PULSE 10

A/N Thanks top Meli and Kar for their time and effort. To slackerace for coming through for me...and waiting for me to get off my butt and officially post this version. Thanks :)

Reflection
def: REFLECTION, n. An action of the mind whereby we obtain a clearer view
of our relation to the things of yesterday and are able to avoid the
perils that we shall not again encounter. "THE DEVIL'S DICTIONARY ((C)1911 Released April 15 1993)"



Spike lay in bed, his mind awash with the events of the night that that had just passed. The sun began to break over the surrounding houses and fill the room with a soft glow. Regret and anger flowed through him, hurt permeated through out every fibre of his being. Memories of emotions, words and time together with Buffy became a jumble of internal conflict. Spike tried to remember what he could have done to make Buffy do what she’d done last night. Spike’s first mistake had been to think everything was just peachy between them, and not recognise the emerging chaos that had shrouded them last night for what it had been.

Fucking chaos.

Thoughts churned and twisted around each other, leaving deep and painful crevices as Spike abundantly self-inflicted anguish on himself. What had he done to contribute to this whole bloody mess? The answer was so fucking simple. Nearly every word that he’d said to her, every moment that had passed between them or any time he’d touch her had contributed to last night’s mess. Memories flashed in front of his eyes as he tried to remember every second that had passed between them. How they’d gotten beyond the first fuck --- and that was all he could describe it as, the first fuck --- baffled Spike.


Rubbing his tired eyes and letting out a long yawn, he just couldn’t succumb to his body’s need to sleep. Spike’s mind wouldn’t shut up from the feelings of hurt, betrayal and denial of what had happened in the early part of the night. The hurt and betrayal he could justify but the denial was just too hard step to take. Denial that he didn’t contribute in anyway to Buffy’s abhorrent behaviour last night which he knew was a load of bollocks. Spike was just too bloody stubborn to perceive that the way he’d been treating the woman he’d begun to call his own was abhorrent in its own right.

Now it was so bloody clear to Spike.

It felt kind of strange having a sudden attack of his conscience considering that he’d been the victim last night. Spike couldn’t ignore the actuality that Buffy had been subjected to some atrocious treatment by him. Especially when she’d tried to tell him the way that she’d been feeling about the relationship, Spike had just dismissed Buffy or anything that she’d tried to discuss with him. Something inside of him snapped into place as he made himself stop dwelling on who did what to whom or who didn’t say the right thing. They’d both done some serious damage to each other and Spike had no idea how they were going to get out of this despair they’d plummeted into.

Where do you go when your world seems to have shattered into shards around you, imbedding its sharp edges into your soul? Making it cry and bleed for something that never really had in the first place and never realising what you did have until it was gone. Spike shook his head as realisations came in the form of cliché to smack him straight across his face --- bloody typical --- his conscience would do this to him. Whatever they’d shared together up to last night had been lost, the intensity of feelings, pleasure and tenderness vanished --- maybe never to be seen again. The thought of that alone sent a shiver down his spine, Spike had to consider where they went from here.

Did he really want to move on from here? The choice was clear: let her go or try and salvage something from the pandemonium if that at all possible. He swallowed hard at just what he was considering, one part of him just wanted to push Buffy so far away that she would be totally eradicated from his memory. Another part of him just wanted to go back to her take her into his arms and kiss the pain away. To forgive her and hope that Buffy would forgive him for everything that he had done to her.


Forgiveness.

That was a concept that he just wasn’t sure how to apply in this situation. He was so wound up and confused as to which way to go, what to do or what to say. Forgiveness was such a contradiction mixed with irony, as if they needed to absolve each other. It created more questions than a simple answer. He wanted to make what happened disappear, or at least help himself overcome the pain he felt. He’d never felt so alone than he did at this moment, trying to make sense of everything. The internal battle raged deep within him, going round and round in circles making him even more confused.


Taking a deep breath he pulled himself off the bed and left the room turning at the doorway towards the guestroom and the cause of his conflict. Spike didn’t understand what carried him towards Buffy, he just knew that he had to see her. No rhythm or reason to explain why he felt something calling him to her. Spike stopped just in the doorway of the guestroom. He leaned on the doorframe for support; otherwise he was sure he’d fall to his knees with a sense of loss he just couldn’t describe.

Buffy lay on the bed facing the door, her body drawn into a foetal position as she hugged herself, the blanket that he’d covered her with lay kicked at the end of the bed. Buffy’s clothes were twisted around her body, rumpled and dishevelled like the girl that lay on the bed. Hair hung half over her face which was still rigid with stress. Her breathing shallow, Buffy looked like she’d been to hell and back.

Spike couldn’t miss the sharp intake of breath or the rigidity of her muscles as he took a small step into the room. Choosing the safest option he could think of Spike made his way to the chair in front of the dressing table, and slowly sat down. He sat directly opposite to where Buffy lay, and Spike didn’t miss the slight squinting of eyes that tried to locate where he was as she continued to try and feign sleep.

“I know you’re awake, love,” Spike spoke almost in a whisper. “Don’t play games. I think we’ve both had enough of them, don’t you?”

“Yes, I guess we have,” Buffy whispered back at him as she opened her eyes and acknowledged his presence. “I’m sorry William.”

“I know that you are Buffy,” Spike ran a hand up and down the back of his head. “Been thinking about it and as fucked up as this is I know that you are. But it doesn’t change anything that happened. Won’t make it disappear like magic.”


“I don’t know what else to say to you.” Buffy pulled herself up to a sitting position on the bed and tucked her hair behind her ears. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, love.” Spike leaned himself forward onto the edge of the chair. “I’m still trying to understand this whole fucking mess and how the bloody hell we got ourselves into it.”

“I tried to explain why…” Buffy stumbled on her words, “tried to explain to you why I did these awful things to you. But it’s hard when I can’t justify why I did them.”

“Love, I get the gist of it,” Spike rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand showing his internal frustration. “What we both did to ourselves and each other that lead to this….”

“Did to ourselves? To each other?” Buffy couldn’t fathom what he was saying, it was bad enough that she felt like someone had driven over her with a bulldozer and trying to comprehend what he was going on about was just to difficult. “What I did to you was inexcusable and so vicious. I can’t properly…”

“Something made you do it, Buffy.” Spike moved over to the bed, making Buffy pull her legs back up against her chest as she tried to comfort herself. “This isn’t easy to say Buffy, but we both have something to answer for. You need to understand that being sorry or not being able to explain doesn’t change much. I’m hurt and angry but I’m not such an unfeeling ponce that I didn’t hear what you had to say. Hard to digest what you said, but I would be a git if I didn’t realise that there was some truth to your words.”

“You have every right to be angry with me,” Buffy looked down at her hands which where twisting around themselves, as she held onto her knees tighter. “I did something horrible and unforgivable…”

“Forgiveness? Buffy is that what you want from me?” Spike leaned over and grasped her chin. “I can’t get my head around that right now. What I’m trying to say is that we both have something to answer for. All actions have consequences, as distasteful as they are, and you have to deal with how you acted. I have to deal with what I did that made you so desperate that you’d do what you did to me.”

“I don’t understand?”

“Neither do I, Buffy, and that’s what’s so pitiful about us right now.” Spike lifted her head up higher in his hands. “You have to deal with whatever your demons are, and me….I don’t know.”

“I…”

“Buffy, I don’t really want to hear any more,” Spike stood up and moved away from the bed. “You should wash your face and straighten yourself up.”

“But,” Buffy cringed away from him, “I can’t stand leaving things like this.”

“Too bad. What did you expect Buffy? A bed of roses when you woke up?” Spike turned around to walk out the door looking back he said his final words. “I think that one day I could forgive you Buffy, but not today. Maybe one day we can move beyond all this and be friends? I don’t know.”

Buffy watched as he left the room. Closing the door behind him felt so symbolic, like he was shutting her out of his existence. A single tear ran down her face as she tried to obliterate the pain that cut its way along her body. Trembling, Buffy wiped the trail of moisture from her face. She deserved no better from the man she’d violated so much, but why did it have to hurt so much? Deep feelings that felt so betrayed by her actions last night came to the surface and lashed at her hardened heart, she knew one thing for sure.

“We’ll never be friends,” Buffy whispered to no one.


~~**~~**~~

Buffy sighed as she heard Spike walk down the hall and then as his feet thumped against the stairs as he made his way to the first floor. Gathering what strength she had left, Buffy moved and sat at the edge of the bed, running her hand over the imprint of Spike’s body and wishing that she could take back everything that she’d done the previous night. But she couldn’t. Not a single damn thing she said or did would ever erase last night; her ‘sorry’ would never change anything and that made Buffy feel even more ashamed of herself.

If only….

Shaking her head, Buffy stopped thinking of ‘maybes’ or ‘ifs’ and made herself pull her hand away from where Spike had been sitting. She knew that she just couldn’t leave things as they were, even though Spike had said that he didn’t want to hear anything more on the subject. Buffy couldn’t and wouldn’t leave things this way between them. Spike said that he could understand to some extent why she did what she did. That they’d both done some damage to each other and that both of them had something to answer for.

Something that Buffy couldn’t deny, but that didn’t alleviate any pain or disgrace that she felt. If anything, it only heightened her sense of loss and betrayal of herself in self-denigration at what she’d done. Buffy needed to do something ---anything--- that would help her regain some dignity. She needed to lose the numb emotions she felt and believe in herself or something once more.

Her face tightened as she ran her hands over it, drawing her eyes to the dressing table mirror. The mirror reflected a woman who appeared pitifully drained. Her clothes were all rumpled and stained with dirt and tears. Picking at her sleeves, Buffy decided her next course of action. Pulling herself off the bed, Buffy stood and walked to the door. She allowed herself to rest against the cold wood for just a moment, her ear leaning on the door while she attempted to assure herself that no one was waiting on the other side. Satisfied that no one was, she opened it slightly and peered into the hallway, opening it further when she was sure no one was there.

Stepping out into the hallway with silent footsteps she slowly made her way to the master bedroom, sneaking in like a thief she went over to the wardrobe. Opening the door, she found what she’d been looking for, some clothes that she’d left here when she’d slept over and hadn’t wanted to waste time in going home to change. Grabbing every article of clothing that hung in the wardrobe, Buffy then removed any lingerie that remained in the set of draws. Moving out of the room back into the hallway, she went to the linen closet at the far end, and removed a single towel making her way to the bathroom.

Downstairs Spike couldn’t miss the soft sounds coming from upstairs, he could faintly hear doors open and close, his jaw tightened as he tried to guess just what Buffy was up to. He had a good mind to go upstairs and tell her to hurry up with whatever she was doing, Spike was still surprised that Buffy was still in the house. Turning on the kettle, Spike started to make himself a coffee, as much as he needed something stronger he doubted that it would really help achieve anything.

He frowned as he heard water course through the plumbing within the house. Bloody hell, what next? His jaw muscle twitched as frustration tore through him. When would the chit leave? Hadn’t they said enough to each other? Spike was unsure of what Buffy wanted to achieve by staying in his house. You’d think that this was the last place that she’d want to be. Spike knew that if that had been him, he’d be too ashamed to stay. He would have high tailed it out of there when he’d had the first opportunity. Pouring the hot liquid from the kettle into his mug, he stirred the contents and took a sip of the scalding coffee. Scalding his tongue, he did not even cringe. He doubted that today of all days that anything would make him cringe.

~~**~~**~~

The warm water flowed over Buffy as she leaned into the wall with the palms of her hands, her head stuck under the flow of water. Her eyes were closed to the world as she attempted to block it out. Droplets of water poured into her mouth as she swallowed air, making her gag at times, but she didn’t care. Finally lifting her head to take a long needed breath, Buffy grabbed the soap and began to glide it down her body, grabbing the loofah—something else she’d brought into this house. She began to scrub harshly at her skin, each stroke leaving it red and raw. It was as if she was trying symbolically to wash her misdeeds away. Her skin stung with each forceful passing of the loofah and tears formed in her eyes. Tears not for the physical pain, but for the pain that cried out from within. Spike had talked about cause and effect, well here was her effect. Tears for what she’d done flowed from her eyes, tears of regret for what should have been between them, and tears for the future that they’d never have. Buffy had to make it right—she just had to—even though she knew nothing could be as it had been. There had to be something salvageable from all this mess. Her head hurt as she tried to force the emotions back into herself, but a single ray of hope still shone from somewhere within. Hope for something she couldn’t describe.

Just something. Anything.


Only grief filled the void that now pierced her being; only regret cascaded through her veins and an aching shame filled her heart. Last night she only remembered the hurt and pain that fuelled her to strike out at Spike with such vengeance as she’d tied him to the bed. Now different memories filled her thoughts as misery began to creep inside of her—memories of tender caresses and moments of absolute silence when they made love as they marvelled in each other, and a sense of wounder that she’d experienced with no other man.

Buffy looked at her hands splayed out against the tiles, remembering a time when they were once covered by the man that stood in the kitchen below, entwined with his as they’d moved together in the shower. The way Spike nipped at her neck as she arched her back against him, trying to get him deeper inside her core, and finally when she was about to come—his words of encouragement. “That’s my girl…come for me.”

Buffy flinched at the memory. My girl. Spike had always called her his girl and that’s what she’d wanted to be. To belong to someone, to belong to him. Turning off the shower, Buffy pulled the shower curtain back and stepped out of the bath, dripping water onto the tiled floor. Grabbing a towel, she wiped the moisture from her skin. Stop it! Stop thinking! Stop it! Torturing herself was going to get her nowhere. Stop it. You fucked up. Stop it! After she dried herself off, Buffy grabbed her fresh clothing and dressed as quickly as she could. She then exited the bathroom and headed for the staircase. It was time to get this ‘discussion’ started and see where it took her….and give herself back some dignity.


~~***~~~***~~~***~~


Spike leaned against the kitchen bench, his back to the window as he stood his ground while footsteps came closer and became louder. The rhythmic banging of Buffy’s feet on the staircase became like the beat of his heart bounding and increasing in pace. One hand gripped the bench the other held the coffee that he continued to sip as he awaited her arrival. His gaze honed in onto the archway into the kitchen from the front landing. The air seemed to become electrified as she approached. Spike tried to relax as he spied her feet coming to rest on the bottom stair before she stopped in hesitation, her hand resting on the end of the rail. She still didn’t move from the staircase.

Buffy just couldn’t make herself take that final step that would lead to her confronting the man that filled her with such anguish and conflict. Courage had forsaken and abandoned her making her stop, Buffy hadn’t the fortitude for one more step. A shudder filled her as Buffy remembered a previous conversation she’d had with Melissa, the nurse at work who had tried to get Buffy to see sense and go speak with Spike. Melissa's words were still so clear, “What have you got to lose?” Buffy’s answer had been more of a prediction than a response. “Everything.” That had been the solemn truth, Buffy had lost everything ---she’d gambled and squandered more than she could ever imagine.

“Buffy, get off the stairs,” Spike finally gave in to the daunting silence and spoke. “You can’t hide there all day you know.”

A sharp jolt ran down her spine making her take that final step onto the landing and move her feet to make a trail to the kitchen. With her eyes cast to the ground, Buffy walked over to the kitchen table and halted in front of a chair, grasping its top for support. Spike placed his cup onto the bench, causing a soft clunk of the ceramic against the wood, making Buffy’s gaze snap up as the noise drew her attention. Immediately their glances locked together, Buffy couldn’t miss the fatigue, regret or disappointment that filled Spike’s eyes.

“I’m sorry Spike,” Buffy couldn’t help herself saying it again and again.

“Buffy stop saying you’re sorry. I know that you are and it’s getting old love.”

“I don’t know…” Buffy stumbled on her words.

“Enough.” Spike walked towards where she stood, “I think that we have established you’re sorry, and we need to move on.”

“Move on?” Buffy grimaced. “Move on to where?”

“How am I meant to know Buffy?” Spike tilted his head and lightly scratched his forehead. “It’s just too soon to say what Buffy…I’m beginning to sound like a broken record, but I can’t think about forgiveness at the moment only about getting through today.”

“Oh,” Buffy’s grip on the chair tightened, “I can’t bear the thought of leaving things between us the way they are.”

“There is no more ‘us’ Buffy.”

“I know that, Spike.” Buffy tried to hold back the tears. “Don’t you think that you’ve made that clear to me?”

“Maybe one day Buffy, I’ll wake up and it won’t hurt so much that I wish that I’d never laid eyes on you.” Spike picked up his cup and took another sip. As he peered at her over the cup, he didn’t miss her quickly wiping the moisture from her eyes. “Buffy…”

“Do you regret what’s happened between us so much?” Buffy felt herself begin to tremble. “Regret everything before last night?”

“Yeah, some things, Buffy.” Spike placed the cup on the bench and walked to where she stood. “I did a lot of things that I’m ashamed of and never should have done to you. Like I should have listened to you more and I regret hurting you the second time we slept together ---you know, in the physio room. I should have done a lot of things Buffy, but I didn’t and it’s all irrelevant now. Payback’s a bitch hey?”

“Spike…”

“Buffy please leave it alone. I think that we’ve both rehashed things enough,” Spike fought back a yawn. “I’m tired and nothing’s going to change today.”

“But…”

“But nothing, Buffy. Just let it go,” Spike said quietly “I’m trying too.”

“I don’t want to let it go,” Buffy spat out. “I don’t want to. Not yet.”

“Then just what do you want Buffy?” Spike had had enough of her giving him the run around. “What do you want from me that would make it all better for the little lost girl?”

“That you’ll try and forgive me,” Buffy closed her eyes as if to making a wish. “That you won’t let us go and maybe just maybe we can salvage something worth fighting for.”

“And how do you propose we do that Buffy, if I forgive you all?”

“We could start by trying to be civil to each other,” Buffy face shone with hope, “maybe even become friends one day.”

Spike mouth dropped open at her suggestion. She wanted to be friends after what had happened last night? He turned around so that she would see the indignation flash across his face and him bitting his lip as he tried to stifle the ridiculing laugh that tried to break from his throat. Yet somewhere deep down inside himself Spike couldn’t help but feel the pull from unknown feelings to try and be just what she wanted. He didn’t know if he could do it, but maybe just maybe he might try to be what she wanted.

Friends.
 

PULSE 11

By Mercy
A/N: This is a very angsty chapter and since it’s been a while since I posted, may I suggest that you might enjoy re reading this fic…or you may get lost as it refers back to previous chapters. Very yummy smutty chapters…

My thanks to my beta readers Karbear57 , Meli_77 and slackerace as always I am in their debt for all their time and amazing effort that they put into helping me. Thank you.

Bittersweet Misery


Buffy sat on her sofa in her apartment with her legs curled against her body. She’d been looking blankly at the television screen for about the last ten minutes. Thoughts of disappointment and failure surged through her mind, making it impossible to concentrate on the reality of the outside world. Buffy wanted nothing more than to shed these notions and feelings as she continued to emotionally put herself down. She knew that it wasn’t going to get her anywhere by dissecting what happened the other night between herself and Spike.

That night two weeks ago when she’d made one of the biggest mistakes of her life.

Well, one of three of the biggest mistakes. The first was obvious tying Spike to the bed to use and humiliate him.

The second was in impaling herself with so much self-loathing that she had almost drowned. All Buffy did in the end was give all her power of self over to Spike and watch him take no real responsibility in what had happened. Buffy had implored for forgiveness from him, when the real person that needed forgiveness that night was from herself.

The third mistake had been in her desperation to try to retrieve something from last night. She vaguely remembered asking Spike to try to let them salvage something of the tragedy that had become their relationship. A slight shudder past through her as Buffy concluded that had their positions had been reversed; she doubted that she’d be interested in saving anything. Even considering the thought that Spike might be interested in trying to save something was ludicrous.

Her mind snapped back out of the self-hate session and flipped to the present as a scream pierced the air. It took Buffy a few seconds to realize that it had come from the television and not from her own mouth. Shaking her head, Buffy looked at the clock that was perched on the wall above the television set.

11.38 PM

Taking a deep breath, Buffy grabbed the remote switching the television off as she got up off the sofa and headed towards her bedroom. Maybe sleep would bring her some relief from the hellhole that she’d created around herself. Sleep would give some relief from the dejection Buffy felt as she’d plunge herself into its oblivion of dreams and shadows --- snap out of it! --- Buffy’s mind screamed at herself.

Dragging her pyjamas on, she slid between the cotton sheets and pulled the covers up to her chin. With a sigh, Buffy tried to relax as her mind filled with the memories of repercussions and shadows of self-doubt. However, somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind flashed the reminiscences of burning passion and desire that they’d shared. Caresses and kisses that had scorched her skin and made her wither in abandonment that cruel and fateful night two weeks ago.

Conflict became the dominating feeling, she wanted to forget and move from where she was at the current time. Yet something deep within did not want to let him go, even after everything that had happened. Buffy did not want to let go. Nevertheless, did they have something worth struggling for? That was something that she needed to decide and to do that, Buffy needed to do something that she dreaded down to the marrow in her bones.

Buffy needed to face Spike.


~~~~~~~~~~~*****************~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike sat on the barstool, tapping his finger against the small glass that held the straight Jack Daniels he just ordered from the barman. He looked deep into the amber liquid contemplating what a bloody mess his life had become and Spike wondered what she was doing at this very moment in time.

Sighing, he grabbed the glass and threw its contents down the back of his throat, slightly shaking his head as the burning sensation poured downwards and embraced his throat. Slamming the glass down, he swallowed the liquid down hard as Spike allowed himself the gratification of the warmth it gave inside his body. Licking his lips, Spike lifted the glass of the table and getting the barman’s attention with an “Another.”

Spike knew that getting blind drunk wasn’t going to change anything, but at least it gave him a few hours away from these empty feeling. It let him have a fleeting moment of being found in the sea of loss that he’d been experiencing since Buffy had last spoken to him. A haven from the outside world and the reality that he’d well and truly fucked.

His attention drew suddenly away from the empty glass as an open packet of cigarettes was placed in front of him. Making Spike look up at the pretty blonde that offered them to him, she softly smiled as she motioned for him to take one. All he could do was weakly smile at her as she stood behind him. Spike opened his mouth ready to thank her for her offer and not to waste her time on the likes of him, but something made him hesitate.

Something made him stop.

A vision of Buffy flashed passed his eyes as he realised that he’d had enough of everything and maybe the company of another woman might make his pain dull a little. Making his mind up, Spike motioned for the blonde to sit down to him in the next stool. He took one of the cigarettes that she offered and pulled out his Zippo, deeply inhaling oxygen laced with cigarette smoke as Spike lit it.

“Thanks,” the woman nodded her head in appreciation as she sat down. Taking her packet of cigarettes back she took one out herself and lit it up. “Ashley,” she continued as she put her hand out in greeting, “my friends call me Ash.”

“Spike,” he grasped her hand squeezing it gently as he shook it. “Thanks for the smoke.”

“You’re welcome,” Ashley beamed at Spike an even broader smile than before. She asked the barman for a drink with one of those strange and weird names that Spike could only assume was a fancy mixer drink. “You are here by yourself?”

“Yeap,” the barman had by now replaced the empty glass with another filled with more amber fluid and placed a tall glass and bottle in front of his companion. “All by my lonesome.”

“So are you?”

“What?” Spike looked at her with his eyelid raised in question.

“All by your lonesome?” Ashley lifted herself closer to him as she leaned into the bar. “Don’t want to be treading on someone else territory.”

“Not treading on any body’s territory, pet.” Spike spoke with his voice laced with regret and hurt. “Just littl’ old me. All alone in this world.”

“Doesn’t sound like you mean that,” Ashley placed a finger on his arm as she ran it up and down along the sleave of the leather duster that he wore. “Sounds like she’s still crawling around inside you somewhere.”

“Pardon?” Spike looked bewildered at the woman that sat next to him.

“You don’t sound convincing enough when you say that you’re a single man,” Ashley took a sip of her drink. “No conviction in your voice. I can hear her clawing away at your sides.”

“You sure do talk in riddles,” Spike shook his head and almost whispered. “Why can’t you bloody women just say what you mean.”

“See, my point exactly,” Ashley took a deep breath in as she took a drag of her cigarette. “Someone’s got you all tied up inside so much that you don’t sound convinced about yourself when you say you’re single. Comes through in you’re tone and body language.”

“You a shrink or what?” Spike really wasn’t up to being analysed tonight. He just wanted to leave everything that had haunted his life up to this night alone for a quiet moment in time.

“Nope, just a girl looking for a night out,” Ashley looked over her drink. “That’s all.”

“Who says that I ain’t either,” Spike raised an eyebrow as he felt himself head into dangerous waters.

He knew that the alcohol that he’d consumed had numbed some of the pain and was making him throw caution to the wind. Disjointedly, Spike started remembering what Buffy had done to him and all the pain and shame he’d been feeling about what he’d done to her. Spike should have been enjoying the beautiful woman’s company that sat beside of him but he just couldn’t. As somewhere deep inside of him the need for another burned deeply. --- Bugger it! --- Why was he feeling this way when they weren’t even a bloody couple?

‘Even a couple’...

Spike rubbed his forehead as if a bolt of pain speared through his brain, he swallowed hard against the bile that rushed up from his stomach. Things that Buffy had said to him in the last few days started to make sense to him. Spike found he had some insight to her predicament and understanding in her inability to rationalise why she’d wickedly tied him to his bed and fucked the living daylights out of him made some inexplicitly stupid sense.

FLASHBACK

“I still want to know you. Be with you.” Buffy had said to him one time after they’d fucked.

“Then understand this Buffy, I will be demanding and possessive of you. If you give yourself to me Buffy, I want it all. All or nothing, or you might as well get dressed and leave.” Spike had demanded from her…all or nothing.

END OF FLASH

“All or nothing.”

It all made sense, he’d laid it all out for Buffy at the beginning, what he’d expect from her and had never given anything back that he had demanded from her. Bloody hell he had never even tried to return any of the emotional passion that she had offered him every time they’d been together. Too much of a fucking blind git to see the gift that she had presented to him with every kiss and every caress.

All he had seen had been the beautiful body that trembled when he touched her and the way Buffy had given him the most pleasure that a woman ever had in his life. Spike had missed every other bloody thing she had ever offered him and had treated her with what some would say was contempt.

What a fool he’d been and what made it worse was the fact that he still wanted everything that Buffy had to give him. Every morsel she offered him, Spike now craved with every cell in his body. Spike would need some major attitude adjustment; he knew that and hoped that it would be enough to help heal the rift between them.

Spike still wanted Buffy. Nevertheless, the thing that really mattered was would Buffy want him after all that he’d put her through? Could they take back the hurt and pain to start again? Build something from the rubble that they’d created around them.

Could they?

“Hey Spike,” Ashley clicked her fingers in front of his eyes as he looked like he was a million miles away. “Space Control to space cadet. Calling space cadet.”

“Oui!” Spike’s brows furred together in irritation at being interrupted while deeply in thought as he shook his head a few times. “Sorry.”

“So, you’re just looking for some fun?” Ashley turned her head slightly so that her hair flicked back. “Maybe we could hook up?”

“Sorry, pet,” Spike picked up the drink in front of him and threw it down his throat. Looking up behind the bar, he noticed a clock and read the time. 11:38 PM. “Got to go and see about a girl.”

“So, you’re not all by your lonesome?” Ashley pouted and sized him up as she stared up and down his body. ”Pity, such a waste.”

“I’m sorry to skip out, pet,” Spike nodded to the young lady. “Hope you find yourself a good bloke.”

“For what it’s worth, good luck,” Ashley looked down at her drink. “Hope she’s worth it. If it doesn’t work out, you know where littl’ me is.”

Spike pulled out a few bills and threw it on the bar, nodding towards the barman, Spike pointed to their respective glasses. “Keep the change.” Looking at the woman next to him he asked, “I know she’s worth it. But am I?”

“If she doesn’t come around, you know where I am,” Ashley smiled at him.

“Thanks,” Spike stood up and walked out to the front door of the bar pulling it open, as he left with a gust of wind behind him.

Spike had now no other intention but to find Buffy and doing something about this miserable excuse of a fucking mess that they had pushed themselves into. He now only realised stupidly after the bloody chaos, just how much Buffy meant to him. Spike had been too wrapped up in himself to see it; he now saw what they had together with such clear clarity.

With such clarity, that he could have wept with the fact that they could have thrown it away. Maybe they do have a chance, just maybe. Spike wouldn’t know until he saw Buffy and that fact became the only one that his mind could comprehend.


Spike needed to face Buffy.


~~~~~~~~~~@@@@@@@@@@~~~~~~~~~~@@@@@@@@@@~~~~~~~~~~


Sighing, Buffy took the keys out of the ignition with a sense of loss. Her plans were thwarted. Spike hadn’t been at his home, Buffy surrendered to the fact that tonight there wouldn’t be a reckoning and slammed the door shut in frustration as she got out of the car. Buffy quickly walked towards the front door to her apartment building, looking downwards she never noticed the solitary figure sitting on the stairs with a lit cigarette in their hand.

“Buffy,” she snapped her head up to find Spike addressing her, here in front of her home. Flicking the butt forward onto the street, Spike stood pushing his hands into the leather duster that lay draped over his body. “You’re out late, Love.”

“Spike...what are you doing here?” Buffy stumbled on her words, flabbergasted that he was standing in front of her.

“Came to talk,” Spike mouth formed something between a slight smile and an awkward disfiguration of his face. “Been out tonight?” Spike enquired.

“No...No,” Buffy’s forehead furrowed in confusion, she still couldn’t believe that he’d been sitting waiting for her on the front step. --- Why? --- was the question that immediately came to mind. “Not out tonight.”

“Rather late for ‘not going out’?” Spike titled his head slightly. “Just got home from work?”

“No,” Buffy shook her head; she felt her throat close over as she shivered slightly against the shock of him being in front of her. “What are you doing here Spike?”

“Already told you that, Love.” Spike moved closer to where Buffy stood. “Here to have a little natter with you. I’m hoping that we could really talk, Love.”

“I thought that you’d said everything that you wanted to say.” Buffy felt herself turned inside out as her resolve to talk to him evaporate right in front of her.

“I think that I said everything that I shouldn’t have said to you, Buffy.” Spike stared at her with such a sad look in his eyes. “Things said in the heat of the moment.”

“What?” Buffy stopped breathing.

“What a fucking git I am,” Spike looked down at his feet, “And a selfish bastard to boot.”

“I don’t understand.” Buffy couldn’t help but wipe a tear from her face as she heard the tenderness in his voice. Her insides felt like they were being torn into two, a part of her wanted to jump for joy in Spike’s self-recrimination and wrap itself around him. The other half wanted to rejoice in this admission and tear him apart from the inside out. “What are you saying?”

“Can we discuss this elsewhere, Buffy?” Spike pointed towards a few windows where the curtains were pulled aside. “Could we go up to you’re apartment?”

“Ummm…” Buffy couldn’t find the words.

“If you’re uncomfortable maybe we could go to the diner down the road,” Spike pointed down the road. “You know the one. Where we…”

“I know the one, Spike,” Buffy quickly replied as she hesitated to remember the delicious memories of what they did behind the diner one hot and balmy night.

“Where we ate lunch that one time together, Buffy.” Spike shook his head slightly. “That’s all I was going to say, Love.”

“I’m sorry,” Buffy looked away from him.

“I think that I’ve heard enough of ‘sorry’ from you Buffy,” Spike took her hand in his as held it tightly in his palm as it quivered. “Maybe it’s time I said it to you for a change. But, not here.”

“No, I don’t want to go to my apartment,” Buffy didn’t know if she could handle having him on her home turf. It would mean that his being there would be on her terms and doubted that she was ready for the feelings of familiarity of her ex-lover being in her home. “And I don’t want to go to the diner.”

“Oh,” Spike looked awkwardly at her, as he perceived this as a rejection at his suggestion at their talking together. “Right then. I’ll be off then.”

It took a few seconds for Buffy to realise that he’d walked past her and was making his way towards his car. Buffy shook her head a few times to clear her thoughts, clearing all the indecisive thoughts from her mind. She turned and quickly made her way to where he now stood with his door open on the driver’s side. Standing in front of the open door and using it like a pseudo shield to protect herself, Buffy took a deep breath.

“Wait,” Buffy asked of him, “It didn’t come out right. I mean that I want to go somewhere else. Somewhere that there hasn’t been an ‘us’ to make things harder to deal with.”

“Where then?” Spike swallowed hard in relief that she hadn’t dismissed the notion of talking or worse rejecting him. “Anywhere you want to go, Buffy?”

“It’s late,” Buffy looked at her watch. “There isn’t really anywhere to go.”

“We’ll find somewhere, Buffy.” Spike lifted his hand away from the door and pushed a stand of lose hair away form her face. “Do you think that you could trust me, Buffy?”

“Yes,” came out as a whisper so soft that it could hardly be heard. “I think that I could trust you.”

“Then we’ve got something haven’t we?”

“I suppose,” Buffy looked at her arm as he gave it a reassuring gentle squeeze.

Spike moved away from the car door, walking pasted her to the passenger side and opened the door for her, gesturing with his hand for her to get in. With no reluctance, Buffy walked around the car, getting in without once making eye contact with him. As she put her seatbelt on, Spike shut the door as gently as he could and made his way back to the driver’s side. Putting the keys into the ignition, he fired the engine and pulled away from the curb of the street.

“Where to my lady?” Spike asked his passenger.

“Anywhere but here.”


~~~***~~~***~~~***

They travelled in silence as Spike made his way out of the city and towards the surrounding hills of Sunnydale. Spike stole glances of Buffy as she stared out of the window. She looked so lost and forlorn as not once did she look his way. He thought that maybe if she did that, Buffy would panic and want to go back home and that was the last thing that he wanted to happen. So, he accepted the sad fact that she wouldn’t even give him a sideways glance. Spike could only question himself why she wouldn’t look at him; he hoped that it wasn’t a bad omen or that she was regretting her decision about getting into the car with him. He sighed as he struggled to keep silent and not say a word or syllable to her.

“Here,” Buffy suddenly broke her long silence as she pointed to her side of the window. “Turn here.”

Slamming on the brakes and looking in the rear-view window for other traffic that thankfully wasn’t there, Spike indicated to turn left and onto a dirt road. The car jostled along the road that was surrounded by forest and dimly lit by the moonlight. Spike could hardly make out the two tracks under the car and slowed down as they approached an opening that appeared in front of them.

As the car came to a halt, Spike could see the city lights that shone below from the viewpoint that lay before them. Buffy undid her seatbelt and got out of the car, slamming the door as she shut it. She walked a few feet from the car, coming to a complete stop to sit on a low rising rock formation, sitting down on its rough surface. For a few seconds she looked back towards the car, scrutinize Spike as he just sat in the car, watching and waiting for an invitation to join her.

“Spike?”

Buffy gestured for him to join her on the rock before turning around again to look at the view of the city. She could hear the door swing on its hinges as it groaned at being opened slowly and the ricocheting of metal against metal as he closed it. Buffy listened to the sound of the crunch of grass as he walked closer and closer to where she sat. When all she could hear was the rustle of leaves in the wind, she turned and looked up at the man that stood behind her.

“Sit down,” Buffy looked back down at the rock and shuffled over to give him some space to be seated. When he’d made himself comfortable Buffy continued, “My dad used to bring me and my sister here.”

“Never had much to do with the old man myself,” Spike whispered his voice laced with regret. “He’d never do anything that wasn’t in a bar.”

“You had problems with your dad?” Buffy unsurely asked him.

“Yep.”

“He drank?”

“Every opportunity that he could,” Spike looked at her face covered in bewilderment at the disclosure that he was sharing with her. ”Took it out brutally on my mum and eventually me.”

“Ohh.”

“But I ain’t using his behaviour as an excuse for my own or as a sob story, Buffy.” Spike pulled out a cigarette and held it up. “Mind if I have a smoke, Love?”

Buffy shook her head in reply, “You never said anything and I know that you aren’t using it as a sympathy pull.”

“I’ve never used a sob story on anyone. It’s not something in my past that I’m proud of, Love.” Spike lit the cigarette and blew out a long stream of smoke. “Like I said, it ain’t an excuse for anything that I did to you. Or what we did to each other.” Looking at her with a look of understanding in his eyes, he continued. “We never really shared anything about ourselves with each other did we? Well maybe you, but I was never forth coming was I?””

“I guess,” Buffy sighed.

“I know one thing, Buffy,” Spike locked his gaze with her. “I’m not him and never will be him. He made my mother’s life hell, and for that, I hope he goes to the devil for it.” Spike took another deep inhalation of the cigarette before he continued. “Although with this relationship between us, I think that I treated you no different to how he treated my mum. I’ve been thinking about it and the similarities between him and me with my mum and you. How cruel I’d been to you…”

“Spike, no. I was the one how was cruel to you. I’m the one that tied you to the bed and used you. Not that it had been the first time.”

“No, Buffy. Wasn’t I the bastard that demanded you give all of yourself to me and gave nothing back to you?” Spike accused himself. “Just like the old man did from my mum and I was just to fucking thick to see what I was doing to you. To me.”

“Spike you never hit me,” Buffy tried to find some middle ground for them. “You only ever were gentle to me.”

“But not in my actions or words, Buffy. Never then or otherwise,” Spike closed his eyes for a moment. “I used words instead and denied you the feelings you where having. I didn’t use my fists Buffy, but I wasn’t any better than my dad.”

“Spike, please.” Buffy pleaded with him. “I know what you and I did to each other wasn’t kind but it wasn’t…”

“Buffy,” Spike throw the remainder of his cigarette to the ground and put it out with his boot. “Nothing can excuse how I treated you or even myself.”

“Sounds like we’ve been kind of thinking along the same lines,” Buffy thought that as she sensed his own self-disgust in his voice that she was to familiar within her own thoughts and words. “Do you think that maybe we’re being just too hard on ourselves and each other?”

“No, I don’t,” Spike took her hand in his and with a tone of regret that penetrated every word he said. “Everything that we’ve been through has given me an insight into myself that I’ve never had before.”

“I don’t understand?”

“I’ve come to realise that I had some responsibility for you that night and all I could think about was what happening to me. That I needed to forgive you, when what I really needed was to look into myself and see the monster that lies within me. Let me see the selfish bastard that I’ve been.”

“Spike…”

“Let me finish, Buffy.” Spike tightened his grip on her hand to quieten her. “To see that you needed me and I treated you like a play thing for my pleasure. The git that I am, that let things happen the way that they did and let something go that I realise now that I really want.”

“Wh… at?” Buffy lips trembled as she asked.

“You,” Spike whispered. “You as my friend or whatever we’re meant to be.”

“It hasn’t been all take on one side, Spike.” Buffy clasped her hand over his that held hers. “Remember who started all of this, Spike. Me. Me and no one else. I was the one that grabbed you in the alley and used you to feel something instead of the numbness from horror of the E.R. from the gas blast.”

“But I then...” Spike interrupted her.

“Enough,” Buffy shook her head as the tears started to pour down her face. She couldn’t stand it any longer, the pain or the recriminations that they were pouring out to each other. It was just too much; all Buffy wanted was to move forward. “Please no more. Lets both stop tearing each other and ourselves apart. I meant everything I said the next day. I want you to forgive me for what I’ve done to you.”

“I do, Love. I do but you need to forgive me, too.” Spike shuddered against her. “I need to do something about this. I need to know that you’re alright and that you need…”

“Me?” Buffy finished his sentence for him. “I need all of that too and I need to make you realise that I feel exactly the same way about you?”

“Feel the same?” Spike said softly with some hope.

“That we weren’t kind to each other or ourselves,” Buffy tightened her grip on his hands. “I think that we can forgive each other, but we really need to forgive ourselves and then we can move on.”

“To what?”

“I don’t know, Spike.” Buffy spoke with strength and resolution resinating through her voice. “But while we’re looking maybe we could start where we should have in the beginning.”

“Friends?” Spike looked a little said as he remembered that she had asked him once before could they ever be friends.

“I don’t want to be your friend."