[Reviews - 45]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 2315 times

- Text Size +



Photobucket


Chapter 8: Memories

Instinct kicks in and Buffy fights. This memory is still painfully fresh in her mind. It's a deep stinging cut which has yet to heal, and now being dragged back into this memory is like rubbing salt in the wound. This is no longer just Spike's frightful recollection but hers as well, and that makes it all the more vivid and painful, all the more real; the smell of alcohol on his chilly breath, the feeling of his cold skin dragging violently up her side, the pull of her muscles as she flexes her legs and kicks him off her to send him flying across the room and crash into a cabinet. It feels like more than just a memory and her heart is pounding violently at the stimulation, just as her breath is ragged and uneven with fear.

Buffy pushes herself up off the tile floor and puts a death grip on her violet bath robe holding it tightly to her skin. She stares at Spike with tears welling in her eyes and a trembling lip. She looks at him, first with rage and anger but then she sees that the hurt in his eyes is a thousand times deeper then when this moment had been more than a memory.

For a second Spike looks as if he may crash to the floor weeping, but he straightens himself out and puts on a front. He puts on a mask of cold indifference and stares her down instead. Still though Buffy can see through his façade.

"This would be the part where you tell me this is why you could never love me…" Buffy visibly flinches, "because I don't deserve it, don't deserve to live," he says, his voice breaking slightly. Buffy shakes her head and a thick crease forms between her eyes. She takes a step toward Spike.

"That's not true." Her words are firm and she sees as they enter Spike's ears that all the hard angry lines in his face melt. His pained eyes fill with water and Buffy wonders if he's too choked up to speak. He takes a short, rough unneeded breath and Buffy takes another step closer to him.

She can feel that she's no longer in his mind, in his memories. This is a memory they share, and as painful as it is, it's theirs. Their on a bridge now and Buffy needs to pull him to the other side. She takes on final step to him and brings her lips to meet his. Too broken down to resist Spike shuts his eyes and lets her pull him into her.

Spike opens his eyes with a gasp and sees Buffy's silvery sage eyes gleaming at him. Taking a deep unneeded breath Spike looks around. They're in his crypt, early morning light shines through the small windows and they stand before each other in the cool shadows. His face feels swollen, his body sore, and he sees out of one eye much better than the other. She looks on at him with caring eyes wearing that overly girly pink skirt, and Spike remembers. He remembers how he had Warren make that bot to look like her, to be her, to attempt to replace her. A pang of hurt hits him as he realizes that for a short time the bot had replaced her when she had been dead. It was then that Spike had realized just how terrible a replacement it was. Nothing could ever compare to the real Buffy, not ever.

"Do you remember what you did for me and Dawn?" Buffy asks and Spike nods. "Not everything you've done has caused pain and destruction… this day, what you did… this day you were a hero." Spike's eyes go wide and Buffy nearly tears up seeing the confusion swirl around in his blue orbs. Did he really not know how much keeping their secret meant? Spike shakes his head.

"'m no hero… selfish bastard seems more right."

"If you were so selfish you wouldn't have kept our secret even if it meant death. You put Dawn and I before your own life… even soulless you could be selfless."

"One good deed doesn't make up for all the lives lost pet, even if someone as yourself decides to think highly of it." A twinge of anger rushes through Buffy's veins and she steps up closer to Spike. Her eyes are filled with determination to prove him wrong.

"Will you stop that," Buffy all but shouts. "You've done a lot of good, you stood by me to protect Dawn, looked after her even after I was gone… you…"

"Had a chip in my noggin, had to get my jollies killing something somehow."

"No, that's not all it was… you… you cared about me; about all of us… you loved me." They both fall silent for a moment. It's the first time that Buffy has admitted that his feelings were real. Not just real for him, but truly real. "You loved me regardless of how I treated you, even when I treated you like… regardless of what you are, of how you're supposed to be… you loved me so much that you got a soul… for me, to be a better person and you can be Spike. Don't you get it, you went against everything you were to be better, don't give up now."

"There's no good wanting those things now. What good is my love? You're right… I could… maybe I could try to be a good man, but after all I've done… it haunts me pet, and no matter what I do from here on out I can never make up for it, never fix it… so what it comes down to is that I don't want to live anymore, not gonna fight through the sodding pain when I'm gonna burn anyway… let me go love, I deserve what's coming to me, we both know it."

Buffy's brow creases. He doesn't even sound like himself. She'd never known Spike not to fight, fight for her, for himself, for no reason what so ever, he always fought. It was an easy argument to tell him that he could be a better man, but what more can she argue with the fact that he doesn't care, that he doesn't want to fight? He's given up. She can't force him into a life of redemption, can't keep him with her if that's not where he wants to be; and suddenly that thought pains her. The thought that he doesn't want to be with her, that he might not love her anymore, it scares her and for a moment she doesn't know why. Buffy's eyes water and as she looks at him then she realizes that she wants him with her, wants him in her life and she knows that she can't leave without him. Buffy shakes her head violently back and forth. She won't give up.

"No," Buffy murmers. What good is my love? His words replay in her mind. "What good is your love? I'll show you." Buffy grabs him by the hand entwining her fingers with his and as her sun-kissed skin meets his cold digits the world begins to spin. Spike's crypt blurs from existence. A chilling breeze sweeps through them both as a new scene melts into place. Like dripping candle wax the world around them develops into a distorted version of the Summer's living room. As Spike looks around he sees a room that looks like a funhouse mirror image of the room he remembers. Here the color has been drained from the walls and furniture leaving everything grey and cold. All life and warmth, and softness have been sucked from this room.

The fireplace mantle sits askew, the painting on the wall above hangs crooked, the furniture is made up of hard lines and right angles, and outside the window the world is just as grey and cold as it is inside. This room is grim, depressing. It's a dismal distortion of reality.

"What is this?" Spike asks.

"This is what you saved me from… you saved me… your love saved me."






You must login (register) to review.