Spike opened the front door a mere crack and allowed
the gift he'd propped against it before he'd climbed
onto Willow's balcony earlier that morning to tumble
just over the threshold. He grabbed it and quickly
pushed the door shut. Willow reappeared from the
kitchen as he returned to the sofa.
"You going to drink some of that or just let it go
cold like the last one?" he asked as she held the mug
in her hands.
She rolled her eyes and took several careful swallows
before setting it down and joining him on the sofa.
"There, is that better? Now, give," she ordered.
He chuckled and handed her the thin, rectangular
package, studying her expression as she tore away the
wrapping. She looked down at the slim, leather bound
book. It had no title, and the cover was a bit
tattered at the corners. She opened it to the first
page and ran her eyes over the handwritten words.
"It's my journal," he told her. "Well, it was my
journal, when I was human, before I was turned."
She looked up at him, her eyes reflecting unmistakable
surprise.
He smiled, "I didn't write in it regularly. Just when
something important happened, events I wanted to
remember, for whatever reason. I don't know why I've
held onto it all these years. Maybe because I was
meant to give it somebody, someday."
"Spike," she said softly. "I can't accept this. I
can't read it. It's too personal."
He shook his head, "I want you to have it. There are
things in there I've never shared with anyone else.
Not even Dru, not that she would have been interested,
anyway. I'm not the human that exists in those pages,
but I was, once. And parts of that man are still here,
inside me, even though I tend to push them aside most
of the time."
"Are you really sure you want to share them with me?"
she asked.
"I'm sure, pet. You know, after I fought my way out of
that underground lab and discovered what had been done
to me, I honestly didn't know how I was going to
survive. Hell, I wasn't even sure I wanted to. The
things I'd enjoyed the most--the hunting, the
killing--were torn away from me. And if that weren't
bad enough, I had to go to the people I hated the
most--the slayer and her watcher--and beg for my
survival. Do you have any idea what that cost me?"
She blinked back the tears behind her eyes and shook
her head slightly, "Probably not."
"And then I stopped watching them and started watching
you," he continued. "You were in such pain--a
different pain than mine, but just as unbearable. And
you were trying so hard to fight your way through it."
She grinned sadly, "Are you kidding? I was pathetic. A
complete basket case."
He took her hand, "No. You were stumbling, sometimes
walking in the wrong directions, but you were trying.
It made me angry, the way the others couldn't see
that. All they wanted was for you to drop it, get over
it, let them all get back to their own self-centered
lives without having to listen to your pain."
"To be fair, I did carry it too far, for too long,"
she told him.
"Don't say that. Don't ever say that," he demanded.
"The slayer, off all people--after what she'd been
through with her bloody poof--how the hell could she
not understand? They spent _years_ crying over each
other, over the things that could never be. Bloody
hell, they were brooding even while they were
together! But she couldn't allow you a few weeks, a
few months? She should have been telling you to yell,
cry, scream, get angry--anything, anything you needed
to get through it. But all she did was whine because
you were taking too damned long to move on for her
liking. I wanted to gouge her unseeing eyes right out
of her thick skull."
Willow was staring at him, riveted by the intensity of
his emotions. He paused for a moment, visibly reigning
in his anger, and gave her a small smile.
"Anyway, the slayer finally got it, finally realized
how desperately you were hurting. But by the time it
finally seeped through her dense brain, you were so
far inside your pain, I wasn't sure you'd ever find
your way back out," he said softly.
"But I did. Because of you," she responded.
"Sorry, pet. I'm not taking the credit for your
strength. I may have been there to listen, to talk
through your pain, but you did the rest. You're a
fighter, Willow. Just like I am, just like I was even
back then," he tapped a finger against the journal.
"My problem was, I was railing so hard against what
those sadistic scientists had done to my head, I
couldn't move beyond it. You gave me the kick in the
ass that I needed."
"I did?" she frowned. "How?"
"I watched you trying to change a situation that
_couldn't_ be changed. And I realized I was doing the
same thing. You were barely hanging on, and something
inside me wanted to grab hold of you and help you back
up. But I couldn't do that until I yanked myself back
up, first. So--I did."
"And then you came after me," she smiled.
"And then I came after you," he nodded. "So, you see,
we were fighting together, even though you never
realized it."
"We make a pretty good team," she told him.
"That we do, pet," he grinned. "So, I want you to know
the man I once was, in a long-ago existence. You know
the vampire. I want you to know the human he was.
Someone once told me I reek of humanity. In a twisted
way, I'm rather proud of that. The vampire doesn't
love so very differently than the human once did. I
don't show that to very many people, but I want to
show it to you."
A single tear slipped from the redhead's eye as she
looked up at him and whispered, "Thank you."
He shook his head and dried her cheek with his hand,
"Other way around, luv."
She smiled softly, "I know I'm supposed to crack a
lame joke right about now, but I'd really rather do
this."
She slid closer to him and pressed her lips to his,
sliding her tongue inside his mouth to glide against
his as she laced her fingers through his hair. Spike
wrapped his arms around her and returned the slow kiss
until she pulled away to commune with his eyes for a
silent moment. She smiled contentedly and let her gaze
wander back to the journal that had somehow managed to
remain on her lap.
"Can I hold you while you read it?" Spike asked.
"I wish you would," she nodded.
He leaned back against the arm of the sofa, and Willow
raised herself up as he stretched his legs out over
the cushions. He reached for her, pulling her down to
sit between his legs, her back settled against his
chest, his arm curled firmly around her stomach. She
bent her knees and propped the journal against them,
and he rested his cheek against the side of her head.
The house fell into a comfortable silence, broken only
by the occasional sound of a page being turned, as
they read.
End.