Monday.....
Buffy stood on her home's porch. She just stared at the door, her key in the latch, her hand on the doorknob. The moment was here. The one she'd been thinking about ever since she left her home on Friday. The one she'd been dreading. She'd wondered how William had reacted when he'd found her note. How he'd coped with her absence that weekend. And what he'd say when she got home.
It must have been absolute hell for him, Buffy thought, a wave of guilt eating away at her. Her heart felt heavy. Her stomach nauseous. Her hands trembled slightly.
You can't just stand here forever, Buffy thought. It's time to go home now. And forget....
Buffy took a deep breath, then opened the door. The house seemed deserted.
“Will?” she croaked, before clearing her throat.
“William?” she managed to say, her voice slightly strained.
No answer. Buffy sighed, partly relieved that he wasn't there. That she didn't have to come face to face with him. Yet. She climbed up the stairs, her footsteps heavy. She paused when she opened their bedroom. It looked like a disaster area. Things were flung everywhere, bottles were broken and furniture was shattered. It made Buffy wince.
Buffy took a hot bath, then spent the rest of the day cleaning up.
She figured William would be out job-hunting and that she could take her time. Buffy found the pieces of the note she'd written him strewn under the bed.
God, Buffy thought. He must have been in so much pain.
“I'm sorry I hurt you Will,” Buffy whispered, rubbing her fingers over the tattered notes. “But I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I promise.”
Buffy managed to make their room inhabitable by dinner time. Then she rushed down to cook William's favourite meal, although she doubted any of them would actually be in a mood to eat. More of a peace offering, she reckoned. Something to break the ice. She even changed into a long flowing dress that William liked and let her hair down. Buffy regarded herself in the small mirror in the kitchen.
She looked like one of those 'Mad Men' housewives. Much to her surprise, she didn't hate the way it looked, or made her feel. Buffy had always been a feminist, but for some reason, she felt the need to play the doting housewife she and her friends had always mocked.
She kept glancing at the kitchen clock. It was nearly midnight when she perked up, hearing William's unmistakeable footsteps on her porch. Buffy shook slightly, inhaled deeply to try to get a hold of herself, then swallowed.
And then he was in front of her. He seemed to freeze up at the sight of her, as if he never expected to see her again.
“Hi,” she said.
She saw his eyes reflect the turmoil he was feeling. Shock. Anger. Hatred. Remorse. Guilt. Shame. She could read his eyes so easily. He was always, in his eyes.
Buffy felt her heart shrivel. There was nothing for him to feel guilty or ashamed about. He blamed himself, she knew. For not being able to take care of them. For, putting in her the situation to...
Buffy chased those thoughts away, with a small shake of her head. He was just staring at her. Neither of them spoke for an uncomfortable amount of time.
“Hi,” he said, finally, his voice straining to reach normal.
“I uh,” Buffy stammered, putting on a weak smile. “I made dinner. Your favourite.”
God. This was a million times worse than she could have ever imagined. In her mind, he'd been raging. He'd been screaming at her, calling her all sorts of filthy names. But this? He looked just beaten. And haunted.
“I'm not hungry,” he said, then turned and walked up the stairs without waiting for her to respond. Buffy blinked, then chased after him.
“Will,” she said, as he paused on the top of the stairs. She remained on the bottom, hesitant, wondering if she should follow him. “Do you....”
“What?” he said, his voice harsh. Buffy winced at the hurt in his voice.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she said, so gently, she barely heard herself, taking one step at a time until she was almost behind him. She could almost hear him grinding his teeth together. She reached out to touch his shoulder.
“There's nothing to talk about,” Spike said gruffly. And with that, he walked into their room, leaving Buffy reaching for air. Buffy heard the room door click loudly and stood there, in a daze. He'd shut her out. Buffy came forward, preparing to knock on the door. Her fist dangled forward, then gently stroked the door, as if running her hand through his hair. Buffy walked back to the top of the stairs, looking back.
Time, Buffy thought. He just needs some time. And space. We both do. We just need to put this past us. Forget this weekend ever happened and move on with our lives. Buffy sat on the top stair of their home, trying to convince herself that everything would be allright. But William was sitting with his back to the other side of the door, drinking from a flask he'd hidden away under his coat. Tears streaming down his face and mixing with his drink, as he thought how much they'd betrayed each other that weekend.
The month that followed was much the same. Buffy found herself moving into the guest room. She figured she'd try and give him (and herself) some time and space. Despite her best efforts, William managed to leave before Buffy ever awakened. And he returned much, much after she'd given up waiting for him and had gone to bed. She'd always heard his footsteps passing the guest bedroom. He never ate, as far as she could tell. He never told her where his job was. Even his perfunctory greetings seemed ice cold.
Then, Buffy found herself getting angry at him. He's behaving like a child, she thought. We're adults. This is not how adults behave when there's a problem. We need to talk about it.
That was how she found herself sitting on his bed, late one night. Waiting for him. She glanced at the clock. It was well-past midnight. As if on cue, the front door opened. Buffy's resolve weakened, but then she firmed it up.
You can do this, she thought. You have to do this. It's like drawing poison from a wound.
And then he was opening the door. William paused, seeing her sitting on his bed. Buffy saw him flinch visibly at the sight of her.
“Will,” she said softly. “We need to talk about.....things.”
“Things,” he said. Buffy saw the change in his eyes, saw him move to 'Spike' in an instant. She heard the tinge of bitter amusement in his voice, heard the slightly slurred speech. He wasn't drunk, but he'd had a few drinks.
“Right,” he said, flippantly. “Let's talk about things, shall we?”
Spike rubbed his hands together, looking around.
“This lamp,” he said, pointing to their bedside table. “I've always hated it.”
“What?” Buffy said, bewildered.
“And I have to say pet,” Spike rubbed his chin. “Don't fancy these curtains either.”
Buffy found her temper rising, but managed to keep it under control. He's just hurting, Buffy heard her mother's voice say. Lashing out. That's good. He's letting loose his emotions. It's healthy.
“That's not what I mean,” Buffy said.
“No?” Spike said. “What then?”
Buffy tried to say something, but failed. She tried again. Couldn't get it out either.
“Right,” Spike said, turning around. “Good talk then.”
“Wait,” Buffy said, her voice breaking. “Will. Please.”
Spike shut his eyes. He knew she was crying softly.
“Don't shut me out,” she said. “I know it hurt you. What I did.”
She couldn't even say it, Spike thought hardened his heart. She couldn't even say what she did.
Neither can you, he heard William's voice. Ya bleeding wanker.
That's different, Spike argued. I was hurt. Drunk out of my mind.
She bloody drove me to it.
Buffy interruped Spike's conversation with himself.
“Will?” she said gently.
“Fine,” Spike turned around. “You want to talk?”
Buffy nodded.
“Then let's talk about it,” Spike said. Buffy looked pained, then squirmed. “What you did.”
“That's not what I....” she said, her heart hammering in her chest.
Oh god. What could she possibly say? She couldn't tell him what happened that weekend. She just couldn't.
“You said you wanted to talk,” Spike said. “So talk.”
The silence hung between them for a lifetime.
“What,” Buffy began hesitantly. “What do you want me to say?”
“Tell me what happened,” Spike said.
“You know what happened,” Buffy said, softly.
“Don't do this to yourself Will,” she begged. “To us. Please.”
“I want to know Buffy,” he said, forming his face into a rigid ugly
grin. “I want to know everything. Every sordid detail.”
“Why?” Buffy pleaded. “Why does it matter Will. It happened. It's over. And now it's just us. You and me.”
“You and Me,” Spike said. He paused.
“And Him,” he added bitterly. “In this room. The three of us.”
“That's not fair,” Buffy said, wiping a tear from her eyes. “I've left that part of me in the past. Why can't you?”
“Because I can't,” Spike shouted, slamming his fist into the wall, beating it again and again and again. “Because I have to know. It's driving me crazy.”
“Why?” Buffy screamed, bewildered. “Why can't you just let it be?”
“Because I need to know,” Spike said, leaning on the wall heavily. “I need to know what you did. With him.”
At last, Buffy found her anger. Her rage. She grabbed his shoulder, then spun him around, grabbing his collar.
“All right,” she said, her cheeks glistening with tears. “You want to know so bad? Then I'll tell you.”
Buffy saw Spike flinch, but she was too far gone. She was nearly hysterical. If he wanted to know so badly, she was going to tell him. Draw out the poison.
“The man was a stallion,” Buffy said, cruelly. “We were up all night. Every single night. Does that do it for you?”
She saw Spike' face crumble. He was defenseless now. And yet she drove a stake clean through his heart, finishing him off.
“I've never been fucked like that,” Buffy said, using her bedroom voice now, leaning on Spike, rubbing her body against him enticingly. “That hard. That good. That long. I'm getting wet just thinking about it.”
Buffy tried to reign herself in, but it was no use. She was too far gone.
“And then I begged him,” Buffy said, her voice finally breaking. “Begged him to cum inside me.”
Spike snarled, rearing his hand back to hit Buffy.
“Do it,” she screamed. “Hit me. Hit me, goddamnit.”
Spike dropped his hand, then fell to the floor, curling up alongside a wall. Buffy wrapped her hands around herself, still weeping. No-one spoke for a long time.
“Is it true?” William said, taking deep breaths. “Is that the truth?”
“You don't want the truth,” Buffy said, sounding broken. “You want me to lie. To tell you he was awful. And then you won't believe me.”
“Just tell me the truth Buffy,” William said hoarsely.
Buffy took a deep, long, pained breath.
“It was sex William,” she said. “Just sex. Not love. Not what we have.”
“Was it good?” William persisted.
Buffy felt her nostrils flare, but then the fight left her entirely.
“Yes,” she said, finally, with a guilty look on her face. “It was good.”
William rolled away from her, standing up.
“Don't tell me it was just sex,” William said. “You were attracted to him all along.”
Buffy opened her mouth to refute her husband. Draw the poison, she heard her mother say, then remained silent. He took her silence to mean he was right.
“So it's true then,” William said mock-triumphantly. “You wanted him all along.”
“That's not why I did,” Buffy said, pleadingly. “I did it for us.”
“Don't tell me you did it for us,” William said. “You did it for yourself. You were dying to do it. Dying to sleep with a handsome billionaire. Like some bloody housewife in a romance novel. And me, the fool husband.”
“That's not fair,” Buffy said. “You know I did this for us. For the rest of our lives. Not because I've been dying to scratch some ridiculous Harlequin fantasy itch.”
“I guess you make a deal with the devil,” William said, as if he were alone. “And eventually you pay the price.”
“You're attracted to other women too,” Buffy exclaimed. “If the situation were reversed, I know you wouldn't do it for yourself.”
“You sure about that?” William said, his mouth trembling.
Tell her. Just tell her.
“Of course,” Buffy said. “I trust you Will.”
“Let's say I did,” William said. “Sleep with someone. When you were....gone. Hypothetically. You'd forgive me?”
Buffy hesitated, for an instant.
“Yes,” she said.
“You sure about that?” William asked.
“I promise,” Buffy said, reaching out to touch his cheek. “Can we get past this Will?”
“ I don;t know,” he said, pulling back and out of her reach. In his mind, Buffy had given him a one time get out of jail free card regarding Faith.
“Someday?” she said.
“I don't know Buffy,” he said. “Someday maybe. But not today.”
And with that, he left her sitting on the bedroom floor. Alone, again.
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