After a movie in which Spike and Buffy sat and enjoyed not so much the movie, but one another with the occasional squeeze of a hand, an innocent touch here and there, and a whisper to make the other giggle, they retreated home.
The pair was exhausted. Both of them having spent the night before in incredibly uncomfortable conditions and having spent most of their day talking about heavy topics, they were wiped.
“It’s so exhausting talking about your feelings,” Buffy said, yawning as she and Spike walked hand in hand up to the house.
“Well, when you hold onto something for quite a while and then you get to release it finally, it takes a lot out of you.”
“I remember. When I was at the facility, after I started therapy with Giles, I slept hard.”
Pulling her in the house and locking the door behind him, Spike grabbed her in his arms and hugged her. “When are you going to call about setting up an appointment with one of the referrals he gave you?”
Buffy closed her eyes and burrowed her head in his chest. “Tomorrow, I think. I feel a little out of it still with only coming back yesterday, ya know?”
“I know. I have to get back to the gallery tomorrow, and I’m not really looking forward to finding out what happened while I was gone.”
“Sorry.”
”Don’t apologize, kitten. You come before everything and anything else.”
She smiled into him, pressing a kiss to his chest. “I like that. I love you.”
“I love you too Buffy, so, so much.”
“I’ll come in with you tomorrow,” she said and looked up at him. “I recall someone telling me once I was being ‘irresponsible’. Do you think if I’m on my best behaviour tomorrow, my boss will let me work again for a while?”
Spike grinned, opened his mouth to speak, and then frowned. “What do you mean for ‘a while’?”
“Well, we talked about it not being a permanent thing before, Spike.”
His hold tightened. “You don’t like it?”
“I do like it, but you gave it to me as a favour.”
He shook his head. “If you want a permanent position there, Buffy, you have it.”
“Can I think about it? I don’t want to completely follow in my mother’s footsteps.”
“What else would you like to do?”
She shrugged, “Not sure yet. One day, one step at a time.” Yawning again, she smiled and buried her face back in his chest.
“How about we take some steps upstairs and get some sleep?”
Nodding, she allowed him to lead her up the stairs. They split at the top, he going to his bathroom and she going to hers to get ready.
Changing into shorts and a tank, Buffy washed her face and snuggled into bed, waiting for Spike to come in.
When he did, in nothing but black sweat pants, he sat by her on the bed and stroked some hair from her face. “Good night, kitten.”
It was Buffy’s turn to frown. “Where are you going?”
“What do you mean where am I going? I’m going to bed.”
“With me in here, right?”
“You want me to stay in here with you?”
“I’m not staying in there with you.” No way, now how, am I sleeping in the bed you shared with my mother. “I have all this bed…”
“All right, what my girl wants, my girl gets.” Crawling into her bed, Spike reached for her just as she snuggled up to him. “If you lived with me, this could be the way we fall asleep every night--”
“Good night, Spike.”
Spike chuckled, “Wench.”
“Persistent pain in the ass.”
“Stubborn bitch.”
“Well, you got me there.”
January 25, 2006
I know it’s most likely terrible and incredibly selfish of me, but my goal is to make Buffy want to live with me. I want to make things so wonderful and right with us that she decides to stay.
I can’t help but shake the feeling that I’m going to lose her if she moves out. I feel like I’m reliving her taking off with Angel on vacation all over again – and look what happened when she went away. Sure she lost the ponce, but then she got it in her head to see her father and then I get the phone call that she’s checked herself into a mental health facility.
How am I not supposed to worry here?
The kicker of it is: I was the one that told her to go away with him.
I just…I can’t describe it. I don’t trust any of this. I feel like if I don’t hold onto her, I’m going to lose her and I can’t let that happen. I feel at any moment she’s going to slip through my fingers and it’s driving me insane.
She tells me she loves me, I can feel that she does, and that she’s right there with me, but…I can’t explain it. I don’t understand it, all I know is how I feel and I feel desperate.
She thinks I need to do this, well, like her, I have done the living alone thing. I did it before Joyce came along and my parents died. I know how to do it, and for that matter, so does she – so then why does she want to do this alone when I’m right here? She doesn’t have to be alone here. I won’t pressure her into anything, we could even get a two bedroom and make like roommates. I’m willing to compromise. More than willing, even.
I need to come up with some sort of plan. The only thing I got so far is showering her with my love. And God, I love her so damn much.
Please, don’t take her from me.
Getting back into life was not an easy task as Buffy was finding out. There were certain things required of a person to make it through after having gone through a spell of being unable to deal with those same simple tasks. It took tenacity, strength, and a good sense of humour. It took being kind to oneself, a concept still alien in her mind.
It was funny, she thought the daily routine was supposed to be the easiest one to get back to, but it wasn’t. It was a little scary. She’d been living in time out of time, almost in another world where there were different rules to abide by, and now she felt as though she was embarking on a different path, one in which the rules were not clear just yet.
She wanted to jump into the fray of getting her life back and yet she felt like a child about to attempt swimming for the first time. Her feet were at the edge, the water was licking her toes, but she wasn’t sure just yet how to proceed. She knew she had to, but it was all just a little more than daunting.
It didn’t help that that morning while Spike had been showering she’d gone looking for her journal and found the unsent letter to her father. She’d put it off, for what, she wasn’t sure. Possibly because despite how angry she was with him, he was still her father and he was her father that had cancer. No matter how hurt she was by him, she still didn’t want to hurt him. Even if he did deserve it.
With thoughts of getting back into routine, of finding an apartment, calling a new therapist and sending that damn letter, Buffy was feeling a bit out of sorts. And Spike was not helping matters.
He was asking her how she was every five minutes. When she left the room, he followed, when she was talking to one of his assistants about how to hang a decorative curtain on the wall to make a dramatic and romantic look, he was right there to help her. She was about ready to tell him to stop being up her ass when he was called on for some inventory problem and he left her in peace. Buffy knew he meant well, but having him breathing down her neck was making her feel more than just a little claustrophobic. She decided to use that time to leave the gallery for a while and make those phone calls to a few of the therapists Giles had referred her to.
Sitting on a bench in the shade outside the public library around the corner, Buffy called and left some messages for the therapists, making a mental inventory of the way they sounded on the answering machine, and making a bet on who was going to call first when her eye was caught by a guy unloading flowers from the back of a truck across the street.
She smiled at the sight. Flowers. She loved flowers. She loved walking into a florists shop and seeing the displays, loved seeing them at work, putting those displays together. It always seemed like such a peaceful sort of thing to do. Creative and relaxing.
She watched the guy unload the flowers and in her head she was mentally arranging flowers in her mind, thinking of what flowers would look really good together, when soon he was gone and she saw a big sign in the corner of the shop that said “Help Wanted”.
Giles had told her once to just let things be and not to force them. He said that when you didn’t fight against the tide that was when answers came and messages arrived to help you on your next step. So, while sitting on a bench watching the world go by and pondering that next step, that step came to her.
How could she pass it up? So, with determined steps Buffy entered the heavenly scented shop and asked the red head behind the counter for an application.
Chapter Thirty-eight
“What brought you in?” the red head asked cheerfully as she handed Buffy the application for “The Secret Garden”.
Buffy blushed and smiled sheepishly. “I love flowers. Who doesn’t right? I’ve always been interested in working in a florists shop, being surrounded by such beauty and creating a whole arrangement of beauty for someone else. It just seems so peaceful and fun to me.”
“It is,” the girl beamed, “It really is. I mean not to say that it can’t be stressful at times, but that’s every job. Sometimes you get that desperate customer that is looking for that one specific thing that we don’t have and they’re in a rush and ugh, it can be a pain,” she wrinkled her nose in the most adorable manner before continuing, “Some are ever so thankful when you’re willing to work with them on what they want, and the delight and gratitude they have for the help you’re willing to give makes up for that initial grumpiness.”
“Well, there are bad seeds here and there, but the nice ones more than make up for it, I’m sure,” Buffy agreed.
“Oh, definitely! I mean, I don’t want to sound like some kind of nut, but I really do love this shop and my job. Sure it can be crazy, but a good kind of crazy.”
“Makes the time fly, and gets you out with people. Do you almost become like a bartender, hearing the stories behind the beer, so to speak?”
“Yes! It’s amazing. Men especially when they’re on their way to grovel.” The girl laughed, “They look for advice to go along with their gifts. Some I can tell are going to be all right, and others, not so much.”
Buffy laughed, “Oh, I can imagine. That must be fun.”
Extending her hand, the sparkling green eyed girl introduced herself, “I’m Willow Rosenberg.”
“Elizabeth Summers, but everyone calls me Buffy,” Buffy said, returning the handshake.
Coming around the counter that held a register, a few cards, stuffed animals, and a few arrangements, Willow gestured around the store. “Would you like me to show you around?”
Buffy nodded eagerly, “I’d like that.”
The shop itself was of medium size, with several coolers along the wall for the roses and other flowers that Buffy had yet to learn about. She was really hoping her lack of experience didn’t hinder her from acquiring the position and so she opted not to say she had no idea what some of the flowers were – not until she was asked.
The walls were green with a stencil of vines in a lighter green haphazardly strewn about – it gave a calming and curious affect, her eyes couldn’t help but try and follow the pattern and where they led. The music in the background was classical and on low, creating a sort of otherworldly feel to the place.
Willow explained that the arrangements were sectioned off by event: funeral, new baby, get well, anniversary, etc. That way, when a customer came in for a specific reason, she could show them the arrangements made specifically for that occasion. However, Willow explained, nothing was set in stone and certainly some arrangements were sold that held one intent, but were given for another intent altogether.
“I try to replace what I sold, certainly not always the same kind of arrangement, but I do write down what I put together because there are repeat customers that look for specific arrangements,” she explained.
“Are you online?” Buffy asked, fingering a freesia petal.
Willow sighed, “Sadly, no. I just don’t have the time to do it. I’m internet savvy to a point, but not that internet savvy. Are you?”
“Kind of,” Buffy shrugged. “I mean, I know all you’d have to do is take photos with a digital camera of the arrangements, make them look pretty on a page, and you’re good to go.”
“Maybe between the two of us, that would be something we could work on.”
Buffy stared at her. “What?”
Willow smiled. “Do you want the job?”
Buffy beamed and tried to contain herself from jumping up and down and clapping her hands in excitement. “Oh, yes, yes, I do!” Okay, so perhaps that was just as bad. The jumping up and down and clapping just would have been a bonus.
“Great, when can you start?”
There was that cold bucket of ice water again, raining on her parade. Spike. She was going to have to tell Spike and she knew he wasn’t going to be happy about it, even if he did say “If” she wanted a permanent position at the gallery it was hers. But, she really, really, really wanted this. Between living at her mother’s house, being with Spike, and working at the gallery, she felt as though she didn’t have anything that was hers. It was all her mother’s.
“Well, I have to give my notice to my other job…” Buffy explained. “And I think I should warn you now that I don’t have any experience in this sort of thing. Just the ideas I have in my head.”
Willow shook her head. “Buffy, what you lack in experience, you more than make up for in enthusiasm. If you’re willing to learn, I’m willing to teach.”
“I’m more than willing to learn.”
“Great. So, I’m looking for full time here, is that possible? I open at nine and I close at five, Monday through Friday. I open on the weekends, too, but I’m only open until two then. You wouldn’t be working every day, but you’d clear forty hours.”
“I definitely need that.”
“We’ll talk pay later, but can you do it?”
“I can. I just have to give my notice to my other job.”
“Where are you working now?”
“Summers Gallery.”
Willow’s eyes widened. “Really? I used to make arrangements for the woman that owned it all time when she had a showing. So sad, she was such a nice lady.”
“She was my mother,” Buffy said quietly.
Willow gasped. “Oh, God, Buffy, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right, really.”
“And the man who runs it now?”
“Uh, Spike, he’s um, my mother’s husband.”
“That poor man. They really worked well together. Every time I went in there, they were always laughing and smiling together.”
It was at that point that Buffy decided she was going to keep mum about her relationship with Spike. It didn’t help hearing how happy her mom and Spike were together. Now, not only did she have that guilt – minimal as it was now—but now she had jealousy. She was jealous of her mother now and her mother was dead. How fucked up was that? And besides, what would Willow think? Would she think she was sick? Would she be disgusted to learn that she was dating her dead mother’s husband?
Buffy was once again reminded of the safe bubble she’d been in at the facility where only Giles knew of her feelings for Spike and encouraged her relationship with him. He had admitted it was unconventional, and that some would not accept it as natural, but then Buffy hadn’t been concerned about others at the time, she had been grappling with it on her own. Now though, now she was worried about others and the thought filled her with guilt. Spike would be hurt if he knew…or did he have the same problem and just kept it quiet?
“Are you sure you want to leave there?” Willow asked, knitting her brows together in concern.
“Yeah, you know I need something of my own,” Buffy told her, jamming her hands in her pockets. “Spike doesn’t really need me; he only gave me the job to help me out.”
“I see. I can understand not wanting to be there like that. Memories and all.”
“Yeah, memories,” Buffy murmured, really wanting to get off this train of talking about her mom and Spike.
“So, two weeks? Is that long enough?”
Buffy cleared her throat before straightening and responding. “Sure, yeah, um, maybe even one, I’ll let you know.”
Willow grinned. “Great. Take my card with you and call me as soon as you work it out with your…stepfather?”
Buffy laughed nervously, if not a little maniacally. “Yeah, stepfather. Eight years difference between us and he’s my stepfather, weird, right?”
“Well at least he’s a cool stepfather then,” Willow offered hopefully.
“Oh, that he is.” Especially when his tongue is down my throat. Buffy shook her head. “All right, then. Thank you so very much Willow, you won’t be disappointed.
Willow grinned. “I don’t think I will be at all. See you soon, Buffy.”
Her new boss walked her out and Buffy took great delight in watching Willow take the Help Wanted sign down. She had a new job and it was all her own. She couldn’t wait.
Outside the gallery, Buffy heaved a tremendous sigh before going in. Not only was she giving her notice – and that sounded so much better than quitting – but she had also been gone for almost two hours. Spike was going to be livid.
Entering, the assistant Richard, looked at her and shook his head nodding toward the back. “He’s freaking out.”
“Oh?”
“He’s been wondering where--”
“Buffy!”
She turned toward Spike who was barreling over to her and she started to speak when he engulfed her in his arms. “Where were you? I was worried sick!”
“Spike--”
“You said you were going out for a bit, but you’ve been gone almost two hours now.” Smoothing her hair from her face, he leaned in and kissed her quickly, desperately. “Where did you go, hmmm?”
“I—I went to a shop,” she said, feeling slightly disoriented.
“You went shopping?” he knit his brows together. “I tried calling you.”
“I didn’t hear it.”
“Come here.” Taking her hand, Spike led her to the back of the gallery away from Richards inquiring eyes. “What’s wrong? Why did you go shopping?”
“I didn’t go shopping; I was in a florist’s shop.” And she pulled away from him, trying to get some breathing room. “Applying.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” heaving a sigh, she blurted out her news. “I have a new job. I’m giving my two weeks notice.”