Notes: Post S5. Some spoilers.
Notes2: Future fic. I heard this song and the idea popped up in my head. A little bit of everything in this fic, angst, fluff, my odd sense of humor, all that good stuff.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Joss & Company own all. Nickelback owns ‘Someday’
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
How the hell did we wind up like this
Why weren't we able
To see the signs that we missed
And try to turn the tables
I wish you'd unclench your fists
And unpack your suitcase
Lately there's been too much of this
Don’t think its too late
Nothing's wrong
just as long as
you know that someday I will
Someday, somehow
gonna make it alright but not right now
I know you're wondering when
(You're the only one who knows that)
Someday, somehow
gonna make it alright but not right now
I know you're wondering when
Well I hoped that since we're here anyway
We could end up saying
Things we've always needed to say
So we could end up stringing
Now the story's played out like this
Just like a paperback novel
Lets rewrite an ending that fits
Instead of a Hollywood horror
Nothing's wrong
just as long as
you know that someday I will
Someday, somehow
gonna make it alright but not right now
I know you're wondering when
(You're the only one who knows that)
Someday, somehow
gonna make it alright but not right now
I know you're wondering when
(You're the only one who knows that)
~*~
~Part: 1~
Sometimes she regrets what she did.
Leaving, that is. At the time, it seemed like a pretty bad idea and as the days moved forward and Willow Rosenberg found herself without the company of her friends, the idea only seemed to get worse and worse. But now that she looked back on it, she didn’t regret it. Much.
She knew that her announcement that she needed a break came as a surprise. After all, everybody had expected her to be the strong one. The one who would give support. But that time around, with that situation, she just didn’t have the power to give that support. Death was always a hard thing to handle but when it was your best friend, it was nearly impossible. And for Willow, it practically was.
She tried to handle it, for several weeks. Staying in the same routine, always keeping a smile on her face while she took care of Dawn, comforted Xander, helped out Giles, talked to Anya, dealt with Spike, and playing the good girlfriend. At the beginning, she was already half empty but during those weeks, her energy waned, getting lower and lower until the end, she almost collapsed.
Of course, during that time, she mentally cursed herself for being so weak but it was harder than it seemed to hold together herself, the gang and keep a happy face on while doing so. She couldn’t be there for everybody and have time for herself. It was self-inflicted misery that she just didn’t want to continue. From that day on, she couldn’t help thinking, how did Buffy make it seem so easy?
With first hand experience, she knew it wasn’t. Before, she always considered herself somewhat of a supporto-gal but the amount then came in spurts, little by little and that, she could handle. However, when Buffy jumped off the bridge, the weight of the world was lifted off the Slayer and placed on her best friend.
And Willow was strong. But she wasn’t that strong. No one was.
So, because of that, she left. Before she did, she made sure that the rest of the gang would be fine without her, well, as fine as they could be. The guilt was still there. The look in Dawn’s eyes and the fallen expression on Xander’s face almost changed her mind completely but she knew she had to do it. For once, she needed to be selfish and do something good for herself.
Giles, Anya, and Tara handled it better then she expected. The Watcher who looked at the redhead like his own daughter sent her off with his best wishes and a promise that everything in Sunnydale would be fine when she was gone. Anya had smiled and brought her a going away present; she was informed from a book that it was the proper thing to do. Tara, sweet, sensitive Tara. Willow thought her loving girlfriend was going to be the hardest goodbye but she wasn’t. Tara had accepted it, understanding Willow’s true intentions and they broke off their relationship on good terms.
When Oz left, Willow promised herself that she would never be the one who left in a relationship. In her mind, she didn’t think that she did. The decision was mutual and both parties understood the reasons for it. Willow had to admit, it hurt, but then again, goodbyes always did. But it didn’t hurt as much as it did when Oz left her. That amount hurt was a relationship hurt. What she felt when she left Tara was a friendship hurt.
During the months after that, Willow spent hours pondering why that was and to this day, she still didn’t figure it out.
If there was anything that she regretted the most, it would be the goodbye with Spike. Or actually, lack of. The gang had congregated at the Magic Box for a final goodbye but he never came. Willow had walked to his crypt but he wasn’t there. That stung more than she wanted to admit. She was never friends with him. She doubted she ever would be. It was hard to actually engage in a friendship with Spike.
He was stubborn, rude, and arrogant but at the same time, he was sensitive, understanding, and surprisingly sweet to the ones that he cared about. All others got the colder side of him. Willow was among that list. Out of their whole group, Buffy, Joyce and Dawn were the only ones that saw the ‘nicer’ side to him. Willow figured it was because he had a thing for the Summers women. So, when she left Sunnydale and arrived in Chicago a few months later, the last being that she expected to see three years later was Spike.
And yet, there he was, in front of her. Same shocking bleached blonde hair. Same pale skin. Same black jeans complimented with a black shirt. Same smirk affixed onto his face.
Some things never changed.
~^~**~^~
She couldn’t move. It had been awhile since Willow was actually frozen in her steps. Thankfully, it never happened literally on the Hellmouth but there she was, years later, and a simple smirk and glance from a chipped vampire did it to her. Willow managed to gain some composure and closed her mouth, which had previously been in a round ‘o’. She let out a heavy sigh before clearing her throat and walked towards him.
As she did, several thoughts whizzed through her head. Why was he here in Chicago of all places? What were the odds that he would be *here* at the same time she was? Goodness knows she was busy enough with work that today was one of her rare days off. She had decided to spend it at a newly opened art gallery of which, she was informed, few people knew about. Only the most well informed were given the information. But there he was. Spike.
Willow affixed a smile onto her face and unclenched her fists. She was going to do this. She was going to waltz right up to Spike, give him her usual friendly chat that she had developed the last few years and then walk away. Wham, bam, thank you ma’am. She paused, huh, maybe that wasn’t the best expression to use. Shaking her thoughts away, her steps got a little faster and her breathing a little more hitched.
Oh, god, this was Spike. *Spike*. From her past life. Well, again, wrong term. From her life before, her life before Chicago. Her life after Sunnydale and *after* Buffy. The two lives didn’t mesh and she didn’t want them to collide and yet, here it was, happening almost as if in slow motion. Willow swallowed the lump in her throat, could she really do this? Could she really play it off cool? She never was that great of a liar but she was planning to do just that, lie *straight* to a vampire’s face. Probably not such a good idea.
Willow closed her eyes for a brief moment, what else could she do though? She knew that he had seen her and besides, they were out in public. He wouldn’t do anything embarrassing or something that drew attention.
Wait a second, this was Spike. He craved attention.
Oh, this wasn’t a good idea. This wasn’t a good idea at all.
Green eyes darted from left to right as her over-worked mind planned her escape. She caught sight of an exit and immediately breathed a sigh of relief. She took a turn in her steps and rushed towards it as quickly as she could in high heels and a business skirt.
“Hey, wait!”
Oh, crap, caught. Huh, but that didn’t sound like Spike. Unless, his voice got a lot more high pitched over the years. She turned around and almost groaned as she saw who was approaching her. Yes, this most definitely wasn’t Spike. This was Anita Campbell, queen of gossip and rumors, and an overall pain in Willow’s ass. Still, Willow kept her smile on though it faltered a bit when she caught whiff of Anita.
Subtlety. Was it really that hard to understand? Willow pondered about getting Anita a dictionary for Christmas. Then again, any thought of getting Anita *any* sort of present for *any* holiday sent a shiver down her spine. Oh, yeah, she was talking.
“So,” Anita drawled, “How have you been, Rosie?” She paused, “It’s been *ages* since I’ve seen to you.”
“Actually, it was a few nights ago,” Willow said through clenched teeth.
Anita paid little attention to the response, “So, dearie, did you see something that you like?”
“A few things,” she said shortly.
“Oh,” Anita nearly squealed as her eyes caught onto a certain blue-eyed blonde, “I think I just saw something that I wanna buy. Hmm.”
Willow’s eyes followed Anita’s gaze and she almost groaned when she saw who it was Anita had her eyes on. Spike. She mentally cursed herself for coming to the gallery in the first place.
“Ooooh,” she cooed, “He’s coming over.”
“What?” She asked alarmed, “He’s what?” Spike’s eyes latched onto her own and suddenly, she felt very much like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. Maybe she could make a quick getaway. “Anita, well, it’s been a,” she forced the next word out, “pleasure talking to you but I’ve got to get going. Sorry, bye.”
Before Anita could get in another word, Willow was gone and practically running to the exit. She let out a sigh as the cool Chicago air greeted her as she stepped outside. Of course, she only enjoyed the freedom for a few moments because as soon as the door closed, it opened once again. Darn it.
Spike’s head popped through the door before he closed it. He smirked at Willow who was standing in the middle of an alley, arms crossed, looking at him for an explanation. “Well, I must say, I’ve thought about our meeting but this scenario never popped up.”
“I’m full of surprises.”
He raised an eyebrow, “You’ve changed.”
She raised her own eyebrow, slightly mocking him, “You haven’t.”
Spike leaned against the closed door with a grin, “A few things have,” he tapped the side of his head, “Much more clear now. No more clutter up here.”
“The chip,” Willow said after a few moments, “It’s gone?”
“It’s gone.”
“How?”
“With the right price, you can have anything you want.”
Unconsciously, she backed away a step, “Why are you here?”
“I’m hurt, luv,” he held his hands to his chest, “We haven’t seen each other in so long and you don’t even say hello.”
“*Why* are you here?” She repeated firmly.
“I never got my proper goodbye.”
Her eyes widened at his words and she backed away again, stumbling into the wall, “W-what?”
“Relax, Willow, I’m not going to hurt you.”
She flinched when he called her by her name before forcing a calm into her voice, “Right, and that’s why you’re threatening me.”
“I’m not threatening. I’m not even implying. I just said something and you took it the wrong way. Is it not true? I didn’t get a proper goodbye.”
“You never came to the Magic Box. I went to your crypt, you weren’t there.”
“Ahh, thought I smelled you there.” He shrugged, “I bought you flowers, you know?”
“You what?”
“Flowers, I bought them for you the day you left. Never got the chance to give them to you.”
“Why?” She asked suspiciously.
“Wanted to give you a proper goodbye.”
“Why didn’t you bring it by the Magic Box? You knew that the Scoobies were throwing a little get together for me.”
A shadow of a smile appeared onto his face as he answered, “I had my reasons.”
Willow looked at him and saw the determination in his eyes. Somehow she got the feeling he wasn’t going to be giving her a straight answer and so, she switched gears a bit. “Sweet, the flowers I mean.”
“Ponce-y if you ask me.”
“So, why’d you do it?”
“It’s the poet in me.”
Willow bit back her question of curiosity as to what he meant. Instead, she stepped forth, trying to side-step him but he wouldn’t let her. “I have dinner plans, Spike.”
He smirked, “Interesting choice of words.”
“You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”
“Since when do you trust a vampire?”
Willow dropped her arms to her side and sighed, “I trusted you before.”
“Slight difference now, if you haven’t noticed.”
“Are you going to kill me?”
“No,” he said bluntly, “I’m not.”
“Okay, great, can I leave?”
“No patience,” he wagged his finger at her, “Bad, Willow.”
Again, she flinched but this time he caught it.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she could hear the defeat in her voice. There was no way she could win in an argument with Spike.
“Tell me.”
She looked down, her shoulders slumped, “It’s just, been a while since I’ve heard someone call me that.”
“It’s not like it’s a nickname. It’s your real name.”
“I know but everybody here,” she gestured around her, “Calls me Ms. Rosenberg or Rose or Rosie.”
He examined her with an intense stare and suddenly, she felt completely naked as if she were bared to him. How did he manage to do that? With just a simple glance and question, she was revealing things to him that she hadn’t revealed to anyone in 3 years.
“Why is that?”
She continued to look down and clasped her hands. This was too familiar. Too much like how she was in Sunnydale. She was different now, stronger, smarter, and wiser. She didn’t need to be afraid of Spike and she had no obligation to tell him anything. She repeated his earlier words, “I have my reasons.”
“Care to share?”
“Not in particular.” She stepped to the right, which he immediately followed, “Let me go.”
“I’m not holding onto you.”
Willow shot him an annoyed look, “You know what I mean.”
“But, we’ve just started getting reacquainted. We’ve got an awful lot to get caught up on. Three years.”
The enormity and truth in his words hit her at that moment. Three years. It had been *three* years since she made any contact with the Scooby Gang. A pang of guilt shot through her and she looked down, not wanting to let Spike see her tear up.
He softened his tone, “I didn’t mean it as a barb.”
She sniffled and looked up, “Why are you here?”
“Why do you think?”
“I don’t know, Spike,” Willow ran her hand through her hair, “I really don’t know.”
“Where are your dinner plans?”
“What?” Willow’s head snapped up in surprise, “Why?”
“Do you have room for another person?”
“Umm, I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s the Signature Room and when you make a reservation for one, they’re going to give you a table for one.”
“They’ll give you a table for two but just not set up for the missing person.” Spike waved at himself, “Room for me.”
She shook her head, “Spike, why would you possibly want to come to dinner with me?”
“Same reason why I traveled 3000 miles to come to Chicago.”
Willow looked up in surprise before smiling at him, “Oh.”
“Well, come on now, I heard the John Hancock building has a great view and besides, I’m feeling a bit peckish.”
She raised an eyebrow, “You’re not going to—”
“No, I’m not.”
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