Summary: A reluctant party tries to bring Spike and Buffy together.
Set between s6 and 7. This was written based on the spoilers for Seeing Red and beyond. Not everything in this fic jives with what happened at the end of s6. Suspend your disbelief.
Disclaimer: The show Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all of it's characters belong to Joss,
Mutant Enemy, & Fox Prod.
A/N: A Heap of thanks to my betas:
Mezzibelle and Wisconsin Square.
Feedback: spikes_pet@hotmail.com
Chapter 1: Numb-Part1
Buffy walked through
the cemetery alone. Stake in hand, she wandered behind a large mausoleum and
silently stalked a hiding vampire. Buffy grabbed the vamp by the collar and
staked him. The playful banter was gone, as she no longer had funny puns or
smart comebacks. Turning away even before the dust settled, she was on to the
next bad. Slaying had become a job; there was no comfort or satisfaction in it
as there once had been. It didn’t feel much different than working at the Double
Meat.
Buffy continued walking until satisfied that her “shift” was over. Heading home,
she stopped to look at what was once Spike’s crypt. She touched the cold outside
wall with her fingers, and like every other night thought about going in. And
like every other night, she decided not to and continued on home.
After arriving home, Buffy looked in on Dawn as she slept, took a quick shower,
and went to bed. Sleep didn’t come easily anymore. The same worries plagued her
attempt at rest: money…Dawn’s welfare…Spike. It had been nine months since he
left with no trace. He’d made no attempt to contact her and she didn’t try to
find him.
His departure didn’t surprise her nor did it sadden her. She felt numb. Tonight
like most nights, her mind retraced the events that led to his leaving. He
professed his love. They had sex, he told her that she didn’t love him, his
fling with Anya, and his desperate attempt to force himself on her. Then he was
gone.
For a while, Buffy had tried to convince herself that she hated him. She had
every right with all he had done. Her thoughts returned to catching him and Anya.
The pain, jealousy, and anger she felt. Then, the “attack” in the bathroom. Her
embarrassment and confusion. But, as time passed she wondered how much she,
herself, had contributed to his actions. All of the times he hurt her, he had
been retaliating. Buffy realized she had said many, many horrible things to
Spike but still, ran to him for protection, shelter, sex, love. He had always
been there waiting for her. She was using him and it sickened her. She was no
better than Parker.
Often, Buffy wondered if Spike was still alive, or rather undead. She knew their
alliance made him not only an outcast, but it could also mean his death. Buffy
always brushed those thoughts out her mind. Spike was a survivor. Some inkling
of her senses told her that she would just know if something had happened to
him.
With that, Buffy fell into an uneasy sleep.
*********************************************************************
Buffy’s door burst open, and Dawn stood in the doorway. “Morning sleepy-head,”
her sister chirped.
“Hey Dawnie,” Buffy sleepily replied.
“I’m off to school. Remember, I am sleeping at Beth’s tonight, ‘kay.”
“Yeah, ok. Call me when you get there. Oh and Dawn, be careful.”
Dawn rolled her eyes and said “okay” in her best annoying, little sister voice.
“Love you.”
“Love you too.” Then she was gone. Buffy sat up in bed and looked around.
Remembering that it was her day off, she fell back to sleep.
Her door bursts open again and he is there. His scent is everywhere, and as he
nears her, she looks up and their gazes meet. She is lost in his steely blue
eyes. He reaches out a hand to touch her…
Buffy bolted up still swimming in Spike’s essence. She was unsure if it was all
just a dream or if he had actually been here? “Dream” she whispered to herself.
Looking at the clock, Buffy realized she had slept most of the day away. With a
groan, she pulled herself out of bed. Walking to the bathroom, she looked in the
mirror. She quickly noticed her flushed cheeks and sunken eyes. For the first
time since he left, she’d really missed him.
After a quick shower, Buffy went downstairs and cleaned up the remnants of
Dawn’s breakfast. After sticking Mr. Pointy into her waistband, she decided to
go for a walk as she needed to get out of the house and away from the smell that
was left by her all-too-vivid dream. She headed out the door and down the street
to nowhere in particular.
Buffy had been walking for hours and the sun had begun to set. Since she was
already out, she decided to start her rounds a bit earlier than usual. After
staking two fledgling vampires, she headed in her usual direction—toward what
used to be Spike’s crypt. Upon reaching the crypt, she ran her fingers along it
as she had done every night for the last nine months. Tonight it felt different
– or maybe she felt different with the dream still fresh in her mind. She
stopped short of the entrance pondering whether to enter. Unlike every other
night, she decided to go in.
A thousand questions sprang into her head before she entered. What if he were
here and unchipped? She knew she would have to stake him. What if someone or
something else lived there? She’d have to stake them as well. What if… She held
her breath and entered.
The crypt remained mostly unchanged – with one thing missing. A few of his
belongings were still there, but it was clear they were abandoned. Buffy didn’t
know if it was the dream haunting her or the crypt itself. She smelled him.
Though her instincts told her to leave, she couldn’t bring herself to move.
After what seemed to be an eternity, she walked in further and sat down. Digging
in her pocket, she retrieved the silver lighter she’d found on her bathroom
floor all those months ago. She’d stashed it away with other things he’d left
behind for awhile; now she carried it with her all the time as a reminder. She
reached over to a left-behind candle and lit it. For the first time in nine
months, Buffy broke down and cried.
Chapter 2: Numb-Part2
Spike wandered into a dive bar. Sitting down at a dark, deserted table in the corner, he reached into his pocket, pulled out the silver flask and drank from it. He glanced around the room and looked for his potential dinner. The bar had few patrons but a striking blonde woman caught his eye. Snorting in self-disgust, Spike realized that even though he no longer had the chip in his head, he had lost the will. That night, like every in the past nine months, he wondered if this was after-affects of Buffy or if he had done this to himself. His instinct to hunt was all but gone. He sustained himself only by buying blood from a butcher. That and large amounts of Jack Daniels.
Spike leaned back in his chair and realized that the blonde he had been watching
was certainly no Buffy. “Stupid bint,” he hissed to himself. All of the memories
flooded his mind until he felt that he was drowning. Spike slammed his hand on
the table, got up and left. He considered wandering in a nearby cemetery and
beating the first vampire or demon he saw senseless. Instead he headed home,
rather the seedy motel that served the purpose.
Spike walked in and sat down on the bed. His hand ran over the remote control
but he did not turn it on. He no longer hunted; instead he beat up his own. He
drank only cow or pig blood. He spent most of his time numbly watching the
television. “Some bloody vampire,” he said. He could barely even look at women,
vampire or not. Each time he tried all he could see was her. Every thought of
her brought back his inadequacies, embarrassment, shame, and the look in her
eyes after she caught him with Anya.
Spike spent many of the days after he left convinced that he hated the Slayer.
That she was no more to him than any other “bint” who lay down with him. He
replayed all of the hurtful remarks she had made to him over and over in his
head. He hoped she would realize that she did love him and then he would return.
He would finally do what he had intended to do when he met her—kill her. It
would not be revenge for not loving him or for using him; it would be revenge
for ruining him. It was revenge that he knew would never happen.
Spike lay on his bed with his whiskey bottle on his chest. Sometimes he wondered
if Buffy was still alive. Inwardly, he knew she was. He would sense if she had
died, again. He would definitely have heard from someone if something had
happened to the feared slayer. He also knew that Buffy still had her beloved
scoobies to back her up.
He reached into the nightstand and pulled out a light blue sweater. Taking a big
swig of the whiskey straight from the bottle, Spike held the sweater and stared
at it. It smelled of her. The familiar scent brought hot, shameful tears to his
eyes. He reached over and began to put the bottle away but instead threw the
sweater into the drawer and slammed it shut. His nightly ritual completed, he
closed his eyes and went to sleep.
***********************************************************************
Spike woke up early to hear his neighbors arguing. Cursing, he slung his pillow
over his head and closed his eyes.
His door hurled open suddenly. He turned over and saw her watching him in the
doorway. Her eyes were not accusing; her hands not clenched into fists. She was
smiling. After what seemed an eternity, she slowly walked towards him. He
reached a hand out to touch her…
“Buffy,” Spike shouted as he jumped out of bed. Looking around, he could still
sense her and for a brief moment thought she was there. “Bloody dream,” he said
to himself. Spike looked at the clock and realized it was time to watch
Passions. He got up, turned on the television, and slumped back on the bed. He
realized how much he missed Buffy.
He sat and watched TV until the sun had set, rising only once to grab a bag of
blood out of the mini-fridge. After tiring of the television, Spike got up,
showered, dressed and decided to go for a walk. On his way out he grabbed the
wooden stake and small knife that he carried for protection and shoved them in
the pocket of his jacket.
Stepping out into the cool night air, he lit a cigarette and began to walk. He
had no particular direction; he was headed anywhere that his dream wouldn’t
follow.
After walking around the quiet city streets for hours, he stopped. He realized
that he was once again outside his hotel room. He went in and pulled the blue
sweater from his nightstand. Stretching out on the bed, he took one quick glance
around to assure himself he was alone and then he laid his head on top of it. He
allowed himself to feel what he had fought so long. Spike began to cry.
Chapter 3: Reaching Out
Giles awoke with a start. He clumsily grabbed his glasses off the nightstand and fumbled for the ringing phone. “Hello,” he said, ready to tear into the late night caller.
“Hi, Giles?” the voice asked.
“Buffy? What’s happened?”
“Nothing really.”
“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Giles said looking at the clock.
“Oh, sorry. Time zones—I forgot,” Buffy said, knowing that it was the middle of the night in England, but not caring. “I need your guidance.” She went on to explain everything that had happened between her and Spike, sometimes with a chuckle, others with tears running down her face.
Buffy had omitted certain unnecessary details that she knew would embarrass her ex-watcher. She left out that night in her bathroom because she knew he would want to stake Spike on the spot. Giles listened, mostly in silence, until her story ended.
“Buffy, I don’t see how I fit into any of this. It seems to be between you and Spike.” He said taking off his glasses to polish them.
“I need your advice. You are the only one I have left to talk to,” she began to sob. “Giles, this hurts so bad. It’s affecting my slaying. I feel numb all the time. I thought his leaving was for the better, but now…” She was crying too hard to continue.
“Ok, ok Buffy, where did he go?” Giles said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I don’t know. He cleaned out his crypt and left.”
“I will see what I can do…Remember if he doesn’t want to be found, we probably won’t be able to find him. Give me a few days to do some checking. Buffy, you need to really consider if having him come back is what you want. Anything could have happened by now,” he cautioned.
“Yeah, I know. I’ve thought of that, but I need to see him.” Buffy began to cry again.
They said their good-byes and hung up. Giles sat in stunned silence from all he’d heard. With a heavy sigh he got up, knowing that his night of sleep was ruined.
He abhorred the idea of his slayer falling in love with a vampire. Angel was different; he at least had a soul. Spike had helped them in the past but was a dangerous killer. He realized that if he found Spike he must speak to him before him before he told Buffy. He had to find out just how much of a danger Spike was.
Giles got up, put on a robe and padded to the small room where he kept his books. He began to hunt for a locating spell. Upon finding one that would work, he gathered the proper ingredients. After taking three deep breaths, he started the spell.
******************************************************************
Spike suddenly shot up out of a deep sleep. Looking around through sleep-blurred eyes, he was unsure of where he was for a moment. He felt like he was being watched and looked around the room expecting to find someone hiding in the shadows. He found no one. Having no reason to get up, he fell back on the bed. As he lay in there, he thought he saw something out of his peripheral vision. He quickly turned his head to find nothing. “Bloody hangover,” he said to himself as he closed his eyes.
***************************************************************
After determining Spike’s location, Giles picked up the phone to call him. Deciding better of it, he replaced the receiver. He had no inkling of what to say. He ran over a few things in his head and then realized that it would be too easy for Spike to simply hang up on him. Giles figured that the only way to do this was in person. He picked up the phone and made flight arrangements and began to pack.
***************************************************************
Spike spent the next day in his room drinking and watching TV. He got up to grab a bag of blood out of the fridge and was about to sit down again when he heard a knock on the door. Considering no one knew where he was, Spike ignored it deciding the caller was looking for someone else. The knocking got louder, more insistent. He stalked to the door and swung it open saying, “What in the bloody hell…” He stood motionless, unable to finish or shut his mouth.
“Spike, I need to speak with you. May I come in?” Giles said through gritted teeth. The sight of Spike made him sick to his stomach. Spike stepped back, wordlessly allowing Giles entrance. A sudden sense of dread washed over the vampire.
“Something happen to Buffy?” Spike asked nervously.
“No. Not really…I mean she is fine physically,” Giles said sharply. Spike let out a sigh of relief and regained his usual cocky attitude.
“Then what do I owe this intrusion to?” Spike grinned. “Miss me, Rupert?”
“No. Buffy called me and told me what had happened.” Spike’s grin was gone.
“Oh, I see, you come to stake me, that it, Watcher? Well go ‘head.” Spike yelled while dramatically raising his arms.
“Spike, that is not why I’m. Not that the thought hadn’t crossed my mind.” Giles tried desperately to control his anger. “I came to find out why it happened. I need to hear your side of the matter.”
“Cut the bullshit, Watcher, I know you don’t give a damn about my side. You said Buffy told you what happened.” The two sat in silence. It was true; Giles could care less what Spike had to say. On the other hand, he didn’t want Buffy hurt anymore.
Spike walked across the small, dirty room and sat on the edge of the bed. Giles had only once seen Spike look so defeated—after the fight with Glory when he realized that Buffy was gone. After he let out a deep sigh, Spike said, “Fine. I loved her, protected her, and listened to her. I gave her everything. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for her or the lil’ bit. She told me to sod off and move on. So I did.” Spike stared at the floor, tears threatening to fall.
“So you didn’t want to leave? What about Anya?”
“No, all I ever wanted was Buffy. The demon bird was a mistake, a bloody mistake.”
After a long pause, Spike lit a cigarette and pulled out his flask. Giles leaned against the wall, unsure how to proceed. He had planned this going much different. He had thought that Spike was using Buffy. Giles was shocked to learn it was the other way around. He almost wanted to comfort the vampire—almost.
“Spike, I came because Buffy was worried something had happened to you.” Giles paused, reluctant to continue. “Maybe you should call her.”
Chapter 4: Shame and Hope
Giles got up to leave. Spike didn’t move or
speak; he was completely lost into himself. Trying to get his attention, Giles
said his name twice. There was no reaction. In a last ditch attempt to bring
him back, Giles walked over and put his hand on the vampire’s icy shoulder. As
if he heard a gunshot, Spike jumped causing the ex-watcher to also jump.
“Spike,” Giles began. “I’m not going to disclose to Buffy where you are or
that I have spoken to you. I’m forcing you to make the decision whether or not
to return to Sunnydale. If you go back, it better be to make things right. If
you hurt her in anyway, I will hunt you down and stake you.” Giles had never
been more serious. Spike opened his mouth to speak but could only muster a nod
of understanding. Giles turned and walked out the door.
Spike’s head was spinning, not from drink like usual, from emotions: love,
sorrow, regret, hope, confusion… He reached a shaky hand towards the phone,
stopped and grabbed his cigarettes instead. The first drag did not clear his
mind as he’d hoped. He needed to think this through; he couldn’t just pick up
the phone after nine months and say, ‘Hi love, miss me much?’ Giles’ warning
ran through his mind. Spike wanted to explain to him that he would never and
had never intentionally hurt Buffy. But that wasn’t entirely true. He, at
times, purposefully hurt her. He wanted her to hurt like he did—like she had
hurt him.
As the complex internal debate continued in his head, Spike lit another smoke.
He knew Giles was well intentioned, but he didn’t or couldn’t, possibly
understand. Their whole relationship was based on hurt. She hurt him, he in
turn, hurt her. It was the foundation of everything. Spike suddenly stood up,
one thought racing through his mind: he didn’t want to hurt her anymore. He
didn’t want hurt to be their groundwork. He wanted it to be love, affection,
caring. He abruptly reached for the phone, set his jaw, and dialed.
It took forever for the phone to ring and even longer for an answer.
“Hello,” the voice said. It was Buffy, but something was different. Her voice
sounded flat to Spike’s ears. He panicked, about to hang up as he heard
himself speak.
“Buffy?”
“Spike? Is that you? I can hardly hear you. Where are you?”
“Doesn’t matter, love. I needed to know that you and the lil’ bit were ok.”
His brain was telling him to take it slow but he wanted to jump through the
phone and hold her in his arms.
“Dawn’s fine. Never around much, but fine.” Buffy felt almost faint with
shock. She leaned against the wall for support and slid down to the ground.
“Where are you?”
“I’m fine, pet,” Spike said evasively. “I...” Spike stopped unsure what to
say, where to start.
“Spike,” Buffy was fighting to control her voice. “Are you coming back home?”
Hot tears streamed down her face in defiance. Buffy sucked in her breath as if
expecting to be struck.
“I don’t know. I’m not coming back unless, well…” He paused. Spike realized he
had begun to issue an ultimatum and stopped. That was exactly what he didn’t
want to do. “I just want to talk first. I need to talk, I mean we need to
talk.” He was trying to be reasonable despite his gripping need to hold her
and feel her holding him. He was losing his reason, letting his heart take
over. “Bloody hell, Buffy, why are you even talking to me after…after…” His
voice broke and tears welled up in his eyes. “I’ve done nothing but cause you
pain.” Spike’s head fell to his chest in shame.
“That’s not true.” Her voice was but a whisper. “You hurt me. I hurt you. It
doesn’t do a damn bit of good for either of us to assign blame.”
“But Buffy, when I think of what I…how we left things…the last time I…” Spike
pleaded between sobs.
“I didn’t say I forgot. I think,” she said with a heavy sigh. “I understand.
Spike, I have done a lot of thinking since you left.” Then, trying to lighten
the situation she continued, “Yep. I’ve been a thinking-Buffy.” Her attempt
didn’t work; she could still hear him crying.
“I’ve done a lot of thinking too and I just can’t suss out what or why I acted
like I did.”
“This is so hard, why don’t you come home and then we can talk.” Buffy just
needed to see him to know he was ok. She needed--she needed him and he needed
her.
“I…I can’t. S’too soon for any of that. There’s so much to deal with that as
much as I want to see you…I don’t think I can.” Buffy was weeping loud enough
for Spike to hear. “Please, pet, don’t,” he said trying to calm her.
“I miss you so much,” she said between sobs.
“I miss you too, love. Listen, you need your rest.”
Buffy cut him off before he could say good-bye. “Don’t…Please, don’t”
“Sorry. Have to, pet. I’ll call again.”
“Promise?” It was more plea than a question.
“I promise. Night, love.”
Buffy sat motionless, holding the phone so tight her hand throbbed. She didn’t
even notice the pain. She was still numb, but this was different than before.
She was no longer void of emotion, she was too full of emotion to feel
anything.
TBC...
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THE RELUCTANT MATCHMAKER VISIT SPIKE'S PET SITE DELUSIONS & DAYDREAMS