Distro: Mystifying Dreams, WWOMB, WLS, RedsSoulmates and others
Spoilers: season 5
Rating: PG
Summary: Willow finds him again. A continuing theme based on "In Shadows"
Feed back backs me happy and I write more as well!
Thanks to jennillu for the beta.
This is for the winter_spillow
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The clenching in my heart is easing. The further I get from Revello Drive the better I can breathe. It's too hard, watching Dawn cry for her mother one minute and be mean to Buffy the next, Tara fawning over them both, which is only natural, but upsetting just the same, so I leave. Telling them I need to check in with my parents, who flew in for the funeral, I take off and just start walking.
I wrap my arms around me, to fight off the chill that comes over me. It's not particularly cold out this evening. This is only my body rebelling against what I suddenly realize I intend to do, but as I pass over the path we all traveled earlier today, I straighten my back and push forward, determined.
He is there, as I knew he would be. He looks like a statue, standing over her grave staring down at it, daring her to stay buried. From this distance and in this darkness, I cannot discern if there are tears on his face, but I don't expect any.
He's got a chip, not a soul.
Nonetheless I know he cares, as much as the situation allows. And I know he is hurting.
He doesn't move an inch, just stares with his hands shoved in his pockets. I wonder how he is able to do it, freeze like that, when he is so hyper and animated normally.
And isn't that weird? The undead is animated, more so than most people I know.
His form of grief only distracts him for so long and when he does move it's to look directly at me.
Busted, I step out from behind the trees and go quietly up to him.
"I thought I'd find you here," I say as a greeting.
"Why aren't you off with the bereaved...bereaving?" he asks, stepping back from the edge of the mound of dirt.
"I am."
He looks at me and I am once again struck by the confused puppy gaze, like he doesn't get it or maybe doesn't get me.
"She was a good woman. Reminded me of my mum." He says softly and I wonder what happened to his mother. Did he kill his family like Angelus did or did Angelus kill them for him, like he did with Drusilla? I don't ask and I'm afraid of the answer.
"She was more a mother to me than my own. I'm just a project to my parents." I tell him, although I have no idea why I am sharing this. Spike is evil and will eventually use that against me one day. I shrug in my mind, not really believe that anymore.
I can see that he is affected by my admission, but then his wall comes up again and his feelings are closed off to me. I don't ask why he even reacts to how my parents treated me and again I'm afraid of the answer.
"What is this, Red?"
I am surprised and a little pleased that I have been upgraded from witch to that nickname only he uses.
"I.this is a cemetery..." His glare is nothing short of unnerving. "I didn't want you to do this alone." There is a slight softening in his eyes, but his jaw remains firmly set, clenching in silent anger. "Buffy.We had each other." The rest is left unsaid.
"I don't need your bloody pity." He is sullen, but proud.
It's the demon in him talking, forever able to deal with pain on its own terms. But I am not concerned with that part of Spike.
"And you don't have it." I tear my eyes away from the intensity of him in favor of the headstone, reading the inscription again. "I can't be around them, the way Dawn acts...and they won't even talk about her."
I gaze up at him. "I can talk about her with you. You're not afraid to remember her."
He seems to accept this and I know that it's his own desire to be needed that allows him to be fooled by my lie. I do want to talk about Joyce and the others are skittish whenever I bring up a happy memory of her, but it's still very soon for them and that is not why I am here, standing next to a demon over my best friend's mother's grave.
The real reason is terrifying.
There is another bunch of flowers, placed carefully over the dirt. They are pretty and he took great care in picking and arranging them. I lean over, selecting one of the oleanders and bring it to my nose. Its fragrance is only slightly diminished by death and I smile into it.
"It's beautiful, Spike." Steeling my nerve I turn to him as he eyes me curiously and I place my hand on his chest, over his unbeating heart. "Like you are...in here."
The End