Summary:Buffy invites Spike to join in a role play game.
Disclaimer: I do not own the show Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel (The Series). All of the characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, 20th Century Fox, et al.
Feedback: ladyanne@wickedenergy.net
Chapter 11
Buffy sighed as she entered her way home from another horrendous night at the DMP. Huh, she realized that almost made out Dump, ironically. Her brief encounter with a vamp in the graveyard who’d ridiculed her odor had done nothing for her self esteem either. So finding Spike lurking under the big tree in her front yard for the first time since that weekend had been problematic.
She recognized why she gave into him, she was vulnerable and her dark knight knew how to make her feel better about herself. He hadn’t mentioned the letter to her, hadn’t pushed for a declaration at first, just given her that deep look and then proceeded to take her on the ground in a mixture of tenderness and roughness that pulled her feelings back and forth.
He had been gentle initially, softly touching her, sliding his hands beneath her voluminous coat and sweater to rub her nipples into hard little points that he twisted and turned as her breathing increased. But the sweet nothings from before were gone, his language was rude and degrading and a little exciting to that dark part of her as he quickly slipped her pants down just enough to slide himself home. She thought both of them must have been on edge, because it was over quickly and she was left feeling possibly lower than before they began. He had helped her to her feet, dusted her off, and finally asked the question.
"Did you read the letter?" He had given her one last long William look, face filled with expectancy to see if maybe she had somehow been persuaded by his prose and had just neglected to mention it before their hasty coupling. Buffy sighed and turned and marched into the house, refusing to answer. She couldn’t face the question.
Her week had gone down hill from there. The reappearance of Riley, so soon after her weekend with Spike, had given her the perfect point of comparison - nice, normal, GI Joe, complete with weapons versus creature of the night, who broke the rules and gave her crowns of flowers and sweet verse. So she’d flirted and giggled and tried to find the spark she thought maybe she’d had with him before he left. And then the wife had shown up and the comedy of errors had begun in earnest.
She’d made a fool of herself by running to Spike, but she need reassurance and he was her champion, right? He’d promised to be her willing slave and she needed to believe in his love more than ever at that moment. And it had worked for a little while. She knew he’d been angry when she’d left him outside her house, but he welcomed her with open arms and reassured her of his love. Their coupling had been much like that weekend, slow and reassuring and she had fallen asleep beside him, tired, but more secure.
Until her ex caught with her current and the house of cards came down. Somewhere in the midst of the male posturing and threats and exploding demony things, Buffy had taken in Spike’s words and tears as hhem for him.
And underneath, his demon, or maybe even the new soul, felt a little resentment at her, for all the things she’d put him through. The emotional roller coaster of the last year, the kiss me, kill me, love me, hate me, back and forth had been enough to drive him nearly insane before he went to Africa. But there was something about her now which suggested she was different, that she had some clue as to what failings had been committed on both sides.
He mused quietly, then started as he heard something drop to the ground on the side of the crypt. He stood quietly, ready to pounce, when Buffy rounded the crypt.
"Spike," she squeaked and flushed. "I didn’t think you wanted to come back here."
"I didn’t, not permanently. I just was taking a walk to clear my head and found myself here."
"That’s what I was doing to. Spike, will you walk with me, just for a little while? Please?"
He heard the echo of her earlier words and he shrugged but followed.
Chapter 13
She led the way until they reached the one place he didn’t want to be with her. The bittersweet memories that had replayed over and over in his mind rushed back as she sat on the bench where he had placed the crown on her head so many months ago.
He started to back away, but stopped at her words.
"Spike, I need you to come home with me."
He turned and watched her face, knowing he needed to reassure her of his tenuous grip on sanity and then get away before he did something foolish.
"Love, no. Buffy, I’ll be fine, you needn’t worry about me. I can keep it together down there enough that I can still be useful when you need me."
"What if I need you all of the time?"
Buffy looked at him, hazel eyes wide. Spike was taken aback.
"Buffy, you don’t need me all the time, just when you’re fighting demons and whatnot."
"Oh no, Spike, I do need you more than that."
She rose from the seat and stopped directly in front of him, close but not quite in his personal space.
"I need to tell you something. Spike, I need your forgiveness. Will your soul allow you to forgive me? I know I hurt you last year. It wasn’t what I meant to do, it wasn’t a big scheme, but that weekend we spent together wasn’t just about a tumble and a few moments pleasure. It was real and you were right, I did feel something. I think I first realized I was falling in love with you that weekend. But I freaked when I saw Riley’s perfect life and our unconventional relationship and I screwed up."
He stared down at her, wondering if this was some sort of hallucination, because he thought she’d just said she was falling in love with him. But she kept going.
"Spike, I’m working on forgiving you for what happened between us. I know that you regret it now, and I know you won’t do it again. It hurts, because despite what I said that night, I honestly did trust you, at least, I trusted you would never hurt me. But every day I see you, every time we talk, I regain my trust a little more. You were a good man, by all accounts, you were always honest, even with the demon unfettered, and I know you’re top of my list of souled vamps. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I want to try to make things right, if you’re still willing."
Spike could only stare down at her for a long minute. He was sure now she was some hallucination that would disappear like a mirage before his eyes. He blinked, but she remained before him. Her face was open, but he could tell that the longer he hesitated, the more frightened she looked. Suddenly, he felt his soul sing for the first time and his face lit up as he fully realized what she was offering - a true chance to love her and to be loved in return. And suddenly, the madness, the struggle seemed to recede as his soul gained control and quieted the torment. e’d screamed at her, "That's bloody funny, coming from you? No games? That's all you've ever done is play me, and keep playing with rules you make up as you like! You know what I am -- you've always known and you come to me all the same!"
And that’s when it had hit her. For all her rationalizations, she had done the unforgivable again. She had thought that her little game might give them both something, but she knew now that it was only killing them both. She had begged Tara to not forgive her, and she knew she couldn’t forgive herself if she didn’t stop this now.
She’d been horrified when she’d returned to see the state of the crypt that had been the scene of their beautiful tryst so recently. It had only strengthened her resolve as she admitted to being weak and selfish and tried to make him understand that this was for the best, but that frail look, the opposite of that joyous expression she’d seen before, had made her try to soften the blow.
"I’m sorry, William."
And then she’d left.
Spike just stared after her for what seemed like an eternity and then collapsed to the floor of the crypt weeping. What had he done wrong? How could he fix it? He wasn’t sure, but he knew, he knew that deep inside she could love him. He’d seen it and he knew it was there, just locked back so tight by the appearance of Soldier Boy and the judgmental fears of her friends that it couldn’t come out. But it was there and he would find a way.
Chapter 12
October 2002
As Buffy lay on the roof of the crypt where so much of the past events had played out, she pondered what to do. She had tried to move on over the summer and she’d succeeded to a large degree. She still wasn’t entirely sure she could trust Spike, because of what had happened in the bathroom that night she couldn’t forget, but the enormousness of his actions since then staggered her.
He’d gotten a soul. The one thing besides a chip that could guide and shape his actions. He’d gotten it for her, to be the man she needed. She breathed deeply. That had to be the most flattering thing anyone had ever done for her and she supposed it proved even more that Spike was her Lancelot. Questing after the Holy Grail for his lady love.
She’d taken to reading the legends about the two lovers over the summer and was disturbed at some of the parallels. Guinevere, in many of those tales, had treated Lancelot much as she had treated Spike, taking his adoration, using him, then shunning him when not in secret. He on the other hand, was nearly always described as incredibly head over heels in love with her, willing to do anything for her.
Had she really been that way? She knew she had. She’d beaten him, used him, and in the process of the little game they’d played, likely nearly stomped all over his heart. She still remembered those whispered endearments and I love you’s that had been exchanged and she knew that they had both tried to violate the other. He went after her physically, but she had violated him mentally and emotionally. They both had a very long way to go, but maybe, just maybe, there were bricks to rebuild with.
~*~*~*~*~
Spike wandered in the moonlit, stopping before the doors to his old crypt. He didn’t really want to go in there. He suspected Clem was still holding the quarters, but he simply wasn’t feeling sociable tonight. Perhaps Buffy was right, as he had moved away from the school, he had felt more clear headed, though the underlying struggle between his soul and demon had remained, but quieter now.
He lowered himself to the stoop of the crypt and remembered all the reasons he should never go near her again, other than to be of aid to her in fighting the forces of darkness. He was unworthy. He had found the Grail, but it had failed to redeem him for his crimes and purify him, if anything it had only highlighted t
"Buffy, I forgive you. It’s in the past and I’m happy for you to put it behind you. I know you were confused last year and I should never have tried to drag you into the darkness, or force you to love me when you weren’t ready."
Slowly, he drew her hands into his. She felt slightly dizzy at the joy on his face as he looked down at her, overwhelmed that he was so willing to offer his forgiveness and grant her the chance at love.
"I love you with all my heart, pet. I know we can’t be what we were before, but maybe we can be something better. We just need to take things slowly this time."
He kissed her hand, then turned her palms over, planting a kiss in each, then curling her hands into fists. He paused and smiled the William smile at her.
"Right then, take me home."
Chapter 14
She had installed him in the basement when they had reached her house, both hesitant and nervous that where they wanted to go would require time and patience, not the mad passion they had shared before. But as she entered her room, she couldn’t resist one final token before sleep claimed her.
Ever since she had found the poem in one of Willow’s anthologies from her British lit classes, she’d known that Spike would understand the words and that there was no better way to begin again. She looked one final time at the poem she had copied, then tucked it in the pale cream envelope, from the same stationary as that first note those many months ago. Quietly, she crept down the stairs and slid the envelope under the door and onto the top step leading to the basement.
Spike raised his head at the soft slithering sound and immediately was up the stairs to investigate. He spied the envelope laying on the step and drew in an unnecessary breath. She had written him a note. On the same paper as the one which introduced the game that had driven him to get a soul, to be worthy of her. He plucked it off the step and hastily opened it.
The night is here, and thou art with me still,
Loved one, although beyond the reach of hands
Eager to clasp thee; and I long to fill
Again this soul more dry than desert sands
Now thou art gone, with the deep-flowing streams
Of thy most gracious presence. Soon it will
Return all life-like in the land of dreams.
How shall our struggling hearts, so many years
As may perchance be thine and mine, sweet Love,
Out-face this ceaseless storm of hopes and fears,
For aye within us, round, below, above?
Oh ask me not; for whether joy or tears
Remain for us, we must bear silently,
Dearest, and with a love that cannot die.
How do the angels reason of our love?
And those blest spirits that are gone before,
Who, now rejoicing in their place above,
Walked with us on this melancholy shore
Of life, years, years ago; will they forgive
In us such earth-born folly? Or once more
Could we with such as they are choose to live?
Ah weary hearts, encrusted o'er with dross
Caught up from this vile world! Can we be sure,
When of this lower life we suffer loss,
They will beat freely in an air so pure,
Fit for the souls who enter into light?
Such dross is in the grain; it must endure
Our own, unchanging still, in death's despite.
But come what will, to the last agony,
My choice is made; I cannot yield thee up.
Dross or pure gold, I give it all to thee.
The pearls of all my life shall in thy cup
Be thrown and melted; they are nought to me,
Save as they make some bubbling sparkle rise
To see itself one instant in thine eyes.
As Spike read the poem, and reread it, he paused briefly to consider the wisdom of his actions, then opened the basement door and quietly made his way to Buffy’s room. He started to knock, when she opened the door, framed by the soft glow of her bedside lamp and clothed in a simple tank top and pajama pants.
"Did you read it?"
"Yes, pet."
"Do you understand?"
"Yes, my love."
"Are we rushing things?"
"Probably."
She opened the door wider and gently drew him in.
"Then just stay with me tonight. Hold me and we’ll face the rest tomorrow."
He followed her in and sank down with her onto the bed, intertwining himself around her and silently holding her until they both drifted towards sleep.