From last chapter………
“Please jus’… trust me on this, sweetheart.”
“I-I do,” she stuttered, wondering who she was trying to convince more… him or herself. Angel had hit on some truths, and she wasn’t sure if it was just coincidence, dumb luck on his part or, if what he’d told her was what he’d truly seen before. She wanted to believe Spike, she really did, but the biggest question she had still weighed heavy on her mind… could she entrust him with her heart?
~~~*~~~
“Thank you,” he exhaled with relief. Taking her hand, he chastely kissed the inside of her wrist then stretched his arm out to begin dancing with her again.
“Did you talk with everyone you needed to?” she asked, feeling the need to change the subject.
Nodding, he read her question as an indication she was ready to go shortly as per their plan. He, on the other hand, still had his mind set on telling her how he felt before leaving the ball. And as they moved to the smooth acoustics of ‘Come Away with Me’, he needed to know just how anxious she was to get home. “So… we agreed on two dances?”
“Two dances?”
“Yeah, remember? Couple `f dances then we escape?”
“Oh… right. Yes, two dances.” Her feelings for him hadn’t changed, but she needed some time to assimilate her conflicting thoughts. Though she’d never had a reason to distrust Angel, Spike had given her every reason to trust him more. They really needed to talk about this… and soon.
At the same time, they both noticed Willy and Cordelia dancing a few feet away, engaged in what appeared to be some sort of debate.
“… and lower my standards?” the brunette asked incredulously before defending herself. “They’re only as high as Ivana Trump’s… you know, in the event of a divorce.”
“That’s not… what I mean,” Willy replied.
As the couple bantered back and forth, the two blondes had to muffle their snickers of amusement. That was… until a few seconds later when a new song began to play, Willy stepped aside to allow Owen to take over dancing with Cordelia.
Twin expressions of shock marred their faces, and not just because of the wink they received from Willy as he brushed past them. It looked as if Cordy was not only okay with this, but… was that a smile? Was she actually enjoying herself? Either that or she’s putting on one hell of a façade, Buffy thought.
“Ahem… well tha’s, uhmm… jus’…” Spike trailed off, in search of the proper term for this… anomaly.
“Unnatural,” Buffy supplied.
“Odd would be my word of choice, but yeah, unnatural will do.” After all, they both knew Cordy to be attracted to men of wealth and prestige, not a company driver whose salary – most likely – was barely enough to sustain himself.
“This has to be temporary insanity on her part.” Or way too much champagne. “Either that or Owen has a story, you know, he might be hiding something.”
“Like what, luv?”
“Maybe he’s one of those guys who secretly has, a-a trust fund but chooses to work instead?”
“Perhaps,” he offered, still staring at the other couple. “`S not unheard `f. At any rate... she seems happy, so I say good for her.”
“Speaking of, of stories and…” She purposefully refrained from finishing that sentence when she saw the questions beginning to swim in his eyes over what she might say. Giving him a shaky smile, she hoped he’d understand it wasn’t important… at least for the moment. “Never mind.” There’d be time to talk later when they were alone, at home. Talk about what Angel told her and whatever Spike wanted to tell her about the O’Connors and his relationship with them. After everything was laid out on the table, they could figure it out together then decide once and for all where ‘they’ stood. Besides, she didn’t want to ruin what was left of their evening together so she wound her arms loosely around his neck, vying for his attention to return to her.
And boy did she get it.
When I give my heart
It will be completely
Or Ill never give my heart
The chime of conversation and cackled, drunken laughter around them dulled when he focused his eyes on hers. And as the hypnotic voice of Nat King Cole floated through the air, expressing what was on her mind earlier, he gave her such a deep, meaningful look, she swore for a second that he could read her mind.
Wrapping his arms snuggly about her waist, he pulled her flush to his body, resting his cheekbone lightly against her temple as she sunk into his embrace.
And the moment I can feel that, you feel that way too
Is when I fall in love with you
He began to hum the interlude as she allowed him to lead her in the gentle sway of their dance. Just the way she clung to him, the warmth of her breath tickling the shell of his ear, the rise and fall of her chest against his… Yes, it seemed the time was right.
Is when I fall in love with you
She felt his hand slowly slide up her back, the pads of his fingertips ghost along the inner curve of her neck before gently cupping her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered shut when he ceased humming, his lips feathering her earlobe with every word, every syllable he whispered.
“I’m in love with you… Elizabeth. And you… you don' have to say it back. Don' expect you to. Jus' thought you should know.” Shakily, he pulled back to look at her. He expected the astonishment that was written all over her face so it didn’t bother him, what did was the uncertainty and apprehension that filled her eyes… not the reflection of his own sentiments as he had hoped for.
The cadence of her heartbeat increased as she watched the breadth of his emotions surface in his crystal blue gaze. She never expected this, never even saw it coming and was so shocked by his admission, she wasn’t sure how to react. Yes, she wanted him; this was what she’d wanted… for quite some time, but the surprise of being faced with it here, in this way, and all before they had a chance to talk further? If she admitted she felt the same way now, she’d be vulnerable, leave herself open to the possibility of being hurt which was, above all, her greatest fear.
Spike denied what he saw swirling within her emerald stare in favor of trying to convince her she had nothing to be afraid of. Being more a man of action than words, he would erase the doubt from her eyes, her mind… her heart. Leaning in, he began tracing her lips gently with the tip of his tongue, using all the tenderness he possessed to persuade her, show her the depth of what he felt. When she parted her lips he didn’t hesitate to cover her mouth with his, willing her to see how perfect they were for each other as he deepened the kiss.
And as soon as she felt the velvet texture of his lips moving over hers, his tongue coaxing her emotions to come forward, her eyes slid shut and she was swept away… gave in to her longing, lost herself in the passionate demonstration of his conviction. The way he kissed her was so, so… intense, so electric that she clutched his shoulders tightly and angled her head, craving more, inviting him to take more.
Acting on instinct when she submitted, he hauled her closer, the hand at her waist lowering to grip her hip. Every time they had to break for air, he’d babble incomplete sentences, random thoughts before diving back in to taste the sweet reciprocation of her hungry kisses.
“Waited so bloody long for this,” he panted heavily then attacked her mouth with more fervor. “Been so patient.” His fingers began squeezing her hip in a firm, steady rhythm. “Wa-wanted you… so long.” The euphoria of the moment had him on a mental high, his body on autopilot. He was truly unaware he’d started rubbing his erection against her stomach while pulling her into it, didn’t think about what he was saying or the repercussion his words might have. There was only her, only him, only them in the room, lost in a haze of desire, of love. Absorbed with the need to touch her very soul, he lost all semblance of control. “Can' wait to make you mine… all `f you.”
Hearing what he’d said, feeling his arousal pressed to her belly instantly tripled her heart rate, the blood in her veins now racing so fast she became dizzy, her legs buckling beneath her. There was too much air in the room, then suddenly not enough and she couldn’t breathe, almost suffocating from her fear as it closed in on her, her mind screaming oh-God when it seemed he was ‘pouncing’… just as Angelus said he would.
In a panic, she whimpered then pushed Spike away, gasping for breath, feeling winded and dazed, knees wobbling in an effort to hold herself up. Her jumbled emotions clogged her mind so badly her equilibrium was compromised, her vision blurry, pupils dilated. She thought for sure she would faint any second, but as her focus came back and she saw the bewilderment on his face as his hand reached out for her, she jerked away from him.
“I’m… I’m sorry. I can’t, I...” Turning around, she fled for the bathroom, the overwhelming need to be alone driving her forward.
Ignoring the curious stares he received from those around him, Spike shook his head in disbelief. They’d just shared the most amazing kiss. So why was she running off like the Hounds of Hell were chasing after her?
He was so sure he got through to her, positive she felt the same way, her response, her kiss told him as much. So what the bloody hell just happened? Watching her run to the loo, he clenched his hands so hard they started trembling. He squared his shoulders back, teeth grinding as his jaw settled, lips forming a thin line as his eyes narrowed.
He didn’t understand what spooked her, but he was damn sure going to find out. Enough was enough, and he’d certainly had enough… way past his fucking limit. Every day and night they played at being a couple, she was always returning his affections, had even told him he’d said something right when she basically asked if he wanted to be with her. And now she says she can’t do this?!?! Was she playing some kind of game with him, toying with his heart by letting him have a taste of her and then snatching it away?
Buffy was hunched over a sink, elbows planted on the counter, her hands cradling her head when the door swung open so fast, it broke through the silence with a loud metal bang as it hit the far wall. She straightened swiftly with a gasp, couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw an angry looking Spike coming towards her, causing her to shrink from him until her back met with a stall and there was nowhere else to go.
“Wanna tell me what that was all `bout out there? Why you left me high and dry?” She didn’t breathe a word, just stared at him like frightened prey. “Think I deserve an explanation, don’ you? Or should I take a stab at it?” Her mouth opened, but all that came out were tiny squeaks, like her voice had been stolen.
“Why, Buffy?” he asked, frustration knitting his brow. “Why the change `f tune, why… all `f sudden can’ you be with me?” Taking a step closer towards her he tried to temper his ire in lieu of getting the answers he wanted, as he thought of the arguments he knew he could throw at her to prove her contradictory behavior. “You know I’ve changed, that I’ve done everythin’ within my bloody power to prove it to you, that… that I love you. Do I mean so little to you now? Were you stringin’ me along on some twisted ride jus’ for kicks? To get back at me for how I treated you in the past?”
“NO! N-no, I’d never do that.” How could he even think she’d do something like that to him?
He tilted his head back and smirked. “See you found your voice. And now that you have, care to fill a bloke in?”
“This isn’t the time or-or-” her eyes darted left and right, even though she knew nobody else was in here with them. “-the place.”
He let out a scornful chuckle to match his leer then pinned her with hard, cold eyes. “And yet again… Miss Buffy Summers runs away, `fraid `f the truth, virtue flutterin’ as if I’m the bad guy.”
“Spike, that’s not it, really.” Why couldn’t he just understand that she didn’t want to talk about this here?
“Isn’ it?” He raised an accusatory eyebrow. “Bloody hell, woman! `M so-” throwing his hands in the air he raised his voice. “-so bloody well tired.” Running his hands through his hair, he linked his fingers behind his head and sighed through his nose while looking at the floor.
“Why even try to hide from yourself...” His hands dropped by sides as he faced her. “From me? Do you even know how deep you are inside me? I wake up every bloody mornin’ and you’re there, under my skin, in my thoughts, embedded in my heart. All the nights we spent together, each smile, every small kiss... I’ve never felt this way for anyone before, ever.” Pointing a stiff finger at her chest, he refused to acknowledge the tears that were forming in her eyes. “Run, hide, lie to me if you want, Buffy, but we both know you want me as much as I want you… and there’s no denyin’ it.”
A single tear ran down her cheek when she blinked, and there, in the glassy pools of her eyes he saw that she understood and wasn’t about to disagree with him. She took the small steps that separated them until he was staring down at her upturned face. Her bottom lip twitched, drawing his attention to it, and he wished for all the world he didn’t long to kiss it. She nodded in a show of surrender and tilted her head a fraction, lips parting as if she wanted him to do just that, as if all it would take was a kiss to seal the deal, to be with him… until she spoke.
“I want you.” Her breath was ragged and shaky. “So much it… I do. Which is exactly why I can’t do this right now.” If he would just wait until they got home, have a calm discussion that would, God willing, dispel her worries so they could be together. “Later… we’ll talk later, I promise.” She studied his face for a moment. He looked almost... hurt, filling her heart with a pang of regret for making him wait any longer. But she couldn’t do this, not right now, not here. Raising her hand to his cheekbone, she touched it lightly with her fingertips then withdrew her hand. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. He truly frightened her, of what he made her feel, and she simply couldn’t trust him to catch her when she fell until she was sure of the truth.
She stepped to the side and went around him to walk out the door, leaving him alone. He felt as if all the wind had been knocked out of his body. With just a few words, she’d cut him on a level deeper than he knew existed, made him feel… inadequate. Was he so horrible that even when she finally admitted to wanting him, she couldn’t give herself to him because of who he used to be? And to hear her say ‘… we’ll talk later, I promise’ with something akin to pity for him in her voice… standing right in front of him with nothing to prevent her from treating him with some dignity… to just leave like she did. Yes, he’d had enough, heard more than enough and was through with it… finished.
Angry and wounded, he stormed out of the bathroom to see her standing near the foyer, talking with Cordelia. Retrieving his coat as quickly as possible, he refused to stay here another minute.
Buffy looked up in time to see Spike coming her way, wearing his overcoat. “Where are you going?”
“Home,” he replied gruffly, never once sparing her a glance as he walked straight past her and out the ballroom door. He really wanted to punch something, having so much pent up frustration and rage, but knew it wouldn’t be in the best interest of his knuckles since there was nothing but brick buildings outside. So he decided to walk it off for a bit, hail a cab after he felt sufficiently cooled down.
Her heart constricted as she watched him leave. She felt terrible for having caused him any grief. And for a second, she considered going after him, had even taken a step forward until Cordelia grabbed her arm, shaking her head no. She led her back to their table since most of the guests were either dancing or standing in groups, chatting while they drank.
“I saw you two kissing like porn stars out on that dance floor before you bolted, and now he’s left in a huff? What happened, Buffy? And don’t you dare leave out any of the details, I want them all.” She folded her arms over her chest and reclined in her chair. “So spill.”
After nearly thirty minutes, Buffy’s throat felt raw and her eyes were watering all over again, sniffling to fight from crying. Cordy handed her a napkin then leaned an elbow on the table to perch her chin in her palm, eyeing her like she wearing something from the eighties.
“You wanted to know everything, so… why are you looking at me like that?”
“Buffy,” she began evenly. “Have you like, ever known me to swear?”
“Huh? What are you ta-”
“Just answer the question first.”
“Uhmm, no? Not that I can recall anyway. Why?”
“In five words or less… forgive me when I say, you just seriously fucked up.”
“Wh-what did you say?” Totally not what she expected to hear.
Cordelia flipped her hair over her shoulder and replied with an irritated edge to her voice. “You’re not deaf and I’m so not going to repeat myself.”
“But, h-how did I… fuck up?” She really wanted to understand her logic because damnit, much as she hated to admit it, her friend was usually right.
“Honestly? I don’t know what possessed you to believe Angel over Spike.”
“I already explained it,” Buffy moaned. “Plus I said I’m going to discuss it with Spike later… if he’s willing to even talk to me now,” she added sadly to herself.
“Remember when I told you Angel may not be what he seems? Well, from the view of things… I’d say I was right.” At Buffy’s confused look, Cordelia pointed over the blonde’s shoulder.
She turned her head in time to see Angel dancing with some redhead, his hand practically massaging her bottom while the fingers of his other hand dipped just below the neckline of her dress… both pairs of eyes oozing with that ‘fuck-me’ look.
“Oh. OH! OHHH!!! I can’t believe he’s… a-and that she’s, she’s… but that would mean…”
“Mm-hmm,” the brunette drawled knowingly. “At least now I know why I got such a bad vibe from him. I should have noticed it earlier,” she said as she stared at the couple, drumming the tabletop with her fingernails. “I mean, his frontal lobe is so huge you can see it before he even enters a room.”
“Huh? Frontal what?”
Cordy placed a finger just below her hairline and tapped it while saying, “Frontal lobe, or lobes if you will, the part of the brain that’s involved with memory, language, impulse control as well as social and sexual behavior, to name just a few. Now I may not be a scientist, but I’m thinking Mr. Big-Frontal-Lobe-O’Connor probably has a huge appetite for sex… and he’s smart enough to keep it well fed.”
It always amazed her how Cordy could spit out random facts at will while she barely remembered a single thing she’d learned in biology, or was it physiology? Something clicked in her brain just then and she chuckled softly to herself when remembering Spike had called him Captain Forehead once or twice.
“Oh-my-God!” Another thing Spike mentioned right before they danced suddenly came back to her, ‘…like father, like son.’ “Cordy, I really fucked up.”
“Ya think? Hate to say I told you so but… then again, I am Cordelia Chase,” she chirped. “And I’m always right.”
“Is it too late? To fix this?” But her friend just shrugged.
“Do you love him?” Buffy nodded. “Then it’s up to you. Although I think you’re going to be doing an awful lot of apologizing and ughh, dare I say, groveling?”
Buffy stood up fast, looking around frantically in search of her purse while talking a mile a minute. “I need to go home. I need to get my coat. Oh-God, I-” The sound of her cell phone unexpectedly ringing cut her ranting short. The tune coming from it the very one she’d set for whenever it was Spike calling her, the lyrics playing out until she found then fumbled inside her purse for the cell.
Blue eyed devil
Born to be a God among Salesmen
Working the skinny tie…
She felt so bad after their exchange of words in the bathroom, especially now that she knew the truth. And hearing that ringtone made her so happy he was calling that she didn’t care if she had to beg on her knees for forgiveness.
“Spike,” she answered excitedly. But her smile faded before it could fully bloom. “Yes, this is she.” …pause… “What?!?! Where, I-I mean how, no, wait… what happened?” ...pause… The palm of her free hand flew to her forehead as she sat down hard, trying to get her breathing under control. She ignored Cordelia’s repeated attempts to get her to say what was going on so she could listen to what the woman on the other end was telling her. “Which hospital?” …pause… “Got it. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Hospital! Is Spike alright?”
“No,” Buffy answered grimly then stood again, even more in a hurry to leave than before. “He got mugged, and the thief had a knife on him. He’ll be released when they’re through treating him, but since they administered him a narcotic for the pain, they can’t let him leave unaccompanied.”
“Oh-Buffy, I’m so sorry. Can I, can I do anything? To help?” This was bad… bad timing, bad karma, bad juju, all kinds of bad-badness there was to be had out there.
“Not unless you can get me to the hospital in less time than a taxi on a Saturday evening in the city that never sleeps,” she grumbled.
“Now that… I can do.”
Stopping dead in her tracks, she stared at her friend skeptically. “You can?”
“Well, not me, but I know someone who can. Wait here.”
Buffy watched as Cordy disappeared into a crowd of people, remerging only seconds later with Owen in tow.
“You ready to leave?” he asked upon reaching her.
“Er, yeah, but… what about the ball?” She’d feel guilty dragging him away from having a good time just to take her to the hospital when she could easily call a cab.
“This sounds more important than a party, plus I can get back here within twenty minutes. I know every shortcut there is in the Big Apple. It’s no problem, really. Come on.” He gestured for her to walk in front of him but she just stood there.
“Would you go already?” Cordelia shooed her. “Go! And don’t forget to call me later, let me know how he’s doing.”
She snapped out of it. “Right. Okay.” Nodding at Owen, she was ready. “Let’s go.”
Praise the Lord for whoever invented the ‘oh-shit’ handle in the car as Owen drove like a man on crack, taking turns so fast it made her head spin. But even as everything passed by in a blur of colors during their fast and furious ride, she still had the presence of mind to wonder how on earth Spike got mugged… or rather where. It couldn’t have been right outside the Mandarin Oriental. Not if he’d gone straight home. And it couldn’t have been in front of their complex either. It didn’t make any sense to her.
“And here we are,” Owen announced.
“Eeep,” she squealed in unison with the tires, lurching forward as the car screeched to a halt near the emergency room entrance. Glad she was still in one piece and that her dinner hadn’t come up, she quickly thanked him before getting out. As he drove off, she noticed for the first time it was a company car he’d used which was, well, peculiar, not to mention if anyone found out he could get in trouble. Personally, she could care less since he got her here in record time and dismissed it, her only real concern being Spike. Sliding her coat off and slinging it over her arm, she took a deep breath and walked inside.
Speaking with front desk attendant, she realized the woman with the militant attitude wasn’t going to tell her a thing about Spike’s condition. Stupid patient confidentiality crap! She glanced at her name tag, noting she was nothing more than a cranky, night shift hospital staffer and not an RN. Crossing her fingers behind her back like a little kid when they lie, she stared her down, demanding her in a deadpanned voice, “I’m his wife and I want to see him now.”
The older woman lowered her head, looking at her from over the black rimmed bifocals she wore low on the bridge of her nose, seemingly unconvinced. “I’ll just call one of the nurses.”
“You do that, Ms. Walsh.” Her tone was haughty and arrogant, the confidence she exuded worthy of a Golden Globe for best actress in this motion picture drama otherwise known as her life. Inside, however, she was afraid she’d be found out.
She didn’t know if Spike mentioned the exact nature of their relationship to the girl that phoned her cell earlier. And at the time of the call, she was so shocked by the news she didn’t pay attention to anything other than the name of the hospital. Should have said I was his sister, which - if she said she was married - would explain why her last name was different. Taking a few steps backwards, she turned and took a seat, preparing herself to be told she’d have to wait.
As the grouch picked up the phone, a young lady with long brown hair that was tied sloppily away from her face came out of the doors that led to the treatment rooms and headed behind the counter. She watched the hag set the phone back down to engage the girl in a hushed conversation, occasionally glancing in her direction.
All Buffy could make out were the words ‘red dress, wife, rude’ and ‘Mr. Giles’. Yeah, it didn’t look like her chances of seeing Spike were going to happen anytime soon. Just as she started rummaging through a stack of magazines on the end table next to her, the brunette approached her with a pleasant smile.
“Hi there. You must be Buffy Summers. We spoke on the phone earlier. I’m Dr. Winifred Burkle, but please call me Fred, doctor titles sound so formal, makes me feel all uncomfortable. Oh, I just adore your dress, it’s so chic.”
Buffy recognized her southern accent immediately but frowned even as she shook hands with her, throwing a sideways glance at Ms. Walsh who followed their exchange with interest.
“Oh, don’t worry about Maggie.” Cupping the side of her mouth, she whispered, “I backed you up and said you were Mrs. Giles.”
“You… you did?”
“Yeah. Totally bought it, too.” She grinned, bobbing her head from side to side. “Come. Follow me.”
After making it past the double doors, Buffy had to ask, “Not that I’m ungrateful, but… why would you lie for me when you didn’t have to?” Fred stopped so she could answer; her beaming smile and girlish giggles belying the intelligence and bedside manner Buffy usually associated with most doctors.
“Mr. Giles said you were the only person he had that might come and take him home.” Then she frowned, fidgeting with her stethoscope when telling her, “He seemed so sad, especially when I told him he couldn’t use his cell phone in here. You know-” her eyes darted everywhere all at once to indicate, “-all the machines and interference stuff? So he handed it over and asked if I’d call you.”
“I see.” That didn’t sit with her well. Not the part where she was the only person he thought might come, as depressing as that did sound, but that maybe he ‘seemed sad’ because she was the last person he wanted around even if he needed her here in order to be released. Proceed with caution, Buffy. It wouldn’t do to upset him any further than she had when he was lying here in one of these rooms physically hurting God knows how much. “H-how’s he doing? Is he… alright?”
Waving her hand in no particular direction, Fred’s bubbly enthusiasm returned.
“He’s fine. A few stitches, some painkillers and he’ll be right as rain after three or four days. Might have a small scar, but he should consider himself lucky compared to what I’ve seen after people get robbed… all the bullet wounds and blood, missing teeth, internal bleeding from being beaten half to death, broken bones and some of the weirdest blunt objects you could imagine sticking out of people’s oh-my!” Seeing the blonde turn piqued, she apologized profusely. “I’m so-so sorry. I have a tendency to ramble and that was probably way too graphic.”
“It’s… I’m okay, really.” The moans and groans echoing through the hall from patients only served to intensify the gory pictures forming in her head while listening to the girl who she was convinced had Starbucks running through her veins.
“You sure? Can I get you some water? Do you need to sit? I can show you to the bathroom if you want?”
“No, no, I’m good, Fred. I’m fine now.” The southern girl looked absolutely pitiful as she cringed while offering her anything she wanted, well, everything except for what she wanted most. “Uhmm, can I see Spike now?”
“Spike?” Tilting her head in confusion, she asked, “You want to see a spike?”
Buffy shook her head. “Mr. Giles. It’s what he likes to be called… Spike, I mean.”
“Such a funny nickname. Wonder how he got it,” she mused to herself then shrugged.
“I’m not so sure even I wanna know that,” Buffy mumbled quietly.
“If you’re ready, I’ll take you to him. Oh, the shot of Dilaudid I gave him earlier has kicked in, so don’t be alarmed when you see him. He’ll be quite lethargic and his behavior may even seem strange.”
~~~*~~~
Entering the room, Fred gave Spike a polite greeting and told him she’d be suturing his wound before making herself busy by procuring the medical supplies she needed.
Buffy’s first instinct was to rush forward and hug every last breath from his body; her second… strangle the shit out of him for scaring her half to death. The only thing that stopped her from doing either was the haunted look in his eyes when he slowly turned his head in her direction.
Taking small, cautious steps towards him, she noted the pale, clammy appearance of his skin and couldn’t help wincing at the sight of the deep gash on his left eyebrow. His jacket, vest and tie hung over the back of a nearby chair, the white shirt he still wore stained with blood.
“Hey there,” she said softly as she dragged the chair closer and sat down. But he didn’t react to her presence, just stared right through her as if she weren’t even there, the blue of his eyes brighter because the narcotic had constricted his pupils to a pinpoint.
Fred came to stand next to Buffy, a nurse behind her wheeling a cart over. “I’m ready to patch him up but you’re welcome to stay, of course.”
“I’d like that, thank you.”
“Good. While I’m doing it, I’ll fill you in on his condition since he’s not fully coherent right now.” Turning to the nurse, she asked for a surgical visor mask. “Uhh, wait! Now where in tarnation did I put my glasses? Glasses, glasses… need my glasses, always misplacing them,” she muttered while patting the many pockets of her white lab coat.
“Uhmm, they’re…” Buffy pointed right at her.
“Ah!” She grabbed them from off the top of her head and giggled. “Little critter is harder to find than a jackelope in Texas.”
She would have laughed if the brunette’s behavior didn’t cause her some concern, but considering how ditzy the ‘good doctor’ seemed, Buffy was beginning to wonder how she ever made it through medical school.
The nurse quickly shaved half of Spike’s eyebrow off then draped a blue surgical cloth over his entire face with a hole that revealed only his wound before assisting Fred in donning a pair of sterile latex gloves.
It wasn’t until after he’d been given a local anesthetic that Fred started chattering away to Buffy while she worked.
“According to his chest X-rays there’s no fluid in his lungs which is good, but he does have minimal bruising to two ribs on the right side just beneath his pectoral muscle. He’ll be sore for a few days, so it’s best he takes it easy, no strenuous activities or sports. I’m going to prescribe him a week’s worth of Percocet, so I suggest he stays home from work during that time. And you’ll have to keep an eye on him for any signs of slurred speech or black spots in his field of vision… in the event he has a concussion.”
Buffy looked at anything except for his eyebrow where the suturing was taking place but continued listening intently to what the doctor was saying. During one of her averted glances, she happened to catch Spike's hand twitch. Thinking he could possibly feel what was being done to him, she placed her hand over his in a gesture of reassurance. At first he didn’t respond, but when she chanced a brief look to see Fred push the needle into his skin again, he gave her a light squeeze. To her surprise, he ever so slowly laced his fingertips loosely through hers, and she dared to hope that everything would be alright between them… until she remembered how half-baked he was from the drugs. He probably doesn’t even know it’s me, and was simply acting on instinct, seeking comfort.
“Because his eye will swell shut overnight-” Fred continued. “-have him take one tablet of Percocet and 200 milligrams of Ibuprofen before going to bed. Make sure he takes the Ibuprofen every four to six hours, too. If the swelling hasn’t decreased by morning, continue using the Ibuprofen along with an icepack and it should go down within a few hours.
“Got it.” Buffy nodded and held Spike’s hand a little tighter when asking, “By the way... do you know what, I mean, did he tell what happened… exactly?”
“According to him, he was jumped from behind and the guy held a knife to his throat, demanding his wallet. When Mr. Giles tried to get away, the assailant sliced his eyebrow then kneed him in the chest as he bent over. After he fell from the blow, the thief found then took his money, left the wallet behind and fled. So as I said before, he was very lucky. It could have gone a lot worse for him had his throat been cut.”
“There! All done.” Fred took her visor and gloves off while the nurse removed the blue cloth from Spike’s face to cover the wound with gauze and surgical tape. “Because of the health insurance he has, he can get his prescription here after you sign the discharge worksheet. I’ll have the nurse’s station call it in to the pharmacy and let them know you’ll pick it up for him since he’s still under the effects of the Dilaudid.”
~~~*~~~
A few minutes later, Buffy had bagged up Spike’s bloody clothes, slipped his suit jacket and winter coat on him then helped him into a wheelchair the nurse provided. She thanked Fred again when the brunette doctor held the door open so she could wheel Spike into the waiting area, and after obtaining his medicine, she quickly called a cab so they could leave.
She tried talking to him a few times during the ride home, but all she received were single word responses and sometimes, none at all. So she gave up, figuring the drug in his system was responsible.
But it wasn’t… not in the capacity she thought anyway.
Spike was all too aware of her presence the entire time, from when she arrived at the hospital until they got home. He still loved her, more than anything else in the world and was painfully reminded of that fact when she’d held his hand earlier. But he just didn’t feel like talking, still upset, the sting of her repudiation having lacerated his heart deeper than the cut to his brow. Sure, he knew they had to talk eventually, but as for now, all he cared about was getting dressed into something more comfortable. He walked directly to his room to change - as did she - then went to sit in the living room afterwards.
When Buffy came back out, she saw Spike slumped on the couch, looking defeated in every way imaginable, making her heart sink a little further into her stomach. She walked over to him to ask, “Can I get you your medicine?” All he did was nod, still staring at the TV though it wasn’t on. “Okay, I’ll be right back.” Retrieving a glass of water along with the Ibuprofen and Percocet, she sat down next to him and handed the items over.
As they sat there in silence, she realized she forgot to ask Fred where he’d gotten mugged. Drawing one leg up, she turned sideways to face him, hoping he’d answer her. “Spike… I was wondering something. Where exactly were you when this guy jumped you?”
He shrugged. “`Bout six or seven blocks from the Mandarin, I think… maybe more.”
The surprise of getting any reply out of him at all was lost on her after hearing what he’d said. “What were doing walking the streets instead of taking a cab?” Again, he simply shrugged, but when he didn’t give her an answer this time, she couldn’t help her temper from rising. “Don’t you realize how dangerous it is here in New York? That you’re lucky you didn’t run into a gang? Did you not think about the possibility this guy could have had a gun, that you of could have been shot or worse, killed?” She’d already lost Xander, and the idea she could have lost Spike tonight was too much for her mind to process.
He knew she was right, but her tone was accusatory and condescending, like it was his fault he got mugged, and it made him snap. “Needed some fresh air to clear my head, needed to get the bloody hell away from you and your constant… bloody teasin’.” When he finally looked her in the eyes, he knew in an instant she wasn’t berating him, she was lashing out… and not at him. He could almost feel the self blame that painted her expression as it conveyed how angry she was with herself that he’d gotten injured because of her even though in reality, she had no real control over what happened.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered honestly, and quickly wiped away a stray tear that slid down her cheek.
He couldn’t deal with this right now, especially not her tears. Standing abruptly, he announced, “`M gonna sit in the hot tub, let my muscles relax while these meds kick in.” And off he went, leaving a guilt ridden Buffy behind.
After Spike went out onto the balcony, she got up and headed for her room. She was wrong for raising her voice to him, wrong for letting Angel’s words make her second guess Spike’s motives, but most of all, wrong for having doubted Spike in any form at all tonight. If nothing else, she was determined to at least let him know that before they went to bed. If she didn’t, she knew she wouldn’t sleep a wink.
~~~*~~~
Resting his neck against the tub, his head craned heavenward, Spike stared at the raven black sky now littered by the glow of the cosmos, a full moon and giant, fluffy white snowflakes that gently floated their way to earth in the windless night.
“Mind if I join you?”
Naturally he’d heard Buffy open and close the balcony doors; he just chose not to acknowledge her until she spoke. “`S your place, too,” he said with indifference, stealing a glance at her bikini clad body as she stepped inside the Jacuzzi. He expected her to try and talk to him again, but she didn’t. She just sat there, as if she were waiting for him to speak first.
There was so much to say, so much to apologize for, so many things to set right that she didn’t know where to begin. Her voice remained frozen in her throat, trying to gauge his mood, hoping to see some indication he was at least willing to listen… but he just sat there like a statue.
The medication and the lulling effect of the whirlpool quickly sedated his body, left his mind open and raw to the pain of her rejection, to the pain of her being close enough now for him to touch… but never have.
“You know…” he began, voice cracked and parched with fatigue. “All my life, I’ve always gotten… whatever I wanted.” He didn’t care that the drugs in his system were loosening his tongue. In fact, he welcomed it as a way of getting everything off his chest… so he could move on.
He’d paused for so long after having spoken that when he laughed it, startled her. The low, drawn out tone sounded more like the dry, humorless chuckle of the insane, unsettling her nerves.
“I didn’ jus’ want you, Buffy… I needed you. I would have given up anythin’, everythin’, even my soul if it meant I could have your love, but…” Twisting his head to face her, he sighed dejectedly. “I see now you don’ want that… me, so………………… I give up.”
“No, Spike, listen… that’s not true, I-” But he interrupted her, his mind set on finishing all of what he had to say.
“You really are somethin’ special and… and `m sorry.” He studied the curls that hung loose, clinging wetly to the skin of her neck in darkened contrast to her golden hair, her forehead dampened in a fine sheen of clean sweat, tiny beads of perspiration that bejeweled the slender hollow of her throat dripping down slowly between the valley of her breasts. “Sorry that nothin’ I’ve done is good `nough.” He raised a hand out of the water to slowly trace her bottom lip with his thumb, leaving a thin wisp of steam to rise in its wake while admiring the snowflakes that adorned her head like a crown, shining like diamonds under the moonlight. “That I’ll never be good `nough for you.”
Buffy couldn’t take this, how he could honestly believe one slurred word of what he said for even a second, drugs or no drugs. It was then she found the courage to tell him like it was… and how she felt.
He looked absolutely dumbfounded when she straddled his lap, sat on his knees and took his head in her hands so he had no choice but to look at her. “That’s the longest line of bullshit I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth, William Giles… and that’s saying a lot.” When he chuckled, it brought a smile to her face, but she was quick to go on. “I know you’re feeling pretty loopy from your medicine right now, so having a serious discussion is out of the question, but… I need to tell you some things and I really hope you’ll let me say them.” As soon as he nodded, she let go of his face, bracing her hands on his shoulders instead. Taking a deep breath, she let it all out before making her confession. “I’ve been in love with you for… for longer than you could imagine. I’m not exactly sure when or how it happened, but it did. What I said at the ball tonight… why I ran, it was my own insecurities. You were right when you said I owe you an explanation. You deserve it and I promise that tomorrow when you’re more… alert, you’ll get it whether or not you still want me. And if you do, still want me that is… then I’m yours.”
He could hardly believe his ears, or his eyes. But he knew his girl well enough to see she was telling the truth, and she’d just literally laid her heart out there for him to either be scooped up or squashed. “Christ, Buffy… of course I still want you. Bloody hell, I’ll marry you right now if tha’s what it takes to prove how much I truly do love you.” She tilted her head to the side and giggled at him.
“That won’t be necessary, I believe you.” Sobering from her laughter, she had a single request. “Just promise me one thing.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaned forward so they were face to face and whispered, “Please don’t break my heart, William.”
“Never,” he said with total conviction, watching her smile before she closed the distance between them to engage him in a soft, lingering kiss full of promise.
It was quite some time before they – reluctantly - broke apart. “We should both get some rest, especially you, Spike. It’s been a long evening and we have all day tomorrow to talk.”
“Actually, pet,” he kept rubbing his nose against hers, interspersed with light kisses to her sweet mouth. “We have all week.”
“How’s that? Mmmm.” God, his lips were intoxicating, and to think she could do this anytime she wanted now, spend hours and hours just kissing him… hell, she planned on it.
“Gotta follow doctor’s orders, meanin’ your boss has excused you from work… since I need you to look after me, take care `f me.”
She nodded after he gave her another kiss. “It’s going to take me at least week to make up for how I behaved tonight.”
“Mmmm, yeah,” he agreed, stealing several chaste kisses from her in a row. “I do believe you’re right, Miss Summers.” Another, more heated kiss this time. “Seven straight days and nights of makin’ up to me.”
“That won’t be a prob-mmmph, mmm.” If he didn’t stop kissing her like this, they’d never get out of the tub. “Okay, Romeo.” She plastered a hand to his shoulder and ignored his pout when she stood. “As much as I’m enjoying this, we really do need to get some sleep.”
“Spoil sport,” he groused.
“Sticks and stones,” she quipped back.
Spike used the bathroom to get changed first since he’d left his sweatpants inside while Buffy went to her room to retrieve her night clothes. When he came out to let her in, he walked into the living room and grabbed the bottle of Ibuprofen to keep on his nightstand.
Reemerging from the bathroom, she didn’t expect to see Spike leaning against the wall right next to her. “Is everything alright?” she asked, concerned. Instead of answering, however, he pushed away from the wall, opened his bedroom door then stretched his hand out to her.
She didn’t need to be a mind reader to know he wanted her to spend the night with him… nor did she need a second invite. Taking his hand, she yelped when he swiftly pulled her flush to his body for a quick peck on the lips. And as they settled under the covers of his bed, they shared one more long, passionate kiss before snuggling up against one another as close as they could, nodding off with matching smiles on their faces.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Hang onto your seats, this chapter is going to be one hell of a long and bumpy rollercoaster ride folks. So grab your favorite beverage, kick back and enjoy. Please be sure and read the ending a/n as well, I ask for a reason. All songs used in this chapter are owned by the respective writers and record labels, no infringement rights are intended, only used here for entertainment… blah, blah, technical blah to cover my arse, lol. Thanks to Mari for being such a sweety and awesome beta, to Carrie for helping me with all the medical facts, to Deanna for helping me with characterization and last but certainly not least, to my darling Sotia who’s been very busy lately – I hope you enjoy it boo.
Chapter End Notes:
Okay, so I’m positive some of you are still hating on Buffy, however, give her a chance. She knows she has to prove herself (and grovel) to Spike and she’ll do just that, I promise. Now I’m not sure exactly when I’ll post next though I am aiming for the weekend, but I have lots and lots of plans for them, to include, drum roll please………………………….. yes, the ‘physical’ spuffy luvin you’ve all been so patiently waiting for, *winks*.