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Chapter Eleven


For the Birds

A week had passed since the incident between Riley and Spike, Buffy had been relieved in a way that Spike had dealt with him, and horrified at the drastic way that he had. She knew that he’d meant well, and was only defending her in someway, but what scared her more, was the outburst from him that had followed the attack. He made it clear in no uncertain terms that he classed her as ‘his’, and fundamentally any male that came too close was to understand ‘she belonged to him’. In one way it thrilled her, that he felt this way about her, his protectiveness was alluring to her instinctual self, but it terrified her that he felt such a strong infatuation for her, even though she suspected that it was more than that.

The intensity in his voice as he warned the other man off, was laced with a threat besides his obvious words. Buffy was certain that Riley would not be bothering her again, especially now that Spike knew who he was. He would stay away. Yet this didn’t take away the deep concern she felt inside about the intensity of his feelings for her, she just didn’t know if she could deal with them, this was not what she’d expected from him at all. She hoped that it was just his way of wanting to protect her, from what he perceived as a personal threat to her. The only way that she’d find out was to go and speak with him, but that may be an impossible task, her mother had successfully placed barriers in front of her even going to see him.

She could no longer escape out her window, her mother would always home before and after university, and somehow she always knew the where bout’s of her daughter. Buffy had to be honest with herself, as up to this point it had given her an excuse to avoid the discussion she knew needed to happen between herself and Spike. She devised a plan that would get her out of the house, and she hoped wouldn’t break her neck, as she made her way down to the basement.


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The events of that day weighed heavily on Spike’s mind for the week following. They consumed him with fear and dread. He’d never reacted like that, even when he’d been provoked by another, he was usually calm and had never struck out like that before. He’d panicked when he had seen Riley approaching Buffy, his primitive instincts took over, one of looking after the thing he cherished, and the other of someone threatening something he considered his own. He could still feel the emotions rage throughout his body even now, various thoughts and feeling clouded his mind, and he knew that he doubted that he would have reacted any other way.

The intensity of the feelings that made him do what he did surfaced over and over again. He just wanted the world to know that she belonged to him, and he wouldn’t tolerate any threat to her. He acknowledged to himself that in someway, it was a little unhealthy for him to feel this way, when he wasn’t sure how or what she felt for him. If anything this event would either propel them forward drastically, or have its own ‘Death March’ as its anthem.

He wanted her with such an abandon, such craving, it was new and phenomenal to him, he’d never even felt this way with his wife. They’d been school sweethearts, stayed together through college until they’d eventually married, she’d had been full of life and vigour, but had never inspired this response from him.

Another thing that worried him was what Buffy was going to do now. Would she walk away with his need of her, or would she embrace him and all his idiosyncrasies? He just had to know, and the only way that he would find out was by talking to her. Yet she’d managed to elude him the last week, not sure through her own choosing, or hindered by her mother. Joyce still considered him a ‘no go’ area, and Buffy’s hadn’t seemed to be able too either get passed her mother, or hadn’t the inclination want too, and that’s what scared him the most.


He knew that he had to talk to her, and he had to do it tonight. Walking into Imogen’s room he made sure that she was asleep, and that the baby monitor was on, taking the mobile parent unit, he clipped it to his belt as he made his way to the garage.


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Buffy climbed onto the chair that she had laid against the wall of the basement, as she forced the little window open that would be her means of escape. She quietly as she could shoved the window open, which lead to the side path that surrounded the house, it groaned and creaked under the pressure of her hand. Finally budging the window open, she squeezed her small frame outside, grasping onto the concrete to pull herself out, grazing her hands as she went. Landing on the pavement, she wiped her hands on her jeans trying to clean them as much as she could, she stopped as she heard a soft male voice swear, and cry in pain.

She ambled around the corner of the house to find a ladder laying flat against the side of the house out of site, leant up against the second story roof. The male figure was clad in black, he seemed stuck, as a hand tried to untangle their shirt from what appeared to be the ladder, only resulting in tearing the fabric. But the hair was a dead give away, its platinum colour stood out and the customary ‘Sod it!’ that followed, could only be Spike.


Buffy remained quiet as she watched the amusing sight before her, she was enjoying seeing him trying to sneak into her bedroom like a teenage boy. It was one of the funniest things she had seen for along time, and the smile across her face spread into a soft giggle, she tried to muffle it with her hand. As hard as she tried it reached Spike’s ears, he whipped his head around to see who found his predicament so funny.

Spike climbed down, after he untangled himself from the offending ladder, and stood in front of Buffy. He eyed her with some suspicion, and drew his hand through his hair, embarrassed at being caught trying to sneak into her room. He suspected that her appearance so late in the night was no coincidence.


“Spike what are you doing here?” Buffy asked.


“Out for a walk.”


“Up a ladder, against my house, in the middle of the night?”


“Just bird watching.”

“So I noticed.” Buffy kicked her heel against the tree that stood next to the house, which had been trimmed recently, disturbing the cigarette butts that lay there, “Couldn’t you have just behaved normally and come through the front door like most people?”


“Me, normal? You must have the wrong person, Luv!” Spike cocked his head to the side, and just grinned.


“Why do I always have to like the strange ones?” Buffy mumbled to herself.


“You calling me strange?”


“No Spike. More like deranged! What if my mom caught you?”


“Well she hasn’t! What are you doing out so late anyway? Looking for anything in particular?” Spike moved a step closer to Buffy and placed his hand on her shoulder, running the tips of his fingers down her arm, ending at her hand, lacing his fingers within her own.

“Stop that!” Buffy quietly asked stepping away from him.


“Come on Luv, after all I wasn’t exactly hiding?”


“Hiding? Huh!”


“What the ladder give me away? Or was it the black clothing? What about……….”


“No!” came forcefully out of her throat.


“ ‘No!’ What type of answer is that? You haven’t even heard the question?”


“Look my mom and sister are home! So the ‘no’ is for ‘no not here!’”


“Why not?” Spike looked at her concerned that she was about to turn and run from him. He knew that he could not let this opportunity to speak with her, slide through his hands. “Is it the fear of getting caught?”


“Reason number one, on a very long list!”


“It needn’t be an obstacle.” Spike attempted to take her hand, and lead her away from the house, in the direction of his own.


“Spike I mean it!”


“I hear you’re serious, and so am I!”


“Come on Spike!” Buffy gently resisted his pull away from her house, she was beginning to lose the nerve that got her this far.


“Buffy, lets be honest here, please sweet heart just for a minute!” Spike stopped pulling her hand and turned towards her, standing as close to her as he knew she would be comfortable with, “I want you. You want me. I cannot go inside. So……………..so maybe it’s time you came outside?”


“Outside?”


“Yeah, outside. Just look at the stars, sit on the porch out the back of mine, and talk.” Spike nudged her hand with a gentle pulling motion with his own, tilting his head towards his house, “Please Buffy. I think that we really need to talk?”


“Yes we do!”


“So we agree on something, finally! But not here Buffy, not where we could be interrupted any minute. Especially by your mom, and little sis, we don’t want an audience, do we luv?”


Buffy moved past him, her hand still entwined with his own, she led the way back to his porch and sat herself down on one of the wicker chairs that sat there between another single seat, and a double seat. Spike stood on the stairs that lead to the porch, and just admired the sight that sat in one of his chairs, like she owned it and belonged there. He wanted her to feel welcome, to feel at home, to give her a sense of belonging, yet he just didn’t know how to do that. He did the first thing that came to mind, and asked her a question, “Want a hot chocky luv?”


“Hmmmmmmm, chocky!!”


“Truly a way to a woman’s heart, mind and soul. Offer her chocolate, hey?” Spike’s mischievous smirk returned, he continued his climb up the stairs, into the kitchen and turn on the stove to make the drinks.


Buffy took the time just to relax and allow herself to gather the strength, that she knew she’d need once the unavoidable conversation about them came to pass. She let herself resolve that she really wanted this relationship with Spike, to grow into something special, most of all free herself, and give herself up too everything that she wanted. Yet she knew that they had some serious issues to resolve, first and foremost the event with Riley and just exactly what he wanted from her.

She knew that it was ‘all of her’, he would demand nothing less, but his actions over the last few days concerned her greatly, she was frightened that it would just be too much for her to handle, if she was true to herself. With that thought she came to the realisation that, this is what is really came down to, the truth. They had to be open and honest with each other, or they didn’t stand a hope in hell. What really mattered, and what would she hoped could make it all happen.


The truth.





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