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Title: Come Back To Me
Author:Pattyanne
snapkik@yahoo.com
Summary: Spike leaves
Buffy. (which is exactly what
she deserves most of the time)
and her friends take matters into
their own hands.

I hope I'm not being too repetitive
with this theme (i.e., 'Tell Me You
Love Me') but this is a slightly
different approach...I think...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Part One...

"What the hell is wrong with her?"

"She's unhappy."

"Oh, you THINK?" Xander asked, giving
Willow his 'how stupid do you think I
AM?' face.

"Xander..."

"Now, HOW did you know that, Wils?
What gave it away? Was it the dark
circles under her eyes..her lack of
appetite?" He pointed to Buffy's mostly
untouched dinner plate. "The fact that
she never smiles anymore..hardly ever
comes out of her room..."

Willow was becoming increasingly
annoyed with Xander's sarcasm fiesta.

"Oh, knock it off," she snapped. "This isn't
helping."

Xander paused and took a breath. "Okay,
I'm sorry," he said. "So..do you have any
idea WHY she's unhappy? Opinions? Hun-
ches? Far fetched guesses?"

She stood up and began to clear the table.

"None of the above," she replied, carrying
a stack of plates into the kitchen. "I know
exactly why."

He watched her load the dishwasher. "Care
to share?"

She poured the dishwashing powder into the
receptacle, then closed the door and punched
the buttons that started the wash cycle.

"She's unhappy because Spike's gone," she
said, turning to face her best friend.

"Spike's gone?" Xander looked surprised. "Gone
where? Where did he go?"

Willow shrugged. "I don't know."

"Is he coming back?"

She leaned against the counter. "I don't
know," she repeated.

"Why did he leave?" He held up his
hand. "Wait...let me guess. You don't
know."

"No. THAT one I know," she said. "Now,
don't fly off the handle when I tell you."

"Fly off the handle? I do not fly off any
handles. I am the essence of coolness
under fire."

"No, you're not." Willow said. "But I'll tell
you anyway. Buffy and Spike have
been..well, they've...they've been.."

"Stop picking at the bandaid, Wils."

"...they've been...together..for a few
months," she finished, bracing herself
for the melt down.

Xander looked at her. "I already know
that."

"You do?" she asked, surprised by this
admission. This wasn't the sort of thing
that Xander would have kept his mouth
shut about.

"Yeah. They patrol together every night."

Okay, that explained his lack of reaction.

"That's not what I mean by together. I mean...to-
gether."

Xander's eyes widened, nearly bursting from
their sockets. "You mean...TOGETHER? THAT
kind of together? The BIG together?"

"THAT'S the one." She turned off the kitchen
light and went into the living room, plopping
down on the sofa.

Xander sat down beside her. "For the first time
in my life...I'm speechless," he said. "Wait a
second...no, I'm not. She told YOU this, and
she didn't tell ME? Why didn't she tell me?"

"She didn't tell me," Willow said. "Not in so
many words."

He was now completely confused. "She..I
just...she...WHAT?"

Willow's cheeks turned bright red. "I sort
of walked IN on them, okay? I didn't
MEAN to," she added quickly. "It was a total
accident and I left before they saw me and
if they didn't want anyone to know about it
then they shouldn't do it on the living room
floor," she added in her defense, pausing
to take in some air.

There was a brief silence between them for
a moment, which Xander just HAD to break.

"I don't think there's anyone in the entire
history of the world who's more confused
than I am right now," he said. "If they're
together..why did Spike leave? Isn't that
what he's wanted, like...forever?"

"Lower your voice," Willow hissed, casting
an eye to the staircase. "I think they had a
fight," she mouthed silently.

"What..?"

She rolled her eyes. "I think they had a
fight," she said again, a bit louder this
time.

"Well, what's new about THAT?" he
whispered.

Willow leaned a little closer. "It was one of
those "relationship" fights," she explained.

"What the hell does THAT mean? What's
a relationship fight?"

"The kind you and Anya have four or five
times a day."

"The kind Anya and I...you mean they're
fighting about place cards and center pieces,
and having a cash bar?"

Willow stared at him. "A cash bar? At a wed-
ding reception? Xander, that is tacky beyond
belief."

"And, anyway," Xander said, ignoring her com-
ment. "Those aren't fights. They're...discussions."

"Whatever." She waved her hand impatiently. "He
wanted to know how much longer he was gonna
be her "dirty little secret" and she said..."

"Hang on a minute," he interjected. "Were you
eavesdropping on this fight..this discussion?"

She squirmed in her seat. "No...I'd never do
that...on purpose."

"Willow..."

"For your information," she said heatedly, "they
had that fight in her room...which is next door to
MY room."

"So you...overheard them?"

"A DEAF man could overhear them," she said.
"They just didn't know I was home."

"So, THEN what happened?"

"Well...Buffy said that she didn't want anyone
to know about them yet. Then Spike asked
her when she thought she'd be ready. Then
SHE said that she didn't know, but him always
pushing her on it wasn't helping matters. Then
HE said that if she was so ashamed of herself
then maybe he should just go ahead and leave."

"I see you didn't leave your room once the
fight commenced," he interjected.

"So then he asked her if she cared anything
about him at all, and then..."

"Then...what?"

Willow sighed. "That was it. Next thing I heard
was Spike stomping down the stairs, and
slamming the front door. And Buffy was..she
started to cry."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"Do you..." Xander began. "Do you think this
was MY fault?"

"What do you mean?"

He stared down at his hands. "I've never been
Spike's number one fan in the past..even after
the chip changeover. Maybe Buffy thinks that..
maybe she's afraid that if she doesn't hide
her feeling..."

Willow patted his knee. "Don't beat yourself up
over it, Xander. Buffy's a grown woman. She
shouldn't let her choices be made FOR her,
according to other peoples opinions."

Xander looked up. "How do you feel about it?
About them?"

"I don't know...they seem kind of good together.
Spike has changed a lot..besides still being
a vampire, I mean. He stuck around through
some serious badness."

"I hate seeing her so unhappy!" Xander
said suddenly. "She deserves to be happy.
More than any of us."

"I know." Willow's tone changed abruptly.
"But, you know what? I'm sure he'll come
back," she said lightly. "YOU know Spike..
he can't stay away from Buffy."

"Yeah," Xander nodded, wanting to be con-
vinced, if only for Buffy's sake. "You're right.
He'll come back and we'll just all show Buffy
that we're okay with it, and..."

Willow clapped one hand over his mouth
when she heard Buffy's bedroom door
squeak open, followed by the sound of
the shower being run.

She took her hand away from Xander's
mouth, giving him an apologetic look.

"I'm going home now," he said. "I need to
tell my girl how much I love her."

Willow followed him to the door."Listen," she
said quietly. "I'll tell Tara what's going on,
but let's try and keep it quiet around Dawn,
okay? She gets too upset when she thinks
Buffy isn't happy. There's no point in making
it worse, just yet."

"All right," Xander said. "And maybe he'll be
back before she knows he's gone."

"Here's hoping." Willow crossed her fingers. "Any-
way, you tell Anya..I'm sorry to put it this way,
because I know it doesn't sound very nice, but
you have to keep her from saying something
that'll make Buffy feel worse than she already
does."

Xander nodded. "I'm already there."

Halfway down the front path, he paused and
turned around. "What if he never comes back,
Wils. What the hell are we gonna do then?"

Willow shook her head sadly. "I don't know. I
don't even want to think about it."

Xander tried to smile. "One disaster at a time?"

"Yes, please."

Shutting the door, she went upstairs, pausing
in the hallway and listening to Buffy cry so
heartbrokenly that it was audible over the sound
of the pounding water.

Feeling helpless, she went into her own room
and closed the door.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TWO WEEKS LATER...

Buffy walked through the cemetery
at a pace that could only be described
as trudging.

Although she had no conscious destination
in mind, she wasn't surprised to find herself
standing at the same place she'd come to
the night before...and every night for the
past fourteen days.

In her heart, she knew it was a waste of
time. He was gone, and no amount of
hoping or "Surprise! I just happened to
be in the neighborhood" dropping in was
going to make him appear.

She knew it every time she placed her
hand on the door, the door she had kicked
open so many times...in so many moods..
for so many reasons.

Descending the ladder to the lower level,
she pulled out her flashlight. After lighting
five candles and an oil lamp, she stuffed
the flashlight back into her totebag and
sat down on the side of the bed.

Her heel connected with an object stick-
ing out from under the bed, and she reached
down to pick it up.....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


"Where are you going?" she asked,
stretching lazily on the bed.

"Don't be so nosy, Slayer," her lover
scolded her. "I have a special treat
for you, so you stay right there. I mean
it" he added when she pretended to
follow him. "Don't move, gorgeous."

He was up the ladder and back down in
less than a minute, carrying a bottle and
two glasses. She watched him uncork
the bottle and pour something golden
and sparkly into each glass.

Climbing back into bed, he lifted one
glass to her lips. "Taste," he whispered.

She opened her mouth and let the
champagne invade it, the liquid flowing
smoothly down her throat.

He grinned at her. "You like?"

"Mmmm," she moaned, closing her
eyes in bliss. "It's fantastic. More..."

He laughed. and tilted the glass again,
letting a few drops of the wine trickle
down her chin, leaving a trail that he
licked off.

She laughed, and splashed some of the
champagne on him, returning the favor.

They romped all over the bed, making
playful love, with champagne ending
up in places that.....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Her throat was tightening up, and her eyes
were blurring with tears. The bottle slipped
out of her fingers and landed on the carpet
with a thunk.

This room was not a good place for her to
be anymore. There was just too many
memories waiting to pounce on her when
she wasn't braced for them.

Draped over the back of the chair was the
pink satin teddy that she'd worn for him
on Valentine's Day.

On the nightstand, she saw the tattoo pens
she'd bought in Hot Topic. She remembered
straddling his waist, inking a red heart with a
brown stake through it on the smooth skin
of his upper left chest, then writing "Slayer"
beneath it in black script.

"I'm branding you," she had said. "You're
mine."

And, lying calmly beneath her, he'd vowed
never to wash it off.

When she'd finished, he'd turned her over and
inked a beautifully detailed crimson rose on
her hip. As she'd marveled over this previously
unrevealed talent, he'd added a couple of thorns
and three teardrops of "blood".

Then he had reached for the black pen...and
she had panicked, quickly telling him not
to write his name, that someone might see
it.

He had laughed, and assured her he'd had
no such intention, then wrote "Buffy" in
old-fashioned, gothic looking print.

When he was finished, he'd tossed the
pens onto the nightstand and made
surprisingly tender love to her, telling her
over and over how beautiful she was...and
how much he loved her.

The memory brought fresh tears to her
eyes.

**Why didn't I say it back? I love him...why
didn't I tell him? Coward...stupid...foolish
coward, that's what I am. He was never afraid
to say it. He wanted to tell the whole world
how he felt.**

Falling back on the bed, she buried her face
in the down comforter and cried...and cried.

**I do love you, Spike and if you come back to
me I promise I'll tell you...I'll say it every day..
I miss you...I need you...more than ever...please
come back.**

When she had no more tears left inside
of her, she rolled over on her back and
stared at the ceiling.

This room has been "their place". They'd
made love in her bed, as well as a few
other choice locations that made her blush
to think about them, but in this room they
had been free to be together in a way they
couldn't be anywhere else.

There was nothing furtive or hurried about
the lovemaking they'd shared in this room.
Here, they were safe from accidental dis-
covery...from disapproving eyes and judge-
mental attitudes.

They could do anything they chose, for as
long as they chose to do it. There was no one
to tell them it was wrong, this thing that was
between them. That it was unnatural and nasty,
nothing but obscene sex...as though there was
no tenderness felt.

She was more alive and herself in this room than
in any other familiar place, even the bed she'd
slept in for so many years.

More memories assailed her, striking at her
raw feelings and unguarded heart.

There, in the trash can, was an empty carton
from the time he'd held her in his lap and fed
her the most incredible chocolate fudge ice
cream she'd ever tasted. Fed it to her, and
refused to reveal where he'd acquired it, telling
her that if she wanted more, she knew where
she had to go.

And there...on the dresser was an ornate
tortoiseshell hairbrush. He would sit behind
her on the bed and brush her hair until it was
shining with vitality and health, being far more
gentle with the tangles than she'd ever been.

When he was finished, he'd toss the brush
aside and bury his face in her hair, mussing it
again, nuzzling her like a friendly puppy.

There was a book on the nightstand. Opened
up and face down, it was a book of poetry,
mostly on the subject of love.

He would read to her from this book for
hours. Calling up some ancient and half
buried memory of William, his voice would
change, taking on a gentler tone and a more
cultured accent.

Then, putting the book down, he would grab
hold of her and pull her down on the bed and
recite dirty limericks in his usual voice until
she was convulsing with laughter.

No one in her life had ever made her laugh
the way he could. Even Xander at his most
amusing couldn't elicit the same reaction
that Spike did so effortlessly by telling her
jokes so raunchy that they made her blush.

A box of videotaped movies caught her
attention, reminding her of the time they had
set up the camera and taped themselves
making love.

Reluctant at first, the idea began to take on a
certain kinky appeal for Buffy after he'd promised
her that no one but the two of them would ever
know of it's existence.

That had been a powerfully arousing little piece
of tape.

She continued to mentally catalog the room's
contents, stopping when she saw a flash of red
fabric.

Reaching under the pillow, she found herself
holding a shirt that he'd apparently overlooked
when he'd gotten his things together.

His red shirt, soft from frequent laundering, the
one he would slip on her and button her up in after
making love.

The first time she had donned this shirt, he had
looked her up and down, then told her that she
looked completely adorable in the oversized
garment, much better than he did himself, so she
should just consider it hers whenever she wanted
to wear it.

Slowly, she slid her arms into the sleeves and
wrapped the shirt tightly around her, wondering
if he'd left it behind on purpose, as something to
remember him by.

**But I don't want something to remember him
by....I want him!**

She rocked back and forth on the bed as another
storm of tears were wrenched from her guts.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

LATER THAT EVENING...

Willow jerked with surprise when the front
door flew open with a bang, nearly knocking
a glass of milk all over her laptop when she
saw Buffy running up the stairs in tears.

**Oh, Goddess...what's happened now?**

"Buffy...are you..." Jumping to her feet, she
took the stairs two at a time, arriving only to
have Buffy's bedroom door slam shut in her
face.

She waited a moment before she knocked.

"Buffy? Can I come in?" When there was no
reply except the sound of her friend's harsh
crying, Willow turned the knob and pushed
the door open. "Buffy?"

The slayer had thrown herself face down
onto her bed and was sobbing hysterically
into a pillow. Willow approached the bed
slowly and sat beside her.

"Buffy," she said again. "Has something hap-
pened. I mean...can I do anything for you?"

Buffy shook her head. "No. Just...leave me alone,
Willow...please."

Willow started to stand up, then changed her
mind and placed one hand on Buffy's shoulder.
They had to get this out in the open before her
friend was so far gone that she couldn't find her
way back.

"Buffy...please let me help you. I...I know why
you're hurting so much, but I...I just don't know
what to do. Please talk to me," she begged.

Buffy rolled over, staring at Willow with swollen,
tear filled eyes. "You don't know...it's..."

Willow reached for Buffy's hand, holding it
tightly between hers. "It's Spike...isn't it?
The reason you're so unhappy."

Buffy wiped her face on her sleeve. "How...how did
you know about it?"

"It doesn't matter," Willow said. No way was
she getting into THAT little discussion right now.
"Just tell me how I can help you."

"You can't." Buffy shook her head. "Nobody
can. He's gone...and he's not coming back."

The pain in her friends voice nearly broke Wil-
low's heart. "You can't know that," she said,
trying desperately to say something...anything..
that would alleviate Buffy's sadness.

"And I don't believe it," she added firmly. "He
loves you too much to stay away. I mean...well,
he's tried it before, right?"

"It's different this time," Buffy said, swallowing
hard. "I pushed him too far this time."

"No." Willow gently squeezed the hand she
held in both of hers. "I'm sure that's not true. He'll
be back. Maybe not right away, but...soon."

"I don't think so," Buffy said, her voice bathed
in pain, as she began to cry again. "And I need
him so much...more than ever."

"Why more than ever?" Willow asked, afraid to
hear the answer.

The answer she got, though, was the absolute
last one she would ever have expected.

There was a long pause as Buffy attempted to
get herself under some kind of control.

"Because...because I'm pregnant."

Every bit of color drained from Willow's face
as she absorped this news. "Pregnant? By
Spike?"

Buffy nodded, biting her lower lip to hold
off another crying jag. "I don't know how
it happened...don't understand how it's
possible for me to be pregnant by a vampire."
She sniffled. "But I am. There hasn't been
anyone else, Willow, I swear to God."

"Oh, Buffy...I know that." Willow was beginning
to feel as though she was going to cry too. "You
don't have it in you to love one man and sleep
with another one."

Fresh tears streaked down Buffy's face. "God,
Willow...what am I gonna do without him?"

Willow swept Buffy into a close embrace. "It'll
be all right," she soothed her. "I'll help any way
I can, you know that. So will the others."

"Yes," Buffy said. "I know that...but it's just that..
I'm going to have a baby and he'll never know
about it. My baby will never know its father. Never
know how special he is...how hard he tried."

As she sat rocking Buffy in her arms, patting her
back and trying to offer some sort of consoling
words, Willow began to formulate a plan.



TBC...

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