But the thought of what he’d said felt wrong. He could still taste the horrible lies on his tongue, burning him like thick acid and he wanted to take them back, but he felt like he’d opened Pandora’s Box and now he was doomed to suffer the guilt for his offhanded lies.
Even though he didn’t think Buffy knew about what he’d said, he felt guilty for the hurt that his words could have caused her.
Suddenly he was overwhelmed with the need to see her, to talk to her and make it all right again. He hadn’t seen her so far that morning, so he figured she would still be asleep in bed.
But it didn’t matter, he would wake her up. He wanted her and he needed her. The blond craved the reassurance that seeing her would give him. Maybe it would wash away his own self-loathing as he thought about his horrible words once again.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he was barging into Buffy’s new bedroom, not even sure why he was going in there other than for his own peace of mind. However, a cold stone of dread lodged in his chest when he opened the door and found it empty. The bed had been made neatly and for all intents and purposes there was no trace of Buffy at all. A frown marred his brow as he spotted the small piece of paper, discarded on the edge of the coverlet.
As if he was wading through tar, he lifted the note between trembling fingers and huffed out a breath, trying to focus his worried eyes on the scrawled words.
Spike,
I’m not really sure what to say but I guess I want to thank you for everything. You saved me but now I’m doing a favor for you and I’m letting you live your life. Don’t try to look for me, please. I hope everything works out for you and tell Tara thanks for everything too.
Goodbye,
Buffy
Spike read and re-read the coldly written note several times, not quite able to digest what he was seeing. Buffy was gone? Why the hell would she skip out on him? Maybe it was all a mistake and she was still here someplace. She had to be. He felt the familiar tentacles of hysteria take a hold of him, zipping around him like burning ice.
Swallowing heavily he walked out and made his way to the bathroom to check if this was some twisted joke and she was actually in there. He chuckled to himself at the thought of her being such a little prankster. He was already wedging himself firmly in the denial camp because the alternative was so unthinkable. But the bathroom door was wide open and the room was empty.
The ice in his chest expanded, painfully contorting his heart.
“Bloody hell!” he hissed. “Where is she?”
He padded to the kitchen, his legs feeling as if they were weighted with lead. Tara was still in the room, filling pans with bread dough. Her head shot up when he entered and she immediately looked at him with concern when she saw the worry shining through his eyes.
“What’s wrong, honey?” she asked, still wary of his temper after their last conversation.
Wordlessly he handed Buffy’s note to Tara and the blonde woman read it with equal distress.
“She must have gone out of the front door but I didn’t see her. I don’t understand why she would run away unless…unless she heard what you said.”
“God, no!” he sighed. “She wasn’t supposed to hear that. Bloody buggery!” Spike’s face was so twisted in heartache that Tara could barely recognize the sweet man she knew. He looked as if he was about to have a conniption at any moment. “Why the hell couldn’t I just keep my fat gob shut?”
“If you were too sensible then you wouldn’t be you Will,” Tara said, only half kidding. “Anyway, we’re just wasting time. You have to find her, William.” Tara sighed exhaustedly. “If she’s running around Henderson then there’s no telling what can happen if one of the Rayne spies sees her.”
“She doesn’t even know that my Da kept some of his people around these parts. She thinks she’s bloody safe, daft bint. But that’s my fault isn’t it? I should have warned her that we’re not even safe here. But instead I’ve been too busy being a nancy boy and…” He broke off, unable to utter another word without having it accompanied by a side of tears.
Instead he took his anger out on the wall, launching a heavy fist at the plaster. A tiny shower of dust rained down on him as he made a sizable dent in it. His chest was heaving, his eyes wild and staring, and his insides were all torn up. Buffy was out there alone and God only knew what was happening to her. Never before had he felt so horribly helpless.
“Go look for her, Will,” Tara said commandingly. “She can’t have been gone for long and she doesn’t know it around here so she surely can’t get too far.”
“She doesn’t want to be found. I already told you she’s a resourceful little bint. If she wants to disappear then she will.”
“And when have you ever let that stop you? You’re resourceful too when you want to be, sweetie,” said Tara, a half smirk forming on her mouth. “So tell me, when have you ever let what you wanted get away from you?”
“Never,” he replied. “And I won’t start now.”
Slipping on his jacket, he marched out of the house, determined that he’d find the girl.
He wouldn’t stop until she was in his arms once again.
How many places were there for a young slip of a thing to hide in a city that she didn’t even know her way around?
Apparently the answer to that question was: ‘too many.’
Having spent all day searching for the blonde, Spike was still coming up with nothing. He’d even trawled through the local stores, the cemeteries, even the banks to look for her, but she was still elusive.
He was about to head back to Tara’s when he spotted one last cemetery that he hadn’t checked on the other side of the street. He parked his car, jumped out, and hurried over to it. The light was already dimming as he wandered through the creepy wasteland, but his eyes searched only for one precious little jewel.
A plethora of questions skipped through his brain as he traversed the rows upon rows of stones. What if Ethan’s men had somehow already gotten a hold of her? What if they were already torturing her right now? What if he did find her and she told him to go to hell? What if he never found her?
He was pulled from his pessimistic internal rant by what sounded like sobbing. Tiny girlish sobs reached his ears and he followed them like the holiest trail of breadcrumbs. They lead him to an old crypt that looked at if it had recently been opened. The door wasn’t fully closed and Spike peered through the gap into the darkness, hoping his eyes would adjust. After several moments the blond decided just to take his chances and he marched inside.
After only a few feet his body collided with a smaller one and the tiny figure bounced off him and was sent sprawling to the floor as Spike’s larger frame rammed into her. It didn’t matter that she was glaring at him as if he was the Son of Satan himself, which he very well might have been, because he’d found her. He’d found Buffy.
Rubbing her ass as she climbed to her feet, the tiny teen sent him a look of annoyance, while simultaneously wiping away the remnants of her tears. As soon as the recognition fully registered with her, her pretty features twisted into a nasty scowl. She pushed past him, striding out into the open air of the cemetery and gulping in several lung fulls of oxygen. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked sharply. “I told you not to come after me, not that I thought you would, but I guess this is one of those miracle-y days. Didn’t you read my note?”
In spite of her short tone and ugly glower, he’d never been as happy in his life as he was in that moment. However, that didn’t temper his fury. “Oh I read it, kitten,” he said with anger seeping from his words. “What I want to know is what the bloody hell you were thinking? Did you think I’d just let you run off from me? Did you?”
His hands closed around her upper arms, shaking her stiffly. She struggled in his grip but he had no intention of letting her go. He knew now that in spite of his fears about loving her, the idea of losing her was exponentially worse. He’d been an idiot but he was prepared to vault over the barrier of terror and show her just how much she meant to him.
“So tell me now, love. Tell me why the hell you decided to skip out on me!”
Buffy felt her eyes tear up as she remembered his cruel words that had caused her to flee. She didn’t kid herself into thinking that Spike did anything other than tolerate her but she hadn’t suspected that he was so eager to be rid of her. Her heart ached at the thought.
Since he rescued her from the brothel, Buffy had started thawing toward the younger Rayne. He seemed…nicer somehow, like he was an actual person rather than just his father’s son. And then she’d recognized her new emotions for him as love. Somewhere deep down she’d hoped that maybe he would return that love.
Apparently it had all been an illusion. He didn’t give a damn about her. Her very first instincts about him seemed to be right. The only thing she couldn’t understand was why he’d come after her. Maybe he didn’t want to lose his chattel while he thought it could still be useful to him.
“I wouldn’t want to take up too much of your oh so precious time in making with the ‘splainy, Spike,” she said coldly, refusing to look at him. “You should go back to Tara’s and just let me go. I’m just doing what you wanted, don’t you know that?”
The blond frowned. He wished with all of his heart that he could go back to the time when things between him and Buffy had been progressing very nicely.
She’d seemed more receptive to him day by day but this behavior was a step back to the way she’d been when they first met. He’d opened his supersized mouth and destroyed everything they’d built all in one fell swoop.
He knew now from the look on her face that she had very good reason to be acting like hostile toward him. His longtime friend had been correct. She had heard what he’d said to Tara. The guilt in his veins trebled.
“Buffy love…”
“Don’t ‘Buffy’ me, William. You don’t want me in your life, so I’ll be gone soon,” she spit bitterly.
“So you did hear…” His eyes sought hers just for definite confirmation, even though he would have loved to remain in denial.
“Yes! I heard you! You’re such a fucking asshole. You know, I thought maybe you weren’t a Rayne in nature, that you escaped being as much as a bastard as your dad was. But I was so wrong. Call me dumbo-girl because I fell for it and now I know…I know what you are, what you did. And I don’t want you to ever come near me again!”
“Don’t bloody say that! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it. Just let me explain love.”
“Don’t ever call me love!” she shrieked, all sense of reason melting from her mind, leaving her only with pure, undiluted hurt and pain.
Unable to control the unfamiliar feelings that were welling up inside of her, Buffy flew at him with wild eyes, scratching and clawing at him. She was feral, only her primal fury driving her forward. Even as tiny as she was, the girl was able to draw blood more than once, aggravating his gunshot injury. Spike did his best to restrain her but her unadulterated anger gave her the edge.
As her legs came up around his waist causing him to lose his balance, they tumbled to the ground together. For a single second, Buffy’s attack faltered as the pain dazed her when she clattered to the floor and Spike took the opportunity to roll her over, pinning her arms to the grassy ground. She was still spitting fire but his superior strength kept her restrained as he stretched his body on top of her.
Staring down into her face, all he could see was twisted anger, but when he looked deeper he saw her hurt shining through. He was coming to the horrible realization that he’d really screwed the pooch and maybe there was no way back from this. His natural defenses had come up and he’d spoken words he didn’t even believe, hurting the girl in the process. Guilt and regret flooded him, taking over his senses, but he was impotent to do anything about it.
“I need you to listen to me, pet,” he hissed through clenched teeth at the struggling young woman. “I know you’re pissed off at me right now and I don’t bloody blame you. I acted like a right git. But please just let me explain. Just give me one bloody chance and if you don’t like it then you can walk out of here and never look back.”
Buffy turned her head to the side, suddenly deflating as the fight seemed to leave her all at once. “Sure, while you’re busy doing that, maybe you can explain why is it that every year this day just totally sucks.” Buffy said bitterly, refusing to look in his direction.
“What day? What are you bloody well talking about?” His hands remained on her wrists but his grip softened. However, she didn’t try to wiggle out from underneath him.
“My birthday,” she sighed. “Today’s just another happy Buffy-birthday.”
A stunned and regretful Spike gazed down at her, his mouth gaping open in shock. Wasn’t this just wonderful? Not only had he destroyed the girl that he’d fallen in love with but he’d managed to do it on her birthday.
“Good job, mate!” he reprimanded himself. “I really am sorry, Buffy. I didn’t mean what you heard. They were nothing more than pretty little lies from the mouth of a lost soul.”
“Yeah? So why did you say it?” she scoffed, refusing to look at him, even though she remained underneath him. “Practicing one hundred and one ways to be a total dick?”
“Dunno.” He sighed and sat up releasing her. His eyes moved from her prone body to the expanse of headstones before him and he stared vacantly at the barren landscape. “Sometimes my gob runs away with me and I talk bollocks that I don’t mean. I’ve always had a bit of a case of foot in mouth disease, pet and you just witnessed a flare up. I truly don’t think any of what I said, love, I was just being a first-class wanker.”
In spite of her residual anger, Buffy giggled. She felt a little of the hurt she’d felt ebb away. However, some of the pain still lingered. “Do you really see me as a burden? Am I just someone you got stuck with and you can’t get rid of?”
“You’re the bloody opposite of that, Buffy. You’ve come to mean so much to me since I met you and it was too much. I got scared and when I’m afraid of something it apparently turns me into the world’s biggest arsehole.”
Buffy nodded. She could understand what it was like to be scared of feelings. Although she couldn’t deny that the idea of Spike having feelings for her was a little weird. She’d been going through the same thing over her newly awakened feelings for Spike.
However much fear she possessed, she had no doubt that Spike was even more firmly rooted in the conflicting emotion. Even though she was young she wasn’t an idiot and she was aware of some of the things must have gone through during his life with his sadistic father. It was little wonder that he was terrified to let himself feel.
Breaking into her thoughts, Spike cleared his throat. “Why didn’t you tell me it’s your birthday?”
“When? Before or after you ranted about wanting me to be all disappear-y girl?”
“Buffy, please. I’m sorry about that.”
“Yeah you’re sorry but that doesn’t change that it happened. I should have expected it though. My birthday is totally cursed.”
“Is that why you didn’t mention it?”
Buffy shrugged. “I didn’t think it was important. I usually spend my birthday watching my dad drinking himself into a coma on the couch.” She sighed. “It’s weird to think I’m never actually gonna see that again.”
“Do you miss him?” inquired Spike tenderly, wanting to touch her but finding himself unworthy.
“I guess I should be all ‘hell no.’” Buffy worried her lower lip with her front teeth. “I mean, he was a waster and an alcoholic, he got us into the worst debt, and he basically sold me to a psychopath. But he was my dad and he was all I had left. So yeah, I guess I do miss him.”
“He deserved an arse kicking for what he did to you. A precious girl like you shouldn’t have been forced to be around rubbish like us.”
“Us?”
“The Raynes. I know we’re scum, pet. I don’t deny it. You were right when you said I was nothing more than the blood that flows through my veins. I try to change but all I end up bloody doing is hurting you anyway. God, I wish I could take back those words I said about you. I didn’t mean it, love.”
Buffy turned sharply to the apologetic man. He sounded as if he might cry and the sincerity of it tugged at her heartstrings. In many ways he was like an uncut diamond, rough and unpolished on the outside but at his center there was something worth holding on to. She realized that he might make mistakes but he was human and he wasn’t afraid to show his humanity to her, making himself vulnerable.
“I know, Spike,” she sighed.
“Think you’ll ever be able to accept my apology?”
“I’ll forgive you eventually,” she said hesitantly, knowing that she almost certainly would forgive him. His reaction proved that his cruel speech had forced just as much pain on him as it had on her.
Silence stretched between them for several seconds but Spike was already getting impatient. “Feel any better yet?”
Buffy snorted out a peal of wry laughter. “It still hurts but pain takes time to go away, right?” she commented insightfully.
“It depends. Sometimes the pain never goes away.” The blond paused for a moment, inhaling heavily as he gathered his courage to speak. “It still hurts when I think about her and she died when I was ten.”
Spike’s words came out of nowhere as an apparent non sequitur and Buffy frowned. He sniffed and swiped at his eyes. Crying in front of Buffy was seemingly becoming a regular occurrence for him.
“Who died?”
“My Mum,” he said with cool detachment. Buffy’s eyes widened at his admittance. He’d gotten so mad about that topic on the only occasion that she ever mentioned it that she never expected him to volunteer information about the woman who birthed him. “My Da had a lot of other women. He never hid that even back then. I suppose he wanted to show me how he thought a man should act, spreading his seed and all that.”
“Wow, he really was an asshole,” Buffy commented, receiving a nod from Spike.
“He flaunted all his bloody tarty little floozies right in front of everyone. My mum, she fell into a depression because of the way he treated her and it got worse and worse. And then one day she took out the shiny blades of silver and she ended it. I found her lying in the bath and the water was red. Deep…deep red. I didn’t understand what was happening at first but then I knew and I tried to help her but I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t save her. I bloody tried but there was so much blood and I didn’t know what to do. I can still see her blood on my hands.”
Almost instantly Buffy understood what he was trying to do with his confession. He was proving that the cruel words he had said about her to Tara weren’t really true by trusting her with his deepest, most painful secret. If he wanted her gone from his life, then he would never entrust her with something so agonizingly intimate. He knew that no apology would fully negate the hurt, but proving that he trusted her would serve as a salve.
But his confession had done more than just that. It had struck a reverberating chord deep inside of her. It tugged at her heart in a way he could never have expected because she had lived through something very similar. Her own mother had departed from the world, leaving her in the care of a man who was anything but caring. Although Hank Summers was never an all out sadist like Ethan Rayne, he never paid his daughter any attention unless it was advantageous to him.
However, even though he was trying to open his heart to her to help regain her trust, he was also pouring out the pent up pain that he’d stored there for so long, bleeding his own festering sores. She could easily see the hurt and guilt written all over his face as he grimaced at the traumatic memory.
“Spike, you shouldn’t have had to go through that. You didn’t deserve it.” Buffy stroked a hand over his shoulder, noticing how he quivered under her tender ministrations.
“Didn’t deserve it? How can you think that? It was because of me that she died,” he whispered. “So you see, I always hurt the ones I love, pet. Not just you.”
“Because of huh? It wasn’t your fault…”
“Yeah, it really bloody was,” he disagreed, unshed tears roughening his voice. “I killed her. It was my fault.”
“No!”
“Da told me that I drove her to it. He said she wouldn’t have done it if I’d been a better kid, smarter, better behaved, less of a wimp. I did it, Summers. I killed my own mother!”
Moving like lightening she was at his side, her arms slipping around him. “It wasn’t your fault,” she repeated sternly, wanting it to soak into his brain. “Your father was a sick psychopath that gets off on torturing people including his own son! Don’t you see how gross and disgusting that man was? It makes me wanna bring him back from the grave and make him very dead all over again.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Spike shrugged. “I’ve had a long time to learn to deal with it and even if the pain never goes away, I know how to cope. Or I thought I did. But then I find I’m falling in love with something precious and innocent and all I do is crush it to pieces because I’m so terrified of losing it. Terrified of losing you.”
“Of losing me?” Buffy moved backward, not realizing that Spike mourned the loss of her warm touch on him.
“Don’t you get it, Summers? Don’t you see?” He shook his head, wearily. “I said that stuff out of fear because I’m in love with you. And the git that I am tried to deny it and fudge it but…I’m hopelessly, helplessly yours now. So do with me what you will. Kiss me or kill me, love. Just do it fast and don’t drag it out. At least if it’s quick maybe it won’t hurt so bad.”
Shock ran through her tremulously. Until only a few moments ago she’d been convinced that Spike didn’t want her, not even on the periphery of his life, and now he was declaring to her that she was the center of his world…that he was in love with her. There was no guile in his gaze or words and she knew right then that he was confessing the truth.
Spike raised his eyes to meet Buffy’s and saw the tears running freely down her face. At that moment he was helpless to stop himself from dissolving into tears of his own again.
The blonde teenager moved cautiously closer to him and took him into her arms. Her inner voice that wanted to protect her heart was screaming at her to back away but her feminine instincts overrode her survival instincts.
For a moment he stiffened at her touch, but within seconds he melted into her embrace, winding himself around her. They clung to each other, each crying out their own pain.
Spike’s breath warmed her neck as it came out in little pants, his lips just inches away from her neck. She shifted in his hold, his lips touching her skin, tasting the faint salt that lingered on the tan skin.
“I want you, Buffy. I want to make you mine,” he told her, lifting his head and gazing into her big, green eyes. “Just tell me that there’s a chance that you’ll want me too. Maybe not now, but someday.”
Sighing, Buffy clung to him even more tightly, her fingers tracing a soft path over the planes of his sharp cheekbones. “Spike, I don’t want you someday.” He stiffened in her embrace, trying to pull away, but she forced him to look at her. “Someday is just too long to wait. I want you right now.”