Backstage
By Lisa Martin
So I get on tour with the band. The phone calls I had to make to explain my absence were not that easy, except the one to Dawn. She thought it was the coolest thing to do. Of course I didn't tell them the whole story. No need to get them all in a tiff about me being with Spike. I so did not need their well meant, but annoying advices.
We never talk about what happened that first night, nor is Buffy ever mentioned again. We talk about his time in Sunnydale, I tell him the latest news. Dawn keeps me posted, she mails me almost every day. Whenever I mention her name to Spike, he smiles. He likes Dawn, always has. Our 'relationship' is a weird one. To the outside we look like more than friends, yet we are just that, friends. All right, friends who sleep in the same bed. Sleep, yes, nothing more than that. Sometimes we talk, going over the events of the day, sometimes we just lie there. But always we fall asleep in each other's arms. His presence has become a constant and a necessity for me. It's a reminder of days past, yet also a way to forget the sorrow that time brought. It's healing and cruel at the same time, but I can't do without it. Then we arrive in New York.
From the first day onwards, I know there's something different. For an outsider it maybe isn't obvious, but I notice he's restless. When I ask him about it, he shrugs it off, muttering something about the Big Apple not being his favourite place. For a while, I accept that explanation, after all it could be the truth, right? But when the days go by, I know he's lying. One night, I decide to confront him.
"Why are you lying to me?"
He starts, tensing in my arms. "I'm not!"
"You did, you do. From the moment we got here, you've been acting strange. And don't give me that crap about not liking New York."
"It's true." He glances up at me, trying to look innocent. He never could pull that off, not with me anyway.
"Maybe so, but there's more."
His eyes close briefly, a sure sign I hit a sore spot. "I heard you talking to the guys on the way over here."
Huh? I talk to them all the time. Considering the fact that they're all of the demon variety, they're good guys. Fun too. "I don't get it."
"About school and such." He's not even looking at me anymore.
"About." Oh wait. We've been teasing Karl, one of the sound crew, about it.
He is seriously considering going to college, which is not that weird in itself, he's got the brains for it. It's his appearance that will be a slight problem. Despite what the fans think, his horns are not a special effect, created by some wiz of a make up artist. He doesn't get the problem, and we have been making fun of it. "We've been teasing Karl."
"I know that. Done my share. But you said something about missing your chance at college."
Oh. Ah. "Low grades, no money."
"That last thing isn't a problem anymore is it?" He's staring at me now, and no matter how hard I try, I can't look away from that pointed gaze.
"No. Which doesn't remove the first one."
"Bullshit! You and I both know why you're grades were low and it wasn't because your lack of brains."
I start to see where this is heading and I don't like it. "I'm not going."
"Think about it." For him, the discussion ends there. He falls asleep soon afterwards, but I stare into the darkness. To be honest, I have thought about it. Before I got this job. It hasn't left my mind completely, but I put it on the back burner for a while. I'm happy; I like what I do.
Prodding deeper, I search for the real reason behind my happiness, knowing there has to be one. It doesn't take me long and it both shocks and delights me. I've fallen and hard. Fallen for the man in my arms, who achieved what no one else could: he makes me feel good about myself. It's not the night we shared after that first concert, but more subtle things.
His hand on my back every time we walk to his dressing room, his smile when I crack a joke, the gentleness in his gaze when he looks at me. All so alien to me; especially coming from him. He was always the one who could deepen my misery after others had cast me aside. Taunting me, challenging me to react. Now all he does is care about me. It's a startling conclusion, but there it is. I nudge him.
"Spike."
"Yeah." So he wasn't asleep.
"You're right, I have been thinking about it. Second chances and all that stuff."
"You deserve one."
Can I get a more obvious cue? "I have one." Looking at me with wondering eyes, his arms wrapped around me. "I got it when I went backstage in LA. Didn't realise it then, but it was."
"This lousy job??" No, you moron! I sigh deeply. He's not going to make it easy.
"I like this job, but that's not it. I wanted to go to college to give my life a different turn. These past few months have taught me it's nothing more than an escape, just another way of hiding from reality. I don't want that anymore. Sure, life is harsh sometimes, but better to face it than to hide from it. It only comes back to bite you in the ass."
"Nice story, no answer."
"Getting to that!" I give him a playful poke in the ribs. "No, it's not the job. It's you."
He tenses and rolls away from me. Confusion sets in, why does he do that? He sits on the edge of the bed, running a shaking hand through his hair. What did I say wrong? "Xan, I can't." His voice is rough with emotion. He stands, starts pacing through the room. "When Buffy died, I swore to myself never to fall for a mortal again. Too much pain. No matter how long it takes, I'll lose them in the end." He stops and looks at me. Sitting down again he lays his hand against my face. "I am leaving you behind, pet. I tried so hard not to love you and failed. I am leaving, not because I don't love you, but because I do."
It makes a strange kind of sense, yet my heart doesn't want to believe it. Still, I keep my calm. Inside I'm screaming, begging and pleading for him not to leave me, but outside I'm the picture of calm. "Love you too."
He smiles. "I know."