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“Hey mom, it’s me, Buffy. Just calling in to tell you that I’ve landed, safe and sound. Haven’t seen Angel yet, he’s busy off playing big corporate business man. Hopefully I’ll see him sometime tonight. Call me when you get a chance.

Buffy sighed as she snapped her cell phone shut and threw it on the bed. Spike had dropped her off half an hour ago. He’d had to get back to work, some sort of emergency with the London markets.

She looked around the guest room the boys had clearly never used for guests in the whole time they’d lived here. The burgundy quilt cover still showed the tell tale signs of being folded in the packet recently been purchased from bed bath and beyond. Still, she didn’t have to pay for the privilege of staying here so she couldn’t be too picky.

She picked her suitcase up off the floor and placed it on the bed, opened it and started to unpack her things.

She should’ve felt better, freer somehow. Wasn’t that the appeal of moving away from Sunnydale? Nothing was supposed to help solve a problem better than running away from it.

As she continued to unpack she caught sight of herself in the wardrobe mirror. She looked a mess. She’d lost weight, and not from your normal ‘must fit into my wedding dress’ diet. It was more like ‘my life is falling apart and I am too distressed to eat’ diet. The dark circles under her eyes gave away how many sleepless nights she’d spent assessing and reassessing where her and Riley’s relationship had gone so wrong.

In the end she always came up with the same conclusion. It didn’t matter. In the end who did what to whom and when wasn’t important. When you boiled it all down she had failed. When she looked in the mirror all she could see was failure.

No wonder Spike had taken pity on her today. The failure rolled off her in waves plain for the whole world to see. Spike’s kindness to her confirmed it. He would no sooner pee on her if she was on fire, let alone carry her bags to the car. Blind hatred, that was what their relationship was based on. Not helping her carry her bags and going all Dr Phil with the motivational speeches. It threw her off base, made her feel uncomfortable. She seriously started to question her sanity when she was more comfortable fighting with Spike rather than being friends with him.

“No wonder Riley left me at the altar.”

Buffy felt the tears come again, but she was too exhausted to cry. Rather than give into them she did the next best thing, she lay down back on the bed and closed her eyes for a quick rest.

*****

“Buffy, Spike? Anyone home?” Angel’s voice broke Buffy from her slumber. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dark. Apparently her fifteen-minute catnap had stretched out into a three-hour power snooze.

“In here.” She’d just hopped off the bed as Angel appeared in the doorway.

“Little sis.” He held his arms out as Buffy threw herself into the comfort of his embrace.

They stayed that way for a little while, Buffy savouring the comfort and support her brother was offering with a simple hug. Finally Buffy broke away, the tears she’d not realised she had shed running down her cheeks

“You think I would be done with that by now,” she remarked as she wiped them from her cheeks.

“Maybe that could be my new career. I could go to drought-affected areas and cry my eyes out. It seems I have a never ending supply,” she joked half-heartedly.

Angel laughed as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her into the lounge room.

“No good, tears are too salty. Where’s Spike?”

“He left after he dropped me off, had to get back to work, some kind of emergency on the London market.”

Angel looked puzzled. “The London markets are closed today, that’s why I asked him to pick you up. He had the day off.”

***

‘Now this is more like it…’ Spike thought as he downed another shot of whiskey. ‘This is how you are supposed to spend your day off, getting blind drunk in a dingy bar not picking up people’s stupid sisters.’

“Another please barkeep.”

Willie just rolled his eyes as he poured, as far as he was concerned, was his last shot of the night.

Spike closed his eyes, savouring the liquor as it slid down his throat. They remained closed as he went through the days events in his head.

“Sodding wanker.” Spike opened them to see a very annoyed bar patron sitting next to him looking ready to punch him out. “Not you mate, him.” He pointed to his own reflection in the back of the bar.

What had possessed him today? Helping Buffy Summers of all people, something must be seriously wrong with the world in order for him to help her. He should have been relishing in the sight he’d seen at the airport today. A broken woman whose heart had been smashed. He’d surprised himself, and by the look on her face Buffy as well, with his kindness. He’d wanted to help, he took no comfort in her misery at all. In fact if he was to be honest with himself he felt for her, felt something other than blind hatred.

It was that realisation that had sent him straight to Willies Bar, even though he was supposed to stay and make sure Buffy had settled in okay. But he couldn’t do it. Any longer around her and he would be going out to hire chick flicks and buying ice cream so they could sit on the couch and share their feelings. Anything to take the look of utter despair off her face.

He was not going to share feelings with her, let alone anything else. Except the same flat for the next two weeks. He rolled his eyes and let his head fall against the bar top.

“That’s it Spike, I am cutting you off. Time to go home.”





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