pop. She laughed in delight. “It deflated!”
Giles laughed. “That tells you something doesn’t it?”
Buffy smiled brightly at him. “I’m deflating.”
After letting guilt, sorrow, and then grief go, it came time for the letter. Reaching into her pocket, Buffy produced a wad of tissues. Giles looked at them and then up at her.
“To cut back on the slobbering as much as I can,” she explained, “Do you mind?”
He grinned and took the proffered tissues. “I do not.”
Taking out her worn blue notebook with a crease right down the center from folding it in half so much to cram it in a drawer or in her suitcase, Buffy flipped to the last page, taking pride in hearing the papers crinkle as she flipped through them. Her journal was well used and for that reason, her most trusted friend.
Taking a deep breath, she began unceremoniously with “Dear Mom”, and already began to well up in tears. Swallowing hard, she continued past the sob in her throat. “Mom, the first thing I want you to know is that I love you and I never stopped loving you even when it seemed that I did. I was angry with you and my pride, you know the one I inherited from my father, is something vast and fierce. Unfortunately. It’s something I wish to work on.
I never did tell you, Mom, that there were so many things about you that I wished I could have inherited – your patience, your ability to forgive, and the enormous capacity you had to love. Those are things to be in awe of, to strive for, and to admire. I have always admired you, Mom.”
Buffy paused then and Giles handed her a tissue. Wiping at her eyes, Buffy took a shuddering breath and continued. “The memories I have of my childhood when we were all together, were happy memories. I tried to hold onto those days, often forgetting what it was like when Dad turned to alcohol instead of us to comfort him. I see now that I preferred to see things through rose-colored glasses, as one often does when they want what they once had, back. I made you the monster instead of him, and you have no idea how eternally sorry I am for that.”
Buffy paused, trying to gather her wits about her. Looking away from Giles, she took several deep breaths and then continued when the need to break down had passed. “I wish you had told me, Mom. I wish I had known of your relationship with Spike. I wish I had known of your plans. You made me so angry when I came home at your request and he was there, and you were so happy in your plans to marry him. How did you expect me to react? How did you think it was going to go when you fucking knew I wanted you to get back with Dad? A child’s dream, I know now, but it was still my dream.
I had to go, Mom. I had to go with Dad because you’d betrayed me, you’d betrayed us, and you’d betrayed our family. I soon learned what a mistake it was, but pride, my goddamned pride, wouldn’t let me tell you. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it Mom?
He didn’t want anything to do with me. He used me. He saw you in me, he saw my failure as a daughter to get our family back together, and I blamed you for that.” Placing her notebook, open, on her lap, she reached out at the same time Giles handed her tissues and she promptly blew her nose.
“I blamed you for making him hate me, for making things so hard and so difficult,” she continued on through her tears. “I hated you and I loved you, and I hated him and I loved him. It was easier to …to hate…you…because you loved me. It was harder to hate him because he…he hated me, Mom and it was hard, it was so very hard to know that. I didn’t get it then, and I don’t get it now no matter how hard I try. I have to ask myself – did he ever love me? Or was I just there? What if you had gotten back with him? Would I have mattered after a time? Ever? I don’t have the answers to those questions, and I realize, I never will. Your precocious daughter hates not having answers. His denial of me fucks with my head.
I came back, Mom. I came back and I made amends with Spike and . . . I love him.” Buffy shut her eyes tightly, this time not even bothering to read from the notebook. “I love Spike and…and I don’t know what to do about it cause I feel like I’m betraying you, Momma. Please, please don’t hate me for loving him. He’s such a wonderful man, you were right…you did good, Mom. You did. Please, Mom, forgive me. Please let it be okay that we love each other,” she whispered on a plea, “Please let it be okay.” And she sobbed into her gloved hands.
“Buffy,” Giles whispered.
“What?” she asked mournfully.
“Look.”
Buffy removed her hands from her eyes, and opened them slowly. Snow. It was snowing.
“I think you got your answer,” Giles said, “What do you think?”
She nodded, unable to speak past the wealth of awe and emotion swelling inside her.
And when she released her balloon for her mother, her letter attached, Buffy waved and blew it a kiss. “I love you, Mom!” she shouted, watching it drift off.
“How do you feel?” Giles asked.
“Tired. Exhausted, really.”
“That’s what happens after a cathartic activity.”
Buffy smiled. “I like that word. I always have. Cathartic. It just sounds good, doesn’t it? ‘The purging of emotion’. I think I should do that more often, what do you think?”
Giles smiled. “I think that’s a marvelous idea, Buffy.”
“Me too, Giles, me too. . . So, do you mind if I call Spike when we get back?”