This Morning

By Liz

The two of them trudged towards the crypt in hostile silence, Spike making a rare effort to restrain his inner smartass. Not that he stopped smirking, of course – there's only so much restraint in a vampire who knows his rival's guilty secret. But he knew the Slayer's protection was the only thing keeping Finn from dusting him on the spot.

Riley wasn't particularly pleased to be retiring to Spike's for the evening, but he wasn't about to invite Spike into his place. And he figured this conversation should probably be a little more private than the sidewalk outside the liquor store. He wasn't just pissed off at being outed; he was groaning all over at the indignity of knowing that Spike, of all people – well, not "people" but… - that fucking SPIKE had a secret to lord over him. Hell, he should probably just dust the bastard on the spot.

He'd have done it a long time ago, if not for Buffy. Why she insists on putting up with that guy, I'll never under— No, he couldn't really say that anymore. He knew exactly why. And the reason he hadn't staked Spike long ago was that he couldn't bear to watch Buffy grieve for him. It's one thing to suspect the love of your life is attracted to a cocky vampire, but it's another thing entirely for her to ask you to babysit her sister while she goes out to avenge him. Finn fought bitterly with the idea. She barely registered his presence anymore, hardly noticed or cared if he was around unless she had some stupid errand for him to run. Shit. A good vibrator, and she probably wouldn't even miss me. But if Spike were gone, she'd be crushed. She'd pretend it was a relief, bluster about "Oh, damn, and I didn't get to watch," and then lie right to his face about how glad she was to have Spike out of her life. And that would be the thing he couldn't take. For Buffy to look him in the eye and lie.

So far, she'd hemmed and hedged and glossed over and refused to discuss any number of things, but as far as Riley could tell, she'd never outright lied. At least, not since they'd discovered each other's secret that night in the clock tower. Small consolation, that. Gee, isn't it nice she's never lied and said she loves me? There was nothing on earth he'd rather hear, but he didn't want it if it wasn't the truth.

And the ugly truth was that she didn't want him as anything more than a convenience. 'Still touchable', Buffy? The touching was great, but she just didn't get it. Hard to really touch someone who keeps you at arm's length. Ever since he'd been relegated to Joe Normal, she'd treated him like a burden. Hell, maybe he was a burden. The sex was still incredible, but it seemed like every time she looked at him, all she saw was what he wasn't. She'd put up a wall he just wasn't 'superguy' enough to climb anymore. And every day, he wondered when she'd finally tell him she just didn't have time to bother with him anymore. He'd give anything to be a part of her world – had already given damn near everything he had to give - but she wouldn't let him in.

Even before he'd crashed and gone back to being standard-issue, there was a part of her he'd never been able to touch. He thought he understood what it meant to be the Slayer, but those overlapping scars on her throat still mocked him every time he kissed her. Angel, the Master, Dracula… she'd been bitten by three vampires, and she still tried to pretend it didn't mean anything. But he wasn't the only one who'd been leaving in the middle of the night. He pretended he didn't notice her slipping out, but he knew where she was going. Out into the night. To hunt. To feed that part of her that was drawn to the darkness. If he could just understand what it was about that darkness that had such a hold on her…

Which brought him pretty much right to where he was now. Stalking through a cemetery towards a vampire's crypt, about to hear Spike tell him yet again about how he's not what Buffy wants. Riley's shoulders slumped as he cursed the vampire for being right.

When they finally got there, Spike flung the door open and gestured with another flourish. Some of the smirk was gone, and Riley didn't know whether to take that as good or bad.

He knows it, Spike thought to himself. I can see it in the poor sod's eyes, he's barely clinging onto a lifeline he knows is going to vanish any day. Spike admonished himself for giving a damn – he hated this guy, right? But the guy was drowning right in front of him, and the Slayer'd take it somewhat amiss if her boy came back damaged goods. Or any more damaged than he already was. Not that she'd likely noticed, but Spike had seen it. Hell, he'd even helped the guy along. But Finn was supposed to get the hint and clear out, not fall apart on the Slayer.

As he walked in behind Riley, Spike gestured casually to a chair and reached for a bottle. He knocked back a solid swallow or three, then looked over to see Finn pacing across the floor, fists jammed in his pockets, looking like he didn't know whether to break down crying or set the place on fire. If it was all the same, Spike kind of preferred neither.

"Sit down already, would you?"

Riley stopped pacing and turned to face Spike with unveiled hatred in his eyes. "What, Spike? Is this the part where I give you my guilty confession so you can run and tell Buffy I'm not good enough for her?"

"No, Finn, this is the part where you sit the hell down and stop wearing a hole in my floor."

Riley reluctantly acquiesced and took a seat, looking up as the vampire reached across the table to hand him the bottle. "Keep it, Soldier. I've got my own," Spike said, pulling a flask from the pocket of his duster before throwing the coat over the back of the other chair and sitting down himself. "Besides, you've got it wrong."

"Oh, I see," Riley retorted. He knocked back a sizeable swallow of his own, shuddering as the bourbon burned its way down his throat. "Then perhaps you could enlighten me. Because from where I'm sitting…"

"Where you're sitting, mate, is in a crypt in the middle of a cemetery, talking to a vampire you hate. I'm not interested in your bleedin' guilt, nor am I particularly interested in whether you're good enough for her or not. That's not the point."

"Fine, Spike, then what is the damn point?"

"The damn point, Finn, is this. It's not about you bein' good enough. You're plenty 'good enough', I suppose. All supportive and doting, givin' her lots of orgasms and lookin' after the nibblet... The part that interests me is where you get from 'Anything you need, Buffy' to 'Pardon me while I just pop out for a quick suck job.'"

Riley ran a hand through his hair, taking another swallow from the bottle and chuckling to himself. "Right. Like you don't know."

Spike raised an eyebrow and took a drink himself. "Is that so, mate?"

"Goddamnit, Spike, I'm not your stupid 'mate'!"

"Now, now," Spike scolded, "no changin' the subject. I believe you were just about to explain the sudden urge to donate blood."

"Fine," Riley snapped. He stood again and resumed pacing. He'd never actually had to put this into words before, and he was mortified to be having this conversation with Spike. "Fine. You think I'm all 'whatever you need, Buffy'. God knows I try to be. She's everything I've ever wanted. She's just…damnit, she's just everything." He paused, "Not like I have to tell you that." Spike unconsciously raised his flask in a silent toast, and Riley slowly stopped pacing and turned to face him. "But you and I both know I'm not gonna be the guy."

Spike hated to admit it, but he knew just how Riley felt. He may not like the guy, but Spike knew first-hand what a taunting bitch love could be.

Riley continued, "No matter how hard I try to be whatever she needs, she just won't let me. I'm not in the club anymore. I don't think I ever really was. Even when I was all 'superguy', I wasn't the right kind."

Riley Finn sank to the floor against the stone sarcophagus and hung his head in his hands, defeated. "Did you know, she won't even let me kiss her there?"

Spike puzzled, not sure he'd heard Riley right. "Um, when you say 'there'… you don't mean…"

Riley rolled his eyes, "Jesus, Spike, not 'there' – her scar! That goddamn scar!" He quieted again, shaking his head and staring at the floor. "Every time I try to kiss her there," he finally whispered, "she just… she just turns her head. Like I'm not allowed to kiss her where they… where Angel…"

Spike didn't know what to say. He doubted Riley would appreciate being told that his suspicions were probably right. That he wasn't allowed to cover Angel's mark with his kiss. That was why Dracula had chosen to bite her where he had. He'd recognized the mark for what it was and wanted to supersede the rival he'd never met. But Buffy had never invited him in. Not into her house, or her bed, or her arms. He could "claim" her all he wanted, but the mark was still Angel's. The Master had bitten to kill. Dracula had bitten to possess. Angel had bitten because she wanted him to. And so the mark would always be his.

They spent a moment in silence, trying not to look at each other, and Spike saw the picture coming together. "So that's why you let them bite you. To know what it was she felt."

"Yeah."

"But it didn't work," Spike ventured.

"No."

Silence.

"Care to know why?"

Riley tilted the bottle back again, then sighed. "Yeah. Tell me why."

"Because it had nothing to do with you or the vampires that bit you. It had everything to do with Buffy. You wanted to take a peek at the big ugly, but it's not in you. She's connected to it. She walks in it every night, and it surrounds her." Spike paused to light a cigarette and tried to choose his next words carefully. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't a moment went by you weren't thinking about her, askin' yourself why, and wondering if it would be so bad if they took too much and put you out of it, just to see if she'd miss you."

Riley said nothing.

"You don't want to embrace it; you want to pull her out of it. But she can't ever leave it. And even if she doesn't love you…she cares enough not to want to pull you in after her. You're a good guy, Finn. Smite my tongue for sayin' it, but you are. The Slayer's seen what the darkness does to folks. Folks she cares about. She wants to protect you from it."

"She doesn't need to protect me! I can take care of myself!"

"Right, Finn. Strollin' about the Hellmouth in the middle of the night, lettin' vampires suck on your arm. Great job you're doin' there."

"Damnit, Spike, I just want her to let me in!"

"Let me put it this way," Spike offered. "I was there last year when the Initiative went down. I saw what that freak Adam did to your mate… what was his name?"

Riley paled at the memory of what his best friend had become. And the pain of being the one to have to kill him all over again. "Forrest…"

"Right, that's the one. He knew the dangers of the gig, yeah?"

"Yeah. At least, we thought we did. Not like we expected mad scientist drug therapy and killer franken-demons trying to raise an army… but yeah. We all knew it was a dangerous job."

Spike continued, "But you had friends on the outside, right? Friends who maybe knew you were all soldier guy but didn't know about the Initiative?"

Riley nodded.

"So then, even if you had a buddy who was damn good in a fight, after what happened to Forrest, would you want your friend to join up?"

"Of course not," Riley spat.

They sat in silence again for a while as Riley took in what Spike had said. Finn almost laughed. Taking relationship advice from a demon. And one that wanted his girlfriend, no less... It was ridiculous. Or it would be, if the bastard hadn't been right. Riley knew Buffy wasn't ever going to let herself love him. Now maybe he understood a little better why.

Spike finished his cigarette. He watched Riley across the room and cursed himself. He hated to admit it, but he actually felt bad for the guy. The same guy he'd just spent the earlier part of the evening listening to in bed with the Slayer. The guy whose death he'd been so looking forward to.

The guy who was in pain because Buffy didn't love him.

"So what are you gonna do, Finn?"

Riley sat against the cold stone with his eyes shut tight and gave the question some thought. After a few minutes, he sighed deeply and looked at Spike. "Well. Looks like I've got a decision to make." He took a last, bracing swallow of bourbon and set it on the floor. "We both know she doesn't love me. And I can't make her let me in. So I've got two choices, and they both suck. I can deal, or I can leave."

He got to his feet, a little sadder but clearer. "Are we done here, Spike? Can I go now?"

Spike knew this was the part where he was supposed to say something witty or scathing, but he didn't much feel like it. "Yeah, go on. We're done." Then as Riley turned to head for the door, he called after him, "I won't tell the Slayer. It's between you and her. Tell her, don't tell her. Whatever. But make up your mind, right? I'm not dragging you out of there again. Next time, I bring her in with me."

Riley stood at the door a moment. "Fine. Guess we understand each other, then."

"Guess we do, mate."

Spike tipped his flask as Riley walked out, closing the door behind him. There were still a couple hours until daylight, but Spike didn't feel much like going back out. He preferred to drink himself stupid. He'd just spent the past half hour giving relationship advice to a guy he hated. At least he'd hated him an hour ago. Not that he liked him now, he just… he understood.

He understood just how it felt to love a woman who won't let you in. A woman who treats you like you're somehow less than she is.

A woman who says you're beneath her.

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