Chapter Forty-one
Buffy woke slowly, feeling that groggy feeling of having slept most of the day away and having her sleep schedule slightly out of whack because of it.
It was dark out, she could tell from the darkness in her room, and a peak at her alarm clock told her it was eight. She must have been tired! She’d finally rested after apartment hunting and making an appointment with “Dr. Lorne”, at around four.
Yawning, she sat up and stretched, listening for Spike. The sounds of silence greeted her. Flicking her light on, she climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom, yawning all the way. After using the facilities, she turned on the water to wash her hands and face and caught sight of herself in the mirror.
“You look just a mess, Buffy Summers,” she told her reflection. Washing her face and attacking her hair with a brush, she decided it was time to eat when her stomach growled loudly. The last time she’d eaten was…last night. Yeah, food needed to be had.
Creeping out of her bedroom, she strained once again to listen for Spike. He had to be home by now. She was on the fence as to if she really wanted to see him at that point, but she did want to know that he was home all right and didn’t do anything stupid.
Since the light in the living room was on, she figured he had to be home and she made her way down the stairs, walking on tiptoes. He was passed out on the couch, the TV on low.
Buffy melted at the sight of him. He looked so peaceful, so much like a little boy— a troubled little boy. His legs were too long for the couch and so they fell slightly off. He looked slightly cramped in the position he was in, and it was a bit chilly in the house, all of which combined to make Buffy want to take care of him. Tiptoeing over, she grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and gently covered him with it.
He stirred slightly, nestling further back into the cushions. Sighing, she brushed some curls from his forehead.
“Buffy,” he murmured.
I’m here, Spike, she told him in her head. I just don’t know what to say or do. I love you and I want to help you, but I don’t know what’s going on inside your head…
Deciding to let him get the sleep he most likely needed as well, Buffy made her way quietly into the kitchen to make a sandwich.
She was just slapping her PBJ together when Spike came in the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. “Hey.”
She looked up at him, “Hey. How was your nap?”
“All right. What are you having?”
“PBJ. Want me to make you one?”
He blinked at her. “What are you doing?”
She stared at him, disoriented. “What do you mean what am I doing?”
“Why are you being nice to me after what I did?”
Buffy sighed heavily and grabbed two slices of bread from the bread bag to make him a sandwich. “How would you like me to be?”
“I saw the papers, luv. You’re leaving.”
“The papers? – Oh, well, you knew this already.”
“But I made it worse this morning. I made you want to leave me more.”
She froze, putting down the knife with the wad of peanut butter on it and looked up at him. “Is that what this is about? You think I’m leaving you?”
“Aren’t you?”
“How is getting my own place in any way leaving you, Spike? I’m not leaving you in the sense that matters. I love you. I don’t know how many times I have to say it; I don’t know how many ways I can show it…” she frowned. “Okay, in one way I’m not, but it’s not all about sex!”
“I know it’s not--”
“Then what the hell happened this morning?”
Spike growled and Buffy flinched. Unfortunately, he caught sight of it. “Buffy,” he gasped, “Love, I’m so sorry--”
“I know you are. Just…Spike, what’s happening with you? I feel like ever since we got back to Sunnydale, you’ve been unravelling at the seams and it’s like I tell you I love you a million times and you just don’t believe me! Do I have to have sex with you for you to believe me? I shouldn’t have to do that, that’s not what this is about, not what we’re about. We have so much between us, that connection you talked to me about, we have that--”
“I know we do, I know,” he whispered, hanging his head in shame.
Coming over to him, she wrapped her arms around him. “Spike, please believe me, I’m not leaving you. I’m not moving out so that I can just end things, that’s not it. Please try to understand that.”
“Then why are you going?” he asked, his voice raspy with emotion.
“We went over this. Were you not listening to me then, and just hearing what you wanted to hear?”
He said nothing and she took that to mean yes.
“Spike, when I came back here, I was a mess and I needed someone to help me through what I was going through even if I didn’t know it at the time. The one that did was you. You were here for me, you were – and are – the person I trust the most. You’re my best friend, Spike, my best friend in the whole world and I do need you more than you realize. Do you think I just talk out of my ass when I tell you that?”
“No,” he murmured.
“I leaned on you for a long time.”
“We leaned on each other.”
“We did, you’re right. So much so that you told me to go away with Angel.”
“And I’ve regretted it every day since.”
Buffy shook her head, “That wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s. It was a long time coming.” Studying him, she asked softly. “Spike? Do you think maybe you need to see someone?”
His brow furrowed, “What do you mean?”
“I mean do you think you need to talk to someone like Giles or--”
“What are you saying?” he demanded, pulling away from her.
“There’s no shame in it, you know,” she said defensively. “You don’t have to make it sound as if it’s a horrible thing to need someone to talk to.”
“I don’t need someone to talk to, I need you!” Spike exclaimed.
“You have me! Do you honestly think if I have sex with you that’s going to obliterate whatever it is that’s going on with you? Do you think that if we fuck I’m not going to still move out?”
Spike looked away, his silence yet again giving Buffy her answer.
“Well it’s not going to change anything,” she very nearly spat. “And at this point, I don’t think it’s going to help anything, either. Whatever you’re putting between us isn’t going to be made better by having sex, Spike. That’s not how it works.”
“And moving out is going to help us?”
“Is living together helping? It's like I'm here, and yet I'm not. Anytime I make a move that doesn't directly involve you, you're right there, right up my ass. You were right before when you said that we were too lenient on one another and it's not me to be that way. I need to have a life too, and so do you Spike, so do you. It doesn't mean that I love you any less--”
"All right, fine, I fucking get it!" he shouted and stalked out of the kitchen. Buffy stood there, stunned. A minute later, the front door slammed shut.
“And he gets on me for taking off when there’s an issue,” Buffy muttered and finished making that second sandwich. Placing them on a paper plate, she went to the living room and plopped down on the spot Spike had vacated; hoping this night wasn’t going to be a repeat of Thanksgiving. Picking up her sandwich, she frowned and set it down. “Great, now I’m not hungry anymore.”
Chapter Forty-two
January 29, 2006
Who’s a hypocrite? I am I am!
I tell Spike he needs to be open with me about what he’s feeling, I tell him there are no issues and what do I do? I keep my issues to myself and make my issues his issues.
How do I tell him that sleeping with him is not something I’m ready for yet because of my mother…it’s just…weird? I don’t want to hurt him by telling him that and it’s not like he can take back five years of fucking my mother.
And you know…I’m jealous. I’m jealous of her. I’m jealous that he was with her. What if she was better than me? Okay, that’s gross. Who wants to think of their parents having sex? And yet how can I not think of it? It’s not like he was with some nameless chick before me, he was with my mother. He was inside her body, the body that I was born out of, and he wants to be inside me now?
I am so over thinking this aren’t I? I am. I know I am. How can he not? Well, it is different for him. I mean that level of ‘gross’ isn’t there. He just thinks of it as ‘Joyce was my wife so I slept with her’ and ‘I love Buffy and I want to sleep with her.’
That whole my being Joyce’s daughter doesn’t have the same play for him as it does for me.
Maybe this is all a matter of not thinking and just doing?
Spike stared at her sleeping form on the couch. When he came in from at first just driving home and then ending up Joyce’s gravesite, he found Buffy fast asleep on the couch, notebook clutched in hand. Must be her journal. She had fallen asleep sitting up, her head thrown back, her sleek neck displayed and begging to be nuzzled.
Except she doesn’t want you to touch her, he reminded himself.
He stood there just watching her the way he had just stood and gazed at Joyce’s grave. He took her in, studied her, and pondered her.
Seeing Joyce’s grave he caused him to meditate on the concept of endings and beginnings, of dying and of how fragile life was – and how sudden. You go along, living life and you never think something will come around and disrupt it because things like that happen to other people, never to you. So it’s always a blow, it’s always “so sudden”.
The old adage of “when one door closes another door opens” rang true, he was finding out. There had been many endings and beginnings since Joyce had died for both he and Buffy and it was because of those endings that Spike couldn’t help but worry about more of them coming up.
Despite reassurances to the contrary.
But, he’d thought as he sat before his late wife’s grave, If I spend my time waiting for it, I’ll miss out on what I have. He decided to take that as a message that he needed to ease up his hold on Buffy, even if the fear resided in him still. In time, he’d have to let it go, and hopefully in time, he would be able to.
Sitting down next to Buffy on the couch, he leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Buffy.”
Her head shot up, nearly hitting him, and she blurted out, “Spike.”
“Well, at least I was forefront on your mind then,” he drawled.
Shaking her head and rubbing her eyes, she looked over at him. “You always are.”
“Am I?”
She nodded, yawning. “Yes. Where’d you go?”
“I went for a spin. Visited your Mum.”
She tensed. “Oh?”
“I had a lot on my mind. Just ended up there, didn’t plan on it.”
“How’d it go? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, look can I say a few things?”
“Of course.”
“No interrupting okay?”
Nodding, she gestured for him to go ahead.
He stood, facing her, and nodded, “Right then. Look, I’m sorry for what I did, for how I kind of well, forced myself on you like that.”
“You didn’t--”
“I did. And then I scared you.”
“Spike, you apologized for this.”
“Buffy, pet, I love you, but shut up.”
Clamping her mouth shut, she mimed zipping her lip and nodded.
“I have been feeling a little … scared. I attribute it to the fact that I’m so used to having you here, coupled with what happened when I wasn’t there with you, and just life and its suddenness that I feel like I won’t be able to protect you and keep us, as a couple, safe.”
She shook her head.
“I know, I know. You tell me that we are safe. That you love me, that we’re together, but I just can’t shake the feeling that I have.”
Buffy raised her hand.
Biting back a grin, Spike said, “Yes?”
“Is it a ‘waiting for the other shoe to drop’ kind of thing?”
“I think so yes.”
“I traumatized you. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, Buffy.”
“I am though. Must be that Catholic upbringing coming out in me.”
He laughed then, easing the tension in the room and sat down next to her, taking her hands in his. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for that. You can’t help how you feel, and you were in a bad place. It’s not like you could have controlled that.”
“I know, but…you asked me to come home and I didn’t.”
“Pet, we’ve both made some bad moves due to guilt and uncertainty and fear. Maybe we need to stop dwelling on those times so we can move forward. Which means I need to let go of you moving out and not dwelling on what could happen based on the past, but what will happen.”
Buffy nodded, eagerly agreeing. “Yes.”
“And that your getting a new job does not mean you don’t want me, but just something for you.”
She smiled, “This is what I’ve been saying!”
“And that when you’re ready to make love, we’ll make love.”
She squeezed his hand. “Soon,” she whispered. I hope, she thought.
“Right. So, can I come with you tomorrow to check out those new places? Or do you want to do it on your own?”
“I want you to come with me, definitely. And then maybe we could see about how to go about putting the house up for sale?”
“Yes,” Spike nodded, “Yes, we could do that. It’s time.”
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