rating: PG 13, angst, heartache, bad words from Spike
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone from the show Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Distribution: any lists that I send this to, WLS, QPC, Bite Me, Cat, Feen, Soulmates, WWW - anyone else please ask
note: set in AU season 6. Willow and Tara never got back together after Glory, and instead Willow hooked up with Spike. Tara left Sunnydale. Willow resurrected Buffy. Buffy then proceeded to use Spike while he was dating Willow, without Willow's knowledge.
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Spike had wanted to rage and scream at Xander when he'd dropped by the apartment. Wanted to feel angry, and try something painful and violent against the annoying bastard. But he didn't, and not entirely because of the damned chip in his head. There was the aspect where the boy, no, Xander was a man now, but still annoying. Xander had been right. He'd had something wonderful, and he'd fucked it all up - literally. Damn interfering Slayer bitch, he should have just... they should have left her dead. Everything would have been good if Buffy had never come back.
But that didn't really let him off the hook, now did it? He'd still gone to the worthless bitch, still become her toy that ran to her when she crooked a little finger, just lain there and taken any scrap that she'd give him. And why? Well, he'd like to plead temporary insanity, except that he wasn't quite sure. Was it just that she'd been the one that had got away? Was it some sort of death wish, or subconscious sabotaging of his own happiness? Had it been some damned effect of the Slayer? Did it really matter anymore why, since the fact that he had had made such a mess?
He didn't love the Slayer now, if he ever really had. Didn't want to be with her, anywhere near her, actually. He just wanted Willow back.
Willow wasn't going to come back to Sunnydale. Not with the Slayer hitting her like that, not after seeing him and B... the Slayer doing what they'd been doing. His red probably thought that he'd just been using her, just... That she was nothing to him, no more than a warm body and a place to stay. That idea actually hurt worse than the fiery agony of the chip. He'd never wanted to hurt her... well, not for a long time, and never like that. Back when she'd just been some nameless human, or just the Slayer's Witch, he'd thought about ways to hurt her, but those had all been simple, physical pain, not this emotional torture.
He wasn't quite certain what prompted the idea. He'd been drinking a lot, and the words had been echoing in his head when he'd woken up, his muscles aching, bruises from a half remembered fight adding color to his face, and the taste like something had crawled into his mouth and rotted. 'Why not go find her?' If his Willow had gone away, why not go after her?
Regardless of where the idea had come from, it felt... right. Like it would work, like it was the right sort of thing to do. Willow was the one who made him whole, who saw him as someone with layers, complexities, depth. She was the one who held the possibility of a joyful future, if he could find her. If he could convince her to give him another chance. Of course, she could be anywhere by now, and all he knew was that she'd gone, left Sunnydale without a forwarding address, not that he could blame her.
But he had to find her. Had to try to convince her that he'd been an idiot, well, that shouldn't be too difficult. But to convince her that the damn Slayer had been a terrible mistake, and that the only person he loved was Willow... Oh, he'd have o grovel, and apologize for the next twenty years, and probably... flowers and chocolates. But before he could even try to grovel, he had to find her. And he would.
Come Hell or high water, he would find his Willow. Hell or high water... almost an ironic phrase, considering that he was in Sunnydale, a place almost always on the verge of Hell, and High water a possibility from the tides. But he understood the idea behind it - to pursue the goal without allowing any sort of danger or obstacle to defeat you. Not the Slayer, or the Hellmouth, or the chip, of the fact that she'd gone without leaving a clue to her new location. He would find her. He had to.
Willow was too important to let anything short of his permanent, dusty death stop him from finding her. And once he did. well, then the groveling would commence. Especially since he knew why she'd left, and it was his fault. His and that damned Slayer, but still. He was the one who cared about fixing it. She was too important, too special and caring and passionate to just let her slip away from him, even if he had dropped the ball, so to speak.
Okay, maybe not so much dropped as drop-kicked, but he knew that he'd made the biggest fucking mistake of his miserable unlife, and that had to count towards earning her forgiveness, right? Because he was determined that he would, no matter how hard it was, or how much it took. Hell or high water, he'd find her, and do his best to win her back.
The only other options were death or despair, and he wasn't a quitter.
"I'm going to find you again, baby. And when I do. you can kick my ass. Just as long as you let me back in, let me back into your life." His whisper fell into the night air, and almost seemed to be carried away. If it was carried away, and not just the humidity, maybe it would reach Willow? He could hope, at least.