Another Auld Lang Syne
He knew it was her.
Same old Buffy.
Well, he thought, watching her as she looked through the display case of ice cream. Maybe not the same. Oh, her hair was still the same vibrant gold waterfall cascading down her back, but she was far too thin and her green eyes looked much too old for someone her age.
Spike’s gut clenched and he debated just turning around and walking away. He could find another Quik Mart for Xander’s pizza. Their break-up had been far from amicable and he was nervous of her reaction to seeing him after all these years. All he had to do was turn away…
She gave a small shriek as his hand brushed her arm and whirled to face him, some vituperative comment on the tip of her tongue, her eyes filled with irritation.
It took her a moment to see past that ire and realize just who had tapped her on the shoulder. The second it did, her eyes widened and her jaw dropped.
"Spike! Oh, my God!" she gasped, a small, joyful laugh escaping her. She threw her arms around him, the contents of her purse and the small plastic shopping basket flying to the floor.
Spike joined in her breathless laughter, relishing the feel of her in his arms again after so many years. He could easily remember the first time he'd held her like this, and the last, as well as all the times in between. There wasn't one moment that had faded.
Christ, she still smells so good!
He held her hands tightly when she suddenly remembered herself and hastily pulled back. She was indeed too thin, her tiny bones jutting out through her tanned skin. The flesh under her eyes looked bruised and there was a tightness around her mouth that hadn’t been there when he’d known her before.
"God! It’s been…years," she was saying.
"Six years," he offered. Six years, four months, five days, eighteen hours, and thirty-seven minutes. He could tell her the seconds, too, but he didn’t want to look away from her face to check his watch.
They began exchanging small talk as he finally released her hands and knelt to help her collect her spilled items before they continued down the aisle. He watched as she chose a carton of double-chocolate fudge chunk from the freezer. Death by chocolate. She had always loved her chocolate.
She didn’t even try to stifle her laughter as he pulled about twenty frozen pizzas from the case. "What are you doing in Sunnydale?" she asked.
"Doing some recording at the old studio. Kind of a ‘get back to our roots’ kind of thing," he told her with a little self-deprecating grin. "We have a show in L.A. on New Years Eve, so we’re getting psyched up for that. Always a big venue."
They approached the check-out together and he gallantly waved her ahead of him, watching as she pulled out her wallet and paid with a Gold Card. The glare from the lights hitting her wedding rings almost blinded him and he was conscious of the heavy disappointment in his gut. What did he expect? That he had ruined her for anyone else? That she might pine away for him forever? Stupid ponce. Women like Buffy never stayed lonely long; there was always someone lurking around waiting for the right moment.
She saw his reaction to her rings and flushed with embarrassment. Desperate for a distraction, she picked up her bags and moved towards the doors.
Spike was certain that she was leaving and raged inwardly at his stupidity. Great job, mate, he cursed himself. Could you be any more obvious?
The little cashier recognized him, but she didn’t make a huge fuss. He autographed a magazine with a photo of the band on the front for her by way of thanks, conscious the whole while of Buffy waiting by the doors.
He joined her with a questioning quirk of his eyebrow, noting the flush on her cheeks and the trembling of her hands as she nervously pushed back a lock of her hair.
"Do you…do you have time for a drink, somewhere?" she asked, her chin jutting out defiantly.
Elation filled him. "Sure, luv. But what about your ice cream?" Xander could starve for all he cared.
She grinned, a glimmer of the old Buffy shining for a moment in her eyes. "Screw it! It’s not every day I get to have a drink with my famous ex-boyfriend. Right?"
They walked out together, deciding to take his car and leave hers parked at the Quik Mart. He watched as she locked her groceries in her truck. An Escalade. His eyebrows met his hairline. Little Buffy Summers had done well for herself as well, it seemed.
Her expression when she saw his ride was priceless. "Oh, my God! I can't believe it still runs!" she giggled, running a hand over the Desoto’s fender.
"’Course it still runs," he scoffed. "Told you all along…she’s a classic."
"I pictured you in something like a Porsche. You know…big star-status and all."
He didn’t mention that he did in fact own a Porsche. He also owned a custom built Harley and a Yukon. All were locked up in his garage in L.A. When he came to Sunnydale, he drove the Desoto.
'I can't believe...UNGH...we're having sex in your...OH, GOD...car when there is a perfectly good...YES! OHHH...bed right inside,' she gasped, bouncing energetically on his lap. Her blouse was torn open, her bra rucked up over her bobbing breasts, and her tiny spandex skirt was now a belt. Shredded black silk panties hung from the rear view mirror. Spike had merely made the concession of shoving the jeans she had torn open over his hips far enough to get inside her as fast as possible.
'Think of it this way,' he panted, his strong fingers bruising her hips as he struggled to plunge harder, deeper. 'One day; we'll look back on this and smile.'
Memories.
"Some things you just know to hang on to," was all he said as he opened the door for her with a flourish.
From the flush that had bathed her cheeks in warmth, it was obvious that she was remembering that night, too. She flashed him a nervous smile as she tried to decipher his cryptic comment, but slid inside anyway.
When he settled himself and started the engine, she laid a small, bony hand on his arm. "I just realized that everything is probably closed. It is Christmas Eve, you know."
Spike stared out the windshield, tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel and scrunching his brow in thought. "Liquor stores are bound to be open. We could grab something and sit in the car?"
"That would be great." Her smile was brilliant and he noticed she had relaxed visibly in his company.
The liquor stores were indeed open and doing a rousing trade. Spike bought a cold six-pack and they drove back to the Quik Mart parking lot as the rain that had threatened all day finally cut loose.
Cracking open the first can, he teasingly toasted her, tapping his can against hers. "To memories," he quipped. Both drank, draining half the contents in that first swig. False Courage.
He began first, asking questions about what she had been doing with her life for the past six years. She was reluctant as first, but answered him honestly. She had been married to Riley Finn for three years now. After his stint in the army he had become a successful architect and most of his time was spent at the office making more and more money. Her time since college had been busy starting up a daycare with her friends, Willow and Tara. No children, yet. Riley wanted to be financially secure before they raised a family.
Spike remembered Finn; tall, goofy looking and always chasing after Buffy. Well, thanks to Spike’s stupid pride, he’d caught her.
The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them. "Do you love him?"
Her eyes flew up to meet his and she swallowed hard before staring straight ahead once more. "I…I…" she stammered.
"M’sorry, luv. 'S none of my business," he murmured, reaching out to push that errant lock of hair behind her ear. He saw her close her eyes and a shudder wracked her body at his touch.
"It’s alright," her voice quavered the tiniest bit. "I just don’t like to lie."
He grabbed another beer to hide the tremor of his hands. How could he respond to a comment like that? Did he dare to?
She finished her first and took another as she turned to him, smile firmly back in place. "But, enough about me. How’s it feel to have everything you always wanted? Fame, money, and thousands of screaming fans? I have all your CD’s. The last one was really wonderful."
Everything he always wanted? Not by a long shot. He had wanted it all; fame, money, fans…and her. But he’d screwed himself royally on that one, all for the chance to achieve the others.
"It has its moments," he said. And it did. Playing night after night in front of packed houses and recording in between tours. Once they had hit it big, things had just seemed to snowball out of control. They didn’t feel like the band they used to be. Hell, they were rarely in the studio at the same time anymore. The only time they felt a connection now was when they toured, but they were so exhausted by the fast-paced schedule that they couldn’t enjoy it.
"So, that’s why we decided to come back to the old studio for this new CD. To try to get back to what we were before all the hoopla."
"Is it working?" she asked, flipping the tab of her can with her thumbnail.
Spike leaned his head back against the seat, eyes staring unseeingly through the rain flecked windshield. "Yeah…I think it is. We all seem a lot happier and a lot more relaxed. It’s almost…fun, again."
Her smile was warm and sincere. "I’m glad. I remember how crazy you guys always were when you were first starting out."
They had finished the last of the beer and sat for a moment in comfortable silence. When she glanced at the heavy watch on her thin wrist, he fought the panicky urge to press her to stay a bit longer with him. It was full dark, now, and she had Captain Cardboard waiting for her at home. And Xander and the guys were probably wondering where he had gotten off to.
Life moved on.
"I should be going. I’m supposed to be getting ready for a very boring party." A heavy sigh shuddered through her and she looked up at him, her green eyes shining with unshed tears. "I can’t tell you how glad I am that I saw you, tonight."
"Closure on a bad break-up?" he asked his voice harsh and cynical.
She flinched a little at his tone, but shook her head slightly. "Not closure. Never, ever closure," she whispered, her voice soft and broken as she opened the door. "Closure means it ends, and I seriously doubt that will ever happen."
He hurried to climb out after her. She was unlocking her truck when he reached her side and took her arm gently, turning her to face him. "Buffy...luv, m’sorry. For everything."
She hung her head, her long hair falling over her face. "It wasn’t just you, Spike. If I had been a little more mature and a lot more secure, I might have handled the situation better. I should have trusted you." She lifted her head and he watched as a single, silvery tear slid down her face. "I’m sorry for that; for not trusting you. I…I can’t tell you how often I’ve wished things had gone differently for us. How much I’ve missed you."
Spike felt tears of regret sting his own eyes as an unbearable tightness settled around his heart. All the wasted years flashed before his eyes; the drinking, the drugs, the women that flung themselves at him every time he turned around, all of them a pathetic attempt to erase her from his memory.
His hands trembled as he reached for his wallet. He opened it and pulled out two pieces of stiff paper. "Look," he said, his voice shaking as badly as his hands were. "These are tickets are for the venue in L.A. next Friday night. The one on New Years Eve. No pressure. If you show…you show. Bring whoever you want. Finn might enjoy himself," he forced himself to add.
She gave a short, bitter laugh. "No, Riley listens to motivational tapes. If…if I go, I’ll probably bring my friend, Willow. Or maybe Anya. She’s always had a thing for Xander."
His smile was relieved. "That would be great. Just…think about it, okay?" They both knew he wasn’t just talking about the concert. Buffy nodded, her eyes never leaving his as she swayed slightly towards him.
The casual goodbye hug that both intended never happened. But then, nothing had ever been casual between them. From the time they met, their love had been fiery and passionate and all-consuming. In six years that much hadn’t changed.
Spike took a step towards her and slid a hand around her neck under the heavy fall of her hair. Her eyes were wide and luminous as she stared up at him, lips parted slightly as she took in a deep breath of anticipation. His free hand came up to join the other and long, calloused musician’s fingers framed her face with incredible delicacy as he lowered his head to hers.
Their lips barely grazed at first. When she didn’t pull back, he traced the pillow of her bottom lip with his tongue and then dipped slightly inside; reacquainting himself with the unique flavor that was Buffy. He groaned softly when he felt the first tentative flutter of her own tongue against his, tasting her and the salty tang of her tears.
Emboldened by her response, he curled his agile tongue around hers and sucked it gently into his mouth, taking the kiss from sweet caress to scorching fire within seconds. Her fingers sank into his hair and she cleaved her body tightly to his, moaning softly as he pressed her back against her truck, trapping her body with his. One leg came up and draped over his hip in a gesture that was so achingly familiar that Spike’s heart clenched once more. A sharp gasp escaped them both as he grasped her leg and lifted it higher. He settled in the cradle of her thighs, his erection prodding insistently at her soft mound as he ground into her. For the tiniest moment they allowed themselves to forget their respective worlds and savor what had once been theirs.
His entire being rebelled against it, but Spike eventually forced himself to pull away from her. Resting his suddenly damp forehead against hers, he struggled to calm his racing heart and ragged breath. Pulling her hands from his neck, he held them tightly as he backed away.
"Next Friday night," he said hoarsely, pressing a hard kiss to each soft palm before letting her go. He never broke eye contact as he walked backwards to the Desoto. She nodded the slightest bit before turning to climb into her truck.
He watched her drive away, the taillights of the expensive vehicle flashing against the rain slicked pavement. His emotions were a whirlwind inside him as he settled inside his car and headed back to the studio with Xanders now soggy munchies.
God, he hoped she decided to show.
*****
The arena was packed. Nothing unusual there; they had been selling out for years. Spike stood in the control booth up above the floor, watching the people milling about, eyes searching anxiously for one small figure. Every member of the security staff had been armed with the most recent photo of her that he had been able to find, with orders to escort her and her guest to the seats reserved on the front row. Dead center.
The stage managers voice crackled over the radio, requesting his presence backstage. Five minutes to showtime and still no sign of her. Spike was finally admitting defeat when a flash of light colored hair caught his attention.
It was her.
"Pete, track that little blonde for me would you?" he asked one of the still camera operators. "The one in the pink shirt."
"Gotcha," Pete murmured, zeroing in on her in one practiced move. "There ya go, Spike. What a little honey!"
Spike grinned and slapped him lightly on the back. "That she is, mate. That she is…"
The stage manager was practically screaming by now and Spike casually threw the radio to Pete as he raced out the door. "Tell him I’m on my way and then call Jacob with security and tell him to get on her. He knows what to do."
Lindsey, the stage boss, was gibbering and gesticulating at the rest of the band as he screamed for Spike. Xander looked seconds away from bashing the little toads head in when Spike jogged up.
"’Bout fucking time, buddy," he snarled, shoving Lindsey out of his way as he started towards his drums.
"Hold up, guys," Spike panted, leaning over his knees as he fought to catch his breath. "The song we practiced last week? It’s in."
A big smile flashed across Xander’s face. "All right! She showed?"
"She showed. Let’s go."
Leaving Lindsey sputtering about schedules and cues, they all took their places on the dark stage.
Any of the fans that had come expecting the glitzy, special effects that had become a staple of their performances would be disappointed. As part of their whole ‘take back the band’ mission, they had cut out all but the most basic of lighting and a baby spot focused on each member of the band. The first part of the show was a blur for Spike as he concentrated on channeling all his energy into the music. Obviously the crowd was enjoying the changes; the whole place vibrated and they screamed and sang along with their favorites.
Spike was only interested in one person and he had made sure that he was standing right in front of her when the first of the lights came up. He grinned when her mouth fell open and she squealed like a teenager as she grabbed her red-headed friend and jumped up and down. Her reaction buoyed him up for the entire performance and he made sure that he returned to her often for more of that thousand-watt smile.
The show went off without a hitch and the crowd was screaming when the lights came down for what they thought was the final time. They were beginning to disperse when one lone blue spot picked out Spike sitting on a stool with a battered acoustic guitar across his lap. The stool sat directly in front of Buffy and he smiled down at her while the rest of the audience slowly realized that the show wasn’t over yet.
Xander’s drum spot came on and then Oz on Bass, followed by Devon on the keyboards and piano. People began running back to their seats when Spike adjusted the headset he wore and spoke into the tiny mic.
"Not so fast, mates. We’ve got one more thing to do before we say goodnight and let you ring in the New Year," he chuckled. He waited patiently until the roar settled to a quiet murmur before attempting to continue. He played idly with the guitar on his lap as he spoke.
"This is our first time back in Sunnydale in about six years. Part of the reason we came back was so we could get back to our roots. To remember where we came from and who put us on the charts in the first place. We kinda lost our way there for a while, but we think we’ve got everything all worked out now." He looked down at Buffy as he said this and was gratified to see the blush that pinked her cheeks. Her friend nudged her and grinned.
"Ever screw up so bad you think you won’t ever get the chance to make things right?" he asked the crowd conversationally. He grinned when there was a resounding chorus of "YES!"
"Well, six years ago I fucked up bad, but I think by some miracle I’m going to get the chance to make it up to her. She’s here tonight and she’s probably the only one that will understand the significance of this song. She’s the reason we’re singing it, but we hope you’ll enjoy it, too."
Devon played the short intro on the piano as Spike left the stool and went to sit on the edge of the stage, bringing him to with a few feet of Buffy.
She must have recognized the intro because her eyes went impossibly wide and her hands flew up to press against her lips as he began to sing.
Met my old lover in the grocery store,
The snow was falling Christmas Eve.
I stole behind her in the frozen foods,
And I touched her on the sleeve.
She didn't recognize the face at first,
But then her eyes flew open wide.
She went to hug me and she spilled her purse,
And we laughed until we cried.
We took her groceries to the checkout stand,
The food was totaled up and bagged.
We stood there lost in our embarrassment,
As the conversation dragged.
We went to have ourselves a drink or two,
But couldn't find an open bar.
We bought a six-pack at the liquor store,
And we drank it in my car.
We drank a toast to innocence,
We drank a toast to now.
And tried to reach beyond the emptiness,
But neither one knew how.
She didn’t realize that she was the only one still standing, or that the rest of the audience was pointing to her and smiling. She wasn’t aware of anything but him and his amazing voice as he sang to her. He saw the sparkle of tears in her eyes and the tremor of her lips as she clenched her hands together at her waist.
She said she'd married her an architect,
Who kept her warm and safe and dry,
She would have liked to say she loved the man,
But she didn't like to lie.
I said the years had been a friend to her,
And that her eyes were still as green.
But in those eyes I wasn't sure if I saw,
Doubt or gratitude.
Spike put the guitar aside and held his hand out to her. She looked around nervously but stepped forward nevertheless, reaching up to link her fingers with his and staring up at him as her tears began to fall.
She said she saw me in the record stores,
And that I must be doing well.
I said the audience was heavenly,
But the traveling was hell.
We drank a toast to innocence,
We drank a toast to now.
And tried to reach beyond the emptiness,
But neither one knew how.
We drank a toast to innocence,
We drank a toast to time.
Reliving in our eloquence,
Another 'auld lang syne'.
The beer was empty and our tongues were tired,
And running out of things to say.
She gave a kiss to me as she got out,
And I watched her drive away.
Just for a moment I was back at school,
And felt that old familiar pain ...
And as I turned to make my way back home,
The snow turned into rain ...
Oz grabbed his sax and began to play the ending solo.
Spike stood up, easily pulling Buffy onstage with him in spite of her weak protests. Pulling her close, he tucked her head under his chin and wrapped his arms around her; dancing her is a slow circle until the last plaintive notes of the saxophone trailed off into silence. Completely unaware of the thousands of witnesses, they lifted their heads at the same time.
"Buffy, I love you. Being without you has been complete and utter hell. Please, give me another chance?" he begged. The mic was still on and the whole place heard the aching need in his voice.
She smiled mistily up at him and reached up to pull the headset off. Letting it dangle from her right hand, she lifted the left to frame his jaw. It was then that he noticed the lack of wedding jewelry on her finger.
"I love you, too, Spike. I never stopped. I’m willing to give you a second chance…" She leaned up and pressed a light kiss on his lips. "If you’ll give me one?"
The audience went wild and there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. They roared their approval when the couple sealed their vow with a lusty kiss before he picked her up and twirled her ecstatically around.
******
It was a romantic and unutterably sweet gesture and it was carried on all the major networks later that evening. Riley Finn stood frozen in the midst of a party being given by his boss. He watched as his wife made up with her ex-boyfriend in front of thousands of people. He jammed a hand into his jacket pocket and took out the letter from Buffy that he hadn’t taken the time to read earlier. When he ripped it open, a set of small wedding rings and the keys to her Escalade poured out into his hand.
Buffy's friend, Anya Jenkins, chose that moment to saunter by, casting an eye at what he held in his palm.
"Guess you should have paid a little more attention to what you had, instead of always wanting more, huh Riley?" she said without a hint of sympathy.
Riley glared at her helplessly as she walked away. What could he say to her? She was right, after all...
The End
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