Oh God. She didn’t see that. It had to be a trick of the light, or that last cup of cocoa had been bad. It wasn’t possible that she’d stood shocked on the Bronze dance floor and watched Drusilla entice Spike to the balcony, snap two necks and give him back the fine elixir of pumping human blood.
He’d hesitated, and in the seconds after he made the choice—allowed his face to change and remind her of the demon she’d been forgetting he was—Buffy felt nausea rush to her throat and she bolted to the bathroom.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
The tears had been a surprise. Buffy had left the Bronze in a daze, her throat raw with bile and an ache in her chest that she wanted desperately to ignore. This night had become so crazy, dipping first into the unbelievable and ending on the intolerable. He’d killed. No, that wasn’t quite right. He hadn’t killed—not with his own hands and a chip in his head. He’d allowed another into the Slayer’s backyard to do his bidding and he’d fed. After telling her so forcefully that he could be good, he’d succumbed to the lure of his cuckoo ex and allowed his lips on the neck of a person. And Buffy still felt sick.
Without consciously planning it, her feet trod the path to his crypt. Even if he was back—the Big Bad reclaiming his place in the night—Spike couldn’t fight her. The chip was still there, otherwise he wouldn’t be watching Dru do the snapping. He had no choice but to stand aside and watch her take on his Dark Princess or suffer the pain of the chip. And Buffy knew she would win. Hate swelled so furiously inside of her that she had no doubts how this confrontation would end.
The door to the crypt blurred as Buffy waited. Deep breaths calmed her down slightly, but even as she paced it, she felt the nausea and hatred burn its path through her body at the sound of Drusilla giggling and recounting their experience. Spike, for all his ballsy bluster, was silent. And that gave Buffy hope. She didn’t know for what, because he had to become dust. He’d fed, and he couldn’t stay amongst them now he’d had the reminder. The taste that he’d craved and glutted on for over a century.
She hated the squeak of the heavy door as it swung open. Her foot the thing that usually forced it open, she’d never noticed the sound before. There was no way they hadn’t heard her coming, and even though there was nothing at her back, nothing stopping her alertness and determination to take the pair out, she was caught.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
There was a pain that jagged through her entire body. Eyes tightly shut, Buffy concentrated on what it meant. Pain equalled life and that meant that—despite the feeling of her arms being pulled out of their sockets—she still breathed. The satisfied animosity that had taken over the brunette vampire’s face as the taser struck slayer skin was the second most clear thing Buffy could remember. The first? Spike: so cocky and sure. And yet the sparkle in his eyes was absent. But she felt him now, close, and it was more than she was capable of to remain comatose while she craved explanations only he could give. God, she hoped he could give it.
He’d seemed almost happy that his ‘ex had come back’. Almost like it had proved a point, and suddenly Buffy had her first tiny epiphany of the night. Of course he was happy. She’d shot him down in flames tonight, denied the possibility that any feeling he may have for her was nothing but worlds of wrong—and his ex had come back. Dru had shown in some crazy way that Spike was still thought of by someone. He thought she’d returned because he mattered. The need he had to feel like he meant something important to someone—even Drusilla after she’d dumped and humiliated him—was really sad. Buffy could see it. It kinda hurt.
“Beginning to think you’d sleep the night away.”
His voice wasn’t quite what she’d expected: not harsh and full of hate. Not full of thwarted lust that he was determined to punish her for. It was almost soft and caring. Almost…scared? And Dru wasn’t by his side. That was significant, Buffy knew. Here was his chance and the skank he’d spent a century murdering with and loving with all his capacity wasn’t at his side like he’d been wanting since he’d been cast aside.
Its possible meaning made her feel chilled to the bone, but warmed in her belly.
“Dru…Drusilla?” She had to know. Buffy had to know where she stood—other than chained in the underbelly of his crypt.
Spike stepped aside and there she was, and Buffy knew. He hadn’t been lying. As usual the world had turned beyond his control and now he was asking forgiveness. He’d chained Buffy up in his home and was asking for her to see him as he was. He’d changed—was still changing—but Buffy could never forget that he was a monster. A vampire. And that was right. He deserved that acknowledgement as it made the effort to be a man all the more admirable.
Buffy didn’t know how this would play out, but she could recognise the actions of a desperate man. A desperate demon. And she could see the insane fury that curled around the lips of the one that shouldn’t be here. The one restrained across from Buffy and hating every second of being shunned in favour of the enemy.
“Not nice to change the game mid-play, Spike. You’ve taken my chair and the music hasn’t stopped.”
Though turned away, Buffy watched him reply. Felt his sadness deeper than she ever expected. Whatever it was that had changed within her during her glimpse into the reality of the world he’d been forced out of, and her passage to his tomb, Buffy couldn’t deny it.
She was desperate to not have to dust Spike. He’d been such a prominent part of her life that killing him would be like ripping a scab off a wound and it never again being able to heal. He was like roughened skin; brash and annoying, but persistent and healing. He was hers.
It struck her hard and fast, nearly making her ability to breathe impossible. It was the strongest truth—next to her being the Slayer.
His voice captivated her suddenly, and Buffy watched as he redefined all of their relationships to each other.
“Sorry, pet. My house, my rules.” Defeated, though he chanced a look at her. HER.
The reply was nothing but background noise. “I think I shall be very cross with you when I’m free again.”
Spike’s intense stare bore right through Buffy, seeking and burning his purpose deep on her heart.
“What’s going on?” Buffy may have sought him out to make sure he knew they could never be, that the thought of them made her want to run screaming face first into a cage of tigers. But suddenly she was desperate to hear it. Needed to believe it. Because to claim him, she had to believe the truth.
“Simple. I’m gonna prove something.”
And Buffy knew this was it. THE moment. No stepping back—or swinging, seeing as how her arms were fixed with chains. Before the words even slipped sensuously passed his lips, Buffy knew he’d done it. He’d already proven it with the looks, with the hesitation; with the tying up Dru and changing the balance of a hundred years.
“I love you.”
The other Buffy—the one who’d first left her house with cringes and shudders—would have been revolted. This Buffy, however, was a believer. And as she stared into eyes molten with love and shimmering with hope, Buffy knew it was all about to change.
She smiled. “I know.”
“No…look at…What?” He was confused, the wind sapped from his sails before he’d taken the first fortifying breath.
“I said, I know.” Still she was smiling, and Buffy felt how good it was to allow it to flow.
“Bloody hell, Summers. I have this speech.” Spike wasn’t smiling. Copper may have disintegrated on his tongue, but the way Buffy had thrown his plan kept him winded.
“Oh. Gotcha.” Buffy frowned while she thought. “Tell you what, pretend I turned my nose up in disgust. Now go with the speechyness.” She nodded encouragingly.
Spike rubbed the back of his neck, ignoring Dru laughing behind him as he tried to remember his lines.
“Right. Here we bloody go then. Ready?” Another nod and a smile and Spike was away. “I…love you. You’re all I bloody think about. Dream about. You’re in my gut…my throat…I’m drowning in you, Summers. I’m drowning in you.”
Blood thundered behind Buffy’s ears as she processed the words, lived the sentiment. And felt herself test the depth of the waters a little too as she got lost in the blue of Spike’s eyes.
“Wow. That was…wow.” Buffy melted. No one had ever said anything so romantic to her before. No one had ever been so desperate to show her how much they felt for her before. She couldn’t wipe the smile off her face, and despite Spike’s desperate attempts to ignore Dru’s insane assertions that it was something she’d known all along, Buffy almost drooled at the change in her own feelings.
Spike was speechless. Well, for a few seconds. “There was more,” he told her almost breathlessly, his body taut as if waiting for the inevitable shoe avalanche.
“Oh. How much more? ‘Cause, you know, not so patient with the burn in my shoulders. But if it’s good stuff, I’ll hang.” Buffy snorted. She so had the puns, even when chained in a vampire’s lair.
“It was—“ He stopped, the shock of how this was turning out making him step closer, needing to know if the ease that his words had been listened to and accepted was genuine or a ploy. “Do you feel something?”
It was wonder she was seeing in his face. So open with hope and wonder that Buffy actually felt a desire to kiss Spike. It came out of nowhere and hit her in the gut. So she couldn’t lie. It wouldn’t be right, even though she’d done plenty of that broken commandment to him in the past.
Words choked in her throat, Buffy slowly nodded, her body watching his progress as he drifted towards her more than her eyes did.
“You…you’re giving me a crumb?” Spike whispered, his teeth worrying the corner of his bottom lip.
“Crumbs are no fun,” she told him, anticipation of a kiss making her voice breathy and sirenish. “How about a bite? And I so don’t mean that in the ‘I vant to suck your blood’ way.” Buffy watched nervously as Spike’s eyes shimmered and then settled on her lips. If he’d even glanced at her neck he’d be a dust storm on the non-existent breeze.
Spike smiled and then bit her lip—gently. That was all it took for Buffy to reach the point of comfort with her actions.
It was shocking how quickly hate could turn to crush.
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