The way you are
Spike woke at four-thirty in the morning, clutching a pillow to his bare chest, calling Buffy’s name in the darkness. The anguished and haunted sound of his voice had shaken him from sleep and he realized that his hands were squeezed into tight fists. The muscles in his neck and arms ached from the tension of a bad though unremembered dream.
When he realized that Buffy wasn’t in his arms, he held fast to the pillow anyway. He had come out of the dream with the scent of her hair- flowers and honey- and now he feared that any movement he made would cause that memory to disappear, leaving him with only the bitter smell of his nightmares.
He closed his eyes, trying desperately to force back the memory of his wife lying on the cold cement. If he had reacted just a little bit faster… if he’d had seen this mad junkie with the baseball bat only a few seconds earlier in the rearview mirror… Buffy would not have been beaten and left for dead and Spike’s life wouldn’t be a long series of “ifs”.
Sighing, he got up, opened the window and looked out into the dark blue night sky. Listening to the sounds of the cars, he leaned his head against the glass pane. .
For a moment he thought about calling his best friend Clem, but he had no idea what to say to him. Or what to expect from him.
*~*~*~*
When he arrived at the hospital, he felt as if an iron fist had been rammed into his stomach. He hated the smell of disinfectant and the hardly remarkable sweetish aroma of something that reminded him of death and decay. Throughout the institution, the floors—gray vinyl speckled with peach and a light turquoise—were immaculate. The peach walls contributed to an airy, welcoming atmosphere. Cleanliness and cheery colors, however, proved insufficient to con Spike into a holiday mood.
He entered Buffy’s room with a vague feeling of dizziness.
Barefoot, wearing white patient clothing, she lay on the bed, atop the rumpled bedspread, head upon a pillow, her back to the door and to the lamp, her face in shadow.
“Hey,” he said softly, noticing that his voice was almost as fragile as a piece of parchment.
She moved her head a little, but didn’t turn around.
“Buffy, it’s me... Spike,” he continued, unsure if he should come closer.
Since she had awoken from coma, she hadn’t spoken a single word, neither to her family, nor to Spike.
The doctors had told him that she was still in shock, unable to remember what had happened to her, but Spike had the feeling that there were other reasons why she refused to talk... or even to look at him.
Slowly, he went to the bed, taking in deep breaths.
A sad smile crossed his face when he saw that her eyes were closed, although he was sure that she wasn’t sleeping.
He streched out his hand and touched her soft hair, while he whispered: “Please talk to me, Buffy.”
He spoke her name again, but as he expected, she didn’t responde.
Taking her hand in his, he said: “When I saw you lying on the cement with all the blood covering your face, I thought that I lost you forever. . I called your name, but you didn’t answer... and I thought that I would never again hear your voice or feel the touch of your hands. God, Buffy... in this moment I wished I would die. I couldn’t imagine living my life without you. I realized that there were so many things I never told you... how much I love the way you move your lips when you’re reading in bed... or how beautiful you look when you wear these old Mickey Mouse pajamas.”
Carefully, Spike pressed a kiss into her soft palm, trying desperately to keep his voice as calm as he wanted it to sound.
When he looked into her face, he saw that dampness had darkened the pillowcase under her head. Her cheek was wet, and pendent salty jewels quivered on her lashes.
“Sorry luv... I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said, aghast at her tears. Helplessly he began to caress her hair, murmuring calming words.
“All my life I wanted to be beautiful for you,” she suddenly blurted out. The words came out in a rasping whisper, and before Spike could do or say anything, she continued: “And now... look at me. I’m a monster.”
When Spike had entered her room, she had been lying on her left side, presenting only her right profile, which was unmarked by the violence that had changed her life forever. Now she revealed the other half of her face, which reminded of the phantom-of-the-opera, its battered bone structure held together by cords of scar tissue.
“I will never again be the woman you married... never again be beautiful.”
Fresh tears shimmered in her green eyes as she dared to look at her husband.
“Is that the reason why you didn’t want to talk and to look at me?,” he asked, while he softly touched her brow.
She pressed her lips to a thin line, avoiding meeting gazes with him. When she finally answered, her voice was almost inaudible. “I didn’t want to see pity in your face... or disgust. I couldn’t stand to see you wincing while you’re touching me.”
Spike took he hand in his and pressed a quick kiss into her soft palm. “God, Buffy...listen to me. Are you listening? When I’m talking of your beauty, I don’t think of the lines of your face or your smile... or your eyes. Haven’t you ever realized that you make a room brighter just because you’re entering it? You are beautiful, luv. You’re beautiful because you make me smile, because every morning I wake up with you is sunny to me, no matter how stormy or rainy it may be. Even after all those years I still get goose bumps when I watch you dancing, and you’re beautiful because you have this profound kindness that nothing...no scars or whatever... could ever take away from you. The reason that I love you is deep inside of your soul. It’s the way you kiss me, you touch me... it’s the way you say: I love you. It’s the way you make me laugh. When I thought that you were dead... “ He stopped, tucking carefully a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I realized that every single day I spent with you was a gift... and that I never really thanked you for it.”
She cried silently, but when he looked in her face, he knew that he had wiped away the her sadness.
Maybe the wound on her face would never heal... but the one on her heart already had.
END
Author's Chapter Notes:
I'm not a native speaker ;)