Melanie mumbled something and woke, looking up at him with a wry smile. "I'd hope you could open your eyes. I'm not that terrible to look at, am I?"
"No, pet. 'Course not." He rubbed a soothing circle on her shoulder. "'S just…"
"It's ok, Spike." She pecked him on the lips. "It's ok."
She rose from the bed, unencumbered by a smidgen of modesty and headed towards the bathroom. "If you want to take a shower, that's fine, or if you want coffee, we have some, just needs to be made." She leaned back around the doorframe, "I'm afraid we don't have much in the way of food. Cupboard's kind of bare at present. Doesn't appear my roommate made it back last night, which isn't unusual, so no worries about that."
"No problem, luv. I'm not that hungry." 'Feeling kind of sick, actually,' he thought. "Um, I think I'll just…"
"Head out? Ok." She walked back into view and he kept his eyes firmly on her face. She grabbed a piece of paper and wrote something on it, quickly. "I'm putting my number and email address in your coat. I've got your email address from last night. I enjoyed hanging out with you and I'd like to do it again sometime…if you want."
She walked over to him and gave him another kiss, longer this time, not disturbed by his reticence.
"Goodbye, Spike." She headed toward the bathroom again.
'Fuck.' What the fuck had he done? The logic that had seemed so clear the night before, that sane stuff about Buffy not wanting him and telling him to shove off, had evaporated in the light of day and he was left feeling he really had cheated on her. He strode the blocks back to his apartment swiftly, as though he could outrun his mistake.
Soon enough, he was home and that was worse. He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. His hair stuck up in random, wet, white spikes all over his head and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked like shit. 'Feel like it too, dontcha mate? Cheated on the woman you love, after all. Doesn't feel too great, does it? Can you forget now? Can you forget that you did just what she said you did, huh? Yeah, made this a whole lot better now.' He wanted to argue with the annoying voice in his head, defend himself, mention that they were broken up, but he couldn't deny the underlying truth of what it was saying; he felt it, so he didn't have the heart. He did wish it would say it a bit softer.
He banged his head against the offending mirror and grabbed some aspirin from the medicine cabinet.
'Work. Gotta call in.' He hadn't been as late as he thought. Despite the bright morning, it wasn't that late and he could still make it in. But he couldn't face her. Not today. He picked up the phone.
Oh, this was bad. Dawn set the phone gently back on the hook. This was very bad. She knew her Spike and Buffy did too and that was the problem. The moment Buffy found out he wasn't coming in today, she'd know what had happened, just as Dawn did. Though Buffy wouldn't have to hear it in his voice, as Dawn had. She wouldn't have to see it in his face as Dawn would when she saw him for lunch. She'd bullied him into letting her bring him lunch to his 'sickbed'. He'd put up a fight, but she'd won in the end, substituting resolve voice for resolve face and not taking no for an answer. She would find out everything then, wasn't going to let him brush her off on the subject today. Yes, she would find out once and for all, what had happened a month ago and what had happened last night while she was at it.
Nothing could be fixed until she knew what she was dealing with. Briefly, she smiled, because they both soooo underestimated her powers of manipulation. She might have been too young to try to fix her parents' relationship, but she wasn't going to let this one go down without a fight. She sighed. If it wasn't too late already, that was. She braced herself to tell Buffy.
Buffy schooled her face into stalwart blankness. She focused on the paperwork on her desk. "Not feeling well, huh? Ok, nothing major is happening today anyway." She congratulated herself on her even tone and wished desperately that Dawn would now depart the office. 'Few more minutes, Buffy, keep it together.' "Did Mr. Wright call about his painting yet? He's having it delivered, but he hasn't specified the address or time. We need to make sure there will be someone there to receive it."
"Yeah, yeah, Buffy, that's a given." Dawn said in frustration.
"Well, could you call him and check up on that?" Buffy asked coolly, her eyes giving nothing away as they met her sister's.
"Yeah, Buffy. I'll call right now." Dawn left. 'Yup, she didn't take that well.'
Buffy's mother, Joyce, had owned the gallery for years. She'd opened it when she'd moved to Sunnydale after the divorce and considered it her greatest achievement after her daughters. She hosted many fine painters and dabbled in sculpture and rare, interesting antiques on occasion. She'd devoted her life to it and when she died, Buffy couldn't bear the thought of closing it down. Buffy had worked at the gallery for her mother for brief periods off and on since it had opened and knew a little of the workings and clientele. But Spike was the one who saved it. Spike had been working for her mother since he'd been in college. He loved Joyce too, and she'd awakened an interest in art he hadn't realized he possessed.
Gradually, through working there and art and business classes he took at the local college, he'd worked his way up to co-managing the place with Joyce. He had a good eye for up and coming artists and a way with customers that made them visit and purchase often. If it hadn't been for Spike, Buffy wouldn't have been able to keep it profitable. His knowledge and networking proved invaluable, and the business flourished, which was why Buffy couldn't get rid of him. She knew if she did, she'd immediately lose at least half of the customer base, mostly older women, she thought, rolling her eyes. Maybe she'd lose more than half.
She'd briefly hoped to figure out a way to replace him, but the gallery wasn't so profitable yet that she could afford to pay someone what Spike's actual worth was, so she was stuck. She also felt more than a twinge of guilt at the thought of replacing him, since he'd poured so much of his life and energy into building the business up. No matter what he'd done to her, she thought, that just wouldn't be right. She didn't think Joyce would be smiling down upon that decision. She grimaced.
So they still worked together. They still saw each other every day. They were unfailingly polite and professional, as if all emotions stopped at the door. They were a successful team at the gallery, Spike, Buffy and Dawn, no matter what might be going on between them outside of work or who was mad at whom. They were a successful team, yeah, and one of them had not shown up to work today. Buffy laid her head on the desk.
She didn't have to ask herself why he hadn't shown. She knew. She knew as well as he did, that to people who knew how to read him, his every emotion flickered across that sensitive face and through those expressive blue eyes. So, his options were to A) come in and have her know everything instantly while facing her or B) have her know everything because he stayed home and hid.
'Coward!' Her inner voice screamed at him.
'Oh yes, because you've been so adult and understanding in the past, Buffy.' Hmm, were the voices multiplying? There were definitely two involved in the current mental scuffle. 'Great, now I'm isolating the different voices in my head. Wonder if straitjackets come in size 2?'
'Listen, you…you...Voice Two! I've never been anything but professional at work and there's no reason whatsoever he shouldn't be here! I've never brought our fights in here!’ Buffy fought back.
'This isn't a fight, though, and he knows it. This is the end. Can you leave that at the door, too? Can you continue to see him and work with him?' Voice Two was merciless, Buffy thought.
'What do you mean? The end was a month ago. He did a horrible thing. We were ended. I mean, we are ended. The ending happened. We were fine here. Mostly. Fine.' That was the catchword of the week, apparently.
'That was the end for you. Not for him. This is him, having decided that it's finally over, going on with his life…and you're just fine with that?' Buffy was really starting to develop a hatred of Voice Two.
"Yeah." She mumbled aloud. "Just fine," and more tears arrived.
Voice Two left her with one final thought, 'There's something worse that could happen, you know. He stayed before because he loved you. He doesn't have to stay here, he doesn't need you; you need him. He can find a job somewhere else in a heartbeat. He isn't here today. You think he'll still stay? He can't even come in to work. You think he'll stay?'
"Shut UP!" Buffy grabbed her head in frustration. Somehow despite everything, she hadn't thought of the possibility of him leaving her altogether. She hadn't thought of how that would make her feel. She felt empty and sad and very, very alone for the first time in a long while.
A/N: Well, at least I chickened out on the explicit stuff for this chapter. That's good, right? For that particular scene anyway.