Chapter 39
When Spike woke up, he and a scrunched up note were the bed’s only occupants. Not even a bucket of ice-cold water could have stirred him into action more quickly. If Buffy had up and left, he’d track her down just so he could throttle the life out of her. He was scrambling to unfold the note, his heart thundering a mile a minute, when the front door opened.
The note forgotten on the rumpled sheets, Spike cursed and dived onto his bed to pull the knife from under the spare pillow, ready to hurl it at a moment’s notice.
“Spike?”
The sunlight streaming in through the open crack blinded him but he’d recognise that voice in a darkest pit.
“For fuck’s sake, Buffy, are you trying to kill me?” The knife dropped on the mattress as he tore across the small room to crush her against his bare chest. “Scared the shit out of me, you did. Christ!”
“Didn’t you read the note?”
“Didn’t have the chance. Just woke up and about had a coronary when you weren’t here.” He squeezed her tighter.
“You’re squishing the food.”
“Sod the food.”
Her smiling lips pressed against his shoulder. “Sorry. I thought I’d get back before you woke up.”
He pulled away then, fighting the urge to shake some sense into her. It wasn’t that he was angry, exactly. No. He was bloody terrified and unsure how to deal with that. “You should have waited for me. What if something had happened to you? Buffy…”
“We can’t be joined at the hip 24/7. And hey… yummy, greasy burgers right here.”
For now, he relented because he could see she had a point. Didn’t mean he had to like it though. “Now I know you’re trying to give me a coronary.”
She snorted and slapped the paper bag against his chest. “I bought you a cake too.”
“You did?” Hell, how could he be mad at her now? She knew how to yank at his strings too well.
“Chocolatey goodness. As a… thanks. For… you know. Last night and everything.”
Her gaze darted away, chin dipping and he wanted to take her into his arms all over again, but all he said was, “Anytime.”
Thousands of words were hidden in that look she gave him, but none of them had to be spoken out loud. He could hear them as clearly as if she’d whispered in his ear and not for the first time he wondered whether he’d ever had this strong a connection with anyone else.
“We can eat and get back on the road. We should be in Cleveland by midnight, right?”
“Yeah,” he replied, sitting down on the bed next to her. She seemed better, more in control. Yet there was a tension vibrating off her that made him wonder whether she was just pushing all that grief back, bottling it inside.
As much as he wanted her to talk about it, he understood everyone had their own way of dealing. All he could do was be there if she needed him, let her sit, quiet and still.
They ate in silence, but it wasn’t awkward. It was a silence he imagined old couples shared after decades of being together when neither was pressured to fill the void with pointless chatter. When the unobtrusive presence of the other was enough. He’d never thought he would have that. How much it would ease the loneliness away.
It wasn’t until they’d finished eating, gathered their stuff and got back on the road that she finally spoke about what really bothered her.
“I won’t even get to go to her funeral. Even if I could go back, we wouldn’t make it in time.”
He gripped the steering wheel tighter, wishing he could solve every problem for her, heal every ache.
“I was at that house… how did I not find her? Why didn’t I look in the basement? Just the thought of… some stranger seeing her like that… it’s…” The sigh she exhaled was heavy, burdened. “I called Xander, you know. Right before you picked me up, I told him if she didn’t turn up soon, that he should call the police. But I didn’t actually believe…”
He reached for her hand, unfurled her fist and interlaced her fingers with his. He wished there was more he could do.
“’S always sudden. Losing someone. Even if you suspect,” he said, throat burning.
“Does it get easier?”
“A bit. Never goes away completely, that void where the person used to be. But you learn to live with it.” No need to pretend, to lie. Not to her.
“It’s different now. I guess I was too young when Mom died, and… I didn’t really… I felt relieved. Like this big weight just dropped off my shoulders.” She laughed, but there was no humour in it. “That sounds really awful. Do you think I’m awful, for feeling that way?”
He lifted their joined hands to his lips, pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “No. I would feel the same way, if I were you.”
Her eyes were glassy with tears she wouldn’t let fall and then she turned her head away to look out of the window. Even though their hands were joined, he could sense her grow distant. Her words were whispered so quietly he almost missed it above the gentle hum of the radio. “I think you’re the only person I could ever be alone with… and yet, not feel alone.”
“Hope that’s a good thing.”
She squeezed his hand and gave him a quick, soft glance. “It is.”
*******
The world had shifted again in the last few hours. It was all wrong and askew and it seemed as though it was moving too fast. Nobody cared that Anya was dead. Just her and Xander. Spike never knew her and although he did care, it was out of concern for her.
Drumming her fingers on her thighs, Buffy waited for him to come out of the restaurant. She hadn’t meant to scare him earlier this morning. She’d just needed space. To call her dad. To think. Being with Spike made her forget, eased that heavy stone resting in the pit of her heart. How could he do that so effortlessly? Even now as she watched him saunter towards the car, her mind was filled with him.
He made her want to smile when she should be frowning.
It made her feel guilty.
He slid inside and dropped the food containers on the seat between them while he started up the engine. “Got us some fancy healthy food, as milady requested.”
The car peeled out of the parking lot.
“Well, we did have burgers this morning,” she pointed out, pushing an open food container within his reach. “I don’t understand how you can look like this when you eat so badly.”
One hand slid temptingly down his torso, caressed his abs and ended up resting on his belt buckle. “It’s all from… the action.”
She almost choked on her grilled salmon salad.
“Careful there, love. No need to swallow so fast,” he said with a wink and picked up his fork. She paused mid-chew when he closed his lips around his plastic fork, lips caressing it, eyes closed in rapture. “Mmm… this is good,” Spike drawled in a low voice. “Still rabbit food though.” He licked his lips slowly, in a way designed to send her temperature skyrocketing.
She finally managed to finish chewing and swallow without choking to death. “You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?”
A pair of guileless eyes blinked at her. “Doing what?”
“Eating all sexy.”
He chuckled. And damn him, it had to be in a way that made her flush all the way down to her toes.
“Don’t know what you’re on about. Everything I do is sexy,” he said. “You ought to see me hoover.”
“Oh, can I watch you clean a house? Wearing only a frilly apron?”
“Minx. Think I couldn’t pull it off?” He arched his eyebrow.
She was about to say ‘no way in hell’ then imagined his bare bum swaying around as the scrap of cloth covered his front from her too curious eyes. So, she changed the topic instead. “You can’t eat and talk and drive at the same time.”
“It’s a bit of a challenge, I’ll admit that,” he said with a shrug. “Mind if I pull off for about ten?”
“Nope. We can’t have you starving. Or wrecking the car.”
The car in question veered off the road and they came to a halt near a remote field. This is what she loved about a road trip through the country. For as over populated as the world was, there were still those long stretches of roads where one could feel completely alone. Alone, but never lonely, she thought and started when Spike suddenly appeared next to her, holding the door open.
“Come on then, out with you.”
She climbed out. “You know, if it wasn’t you, I’d be worried you were trying to murder me. This is, like, a perfect place to hide a body.”
He snuck up behind her with a low chuckle, his hand splayed over her lower abdomen. “I might have different intentions with your… body.”
She slumped back against him, knowing he would keep her steady. “Then by all mean—”
He swallowed her gasp when she was abruptly twirled around, his lips on hers. It was insistent yet gentle, yearning but not desperate. It made her clutch his shoulders to keep herself upright when he began suckling her lower lip. Nobody but Spike could make her feel as though the ground was shifting under her feet. The way he drank her in, the way he cradled her face in his palms as if she was something precious. He made her want to lose herself completely.
Dazed, heart thundering, she pulled away to drag in a breath.
His eyes were almost as deep and inky as the sky above. “Sorry, couldn’t wait until dessert.”
“I’m competing with a cake now?”
He nipped at her earlobe, whispered, “I’d rather eat you.”
“Gross.”
“If you say so.” He gave her a chaste, lingering kiss then pulled her along to the front of the car. “Hop on.”
The hood was sturdy and flat enough for them to sit comfortably with their legs bent at the knee and she noticed Spike had placed their food there. Must have been before he startled her out of her thoughts and prompted her out of the car. She watched him eat and felt a pang of guilt like she had every time he wouldn’t let her pay.
“Spike?”
“Hm?”
“You know I’ll pay you back, right?”
His brows furrowed. “What for?”
“T-the food and gas and… everything.”
“I seem to remember you buying breakfast this morning.” He took another bite and added with his mouth full, “And it’s not like you need to pay me for petrol or anything else. I’d have gone to Cleveland either way. You’re keeping me company, and keeping me from falling asleep while driving. I’d say that’s payment enough.”
“But—”
“No buts. Now eat up, would you? Can’t have you turn into a walking skeleton or Hank will have my hide.”
“I feel guilty, Spike.”
He sighed, put the fork down. “I’m not taking your dosh, Buffy. And you don’t owe me anything, so you better stop that line of thinking right now.”
She picked at her salad, not eating. “Well, it’s not like you’re rich. And I’ve got some money saved from working at the grocery store. I could—”
“No.”
Only when she braved a look at him did she notice that he seemed offended. It was right there in his hardened gaze and stubborn set of his jaw. “I didn’t mean…”
“I’ve got money, yeah? Don’t worry about it.”
But she did worry. She didn’t want to be a liability, and couldn’t help but be curious about his source of income. Would he be mad if she asked? What if he’d stolen it or something?
“You can stop looking at me like that. I didn’t murder anyone to get it.”
Good going, Buffy. Act like a complete asshole to someone who had been nothing but helpful.
“I work. Got a job. Not one that’s particularly kosher, but I do.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m a demon hunter for hire. You’d be surprised how many folks have a demon problem. Or a haunted house.”
Well, that made sense. Kind of. “But how do they know where to find you?”
“Err… I have an ad in Yellow Pages.”
She blinked at him. “And people actually think it’s serious?”
“Well, I’ve had a few prank calls, but mostly only people who have a real problem actually contact me.” He picked up the fork and nudged her calf with his foot. “Now eat.”
For once, she listened to him and they were both finishing their meals when he broke the silence. “I also… write. For living, that is.”
Okay, now he was just messing with her. Right? “Writing? Like what?”
Was he blushing? It was a bit dark for her to be sure, but… yes, he totally was! Now she was intrigued. Spike never blushed.
“Nothing much, just… a few poems and short stories here and there in literary magazines,” he said gruffly. “You’re not going to make fun of me now, are you?”
“Why would I do that? I totally want to hear them though. And you can bet that I’ll pester you until you read me some.”
A groan. “Should have known better than to tell you.”
“I guess that’s the price for being my boyfriend.”
As soon as the words touched the air, she wished she had a time machine just so she could shove them back inside her brain. Spike’s mouth formed a little ‘o’ as he tilted his head and did that thing with his eyes that made her feel like a bug under microscope.
“Forget I said anything. Please? I don’t know why I said it. I-it’s that filter… someone must have forgotten to give me one for my mouth when I was born an—”
His forefinger on her lips stilled the onslaught of apologies and excuses. “I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone’s boyfriend before.” The finger slipped away.
“You don’t have to be. I wasn’t—”
“Let me finish, yeah?”
“Sorry.”
“What was I… Yeah. I’ve never been… that. Not really. Not sure I’d be good at it, but… I can try. If you want me to.”
The ball—the one she’d sent hurling at him— was in her court now. “We don’t have to label anything. It seems all silly, especially when you… you’re more than a boyfriend. You’re… umm… I’m not good with words, but I feel as if we have more than that. This weird connection that’s just… you know?”
There was a hint of a smile curling his lips and for once she was glad he had that uncanny insight into her brain, could often tell what was on her mind even if her mouth wouldn’t cooperate.
“Yeah, I know.”
He pulled her against his side and they lay down on the hood, staring up at the sky.
“I don’t remember the last time I looked at the stars,” she said and met Spike’s eyes.
Something gripped her, a strange electrical current that made her feel as though she was hurtling through universe and suddenly she wasn’t lying on top of a hood, sharing Spike’s warmth. She was on her back, cold cement of a building’s rooftop underneath her as she gazed longingly at a milky stretch of a neck, a mass of silky raven locks.
She was seeing through Spike again. But no, not Spike. William. His hand stretched out, stopping just shy of reaching the girl’s shoulder. Never touching, but longing to so hopelessly that it sent Buffy’s heart staggering. The girl was staring up, lost in her own little universe that he didn’t have the key to unlock and enter. There was nothing more he wanted than to have her attention, to make him feel as though he mattered. She never did.
Buffy blinked and found Spike looking at her with concern. “You with me?”
“Yes. Sorry. Spaced out there for a sec. The whole star gazing thing gave me vertigo.”
He didn’t seem to fully believe her but didn’t question her further. Her heart slowly returned to its normal pace.
She’d let the barricade slip. She couldn’t afford to allow it to happen again, especially not when Spike was with her. It wasn’t fair to be privy to his personal pain, faded though it may be.
“Do you want to get back on the road?” He seemed almost regretful.
She shifted closer to him and slipped her hand into his, fingers interlaced. “No. I’d rather just be with you for a while. Is that okay?”
He combed hair away from her face and smiled, made her hope so desperately that she could give him something that Drusilla never had.
“I’d like that,” he said and kissed her, slowly, with his heart in it.
Maybe, just maybe, everything would turn out all right.
TBC
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I have a big presentation coming up next week, so just in case the next update is a bit late, that's why. :) Hope you enjoy this one!
Beta'd by the wonderful All4Spike.
Beta'd by the wonderful All4Spike.