She hadn’t been back to the library in a week.
Instead she’d developed a new routine, no matter how temporary Buffy knew it was. She would walk with earphones in, her head in a book; and if she wasn’t reading it she was carrying one in her bag.
An aged dirt road, with a small line in the ground where bikes had frequently passed was her daily route for now.
That coffee she’d planned on bringing to stranger-guy- Well, not so much stranger-guy anymore since those hours of actual conversation with the man. –had never been delivered. She’d never gone back to the MayBell library, not after her brain started working again- and Buffy did not remember giving it permission to go on vacation!
Photographs could do a lot. They could help people to reminisce, conjure nostalgia, make someone smile.
Seven days ago they’d managed to make her cry. Of course, Buffy was no stranger to tears as of late, and God knew she’d recently become very acquainted with the whole red eyes and tight throat thing.
Yet the emotional downturn she had taken a week ago wasn’t her everyday upset or nightmare caused breakdown.
She’d been up in the attic.
Bare brown wooden walls that needed some serious dusting, a crooked picture here or there, a heavy old trunk. Oh yeah, the house’s third floor could be used in movies it was so predictably authentic.
She had wanted to simply explore a little, having remembered all the historic junk and unlabeled boxes that hid up there. A couple of porcelain dolls, an antique coat rack, a wardrobe with missing handles and drawers on the bottom. Old 20s and 30s style dresses. There were tons of things.
Then she’d looked to the boxes, one having caught her eye. The folded cardboard flaps weren’t taped and no dust touched the surface. The fact the rest of the attic looked like a potential Pledge commercial led Buffy to believe that this box must’ve been moved upstairs recently.
Curiosity jabbed at her.
She wished it hadn’t.
Inside were stacks of pictures. Ones of when she was little, ones of her parents, as well as some of Papa. Tears welled up in Buffy’s eyes and she’d bit them back as well as she could, which wasn’t that great all things considered.
Grams must have hidden the pictures on purpose before her granddaughter moved in, not wanting Elizabeth to see them and get upset.
*You tried, Grams. You tried, and I love you for it.*
It felt like the fire had been just yesterday. Wiring in old houses was really something that should be checked out periodically.
Buffy shook her head harshly against a cold breeze. She should’ve thought of that or something, should’ve been there the night it happened.
She’d quickly come to the conclusion a long time ago that if she had been home the night she’d lost her family, then something might’ve been done to stop it. She might have thought to replace the batteries in the smoke detector or she might have smelled the smoke, she might have been up at the time the fire started. She was a teenager after all, stayed up past midnight pretty often. She’d done it that night when she’d been sleeping over at a friend’s house. She should’ve been home.
Instead she was snuggled up watching movies and laughing, and that’s when she’d gotten the call. At four in the morning on a Saturday a man she couldn’t remember the name of told her that her home had burnt down, her mother and grandfather trapped inside.
Papa- her grandfather -that was what she called him. Buffy clutched the wristwatch in her fist as she gazed ahead at the river in front of her. Her pathway, the little bike trail led to a dark and smooth river where Elizabeth would sit in the grass and just think or read or try and lose herself in music. She was holding the only thing of her grandpa’s that survived the disaster. It was found in the remains of the fire, along with the locket around her neck which had been her mom’s. They were the only two things Buffy had left.
She often found it strange how a human being could be burnt to death, while a piece of jewelry or a device used to tell time made it out just fine minus a little smoke damage.
Joyce Summers died in the flames, though the coroner said she most likely passed out from smoke intake first. Buffy’s grandpa, Joyce’s father, had been saved by a fireman before the fire could take him; however, he died of smoke inhalation on his way to the hospital shortly after.
And Buffy had lived. She missed them every day. After her dad passed away when she was little Papa had come to live with her and her mom, helping raise the young Summers girl. Going to her ice skating competitions and watching cheerleading tryouts. Attending brownie meetings when mom couldn’t make it; though most of the time Joyce was there too.
Tears leaking from her eyes for the hundredth time that week, Elizabeth wiped irritatingly at them and yanked her headphones from her ears. She swallowed hard and put the antique watch back inside her book bag but couldn’t stop herself from fiddling with the necklace she wore.
She looked up at the bright blue sky, immediately reminded of Spike. Those eyes.
She missed him. She missed being able to talk to him, but it was the fact that she missed someone she barely knew anything about and who was still someone that she felt she knew very well, that kept Buffy from going back to the library.
There was a pull; she wanted her special pink lounge and the warm atmosphere of the third floor, and the regular glances she would make at him. She wanted to feel his presence, whether it was to talk with Spike or just be in the same room. She needed that familiarity and comfort, but she couldn’t have it. She was already too attached.
She couldn’t get closer to him. She’d lose him or something, she couldn’t allow herself to get closer. No matter how much she wanted…
These fears were huge for her, knee chattering and heart pounding huge. However, if they were the only things keeping her from going back to the library she might have given in by now. Given in to the things Spike made her feel. Buffy wouldn’t fool herself into thinking it was JUST the nice solitude the place offered that kept tempting her back. Spike was a big factor in the library missage here.
But now, she knew that with all of these feelings and memories, and all of this pain so close to the surface… all this dreadful pain… Her comfort around him would fade. Those hours of conversation where she’d been able to enjoy his voice and not zone out into her own saddening mind- That would be lost. Drudged up issues and still recent wounds had been irritated and she hurt more in this week than she felt she’d hurt yet since her mom and grandpa died. She had to wait until she got a better control, until a little of the agony had blurred.
She couldn’t lose the comfort she felt near this new man in her life, and though Buffy didn’t dream that her and Spike would actually form a relationship that others might envy (romantic or otherwise), she still didn’t want to have to lump him in with the rest of the strangers. She didn’t want to WANT to ignore him. She wanted to keep the feelings he evoked in her, the safety and weird calmness he brought to her. The joy.
She couldn’t lose that, and the added reminder of being terrified that if she did get too close to him something might take him away from her, was just more incentive for Buffy to keep absent from the library.
So she did.
She just didn’t realize what it was doing to him.
><
Spike woke up from yet another restless sleep. He hadn’t known vampires could get bags under their eyes, but his trusty Polaroid that he used as a replacement mirror had confirmed his suspicions many times this past week.
Buffy hadn’t been back to the library and Spike was worried nearly out of his head about it.
He wouldn’t be if she hadn’t shown up like clockwork over the past month; she was there every day he was, but the past seven had been a change.
She was nowhere near the place, and on the third day of nearly pulling his hair out from worry about the girl he’d gone to check out her home. Begrudgingly of course. He was still mad at himself about it.
From a distance Spike had caught a glimpse of her, but she hadn’t been okay, that was for sure. Buffy’s eyes were bloodshot and her body was shivering. Since then he’d checked on her every day, always caught her walking back from somewhere. He’d seen her crying once and watched as she steeled herself before going inside her house. Then he’d heard the girl’s voice, talking to her grandmother he presumed, and Buffy sounded cheery.
If he wasn’t allergic to the bloody sun Spike would get up earlier and figure out where she went, he knew it wasn’t the library since her scent was too faded there.
No, his mystery girl wasn’t around, and he wished she would come back.
He knew something was wrong and he wanted to fix it. He figured it must have to do with the overlay of sadness she always carried with her, but he had no bloody clue what even caused THAT.
Grumbling under his breath, Spike sat up in bed sighed. He hoped he wasn’t scaring her from coming back, now that they’d actually had a conversation he didn’t want her to avoid him out of fear of talking to him again. He didn’t know why she would do that though unless she didn’t enjoy his company, but Spike was nearly sure after their night of talking that she did. He also was pretty damn sure she wouldn’t be crying her eyes out over him, and hiding her tears from her grandmother.
He just didn’t understand it, and he was getting beyond annoyed that he had no idea what to do to help make her feel better.
He was also aggravated that instead of taking his way out of this budding relationship (whatever it was turning out to be), he’d been so damned worried over Buffy that he’d actually gone to check if she was okay rather than taking her absence in his life as a blessing. An opportunity to avoid getting closer to the bird.
But no. Spike was just too damn attached to her.
This was all fucking ridiculous.
Groaning quietly to himself, he stood and walked to the bathroom. Before he reached the door a small meow from behind drew his attention back to the bed. “Ah, yeah furball I’ll feed ya when m’done with my shower,” he said as he patted the kitten’s head lovingly.
Looking into her warm gold and green eyes, Spike frowned. He really needed to talk to Buffy soon.
He didn’t like her being upset. He didn’t like not being near her. He didn’t like not getting to watch her smile at a book or something he’d said, or seeing her twiddle with a bobby pin or that necklace she always had on.
He didn’t like seeing her cry, and he didn’t like how much he gave a bloody damn.
Spike’s shower was quick, as was setting his little pet up in his bedroom with a litter box and food.
Finally the vampire headed out into the shadows cast by the fading sunlight, set on finding his girl.
He was spending more and more time lately wondering if she could ever truly be his.
><
The man turned his head up to look at the clouds rolling in. It was going to rain, the thunder in the distance could barely be heard, but it was there. The sky was turning grey and dark. Being that it was Halloween he felt it rather fitting, though he was sure all the little ones who went out looking for candy didn’t like the thought of a storm ruining their holiday and chances at sweets.
The whole bloody town celebrated on the 31st of October. There was always a festive party thrown by one of the residents in this big old barn. The fun started at 8 o’clock, after the kiddies had gotten time to go from door to door with their empty pumpkin satchels.
It was a cheery public event. Spike never went.
He wondered if Buffy would be there. He didn’t think so, not with the way she’d been acting lately. If she were to go to that he was sure her grandmother had guilted her into it, intentionally or not.
Speaking of which, there she was now. Not Buffy, but her grandmother. Anne Summers. Spike always sort of liked the lady, even though he’d never actually talked to her before. He’d seen her enough, and there were just some people that he could tell he would enjoy should he ever get to know them. Of course, he never even thought to do that.
He still wasn’t sure why Buffy was any exception.
Who, by the way, was not with her Grams.
The gray-haired woman started walking towards the heart of town, an umbrella used as her walking stick as she moseyed down the street in an orange sweater and cat ears. Spike shook his head, smiling a little.
He looked back to the house when Anne was out of sight, frowning at the darkness that it permeated. It looked homey and lived in, but the rooms were unlit. No light shown anywhere, and Spike knew Buffy wasn’t inside.
He sighed, closing his eyes the vamp tried to focus on her scent. Her sweet smell had managed to enter his dreams and memory every day now; each moment when he awoke he had the fragrance on his lips, and then it would disappear.
His nostrils twitched, and he opened his eyes when he got a fresh hold of the scent. Determinedly and with a cocky smile, Spike strode ahead in the direction where he’d find her. He hadn’t thought to be able to lock on her smell so easily, not having needed to work that particular vampiric talent in a while and knowing he was out of practice. Not too shabby though, it seemed.
Now all he had to do was find her.
><
She’d forgotten it was Halloween. Buffy looked across the river at the little kids with their parents and older siblings, they walked from house to house ringing doorbells and collecting candy. She hadn’t been to town since the last day at the library and Grams was the only person who she’d seen asides from the occasional stranger across the river, and now those who crowded the block on the other side of the flowing water.
A cool breeze chilled her and Buffy squirmed beneath her sweater, her shoulders hunching inward to try and keep warm. Today there was supposed to be some kind of annual Halloween party in town. Grams already left to attend, and had asked Buffy if she wanted to come with.
Can you guess what the answer to that had been?
Of course, she’d been nice to Grams when declining the offer, and thankfully Anne hadn’t pushed the invite. Elizabeth just really didn’t feel like being around anyone right now.
Thunder sounded in the distance, tugging a sigh from the blonde’s lips. She didn’t really want to go back in, the emptiness of the house would seem unfriendly and taunting. It would. What with her having stayed away from the festivities in town just to avoid people.
The house would be barren and loud with Grams’ absence; Buffy didn’t want a reminder of how pathetic she was that she couldn’t even attend a party with her grandparent.
She just had no reason to go. She didn’t know anybody for starters, and Grams knew everybody. Anne would have a good time no matter what, Buffy was sure. So avoiding the whole issue of putting on a smile and meeting people she didn’t particularly want to try and listen to, by letting her inner loner come out and keep her at home, was just easier. Except she wasn’t at home, she was sitting on the grass in front of a dark river, watching strangers in costumes running around as they enjoyed the holiday.
Which was easier. If she was home, it would be even lonelier. At least outside she was kept company by the wind, the sound of people’s laughter, and if she tried really hard, she could pretend that the blue sky up above was the comforting gaze of a man she felt she knew better than she should.
Except it wasn’t blue. Not anymore. Clouds had rolled in, marring the bright color with grey shadows and a stormy overlay. The thunder was getting closer, Buffy could hear it.
She still didn’t want to go inside.
Sighing to herself, she stuffed her ipod in her bag and rose to her feet. Just before she was about to start the walk home, Elizabeth bit her lip and turned back around to face the river. Unceremoniously dropping her bag on the dry earth, she closed her eyes and breathed in deep.
She stretched out her arms, allowing cool air into her lungs. The smell of a fresh rain about to pour wafted gently around, and she squeezed her eyes shut tighter. A drop fell on her nose. She focused her senses, waiting for the water to sprinkle or mist or drench her. She didn’t care. She just wanted to feel it.
The determined absence of thought probably had to do with why she never felt his approach, or the steady gaze he watched her with before the man finally spoke.
“‘Bout to start a rain dance, love? Don’t think you’ll need one.”
Buffy frowned immediately, swallowing hard the gasp that had risen in her throat. She lowered her arms to her sides but didn’t turn around. She didn’t even open her eyes.
“What are you doing here?” She inquired softly, her tone not betraying how shocked she was that he was right there, so close to her after not seeing him for days. And they weren’t at the library.
Spike tilted his head, studying her as she refused to look his way. “Could ask you the same thing,” he said. “Haven’ seen ya in awhile. Thought you went missin.”
She could tell he wasn’t serious, what he’d said was obviously a short joke, but the on-edge part of her chose to look at it as accusatory. “So? What’re you like my keeper?”
He frowned, a puff of humorless laughter squeezing past his lips. “Hardly, just thought about you was all. Wondered where you were… library seemed a little empty.”
Buffy pressed her lips together. She didn’t want to talk to him- Well okay that was a lie. She did. But she didn’t want to lose him either, have him become like everyone else.
She didn’t want to talk to anybody, no matter how much the suffering inside of her begged for someone to share its anger with. Someone to ask why there was pain for those who didn’t deserve it in the world, why all of the pretty pictures were lined with sharp thorns throughout their canvases. For someone to hear the agony as much as Buffy felt its wail within her body every time she was reminded of her dead family. She wanted someone to listen, but she didn’t want anyone either.
And she certainly didn’t want the one stranger who wasn’t really a stranger, who could bring her joy and make her forget about the horrible things, to become just another preferably ignored individual. She couldn’t open up to him and dirty the happiness he brought her.
“You gonna say anything, pet?”
“Why do you still call me that?”
Spike shuffled a little closer, the raindrops hitting his back lightly as they sounded a soft pattern on the leather. “You stopped complainin ‘bout it the other night. Not long after we talked ‘bout your Grams and-”
“Why are you here?”
He scowled, her distance from him irritating and, worryingly, hurtful. “Why shouldn’t I be?”
She finally turned around, a sigh pulled from her lips as she looked at him with a frustrated expression. “If you keep just answering questions with questions, we’ll never get anywhere.”
“I’m not exactly bein the aloof one here, love.”
She crossed her arms. “Why do I have to be aloof? Why can’t I just be being normal, and you’re being nosy? That sounds more accurate to me.”
Spike raised an eyebrow. “Oh really,” he said, as the rain began to fall harder. “Well excuse me for wonderin how you are. Didn’t realize there was a waiting line to talk to your precious self.” He waved a hand, gesturing at her.
Buffy rolled her eyes and didn’t let show how the comment stung. “There isn’t a line. As a matter of fact, I’m closed. No open booth today, come back tomorrow for a refund on your tickets.” Her harsh tone spun with her as the girl turned around again, her ponytail whipping violently.
Spike scoffed. “Well someone’s just all kinds of pissy ain’t she?” He took a step closer. “What crawled up your arse and died?”
“I’m not pissy, just don’t feel like talking. I’m closed, remember?”
Spike’s jaw tightened, he wasn’t getting anywhere with this girl. If only he could hit a nerve, pinpoint a problem and bring out whatever was actually bothering her. It might help to alleviate some of the anger and… hurt, he saw displayed for him through the rain.
“Are you gonna hit the bricks anytime soon or am I the one who’s gonna have to leave?” She asked him, her voice rising as the stormy skies got louder.
Spike frowned and tilted his head. “Who says you have to leave, love?”
Exasperated, she turned back around, hands on hips. “No one! I’d just appreciate being alone and I don’t really want your company, okay?!”
His nostrils flared as he took another step closer to the fuming young woman. “I was only out for a walk, Goldilocks. S’not my fault I found you,” he lied.
“Out for a walk,” she asked, softer this time as her brows drew together. “Looking to get drenched?” Buffy gestured to the sky.
“Could ask the same of you.”
Forcing herself not to yell out in frustration was one of the most difficult things she was sure she’d ever done, this man just kept pushing her buttons. Before he’d been so nice, though from their very first encounter with each other, she shouldn’t be surprised he was pulling out a fury in her right now.
She’d thought she’d lost the ability to get riled up like this, she’d stopped caring about so many things long ago... She should be rolling her eyes and walking away in quiet civility, not getting angrier and angrier.
Buffy crossed her arms. “Are you just going to stand here all day, driving me up a wall?”
“Why? You got somewhere to be?”
The tone he used made Buffy feel insulted. He sounded as if he was challenging her, baiting her?
It worked. “Maybe I do! Either way it’s none of your business.” She grabbed her bag from the now damp ground and stormed off, the aggravation showing clearly on her face.
Spike narrowed his eyes and groaned inwardly. She was going to drive him crazy, but he wasn’t going to leave her alone now.
He caught up easily enough, staying by her side which only added to Buffy’s agitation. “Got a hot date, have you?”
“No,” she answered in reaction, not being so happy with the urge she felt to reassure him that she wasn’t going out with another man. “But even if I did, it wouldn’t be any of your business.”
A little nerve twitched with the clenching of his jaw once again. Spike walked faster and the rain fell harder. “Saw your grandmum toddle off to that little Halloween party in town. Didn’t feel like attending, love?” He asked chidingly.
She rammed to a stop and turned on him, her hand harshly gripping the handle of her bag which was slung over a damp shoulder. “Again, how is that ANY of your business?!”
Spike narrowed his gaze, ignoring her angry question. “Sent Grams off on her own ‘cause what, you’d rather be alone to stand outside in the rain? Gotta tell ya, lamb, s’a bit-”
He didn’t get a chance to finish. “It’s a bit NONE of your business! You have no idea why I didn’t go with her tonight, so don’t take guesses!” She turned to leave again, the rain now heavy enough to have already planted her hair to her head and started soaking her jeans.
He followed again, having to stop himself from grabbing her arm and making her face him. “You feel worse when you’re in a crowd, don’t you?” He accused, his tone rising as the sound of the pouring rain started to block out his voice.
She didn’t even flinch, nor did she respond, but Buffy moved quicker. Her steps had turned into mud splattering stomps.
Spike didn’t relent. “That’s it ain’t it? You don’ like bein ‘round crowds so you hide.” He ran a little to stop in front of her, his gaze determined. “Why are you tryna hide from me now, Buffy?”
The question was laced with vulnerability and a probing strength that scared her. She felt almost forced to admit her fears, as if he’d pointed a gun to her head with those damn eyes staring as intently as they were. His beautiful face was concerned as well as searching. He was genuinely worried and wanted to know. He wanted to know why she was pushing him away.
She was so terrified at the fact that there was even anything between them to require pushing.
“I know there’s somethin hurtin you,” he declared, his accent a rough yell into the sound of a heavy rain. “I can see it every time you’re in my sodding view. Your eyes… your light. It goes out.”
She stared at him and swallowed hard but imperceptibly. Her gaze was both stony and pained as Buffy brushed passed him, storming away again.
Yet still, Spike did not leave. He caught up to her, his tone, though loud, had softened since his last statement. “What happened to you?”
She whirled around at that, all fury as the final straw of control and reason snapped. “Nothing happened to ME! Nothing! I’m right here! I’m alive, I am FINE!” She shouted, her throat scratching as she said the words.
“You don’t look fine,” he proclaimed, his voice strong and forceful, as if ordering her to tell him the truth and why she hurt. Why she was pushing him away like she seemed to do everybody else.
“Well I am,” she said through clenched teeth. “I don’t want to talk, and I don’t want company. I just want to be left alone!”
“You seem pretty alone to me, pet.”
Buffy’s eyes welled with tears suddenly. Her exhaustion from this fight and her determination to keep her secrets was finally boring down on her. She would not cry though, not now. Not in front of him. He would not become an outlet for her grief.
Spike had something about him that didn’t manage to frighten her off like a newborn colt. When he made a joke or said something that could be deemed flirtatious she listened without strain. Others were hard to focus on because Buffy’s mind wandered into loneliness, but when it was Spike her mind was one tracked. She focused on him. She didn’t want to lose that.
But she already had.
Buffy’s heart abruptly crumbled.
Here she was, arguing with him, screaming in anger that had been formed from sorrow and bitterness. He would never forget that a dark shadow rested over her heart now, he seemed to already be aware of it.
And he would not forget how she was treating him, how she was acting. He’d approached her before she could force her raging emotions down from the surface, and her sensitivity had erupted to try and block him out.
Buffy’s fear of Spike being too close when she was hurting like this, of dirtying the joy he brought her or losing the connection they managed to hold, had gotten her to feel wrath like she hadn’t experienced in forever. Wrath that was formed from sadness, from self resentment and fear.
She’d not cared about another person in so long, Grams was the only one. Until now it seemed.
Before she realized he’d even moved, Spike was in front of her, gently placing a hand on her wet cheek. His touch was gentle, and he shushed her when those startled glimmering green eyes shot up to meet his.
“I... You don’t have to be alone all the time. Not if you don’t want, Buffy.”
His voice was so sincere, so soft and kind that she almost broke down. But then the words he’d said registered and new resolve stormed her eyes. “You don’t know anything about me.”
She turned to leave, but he grabbed her arm and spun her around again. His face was a portrait of unsteady control and frustration. “Like tellin yourself that one, pet?”
She glared at him. The rain had soaked his bleached hair and his face was wet as the water continued to pour and drench them both. He was still gorgeous. A beautiful man who was pissing her off and hitting nerves. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone?
And why wasn’t she shoving him away and running home by now?
“I- I-… What do you want from me?”
His gaze softened considerably. “I want to know what’s hurting you.”
She took a moment before finally conceding, her face stony and almost wary at the same time. “The past.”
Spike relaxed his posture some, his eyes showing compassion for the girl in front of him. “Everyone’s got a past. Mine’s not so much fun to relive either.”
Buffy’s fear died a little, just as her walls came down a fraction and her breathing calmed. The sensation of rain soaking into her clothes was now uncomfortably felt and fully acknowledged. She sighed loudly, her head dropping to look at her wet tennis shoes and Spike’s shiny Docs.
“Wanna grab something to eat?”
It was barely a whisper, and if Spike didn’t have fine-tuned vamp hearing, he was sure Buffy would’ve taken the chance at pretending she’d never said a word. He tilted her chin up gently though, allowing her to see that he’d heard her just fine and there was no way she was getting out of the invitation.
“Yeh,” he nodded, his fingers sliding away from her face. “Sounds good.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I hope you guys like this chapter, it's a little longer than normal :)
Also, my heart goes out to all of those who are affected by the tragic deaths in Newtown, CT and China. R.I.P. to the victims
Also, my heart goes out to all of those who are affected by the tragic deaths in Newtown, CT and China. R.I.P. to the victims
Chapter End Notes:
Reviews are appreciated! I read them all :)