[A/N: Emotionally draining moments can be more exhausting than physical violence. Words that have been held for years are sometimes the hardest to let escape. Releasing old hurts is very cathartic. I was always waiting for that moment with Buffy – and it never really came. Poor girl. I should probably explain my last notes. I actually liked Angel when he left Sunnydale and went to LA – I just didn’t like the pairing of Buffy and Angel (cause chemistry – they didn’t have it). Angel and Cordelia were a much better couple. The title is from a Dave Matthews song – although I’m not really sure the song’s lyrics really apply here, I just liked the title. The quotes are as attributed and the disclaimers are still in full force and effect.]
Previously: Buffy settled some things with her first love. This starts exactly where we left everyone.
1. The space between your heart and mine
Beloved, let your eyes half close, and your heart beat
over my heart, and your hair fall over my breast,
drowning love’s lonely hour in deep twilight of rest . .
William Butler Yeats, He Bids His Beloved Be at Peace
Peace and rest at length have come
all the day’s long toil is past,
and each heart is whispering, “home,
home at last.”
Thomas Hood, Home at last.
He’d become so attuned to her in the short weeks since she’d returned, aware of her every mood, quickly learning what might cause her a problem. The return of the great foreheaded one was without a doubt something to set her off. Just the end of this whole damn day was enough to set her off and cause a backslide of enormous proportions. It was bad enough when they’d tried to get her to go shopping. This was bound to be twice as difficult. He paced around the shop, shooting glances at the closed training room door, every couple of moments. This was . . . god, what he wouldn’t give to be able to fight this battle for her. To tell the Irish git that he could go back from whence he came.
But he couldn’t. Because there was a small part of him that feared she wouldn’t be able to do that. Wouldn’t be able to tell Angel he wasn’t wanted here in Sunnydale. That she didn’t love him anymore. That they were no longer a part of each other’s lives, except as memories.
And that part of him was also afraid that he would burst into that room only to find the two of them snogging like teenagers.
Wouldn’t be the first time he’d found Angelus with his lady-love. But he thought this one might be the hardest of all to recover from.
Pacing around, he nearly walked into Giles, who was watching the doorway with almost as much concern. They’d been in there for a while and Spike could feel his own agitation growing. Before he realized it, he was at the door, leaning against it, straining to hear any sounds from within. Nothing clear came through, only the sound of her voice. It was enough.
Spike opened the door slowly, to hear her saying, “it was Spike who rescued me that night, took care of me. . . “ and he winced when the tears that he’d heard in her voice broke, a soft sob hitching in her throat, “he’s been taking care of me since. That’s love Angel.”
He’d made no sound, made no move other than to barely open the door, but when the last words crossed her lips, he drifted inside the doorway, leaning back against the wall, just watching her. Buffy sensed his entrance, shifting her head to look at him, smiling at him through her tears and he stopped breathing just to watch her walk toward him. Spike almost didn’t hear the last thing she said to Angel, only catching the end of it, which sounded suspiciously like “go back to Darla.”
And then she was in his arms, her face buried against his neck, holding on tightly.
******************************** ****************************************
The last of the boxes was loaded, every trip, beyond the first one, conducted in silence. When he’d first arrived, Xander had hugged Willow for long moments, letting her sob onto his shoulder. Dawn had barely returned Xander’s greeting, smiled at him once, her attention immediately refocused on the television.
Willow was standing in the hallway, staring at nothing, praying for Tara to come down the stairs. Xander stood in the doorway, watching her. “C’mon Will.”
He tugged on her arm, pulling her outside, drawing her away from the stairs. “Wait right here, I’ll be right back.”
Xander walked in the door, closing it firmly behind him. “Dawn, where’s Buffy?”
Without looking at him, she said, “out patrolling.”
“This isn’t right Dawn. Letting Willow leave . . . letting Spike throw her out.”
“What are you talking about?” Dawn finally looked up at him. “Spike had nothing to do with this.”
“He probably rigged the whole thing to separate you from the rest of us.”
“Xander are you deranged? Spike never even said a word to Willow. I’m the one who told her she had to leave.”
“No. Dawnie, why would you?” Xander was completely confused now.
“Willow’s off the deep end Xander.” She was losing her patience, not that she’d had much to begin with, especially regarding this situation.
“How can you say that?” He moved closer into the living room, trying to keep her attention.
“Because its true. She’s like so not herself. Doing freaky magic things.” Dawn got up, moving away from Xander toward the kitchen. She really didn’t want to be having this conversation with him.
“That’s not freaky – she’s not hurting anyone.” Xander parroted with what Willow had kept on insisting.
“Gee, then Tara and I don’t count. Thanks Xander.” The sarcasm was dripping from her tone, impossible for even him to miss.
“Oh c’mon, Dawnie, she did that to rescue Buffy from hell.” He kept following her as she moved about the living room.
“Yeah sure she did. Only Buffy wasn’t in a hell dimension. Willow kind of lied about that.”
“What?” He was shocked.
“Buffy was in heaven Xander. Willow pulled her out of heaven.”
“She’s also been lying to us.” Tara’s voice preceded her down the stairs. “She called Angel and lied . . . “
“How do you know that?” Xander cut her off, feeling defensive.
“Because Angel called here earlier and left a message. He said Willow had called him.”
Making her way down the steps, Tara stopped on the last riser. “I don’t trust her anymore Xander, and maybe if she hadn’t lied to our faces about telling Angel, we . . . well, Buffy might’ve let us both stay, but she did.”
Tara rested her arm on the newel post, watching Xander for signs of comprehension. At the time Willow had proposed calling Angel, Xander had thought it was a good idea. But now he wasn’t so sure.
“So what happens now?” Xander’s head was reeling from all the information.
“We go back to everyday stuff Xander. We try to pick up the pieces.” Tara shrugged, not really sure where they were going, or what was in store, only knowing this was a sort of ending.
There was a noise at the front door and Dawn said, “take Willow home.”
******************************** ****************************************
He held her for long endless minutes, ignoring the third presence in the room. Angel wasn’t important now Buffy was. Spike had no idea what had been said beyond the little bit at the end. Right now that was enough.
The tears had dried up but she was still shaking. Buffy had dug her fingers into his sides, her nose butting his sternum. One of his hands held her tight around the waist, while the other stroked her, running over her hair and back. Neither one of them spoke, it wasn’t like they needed words anyway. Her face was hot, the warmth leeching through to his skin, tears and snot wetting the cotton fabric of his tee shirt. Spike leaned back against the wall, his shoulders resting against the brick. Buffy sighed against him, her breath warming him.
“Love you kitten” he murmured into her hair, feeling her smile. The shaking increased, her fingers digging in hard, the tremors rippling throughout her body. Suddenly she sagged against him, letting it all go. Spike held on, whispering against her, wishing he could just whisk her out of here. She needed to be home, tucked into her own bed, away from the stress of the day.
It had been a hellacious day though it had started out so promising. Spike had no idea what in all hell had gone wrong but something had. Buffy slumped against him, her body molded to his, utterly spent. His attention was all for her and he didn’t even notice when Angel left the training room.
******************************** ****************************************
Giles was watching the door, straining his ears to hear what was going on behind that closed door. Spike had gone in about ten minutes prior and there’d been nothing since. No noises. No shouting. Giles was hoping that was a good sign. If something were going on with Buffy and Angel, no doubt Spike would have stormed out, leaving the pair alone. He’d been anticipating some sort of physical violence between the two vampires, more than half expecting it, afraid Buffy would be caught in the middle. The poor girl was already between the two of them but Giles had a suspicion this was just another battle in their long rivalry.
Not knowing how this was going to end, Giles watched the doorway, not realizing Anya had come to stand beside him.
“I hope she picks Spike.” Anya whispered as only she could. “I’m not sure I like Angel. He’s too broody for good orgasms.”
Giles suppressed the grin that was threatening, waiting with anticipation for what might next pop out of her mouth.
“Spike’s much more deserving of Buffy orgasms.” Pausing, she cocked her head to the side, continuing, “he’s much better looking also.”
Looking down at her, Giles bit back his laughter at her completely inappropriate yet somehow logical remarks, commenting dryly, “I’m not sure I share your appreciation for Spike’s obvious charms.”
“Oh” she chirped.
He smiled at her and she smiled back.
Neither one was really paying attention then, when the training room door opened and Angel walked out.
The big vampire stopped, watching the two of them, noting how close they were standing. He thought the girl was Xander’s but maybe this wasn’t Anya. He didn’t know her on sight so he couldn’t be certain. And it wasn’t like he really cared. Angel walked over to the table bypassing the pair who were now staring at him. The rage he’d felt earlier was now a simmering heat in his veins, lending false warmth to his muscles, directed solely at Drusilla’s childe. At the moment he wanted to disavow all ties with the Englishman almost as much as he wanted to sever the bastard’s neck. There was nothing right with any of this. His mind was reeling from all that had happened just now.
Rage had started upon speaking with Willow growing stronger with the time spent driving to Sunnydale. Actually seeing Buffy’s disturbed grave had set match to smoldering ashes then seeing her with Spike had just thrown gasoline on the blaze.
Angel was not the forgiving sort. His anger was raging with no clear target. Willow. . . what arrogance for a little girl to attempt a retrieval of, no, it was really a resurrection, and how dare she? What was her purpose in calling him? Did she just assume he would swoop in and eliminate Spike? He disliked being manipulated into getting rid of someone Willow considered a threat. His anger with Spike needed little or no outside help. That was something so old, Angel wasn’t sure that anything would change it, not even Buffy’s impassioned speech about Spike and love.
Angel wanted to break things. Spike and love were just . . . . Angel knew he was capable of love, he couldn’t fool himself about that, but he doubted Spike truly loved Buffy, not the way he did. Buffy was his ideal, she was perfection, she was his. How dare William, that pathetic excuse, that simpering fool presume to love, to touch his girl.
Buffy belonged to him.
*********************************** ****************************************
“Kitten?” Spike murmured into her forehead, his lips against her skin. “You wanna go home?”
Her eyes drifted closed lazily, nuzzling into his kiss, “yeah. Can we go?”
“Anythin’ you want Buffy.” Spike shifted away from the wall, his hand cupping her butt, walking her backward.
Her arms slid around his waist anchoring herself to his solid presence. She was feeling insubstantial again, fragile, like her skin was stretched too thin and there was nothing protecting her. Spike traced a finger over her face, almost lighter than air, but it was enough to warm her, enough to break through the bubble surrounding her.
Closed eyes finally opened, lifting tortured hazel orbs to search his features. Tilting her head up gently, Spike kissed her forehead and both her eyes. Whisper soft his thumb stroked her lips crosswise, followed by his own lips. “All right then, love. Time to go.”
Ducking her head against his arm, Buffy nodded, grabbing his hand and holding on tightly. With Spike in the lead, they left the training room, encountering Giles wiping his glasses.
His unspoken signal drew Spike’s attention to where Angel stood by the table. The big vampire growled, seeing the pair of them hand in hand, Buffy almost hidden behind Spike. She clenched his hand, her other circling his upper arm, using him as protection. Angel growled again and Spike raised an eyebrow. “Thought Buffy told you to go back to LA?”
“She’s not thinking clearly. I think you need to go.” Angel ground out the words, taking a step forward trying to gain some advantage.
Spike stood his ground. Glancing sideways once, he caught sight of the look on Buffy’s face. Sensing his eyes on her, Buffy looked up at him and smiled softly. His eyebrow raised in question and was rewarded with Buffy’s answer. Whispering against his arm, Buffy knew only he would understand her next words and she said them deliberately so he would know exactly what she meant.
“Not just crumbs.”
It only took half a second. The light in his eyes burned incandescently, darkening at first, then lightening to ice. A thousand different emotions shimmered in shades of blue, causing her golden green to sparkle in answer.
“Love you Buffy.” He mouthed at her.
“I know . . . I . . . “ but before she could say anything else, he dipped his head down and stole a kiss.
Turning to face Angel, Spike said, “don’t believe Buffy’s not thinkin’ clearly. Just seems you aren’t happy with the train of her thoughts.”
Angel stepped closer. “When she comes to her senses, she’ll shut you out. I only hope I’m there when she does it.”
“Aren’t we sore peaches.” Spike smirked, knowing it would set him off. “Too bad Buffy’s not a toy. Stop treatin’ the girl like she’s your possession.”
The Irish vampire started forward again only to be held up by the sound of Buffy’s voice as she stepped up to Spike’s side. “Angel. I told you to go back to LA. Don’t come back unless you get an invitation.”
“Buffy, he’s using you. He’ll turn on you.”
Spike snorted his annoyance. “Could’ve done that any time if I wanted you bog-trottin’ paddy. Why in all hell would I turn on Buffy?”
“You have no soul Spike, the only thing holding you back is the chip.” Angel grinned. It wasn’t a pretty sight.
“The only thing holdin’ me back is me, peaches. Chip doesn’t define me any more than the soul does you. And,” he continued, “stop actin’ so high and mighty you nit, not like you went out and earned the bloody thing. Yours is a curse.”
Advancing on the big lummox, Spike’s temper started getting the better of him. “I know the difference between right an’ wrong, you wanker. Jus’ don’t care either way. That’s the difference between us – you never could figure out what was wrong.” Thinking for a minute, Spike kept on speaking, “or worse, any way that wasn’t yours was wrong. Your way or no way. Get over yourself peaches.”
He stood his ground, not intimidated by Angel’s belligerent stance at all. Spike was sure of one thing, he wasn’t leaving this place his tail tucked between his legs, cowed by Angelus. He’d not bowed before him over a hundred and twenty years ago as a fledgling, though he’d gotten beaten for it, and he’d be damned further if he was going to kowtow to him now. Not this time. Not with this woman.
Angel flexed his fists, visibly straining his hands to keep them by his side, trying hard not to take a swing at Spike. The strain was beginning to tell. His jaw was clenched and his eyes flickered between murky brown and amber. Spike, on the other hand, was loose-limbed and relaxed. Buffy’s whispered words had sent hope zinging through his veins, coupled with his own inner strength, and Spike was not going to backdown.
Giles aligned himself opposite Angel, within short distance of his office where he kept additional weapons. The physical confrontation he’d imagined appeared imminent.
Angel caught Giles’ movement out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t tell me you’re still buying his line of crap. I would’ve thought you would see reason.”
“Actually, I have.” Throwing a glance at Spike, Giles smiled. “Seen sense that is. Can’t imagine why I trusted you in the first place. Spike’s earned my trust, more than once.”
Staring at Giles, Buffy’s smile was tinged with almost happy tears. To tell her he trusted Spike when no one else was around was a big step. To voice it out loud, in front of Spike – Buffy squeezed his hand, getting a return and a second, firmer pull toward his body.
Angel snorted in disbelief. “You can’t trust him. The minute you let down your guards he’ll strike.”
“Not bloody likely. Not my style ‘t all, more yours.” Spike rocked forward, mischief lightening his features. “Need to go check on the mistress and the sprog.”
“What? How did you know about that?” Angel’s disbelief at being called out over Darla and his child was a masterful distraction on Spike’s part.
“Not so high an’ mighty now, are you?” Pointing to the door, Spike said, “go on ya great looby. Don’t let it hit ya on your way out.”
Angel didn’t move, continuing to glare at the blond. Spike, growing bored instead of angry, stared back. Stupid bloody ox. Can’t an’ won’t hear the truth when its written on the wall.
The two kept staring at each other until Buffy threw up her hands in exasperation. “Augh,” looking from one to the other, she said, “enough. Angel. Leave. Go away. Go back to LA.”
Tapping Spike on the shoulder she nagged playfully. “You promised to take me home.”
As he turned to look at her, that bottom lip snuck out to tease him and he was lost.
“All right kitten, let’s go.”
And before Angel could make a further dire prediction or pronouncement, the pair was out the door, completely ignoring his presence.
The titular head of the line of Aurelius was speechless, floored by the dismissal. She’d chosen Spike – over him.
Staring at nothing for a few moments, Angel focused his attention on Giles. “You’ll regret this, when he turns on her, when the chip stops working.”
“I sincerely doubt that.” Giles watched the broad shoulders hunch a bit at his words, noting the grimace on the other’s face and, as he pushed open the door, said, “goodbye Angel.”
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