Part 13
Over the next week, Buffy slept more than she ever had in her entire life. It hadn’t occurred to her how exhausted she was from the long struggle against The First until she finally allowed herself to stop and rest. Once her head hit the pillow, she simply couldn’t stay awake for the better part of a week. She didn’t want to be awake. When she was asleep, she couldn’t see how big and empty her bed was with just her in it.
She tried not to think much about Spike – and succeeded in doing so, for a few days at least. But when she finally reached the point when she couldn’t sleep anymore, thoughts of him plagued her waking hours. There was a familiar ache burrowing into her chest – something she hadn’t felt since he’d left Sunnydale last spring. She missed him. Not only that, but she felt as if she shouldn’t miss him – and she didn’t know what to do about it. When thoughts of him grew too much for her to deal with, she finally emerged from the solitude of her room and dared to venture downstairs.
The house had been bursting with activity while she’d been in seclusion, most of which she’d been happy to ignore. Andrew and Dawn spent much of their time planning a new and improved Watcher’s Council on a felt-board in the basement – Andrew claimed he was aiming for a less corrupt version of the Starship Federation. Outside, the new Slayers had taken to training with Faith during the day and patrolling in pairs each night to ensure that the tattered remnants of The First’s army were truly under control. Sometimes Giles accompanied them, but more and more, he stayed behind to help Willow continue the research on the amulet. They’d been playing phone-tag with Wesley for the better part of the week. Buffy resisted the urge to tell them they were wasting their time.
There had been no word from him since they’d returned from L.A., but the new Slayers had spotted him around town. He’d helped them once or twice on patrol, lending his strength and experience. Giles had informed Buffy of this rather tentatively. “I’m not entirely sure that he’s feeding,” he’d told her. “It might be a good idea to bring him some blood, so that he doesn’t, well … slip.”
Buffy could understand what had Giles so worried – after all, a hungry vampire didn’t always use the best judgment – but she was reluctant to go herself. She had enough faith in Spike’s restraint to send Dawn to him with some blood – during the daylight hours when no stray Ubervamp might cross her path. Willow did a locator spell on Spike, and blood was donated from willing parties in the house.
“Giles was right,” Dawn told Buffy when she returned. “Spike hasn’t been eating. He’s starting to get all gross and skinny. What’s up with that? I know Sunnydale’s still pretty empty, but he could have found a way to get blood, even if it was from a butcher in another town.”
Buffy had a pretty good idea exactly what he was doing. “I think he’s trying to prove something to me. It’s a trust thing. But I think I’d be easier to convince if he wasn’t avoiding me.”
Dawn rolled her eyes. “Um, hello? Earth to dorkus? You sent me with the blood, remember? Apparently you’re not much on confrontation either. You should go see him, Buffy. I know he hasn’t come by himself, but I could really tell that he misses you.”
Buffy didn’t reply. She wasn’t sure what to think of the situation anymore. All she really knew was that she missed him, too – so much that it felt like a part of her was gone. Everything else was starting to fade to gray.
******
Sometime after nightfall, there was a sudden burst of activity in the living room where the research was taking place. Willow was talking animatedly on the phone with Giles sitting beside her, scribbling notes as he listened in on the cordless. Neither of them noticed Buffy as she came down the stairs, so she ducked outside onto the front porch, trying her best not to bring attention to herself. They were talking about Spike’s soul again – and that was one conversation Buffy was happy to avoid for the moment. It only made her sad and confused – as if she felt she should think one thing, but was instead feeling something entirely different.
Hugging herself, she stepped to the edge of the porch and stared out into darkness. A familiar voice came out of the shadows behind her. “Hey there, stranger. Come to clock in some brooding hours? Got your timecard right here.”
Buffy turned around and smiled at Xander. “Hey yourself. I haven’t seen you much lately. You’ve been all avoid-y.”
“Yeah, I think it’s safe to say we both have. Guess we’ve had our reasons.” He slipped his hands into his jacket pockets as he came to stand beside her. “So I, uh, heard about you and Spike. Or at least, I heard a lot of girly gossip about it.”
Buffy offered a guilty half-smile. “Yeah – me and Spike. Sorry you didn’t hear about it from me. Things have been so crazy, and it all happened so fast. But hey – if it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure he and I aren’t together anymore. I think I really messed things up.”
Beside her, Xander remained quiet.
She gave him a sidelong glance. “Oh, come on, Xan. You know what comes next. This is the part where you tell me he’s no good for me, and I’m better off without him. I could make the speech for you, if you’d like.”
Xander shrugged. “I guess I don’t really know what to say. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, you know? Ever since Anya died.”
Buffy jolted at his words. She’d been so wrapped up in her own problems, she’d completely forgotten about Xander’s loss. “How are you doing with that?” she asked tentatively. “You okay?”
“Not so much, actually,” he replied with a bitter chuckle. “I really miss her, Buff. I thought it would get easier over time, but I swear it’s getting worse.”
Buffy touched the sleeve of his jacket. “I’m so sorry, Xander. She was…”
“…amazing, I know,” he finished for her. “And I should have told her that every chance I got. I just didn’t. Toward the end, she and I were getting it all wrong. We were still in love, I think, but neither of us would really admit it. The trust was gone.” He ran his fingers through his tangled hair, shifting from one foot to the other as if something deeper was bothering him. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course you can. Question-answering Buffy, at your service.”
Shaking his head, Xander let out an oh-what-the-hell sigh and asked, “Do you love him?”
Caught off guard by his question, Buffy’s lips parted but no words came out.
When she didn’t answer, Xander continued. “I’m asking you this because I like to think I know you pretty well. And call me crazy if you like, but it seems to me like you’re head over heels for that Spike loser.” He stared hard at Buffy. “You need to tell him that.”
Unable to hold his gaze, Buffy let her own fall to the ground, unsure how to respond. Her throat began to grow tight and ache, and she hugged herself, trying to fight back the sudden wave of emotion.
“Don’t get me wrong,” said Xander. “I don’t like Spike, and I probably never will. I’m not telling you this because I think he needs to hear it – but because you need to say it. If something happened to him, and I hear something almost did, you’d never forgive yourself for not telling him how you felt. Trust me on that. If I had told Anya – even if it didn’t go anywhere – at least she would have known that she was loved.”
“She knew, Xander,” whispered Buffy, finding her voice. “I know she did.”
Xander seemed to take a bit of comfort in that. He nodded as if trying to reassure himself. “So do you?” he asked after a moment. “Love him, I mean.”
Buffy face crumpled with the threat of tears. “Would it make me a bad person if I did?” she asked in a small voice.
“God, Buffy,” said Xander, expression softening. “No. Granted, it might indicate that you’re a glutton for punishment.” Buffy laughed a little through her tears. “But no – you’re not a bad person.”
“I think I do love him,” she said, wiping at her cheeks. “No – I know I do. I have for a long time, and I just haven’t wanted to admit it. When he got his soul, I felt for the first time like I could trust him enough to let myself love him. The soul was like a failsafe, you know? But when he lost it, the feelings didn’t go away. If anything, they got stronger. It’s like I could see clearly for the first time how hard he tries to do the right thing.”
“Like how Anya tried, I guess,” said Xander. “But Buffy – I have to interject the obligatory warning here. Are you sure you know what you’re doing? I mean the guy almost raped you. I don’t get how you can just overlook that.”
“I’m not overlooking it,” she said. “But I am looking at the whole picture. Spike knew that what he had done was wrong, without the aid of a soul, and did something about it. That’s what I can’t seem to overlook. And he’s still making the right decisions, Xander. Even when I’m not there to see them, apparently.”
Xander rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna like watching you date hi- … oh God, I can’t even say it. I don’t have to say it, right?”
Buffy smiled and leaned up to kiss Xander’s cheek. “Thank you,” she said, hugging his arm. “For trying to understand. You have no idea what that means to me.”
“Yeah, well – enjoy it. I’m feeling strangely generous after the whole Anya-thing. There might be an intervention later. With sharp, pointy objects.” He glanced down at her, a serious expression on his face. “I am trying to understand, Buffy – but don’t expect me to stop watching your back. Kinda comes with the whole friendship package. He hurts you again and…”
“He’s different, Xander,” she said, cutting him off gently. “You’ll see.”
Before he could reply, the door of the house opened, and Willow popped her head out. “Buffy, good news!” she exclaimed, holding up the amulet.
“Good news?” asked Buffy. “There’s such a thing?”
“You and Wesley were right,” said Willow, nodding animatedly. “The soul is so put-back-able. Wesley’s scroll had a good chunk in the middle that was fabricated – though some of it was authentic. Those Wolfram and Hart people must have planted it for some reason or another. But anyway, all it takes are the right words and poof! We’ll have weepy, broody, possibly crazy Spike back in no time. Am I good or what?”
Taken off-guard by the news, Buffy tried for a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She wasn’t as pleased or relieved as she thought she would be. “The best.”
Willow’s brow furrowed in concern. “Oh, hey – you don’t look happy at all. What’s wrong? Xander hasn’t been telling more of his bad pirate jokes, has he?”
“No, I’m happy,” Buffy assured her. “I mean, the soul belongs to him, and it was kinda my fault that he lost it.”
“You seem to have that effect on vampires a lot, don’t you?” said Xander. Both girls turned and glared at him. “What? I’m just sayin’. So, um, how soon can we do this restore-a-soul thing? ‘Cause I’m thinking the sooner the better.”
“Well, we don’t even really need Spike here to do it,” said Willow, turning to Buffy. “We could take care of it right now if you want.”
Buffy frowned and shook her head. “No. That doesn’t seem right. This needs to be his choice – like it was the first time.”
“What?” Xander blinked. “Huh? There’s a choice? Okay, hand in the air if you think that’s a bad idea. See that? My hand’s in the air. What might that be telling you? Willow, feel free to jump in and help me out at any time.”
“No, I think Buffy’s got a point,” said Willow. “It should be his choice. And you know, Spike wasn’t all that bad when he lost his soul. I was the one who told him it was gone to begin with. I kinda expected Angelus Mach 2. You know, all grrrr, I’ve come for your goldfish. But he wasn’t. He was just … Spike.”
“Uh, the same Spike that kidnapped us both and tried to put a broken bottle through your face?” asked Xander.
“Please,” scoffed Willow. “If he was all fang-y and evil, we’d know already. He’s not the greatest at subtlety. And you know, even though the soul’s gone, I really kinda think it might have changed him. Either that or Buffy did. It’s weird, but you can tell just by looking at him. Even his aura’s different.”
Xander frowned. “There wasn’t a yellow crayon speech involved in this ‘changing’, was there? Because I so have that under copyright.”
“I’m just sayin’ that he wanted to get his soul back,” continued Willow. “I guess I know what it’s like to suddenly lose a grip on your conscience. Getting it back was the last thing on my mind. That says something, you know? He really loves you, Buffy, if he’s still interested in changing.” With a smile, Willow handed the amulet over to Buffy. “So would you get going already? You know where he’s at, right?”
Fingering the glittering amulet, Buffy nodded with a thoughtful smile. She did.
******
Part 14
Buffy knew it shouldn’t surprise her that Spike had returned to the house she’d broken into the week before – the same house where they’d slept together in each other’s arms for the first time – where he’d told her in no uncertain terms why he loved her. No, she shouldn’t be surprised at all that was where he chose to go.
He didn’t answer when she knocked, so she let herself in, tightening her grip on the amulet for reassurance. Though it was dark outside, she’d taken for granted that he would be there, at the house. The sudden idea that he might be out caught her off guard, and she felt disoriented and lost, almost sick with the disappointment. But when she entered the bedroom, her troubled expression softened. Spike wasn’t there, but his clothes were lying in a pile on the bed. She heard the shower running in the background and her shoulders released the tension they’d been clinging to. It was a relief to know he was close.
She sat down on the bed and picked up his t-shirt. The cotton was soft and inviting to her fingers, and she held it up to her face. God, she had missed being wrapped in that scent as she’d slept. Her heart ached at the reminder. They’d only spent a few days sleeping together in the same bed, but it was long enough for her to become accustomed to him being there. Falling asleep without him had been difficult enough, but not even having him in the same house when she woke up was almost unbearable. She hadn’t realized how much she’d come to take comfort in his quiet presence until it was removed entirely.
Inside the bathroom, the shower cut off. A moment later, Spike emerged in a cloud of steam, a towel wrapped loosely around his narrow hips. He tried not to let it show that he was surprised to find her there, but he was so transparent, she saw it anyway. He was indeed thinner than the last time she’d seen him, but it appeared as if he’d at least eaten what Dawn had brought him. The muscles in his body were tense and rigid, as if he was bracing himself for some kind of attack, and there was a deep sadness about him, particularly in his eyes. He didn’t look at her as he grabbed his jeans off of the bed and tugged them on. He looked strangely vulnerable and tired to her eyes, and a self-defeated air hung about him. Seeing him that way made her want to cry – she knew that she was responsible for putting that look on his face.
It really hit her then – how much she loved him. She was almost dizzy with it, lightheaded and breathless with the newness of it all, yet somehow aware that the feelings were anything but new. Admitting the truth to herself was the only thing that had changed. Did he know? Did he have any idea the kind of feelings that were spreading through her limbs, down into her trembling fingers, making her legs feel as if they were about to give way? How could he not? If he would just look at her, he would see the adoration swimming in her eyes, brimming over like tears. But he wouldn’t look – couldn’t see.
This is how he feels, she realized. This is how he’s felt for years. The raw desire, not necessarily for sexual fulfillment, but just to possess and be possessed by the person you adore above all others. Looking at him, she suddenly wanted his hands on her body, his mouth and his tongue melding against hers, their minds at peace as they rested in each other as one body – she just wanted to be close to him again. But there was an unyielding wall between them, so tangible Buffy felt as if she could reach out and touch it. She could see it on his face, his body, and even on his lips as she watched him struggle with the decision of whether to be the first to breach the silence.
She took the initiative and spoke first. “Hey,” she said, handing him his t-shirt.
He took it from her, flashes of various emotions playing across his features, then vanishing into careful indifference. He didn’t reply until he had completely dressed himself. “Hey.”
“I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in,” she told him, trying not to fidget as she got to her feet. Look at me, Spike, she thought. Please look at me. “I just wanted to check on you, I guess.”
“Don’t you mean check up on me?” he asked in an even tone, letting the wet towel drop to the floor. “Come to search the basement for bodies, I gather.”
“I didn’t say that,” she said softly, “and I never thought it.”
“Yeah? Call me skeptical.”
She hadn’t been prepared for bitterness – especially not now, when her feelings for him seemed so delicate and raw. She resisted the urge to take a step back from him. “I came to see you, Spike,” she whispered, feeling the familiar sting of tears.
He finally looked up at her then, and she saw the cold retort die on his lips. Concern spread over his features, slowly replacing the anger with something softer. “You been cryin’?” he asked in a quiet voice.
Buffy shifted self-consciously under his close scrutiny, hating how vulnerable she was feeling. It would be too easy for him to hurt her right now – the wrong word from him would inflict more damage on her now than he’d ever done to her physically. “A little bit,” she admitted dismissively, trying to detach herself. “Earlier. I’m okay now.”
“No, you’re not,” he said, taking a step toward her. “Something happen? Bit didn’t mention anything she when she came by. Just brought the blood.”
She bit her lip and shook her head, unable to vocalize what she wanted to say – unsure how he would respond if she did. “I just…” she stuttered. “Well, I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you a lot.”
Spike’s countenance shifted at her quiet admission. He wavered in front of her for a moment, as if he wasn’t sure how to respond or wasn’t convinced by her sincerity. “Have you now?” he asked at last, in a cool tone. “Sure you just didn’t miss the idea of me being there?”
“I missed you, Spike,” she insisted, her voice becoming stronger as she struggled to build walls of defense around her fragile emotions. “I think you should come home.”
Again he seemed to waver on the brink of uncertainty. His eyes became unfocused, the way they did when he was growing angry and emotional, and he seemed to see past her. “Dunno what to tell you, love. Not exactly my home, is it?”
Her breath hitched and failed her. Knowing she was about to cry, she turned away. She hated the idea of him seeing her like that, especially when he was acting so coldly toward her. “Sorry you feel that way,” she said, retreating back into herself. “Look, coming here was obviously a bad idea. I’ll just go.”
He sighed sharply. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, reaching out to catch her by the crook of her arm before she could slip away. “C’mere, you. Don’t run away from me now.”
A gentle tug later, she was in his arms, caught in the first real hug they’d ever shared. The press of his body was solid, unyielding, and wonderfully overwhelming. The embrace was like a physical manifestation of his unchanging love for her, and she allowed herself to relax and take comfort in it. Wrapping her arms tightly around his waist, she buried her face into his chest, and he absorbed her trembling into his body. When she felt his kisses in her hair, she knew she was forgiven, but she whispered, “I’m sorry,” to him regardless.
“Quit your crying, now,” he said, nuzzling her gently. “No need for all that. Missed you, too.”
“Then why wouldn’t you come?” she asked miserably.
“Didn’t know if you wanted me to. Thought it best to stay away while you figured things out.”
“Yeah?” she said, hiccupping into his neck. “Well, you’re an idiot.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Pots and kettles, love.”
Their foreheads came to rest together, and she let out a sigh as her tears began to slow. “I am sorry, Spike. Really. I got so lost there for a while.”
“Wasn’t all your fault, pet. Not the easiest situation either.” His hand came up and he touched her face, thumbing away the wetness on her cheeks. “Worked through what you needed to, then?”
Leaning into his touch, she nodded. “I think so. No – I know I have. No more running away, Spike. I promise.”
“What’s this, then?” he asked, taking her hand gently within his. The chain of the amulet was wrapped around her wrist. Seeing it, he glanced up at her questioningly.
“News,” she said, a smile brightening her face. “Good news, even.” Tugging on his hand, she sat down with him on the edge of the bed and told him everything Willow and Giles had discovered about the amulet since their trip to L.A. But when she came to the part about Spike’s soul, his response wasn’t quite what she expected.
“Right,” he said, his voice thick with disappointment. “I get it now. Guess that’s why you suddenly came ‘round to find me, huh? Got the guarantee of my soul back.”
“What? No. That’s not it at all.”
He chuckled bitterly as he shook his head. “You know what? Fuck it. If it’s what you want, just tell me what I have to do.”
Buffy tilted her head as she regarded him. “You don’t want the soul back, do you?” she asked slowly, suddenly realizing the truth herself. “Dawnie said some things when we came back from L.A., kinda hinting that maybe you didn’t. But you never said anything to me about it. How come?”
“I dunno,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s complicated, you know? It’s not that I don’t want the soul back, exactly. Belongs to me, and it’s important to you. I know you put a lot of stock in it. But then sometimes I don’t understand why I have to get it back. I feel like I don’t really need it to do what I have to do. But that doesn’t matter. It’s what you want, innit?”
“So you’d do it … just for me? Why?”
“Why?” he echoed in disbelief. “Because I love you, you daft cow.”
A laughing smile spread across her face. “I can tell. Especially when you call me names.”
“I’m serious, Buffy. I don’t think you get it. I love you. You make me want to be a better man. And if being a better man requires having a soul, then that’s what I have to do.”
“I’m not really sure that’s what having a soul means anymore.” She reached and touched his lips with the tips of her fingers. “I still love you without it, you know.”
He flinched away from her hand. Darted his eyes away. It took him a moment to find his voice. “Buffy, that’s sweet and all, but you don’t have to lie to me to make this easier. I know what I have to do. Done it before, haven’t I?” He reached for the amulet, but Buffy closed her hand over his before he could do anything with it.
“Please listen to me,” she said, staring him dead in the eyes. “I’m not lying. Don’t do this because you think I don’t love you without a soul.”
He seemed close to tears. “Please,” he said, voice cracking with emotion. “For a long time there, you could barely look at me with a soul. I don’t believe a word of it.”
“Spike, I love you. I love you right now, like this.” She put her hand on his chest. “I love you with the soul, and I love you without it. I love you now, fighting against your nature. You told me once you loved the way I try. Who do you think I learned it from? I don’t love you because you love me, or because of what you give me. I love who you are.” Spike started when he heard her echo the words he’d told her days ago in that very room. “I don’t care about the soul, Spike. I thought I did, but the more I think about it, the more irrelevant it becomes. I just want you.”
Her words hung in the air for a long time. She held his hand, rubbing slow circles across his palm with her thumb as she watched him take in what she’d just told him. His eyes were puffy and swollen with the threat of tears, and he was reluctant to look at her. It was obvious he didn’t believe her, though he didn’t say as much. “What do you want me to do?” he whispered at last.
“I’m not asking you to do anything, Spike,” she said, pressing the amulet into his chest, where it had once burned him. “Your soul is yours now – as it should be. You’re free to do what you want with it. It’s your choice. And Spike, I’m still gonna be here either way, okay? If you still want me here.”
He finally looked at her then, and gave her a scowl that clearly said, ‘Are you really that stupid’?
She pushed him back onto the bed and crawled over him, smiling as his hands came to rest on her waist, steadying her as she straddled his hips. His eyes were almost black in the dimness of the room, lidded with thick lashes, and she feathered light kisses over each of them, hoping to soothe away the tattered remains of his doubt. “I love you,” she whispered between kisses. “I know you don’t believe me, Spike, but I’m going to keep saying it until you do – no matter how long it takes. Worked for you, didn’t it?”
His eyes shined with a mixture of distrust and hope. “I’m yours, Buffy. You know that. Do what you want with me.”
“I don’t want some ‘willing slave’,” she said, touching the tip of her nose lightly against his. “We’re on level ground here. No one’s beneath the other.”
“If we’re all equal and whatnot, then why, pray tell, do you have me pinned to the bed?” He flashed her a mischievous smile, one hand curving against her hip. “Not that I mind.”
“This,” she noted, returning the smile, “is just for starters.”
Buffy lowered her face to his – first tasting his upper lip, then the lower – running her tongue along the sensitive skin she found there. They began to kiss in earnest – tentatively at first, trying to find a comfortable rhythm, then with growing hunger. Fisting her hair, Spike pushed her back, flat onto the mattress and rolled on top of her, molding his hands along the underside of her breasts. She moaned into his mouth, arching her hips up to press into his.
They stayed in bed for the rest of the night – kissing, touching, discarding clothing that got in the way. In the end, it seemed to both of them that as satisfying as the sex was, it was secondary to the intimacy and trust established by their union.
“Spike?” she asked, hours later as she tangled her fingers through his hair. He lifted his head up from her breast, his expression lazy but attentive. “Have you decided?” she asked, running her thumb over his lower lip. “What you want to do about your soul?”
He kissed the pad of her finger. “Yeah. Think I have.”
“Gonna let me in on that decision any time soon?”
He reached up to touch her trusting smile. And then he kissed her.
*********
The end.
A/N – I think it was important to leave the ending open. It’s not my intention for it to be anti-climatic or to leave the readers hanging. What was important to me was not whether Spike had a soul or not, but if Buffy could love and trust him either way. If you think Spike is more complete with his soul, then that’s how the story ended. If you think he doesn’t need it, then the story ended that way. Hope you enjoyed the ride. :)
I put a lot of myself into this story and would love to hear some feedback -- especially from you lurkers! (I see you!)
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