Summary: Buffy Summers is the blind daughter of a wealthy business man. Spike Tyler is the misogynistic ex-cop hired to kill her. With five hundred grand on the line and LA's finest police hot on their tail, will Spike be able to go through with it? More importantly, will he be able to look past the abuse he experienced as a child and see that not all women are who he made them out to be? Warning: Character death.
Rating: NC-17
"It was nice meeting you, mate," Spike turned to the man behind him, slipping the gold pin into the pocket of his leather duster. He was in a hurry to get out of there.
Angel nodded, mutely.
"Right then. See you around."
He stepped around him and walked out, the look in Angel's eyes going unnoticed.
"Can I help you, sir?"
Angel paused for a moment and then faced the clerk. "No," he said, his smile returning. "But someone can."
~~~
Buffy's position on the bed hadn't changed when Spike walked into the room a half an hour later. She was sitting there, rocking back and forth in what looked to be frustration, her head in her hands. But when the door slammed shut, she jumped and faced the intrusion. "S-Spike?"
"It's me, love."
"Oh," she swallowed. "I thought it might have been--"
Spike sighed. "You thought it was that poofy nancy boy of yours comin' to whisk you away on his white stallion? Sorry to disappoint."
"Actually, I thought it was Vince. I'm glad it's you."
He frowned. That's not right... she shouldn't be glad it was him. The same kidnapper who threatened--and is still threatening--to kill her in just a few weeks. How does that make sense?
"And who are you talking about, by the way?" she wondered.
"What? Oh, right." He shook his head as to clear the thoughts away. "Met your boy-toy at the cleaners. He's charming, you know. Excluding the fact that he has more forehead than personality."
Her interest peeked. "Angel? You... saw him?"
"I did. Although I'm sad to say my IQ dropped a couple notches during our riveting conversation."
"Does he know? Does he know I'm here? What did he say?"
"Uh, yeah," he rolled his eyes. "I made it a point to introduce myself as your kidnapper. And that I currently have you locked away in a hotel room as we speak. Even gave him detailed directions to the place."
She ignored his sarcasm. "I'm serious. What happened?"
Spike shrugged in annoyance. "Nothing bloody happened. We said hello is all. I gave him a ticket once, so he recognized me. That's it."
"I see."
"But he did bring up an interesting fact you failed to fill me in on."
"Which would be... ?"
"That you two are dating."
Buffy gaped. "What? Angel and I are not dating. Why would I lie about that?"
"Why would he?"
"I don't know."
"Well, he seems to think so."
"Angel's always been sort of... possessive," she explained.
"Not to burst your bubble or anythin', but there's a big difference between possessive and delusional."
"It's not like that. He's just..." She sighed. "It's complicated."
"I've got time." He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.
Buffy shifted on the bed. "I've known Angel since we were kids. My dad kinda has this theory that we're gonna get married and have 2.5 kids, you know? Angel's all for that plan, but I just don't see him like that. I mean, he's cool and all and we're pretty good friends--but, it's like whenever I'm with him, he acts like we're already together. Always touchy-feely and giving me compliments. I'm not surprised that he goes around telling people I'm his girlfriend."
"That's not exactly normal, Buffy. If you're not dating, he shouldn't be saying you are. You don't get the feelin' that he's a bit... obsessed with you?"
"Make it sound all creepy B-movie why don't ya," she grumbled.
"I'm serious," he said. "And I wouldn't be surprised if he's behind this somehow. You know... the standard, 'If I can't have her, no one can' thing."
"Angel's a good guy, Spike. He's not a killer."
"No, he's not. That's why I'm here."
Buffy grew silent, as a sense of dread washed over her. As much as she wanted to believe Angel would never do something like this, what Spike said made sense.
Spike noticed the fear in her eyes and knew that she was considering his words. "It's alright, love. You couldn't have known he was crazy," he shrugged, trying to cheer her up to some extent.
She suddenly remembered why she was so frustrated in the first place, as the dream came rushing back full-force. Her voice lowered, as she picked at the bed covers. "Yeah. That seems to be going around these days."
Spike raised a brow. "What do you mean, pet?"
"Nothing. I just... had a weird dream last night. No big."
"Tell me."
"No!"
"Uh, why not? Not like I'm goin' to tell anyone."
"Because."
He made his way over to her and sat down. She felt his presence and tensed.
"Tell me," he repeated, his tone more soothing.
"I can't. It's embarrassing."
"Was it about me?"
"No way!" she replied with too much enthusiasm.
Spike grinned, knowingly. "So, it was about me then. Interesting."
She blushed. "I never said that."
"Yes, you did."
"Well, what does it matter if it was? It was stupid and pointless and--"
"--and you seem to be mightily flustered by it."
"Flustered? No, no. Not flustered. Disgusted and revolted comes to mind."
"Why? What did I do to disgust you?"
"You..." Buffy stopped, her heart pounding. She wasn't really about to tell Spike her fantasy dream, was she? That would be insane. That would be suicide! "Nothing," she finished.
"You're a bloody tease, you are."
"No, I'm not. I'm just shy about certain stuff."
"What is there to be shy about?" he asked, his curiosity at an ultimate high. She couldn't have dreamt about him in that way, could she have? "Buffy, you're killin' me here."
"I don't want to talk about it, okay? You'll think I'm a slut or something."
Now there wasn't a doubt in his mind that she dreamt about him in that way. A proud smile surfaced and he scooted closer to her. "No, I won't. Cross my heart."
A small shiver ran down her spine when his knee brushed up against hers. She could feel how close he was--only inches away. His body heat was practically radiating into her. She gulped. "I-I don't know what I was thinking," she began. "But... I sorta had this dream about you last night. And it was... of the sexual kind." Her face flamed red and she put her head down.
Spike felt a stirring in his jeans. "Yeah?" His voice was low and raspy, almost tantalizing. "You don't say."
She put her hair behind her ear and laughed nervously. "You're right. I don't. Made it all up. Silly Buffy."
He grinned and leaned in closer still. "What did I do in the dream, love?"
Buffy almost gasped when his hot breath tickled her ear. "N-Nothing. You just... I-I mean, I..."
"Did you let me kiss you?"
A pause. Then a faint nod of the head.
"Touch you?"
Gulp. "Yes..."
"Where?"
"I... don't remember."
"Yes, you do."
"Spike, I--"
He boldly reached out his hand and cupped the juncture between her thighs. "Here?"
Buffy's eyes widened to saucers and her breathing became unsteady. Push him away! How can you let him touch you like that?! Instead her lips betrayed her and a breathy little "yes" passed through them.
"Did you like it?"
His hand began to move, ever so slowly. Buffy's eyes fluttered closed at his intimate invasion of her body and she finally nodded.
Spike groaned and pushed her down onto her back, his hand never leaving the heat between her legs. "Can I kiss you, Buffy?" he asked, his lips only centimeters from her own.
It took a moment for her to respond, but she shook her head weakly.
He tried not to let his disappointment show, and continued to move his hand, feeling her squirm beneath him. "But I can touch you?"
She didn't answer.
So Spike took that as a yes.
Buffy tried not to think about what she was letting him do to her. It was wrong, plain and simple. But it felt amazing. And that's all that mattered, right? And it's not like she was letting him kiss her, because then that would be crossing a line. Right?
Yeah, keep telling yourself that.
She moaned when she felt his erection replace his fingers and she brazenly rubbed herself against him, linking her ankles behind his legs. "That feels good," she whispered, trying to shake off the doubts that hovered in the back of her mind. The doubts that mostly consisted of, Oh god, I'm dry humping my kidnapper. I'm going to hell.
Spike's movements sped up, the hard bulge in his jeans hitting her in just the right place. It was torture resisting the urge to whip it out and bury himself in her heat forever. Instead he concentrated on making her feel good, even if it was all he could ever give her.
"Spike, I..."
"Shh. It's okay. Let it go," he encouraged, running a rough hand along her flushed cheekbone. "Let it go, baby."
Buffy arched up against him, as she felt something in her explode. The sensation washed over her body, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, and she couldn't hold back the small cry that escaped her lips.
When the feeling subsided and she came back down, she collapsed onto the bed, breathing heavily.
Spike regarded her carefully, making note of the fact that he had never seen her so beautiful. "Are you okay?" He watched as she swallowed and nodded, her eyes wide with fulfilled lust and also... fear. Not stopping to think of the repercussions, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips against hers.
Buffy froze, unsure of what to do. She hadn't wanted him to kiss her. It was too much, too real. Too soon. But when her lips parted involuntarily and his tongue slipped inside to taste her, she found herself slipping away from reality once more and losing herself to rekindling desires. Losing herself to him. And it terrified her. "No," she finally whispered.
He paused and lifted his head. "Why not?"
"Because I can't."
"Yes, you can." He tried to kiss her again, but she turned her head to the side, before he could make contact. He sighed and rolled off of her. "What's wrong?" he asked.
Buffy didn't answer.
Spike glanced at her, desperate to know what she was thinking. But when he noticed the tiny teardrop that traveled down her cheek and deposited onto the pillow, he realized that he had made a mistake. Things weren't supposed to be like this. This wasn't the way the story went.
Idly running his hands over his face, he let out a deep breath. No, this wasn't the way the story was supposed to go. But somewhere down the line it changed, and he was just going to have to rewrite the ending.
The figure that lurked behind the dusty window pane clenched his fists together and took a wobbly step backwards. Did he really just see that? Was it only his imagination? Did Buffy really just... did she really... ? No, no, no. It couldn't be. Buffy would never do that. Not his Buffy. Especially with...
An angry sob escaped his lips, knowing that what he saw was real. He wasn't stupid. But why would she... ? How could she... ?
Angel let out a defeated sigh, as the tears welled up in his dark brown eyes. He fell to the ground, trying to come to terms with what he just saw. His Buffy was no whore. She would never let someone abuse her like that. Not unless they forced them self on her.
A light bulb seemed to go off in his head at this conclusion. That had to be it! Spike forced himself on Buffy. Because why else would she let him do those things to her? She wouldn't. Plain and simple. Especially not with the likes of him. Especially not with the man who kidnapped her. God knows what else he did to her... beat her? Raped her? The possibilities were endless. And disturbing at that.
His precious, pure Buffy was tainted. Ruined for him. Scarred and broken.
And he was the only one who could save her.
~~~
Spike sat at the desk, his chair facing the bed. In actuality, he was only about fifteen feet from where Buffy was sitting, but it felt like a hundred miles. She was leaning against the headboard, scribbling down notes in her makeshift journal. They hadn't said anything to each other since their... encounter together. Spike had immediately gotten out of the bed to make the situation a little less awkward, and had been sitting in a hard, wooden chair ever since. But he hadn't taken his eyes off of her. He briefly wondered if she could feel his eyes boring into her, even though she couldn't see him.
The sun was now setting, casting an orange-like glow across the small room. It was so quiet--too quiet, almost. Spike couldn't take the deafening silence any longer and decided to break it. "Buffy, are you alright?" he finally asked.
She flinched at the sudden intrusion of his voice. "Does it matter?"
"Well, yeah. Hence why I'm asking."
"Why, Spike? Why are you asking? Is it because you care? Because I really matter to you?"
He frowned at the hostility of her words. She continued to write though. Her hand never stopped moving, as the words flowed out onto the lined paper. "I want to know is all. You're awfully quiet."
"I'm writing."
"Maybe we should talk."
She snorted. "Please."
Spike stood up and slowly approached the bed. "I know that wasn't you, Buffy."
"No, it was Shania Twain."
He sighed. "I mean... that's not how you normally act. And I'm sorry if I upset you. I just--"
"Spike?" she interrupted.
"What?"
"Shut up."
"Bloody hell, woman. I'm just tryin' to make amends here."
"I don't want anything from you. Not your pity, your apologies, or your consolation. Understand? What we did is done. I made a mistake. I let my... something rathers... get the better of me, and I made a mistake. So let's just pretend it never even happened."
Spike would be lying if he said he wasn't a bit intimidated by her. This was a side of Buffy he hadn't ever seen. A side he didn't know existed. This girl was rough--more harsh. And he didn't like it. "Fine," he replied, after a few moments went by. "It's erased. Never soddin' happened, alright?"
"Good."
"Fine."
More silence filled the room and Spike shifted on both feet, hands in his pockets.
Buffy finally let out a deep breath and tossed her pen and paper onto the bed. "You know what? I lied. Let's talk."
"Uh, okay."
"And be honest with each other," she added.
"Of course."
Buffy swallowed and ran her hands through her blonde mane before speaking. "I don't know you, Spike," she began, leaning back against the pillows. "I know that you're British, had a really crappy past, and have exceptionally defined cheekbones. But that's all I know. I mean, I don't even know you're real name."
"It's William," he told her. "My name is William."
"Okay, William," she nodded. "One more thing to add to my steadily increasing list."
Spike sat down next to her, but not too close as to make her uncomfortable. He listened as she proceeded to talk.
"My point is, you were right. That wasn't me. I don't usually... do that kinda stuff. Hell, Riley waited almost two years before I finally gave him what he really wanted."
"You... you're not a virgin?" He had to admit, he was surprised.
"No, I'm not. I had sex with Riley two weeks before the accident. It was awkward and strange and I've been celibate ever since. And..." Her voice softened and the familiar blush colored her cheeks. "I had never, um, gotten off before. Until today."
When he saw her blush, he almost had to sigh in relief. Buffy was still in there--this was just a temporary exterior. Then he blinked a few times, realizing the confession she had made. "You never had an orgasm before?"
Again with the blushing.
"No," she admitted. "So what happened today was just a little too real for me. I mean, you kidnapped me, Spike. You threatened to kill me, and really haven't given me any reason to believe you're not going to go through with it. And what's really scary is that I don't know what it is exactly I'm scared of. You... or myself."
Spike was silent, not knowing what to say.
"I don't expect you to understand what I'm going through. To know that the only person you can depend on is one who wants you dead. To know that your life, your future, is in someone else's hands. And also not knowing. Not knowing when you're going to take your last breath. And not knowing why you're suddenly having ridiculous dreams about the one person you should be trying to run from." She sighed. "It doesn't make any sense."
"If it helps any, I dream about you every night."
Buffy arched a brow. "I've heard you talking in your sleep twice now. The first time you thought I was Drusilla, and the second time you were babbling about Bugs Bunny. So I'm not even going to ask because that just disturbs me on so many levels."
He smiled a bit, before returning to serious-mode. "I do know what you're going through to some extent," he explained. "I'm supposed to hate you. I'm supposed to kill you. But now all I want to do is kiss you."
"But you can't," she quickly stated. "You know, kiss me."
"Right."
"Because it would be bad."
"Very bad."
"And just because we kissed in my dream, doesn't mean I actually want to kiss you. It was just a dream."
"And just because we kissed when you drunk, doesn't mean you actually liked kissin' me. You were just drunk."
"Of course."
"Exactly."
Buffy paused for a moment and her eyes grew wide. "Wait a minute. What was that last part again?"
~~~
The sun had gone down hours ago, but Buffy and Spike didn't seem to notice. They had formed an unexpected bond after the fight they'd shared, and neither of them knew what to make of it. The awkward tension was gone, the sexual urges were repressed, and the bitter words were stored away for another day. The mood was comfortable and safe, and the stories they told spoke of refreshing memories and faded dreams that had been long since forgotten--until now.
"You're a spaz," Buffy declared, a smirk on her face. "I mean, who the heck wants to be a biochemical engineer when they're five years old? Fireman, teacher, baseball player, I get. But, jeez. Could you even pronounce that when you were five?"
Spike chuckled. "I was bright for my age. My father taught me well."
"My childhood fantasies sound so lame compared to yours."
"Why? What did you want to be when you grew up?"
"Don't laugh," she ordered. "But I wanted to be a ballerina."
"You'd make a beautiful ballerina, pet."
She frowned. "Sure. Just as long as I was in a room with no walls or any other objects I could crash into in all of my blindness."
"Guess that puts a damper on it," he decided. "But we were young. We couldn't have known life would get in the way."
"Yeah," she agreed, her mood darkening. "Life's a bitch like that."
"That she is."
Buffy sighed, realizing for the first time how intimate they were. Not physically, considering they both had at least a few inches between them, but emotionally. "This is new," she said, wrapping her arms around her body.
"What is?" he wondered.
"Us. This. I-I mean, I feel like I should be trying to bash your head in right about now, but I don't want to. And in some weird, twisted way... I feel almost liberated. Free."
"Free?"
"Yeah, isn't that strange?"
He thought for a moment. "Not really. I feel the same way."
"But I'm the captive here," she rolled her eyes. "I should feel all captivey. Not snuggly wuggly with the bad guy."
"Snuggly wuggly?" he said, incredulously. "Do us a favor, love, and promise not to use that phrase in relation to me again."
She laughed. "Seriously though. It's like, as much as I miss my house and my mom and dad... in a way, I don't. My parents fought constantly, I had people waiting on me hand and foot, I had no one to talk to." She sighed. "Not to mention, our maid had this really funky smell."
"You can't feel that way, Buffy. You had it made back there."
"No," she shook her head. "I really didn't. People don't understand what it's like to have everything handed to you. What it's like to never have to work for anything. It's almost... degrading. And I love my parents, I do, but they just don't get it. They don't know what it's like to be so alone. To feel so dead inside."
Spike knew that feeling all too well. To feel dead and empty. He never would have dreamed Buffy felt the same way. He assumed she enjoyed the attention and perks of having a rich father. What girl didn't? But part of him wondered how Buffy could suddenly view her current situation as a positive thing. She was being held against her will by a man she couldn't even see. How was that liberating? If anything, that was degrading.
"Spike?"
He shook his musings away for the time being. "Yeah?"
Her voice was small as she asked, "When you kill me... could you make it quick?"
Her question hit him like a fierce blow to the stomach. It was like the wind was knocked out of him and he suddenly felt sick. "Don't talk like that," he forced out.
"What do you mean?" She sounded honestly confused.
"You heard me. Don't bloody talk like that. End of discussion."
"Didn't mean to make you all grumpy," she pouted. "It was a fair question. I mean, you're going to kill me, right? That was plan?"
Yeah. That was the plan. Then he had to go and fall for her.
"Listen, Buffy--"
Whatever he was about to say was cut off by the sound of the door being kicked open. Buffy and Spike both jumped into sitting positions and turned to face the intruder. Spike's mouth went dry.
Angel stood there, his arms crossed over his chest. And with a sneer curling at his lips, he said, "I've got a proposition for you."
Buffy gasped when she heard the familiar voice. A dozen different emotions washed over her: relief, regret, fear, hope, uncertainty. What was Angel doing here? How did he find her? And... what was going to happen now?
Spike was thinking along similar lines. Only the emotions he felt, solely consisted of 'stupid ponce' and 'oh, fuck'. There was no doubt in his mind that Angel was behind this now--how else could he have known? Nothing was indicated regarding Buffy's whereabouts at the cleaners. But somehow, Angel knew he had her and knew exactly where to go. He must've followed me, the son of a bitch.
Angel advanced on Spike, a bit of swagger in his step. "Nice place," he stated casually, eyes on Buffy the entire time. "Didn't mean to interrupt the cozy little chat you two had going there, but what can I say? I like to make an entrance."
"You mentioned somethin' about a proposition?" Spike said, standing his ground.
"Yeah, I did. Glad you were paying attention."
Buffy just sat there, wishing she could see what was going on. "Angel?" she finally whispered.
"I'm here, baby. I've come to take you home."
"Like hell you are," Spike spat.
"Hey, now," he remarked, arms up in defense. "Didn't come here to fight, you know. Just to talk."
"So talk, mate. Haven't got all day."
Angel's eyes narrowed at the shorter blonde man. "Alright. The deal is this: I walk out of here with Buffy and no one will ever know you had anything to do with this."
"How do you figure?"
"I'll say I found her on the side of the road or something. It won't be hard to make a story up. But if you refuse, I'm going straight to the police."
It was deadly silent, as the three of them waited for Spike's answer. He said nothing.
"Maybe this will move your decision making along," Angel sighed, and threw a suitcase at Spike's feet.
He flipped the latches and opened it, revealing an ungodly amount of crisp, green, hundred dollar bills. He swallowed.
"Does that help?" the taller man smiled.
Buffy sat anxiously in her place on the bed, wringing her hands together. She figured Angel had just offered Spike money to set her free, but so far Spike had said nothing in regards to this sudden turn of events. His lack of response was making her crazy. But what was making her even crazier was the fact that she wasn't even sure what she wanted his response to be.
"Well, Blondie?" Angel prompted.
Spike didn't look at him, didn't say anything. His mind was reeling and his heart was breaking because he knew what he had to do. What else could be done? The feelings he had developed for Buffy were only growing stronger by the day, and it was getting harder and harder to keep her here against her will. It just wasn't right.
So, Spike looked at it this way: he had learned a great deal during his time with Buffy--probably more than he had learned in his entire life. How to feel, how to laugh, how to live. They were all things that he never really knew how to do. And to make this a well-rounded lesson, there was only one thing left to learn.
How to say goodbye.
Lifting his head to look at Angel, he closed the suitcase full of money and handed it back to the man.
Angel was incredulous. "You're not seriously--"
"Take her and get out."
Buffy tensed, not expecting those words to hurt so much. Not another second went by before she felt Angel's hand curl around her wrist and help her off the bed. She noticed, as she stood up on wobbly legs, that his touch was cold and unfamiliar. And somehow, on some extremely fucked up level, this felt wrong.
But she had no time to puzzle out what she was feeling, because she was being lifted off her feet and carried out the door by Angel. No goodbyes, no fleeting touches, no nothing. She was gone--just like that. Spike was out of her life forever. And there was nothing she could do about it.
"Angel?"
Her voice was soft and scared, and it floated to his ears like a long lost caress. "Yeah, baby?"
I'm not your baby. "You didn't let me say goodbye."
Angel frowned, as they made their way out into the afternoon glow. The sun was warm and welcoming, in contrast to Buffy's usual presence. She seemed distant and removed--not like a girl who had just been rescued. "Excuse me? Why the hell would you need to say goodbye? He kidnapped you, Buffy. I saved you."
She suddenly realized how stupid she sounded and closed her mouth without answering him.
He decided to chalk that statement up to post-traumatic stress and instead of interrogating her, grabbed her close and held her tight. "I thought I lost you. You're okay, right? He didn't hurt you too much?"
"He didn't hurt me."
Relieved, he took her hand and walked her over to his car. A few minutes later they were on the road.
"What are you going to tell the police?" Buffy wondered.
"That he kidnapped you."
Her heart sunk. "But... but, I thought--"
"C'mon, Buffy. You don't think that whole crap about me finding you on the side of the road was really going to work, did you? And why should I cover for him? He's a monster."
"He's a man," she quickly corrected.
Angel glanced at her, worriedly. "Are you sure you're okay? He didn't, you know... brainwash you?"
Buffy sighed. "No. I'm fine."
"Good."
"Don't mention him though, Angel. Make something else up. Please? For me?"
"That's crazy talk. This guy needs to be behind bars."
She didn't respond. How could she convince Angel otherwise, without sounding like a deluded freak? Instead she asked him the one question that had been plaguing her mind since the day Spike kidnapped her. "Did you put him up to this?"
Angel slammed on the brakes so hard, that if Buffy wasn't wearing her seatbelt, she would have feared for her life. "How the hell can you ask me that?" he demanded, his voice full of raw emotion. "How can you think that for one second I would want you killed? I love you, Buffy. I saved you from him."
"You didn't just save me to be my knight in shining armor? It's not completely unheard of."
"I can't believe you're asking me this," he shook his head in disbelief.
"I'm sorry. I just..." She swallowed and put her head down. "I was kidnapped, Angel. Someone out there wants me dead, and I just thought maybe--"
"That maybe it was me? The one person who's loved you and been there for you since as long as I can remember? You're breaking my heart, Buffy."
She could tell that she was. He sounded genuinely wounded. And now she felt genuinely stupid. "You're right," she said. "I'm sorry I ever doubted you."
"He filled your head with that crap, didn't he?"
"No."
Angel grit his teeth together, his hands gripping the wheel tightly. But he said nothing more, and instead just listened to his passenger's steady breathing.
Buffy felt the sting of tears pierce her sad, green eyes as they continued their drive back home. It would only be a little while longer before she would be in her mother and father's arms again and life would go back to the way it was.
As she closed her eyes, one question stood out in her mind. Then why do I feel so miserable?
~~~
When the door slammed shut, Spike's legs gave out. For some reason, he just couldn't will himself to stand anymore.
Buffy's gone.
He slumped to the floor, as his back leaned against the side of the bed. He knew he should probably get out of town as soon as possible. He didn't believe for a second that Angel was going to cover for him. And as much as he wanted to believe Buffy would, she left without any acknowledgement whatsoever. Not even a goodbye.
So, why should she say goodbye? What did she owe him?
Absolutely nothing, that's what. Sure, she had warmed to him somewhat, but all she really wanted was to go home. And maybe things were better this way, afterall. No more Buffy, no more feelings he couldn't explain. Because maybe he wasn't meant to change. Maybe he was destined to be alone and bitter for the rest of his life. Buffy had brought out a spark of humanity in him--she somehow, with her charm and wit and genuine heart, had brought him to life. Made him feel real, whole. It wasn't something he'd ever felt before. He was used to the dead void in the middle of his heart.
But now she was gone. And that fire she had lit inside of him had burned out the second she walked out that door. He knew that nothing could ever happen between them--not really. She was rich and beautiful and he was scarred and broken. And the whole kidnapping and threatening to kill part probably didn't help matters.
Get a grip, you git. Buffy's gone and she's not coming back. And you better get the hell out of town if you don't want to spend the rest of your pathetic life behind bars.
He ran his hands through his hair and finally stood up, sparing the room an indignant glance. He then gathered the few items that were worthy enough to take with him, including the Care Bears sweater, and stuffed them into a bag. He decided he'd give Willy a call on his way out of town.
Fuck. Willy's gonna kill me.
He sighed and threw the bag over his shoulder. Just as he was about to open the door to leave, someone knocked on it. He figured it was Vince, wondering what the hell was going on.
Or the police, comin' to drag your sorry ass to prison, he thought. But he opened it anyway.
And promptly froze in place when he saw who was standing before him. With a sharp intake of breath, he finally let the name escape his stunned lips:
"Buffy."
"Stop the car."
Angel glanced to his right, a worried expression on his face. "Are you alright, Buffy?"
She shook her head softly. "Please. Just stop the car."
"Fine," he sighed, and pulled off to the side of the road.
They sat in silence for a few moments, before Buffy finally spoke. "Take me back."
Her voice was barely a whisper, and he almost had to wonder if he heard her correctly. "What did you just say?"
"I said take me back."
A little louder, a little clearer... a little more obvious that Buffy had gone insane. "No way!" he exclaimed, thrown by her words. "There's no way in hell I'm taking you back to that place. Are you crazy?"
She nodded. "I think so."
"You need help, Buffy. A doctor or something. You've been through a trying ordeal and... let's just get you home and--"
"Angel?"
His eyes were still wide as he stared at her. "Yeah?"
"Do you really love me?" she asked.
"Of course I do. More than anything."
Buffy ran her hands through her hair and took a deep breath. "I can't explain it," she began, knowing she was making the stupidest decision of her life. "I really can't. I just... there's just something about him. I don't know what it is, but I want to find out. And I don't expect you to understand. Hell, I don't understand. But if you really love me, you'll do this for me."
"Put your life in danger? Possibly get you killed? Not gonna happen."
"Angel, please. I know I'm taking a huge risk, but--"
"Risks are what almost ended your life. You're blind because of it."
"This is different."
"How? How is this different, Buffy? You're talking about going back to the psycho who kidnapped you."
She closed her eyes and put her head down. "I know."
"And you just expect me to turn around and take you back to him? Well, I won't."
"He made me feel something, Angel. I haven't felt alive since..." Tears were now threatening to spill. "I can't explain it, I can't. But I have to know."
His jaw clenched. "Know what?"
"If... if he can make me happy."
"And I don't?"
Buffy blinked back the salty droplets. "You're my friend," she told him. "I care about you, I really do. And I'm sorry we couldn't be more, but my heart isn't with you."
"But it's with him?"
"No. I don't know." She let out an exasperated sigh. "That's what I need to figure out."
Angel shook his head. "This is insane."
"It is. I'm not denying that. But... I need that feeling. The moment you carried me out that door, it faded. And I want it back."
"You're attracted to him," he stated, matter-o-factly. "You're attracted to him because he's dangerous. That's all it is, Buffy--lust. Nothing more. You can't make this kind of decision based off of that."
She absorbed his words and they rang true. Maybe Angel was right. What if Spike really did have it in him to kill her? What if all she was feeling was attraction and it got her killed?
No. She was smarter than that. She had felt good-old-fashioned lust before, but this went deeper. This was different. And she had to know.
"Maybe you're right," she finally said. "But I want to find out."
"Damnit, Buffy!" he shouted, smacking the steering wheel. He accidentally hit the horn, making her jump. Trying to reign in his raging emotions, he took a deep breath and counted to ten. "I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you," he whispered to her.
Buffy smiled softly, touched. Angel really did care about her--she only wished she felt the same way. "Spike won't hurt me," she tried to convince him. And maybe herself in the process. "I promise to call you in a week. If I'm wrong... you can come pick me up, okay?"
"And if you're dead?"
"I won't be."
Angel sighed. "I don't know. I have a bad feeling about this."
"I know it's crazy. But you just have to trust me."
"I can get into a lot of trouble, you know."
"Not if the police don't know. Just keep quiet until I call. We'll work everything out then. Please?"
He looked at her, the confliction clear on his face. "I love you, Buffy. And I want you to be happy." Holding back his own tears, he finished, "And if this guy can give that to you, I won't stand in the way."
Buffy's smile brightened, and she leaned over in her seat to hug him. "Thank you, Angel. You won't regret this."
As they turned around and headed back towards the hotel, Angel sighed. I certainly hope not.
~~~
I can do this. I can do this. Just knock. Get it over with.
"Are you sure you don't want me here?"
Buffy shook her head. "No. I can do this on my own. But thanks."
Angel nodded, reluctantly. "I'm gonna take off then. Call me, alright?"
"I will. Promise."
He leaned down and kissed her gently on the head. "Goodbye, Buffy."
"Bye, Angel," she smiled, the butterflies swimming in her stomach. She heard him head back down the stairs and they only started swimming faster. I'm on my own now. Angel's gone and it's just me and Spike.
God. How did I get myself into this? I should just tell Angel to take me home. This is too insane. I can't--
And then she was knocking. Okay. See? I knocked. Not so hard. Now all he has to do is answer the door and I can get this over with.
Shit. What am I supposed to say to him?
But before she could think, she heard the door open. She chewed nervously on her bottom lip, waiting for him to speak.
"Buffy."
Oh, god! Now what?! She opted with silence and continued to stand there and chew nervously on her bottom lip.
"Buffy, my god. What are you--?" Spike stood frozen at the door, unable to take his eyes off her. "Why did you come back? I thought I'd never see you again."
I can't do this. She finally opened her mouth to speak and said, "I forgot my journal."
Spike just stared at her. When her words finally sunk in, he took a step back. "Right," he nodded, crushed. "Your journal."
"Yeah." Oh, by the way, Buffy Summers? You're an idiot. Disappointed with herself, she put her head down and crossed her arms over her chest. When he didn't make any move to help her in, she continued to stand there dejectedly. "Can you--?"
"Oh. Of course," he replied, realizing for the hundredth time that she was in fact, blind. He reached out and wrapped a hand around her upper arm, gently leading her through the doorway.
Buffy practically melted at his touch. How could something that felt so good, be so wrong? she idly wondered, following his lead. She unconsciously leaned her body weight against him, desperate for the feeling to last.
When they finally reached the bed, Spike was reluctant to let go of her. She was so soft, so warm. So real.
Her hands wandered around the bed until she found the pillow, and pulled out the loose papers. She clutched them to her, all too aware of the fact that Spike's hand was still on her arm. "You can let go now," she said softly.
He dropped her arm like fire. "I'm sorry."
"Why did you let me go?"
Spike frowned. "You told me to."
"I mean before. Why did you let Angel take me away?"
"Because you're not mine to keep," he told her truthfully. "Keeping you here was wrong. We both know that."
"But it's your job. You're supposed to keep me here. You're supposed to kill me."
"It stopped being my job a long time ago," he whispered.
Buffy swallowed and sat down on the bed. "I'm supposed to hate you."
"Don't you?" he wondered, curiously.
"No," was all she said.
"You should."
"I want to."
Spike let a small smile surface, as he looked down at her. She appeared to be nervous and fidgety, while tapping her foot against the hard floor. "So, you've gotten what you came for then?"
"Yes."
He helped her stand up again, his touch lingering once more. "You should get back. Angel's probably waiting for you," he told her, his voice low and his lips too close to her cheek.
But she didn't pull away. She knew Angel probably was waiting for her. He wouldn't have left that easily--he still held hope that she would change her mind. And even if he had left already, she could always use Vince's phone to call him up.
She could still leave.
"I'll walk you to the door?" Spike offered.
He's so close. He could kiss me right now and I would let him. God help me, I would let him...
"Buffy?"
She shook herself out of her daze and nodded her head slowly. "Right. Angel waiting. Me leaving."
"That was the plan."
She sighed. "Yeah."
He walked her to the door as said, and held it open for her. She stepped out into the hall.
"Wait," he stopped her, before she could distance herself further from him.
"Spike, don't." She held out her hand to prevent his words. "Just don't."
"I can't even get a proper goodbye?"
"Do you really deserve a proper goodbye?"
His shoulders sagged. "No. I suppose I don't."
The tears began to well up in her eyes again, as the conflicting emotions battled it out inside of her. She came back to prove something to herself. So, why was she so scared to prove it? She knew that the second she walked out of this hotel for good, she would regret it. She would never know if Spike could make her happy.
Buffy already knew that he could make her miserable. She knew that he could make her burn, make her cry, and confuse the hell out of her. But could this man--so lost, so broken, just like she was--could he really make her happy?
"Spike, I have a confession to make," she finally told him, not letting herself think any longer.
He took a step towards her. "Tell me," he said.
"I didn't come back for my journal."
Hope shone through his eyes, but she couldn't see it. Instead he placed an unruly strand of gold behind her ear and whispered softly, "Then what did you come back for, love?"
Buffy's eyes fluttered closed and she whispered right back, "You."
Spike blinked, but didn't say anything.
"It's stupid, I know. I just--"
"Bloody right it's stupid."
Buffy flinched, not expecting that reaction from him. I go through all this trouble and he doesn't even want me here? "But... I-I thought--"
He took a step back from her, removing his hand from her face. This should be a good thing, right? Buffy had developed feelings for him, just like he wanted. So, why was her confession tearing him up inside? The thread of hope he had felt just moments ago faded as soon as the word escaped her lips. You.
"Spike?"
He sighed. "I let you go for a reason, pet. You shouldn't have come back."
"Excuse me?" she asked, incredulously.
It was silent.
Aside from the loud smacking sound that echoed through the hall.
Spike touched the tingling flesh from where Buffy had just slapped him. "You hit me," he stated the obvious.
Her bottom lip was trembling and her palm stung. It was a miracle it even came in contact with his face--she had never slapped someone while she was blind. But then again, she never really felt that anyone deserved it. Until Spike. "How dare you," she spat, eyes watering.
"Buffy--"
"How dare you make me feel these things. How dare you make me..." She swallowed, before finishing, "Care."
"I didn't plan this, you know," he explained.
"Yeah, I know that much. You planned to kill me, right?" she laughed derisively. "I mean, I risked everything just now. I risked my life, my future, Angel--all because of you. And what do you do? Throw it in my face."
"That's not what I'm doing!" he insisted. "I'm just tryin' to do the right thing here. You deserve better than this, Buffy. You deserve a life, and a future, and hell, even Angel! You shouldn't have sacrificed that for somethin' neither of us can explain."
Vince suddenly appeared at the base of the staircase. "You kids alright?" he wondered, taking a big bite out of a hotdog.
Spike nodded mutely and Buffy just stood there, taking in his words. Vince shrugged and went back to his desk.
"Let's go inside," Spike said softly, taking Buffy by the arm and leading her through the door to his hotel room.
She followed weakly. "I just thought you'd be happy," she finally said, when he shut the door behind them.
"I am happy, Buffy. God, I'm happy--I never thought I'd see you again. But that still doesn't make it right."
Buffy took a deep breath and leaned back against the door. "I don't know what's right anymore. To go back home, even though it drives me crazy? To stay here with my kidnapper and try to figure out what exactly it is I'm feeling for him? I just don't know, Spike. I feel so... lost."
He approached her then and she stilled. He had to let her know just what she had gotten herself into. "Can I kiss you?"
Her eyes widened. "What? No! Stop asking me that." She pushed him off of her and stalked towards the direction of the bed.
Spike grabbed her by the elbow and spun her around to face him. "What did you expect? Huh, Buffy? That you'd come back and nothing would happen? That we'd sit around and talk about our problems 'til the end of time? Not bloody likely."
"Not everything's about sex, you know," she told him, pulling her arm free.
"No, not everything. But this?" He pointed between the two of them. "This is. You can't be that naive."
"I didn't come back to have sex with you!" she insisted. "I just... wanted a friend. Someone who understands."
"We'll never be friends."
"We'll never have sex!"
He was close to her again. Buffy took a few steps back, until her legs hit the bed.
"I beg to differ," he purred, his voice the epitaph of seduction.
She couldn't help but shudder. "You're wrong."
"Often am. But not about this. You came back because, if you didn't..." His lips brushed against her ear and she closed her eyes. "You would never know how good it could be."
She shook her head, trying to ignore his effect on her. "I'm never going to know because it's never going to happen. Deal with it."
Spike pushed her down so she was sitting on the bed. She squeaked in surprise, as the mattress bounced beneath her weight.
"C'mon, love," he grinned. "One quick shag. I'll make it good for you."
"No!"
With one sudden movement, she was forced onto her back, her wrists pinned above her head. Buffy's heartbeat picked up and she could sense the familiar emotion bubbling inside of her--fear. Maybe I made a mistake? she questioned herself. Maybe Spike really is capable of hurting me.
Spike noticed her breathing pick up and the frightened gleam in her emerald eyes. "What is it, Buffy? Scared?"
"N-No."
"No point in lyin' to me, sweetheart. I can practically taste your fear." He lowered his head, so his lips whispered a kiss upon her trembling mouth. "Tastes good on you."
Buffy began to struggle beneath him. "Stop it! Get off me, Spike."
"What if I don't? I could take you right now and you'd beg me for more."
"You're sick."
"You came back."
She stilled then, her chest heaving. Realization dawned on her. "You're trying to scare me," she said. "You think I made a mistake."
Spike finally loosened his grip on her wrists. Then he let go completely and stepped back from the bed. "Didn't you?"
Buffy sat up, swatting her tangled blonde hair out of her eyes. But she didn't say anything.
"You came back to a very dangerous situation with a potentially very dangerous man," he continued. "You don't know me and you don't know what I'm capable of. I could've raped you just now and killed you right after that. Is that what you want?"
"What I want is to be happy," she countered. "I want a life I can actually live. You have no idea what it's like to be in that house, Spike. I'm trapped and smothered and lonely every minute of the day. My parents mean well, they do. But they just don't know what it's like to feel so dead inside."
Spike listened to her carefully, trying to discover what exactly it was that made her come back to him. And he found it in that last sentence. "But I do," he stated softly. "I know what it's like. That's why you came back."
She nodded. "I tried to explain, but you wouldn't listen. You insisted I just wanted to jump your bones."
"Well, that has to be part of it."
Buffy quirked a brow.
"Oh, c'mon. At least twenty-five percent."
A smile tugged at her lips. "You wish."
"That I do, love," he smiled back. "That I do."
"But it can never happen," she reminded him.
"What?"
"You know. The... sexy stuff."
"And why is that?"
"Because! I might be attracted to you, but I'm not a slut. So, what happened earlier? No repeat performances of any kind."
He rolled his eyes. "You really think sleeping with me would make you a slut?"
"Well, duh. It's not like we're dating or anything."
"So? This is the 21st century, pet."
"Doesn't make it right."
Buffy decided not to mention the fact that she probably would participate in the "sexy stuff" if the situation presented itself. There was just something about him that set her senses on fire. He made her feel beautiful and desirable. He made her feel free.
But those were things she would just have to keep to herself.
Spike sighed. The purely male part of him was frustrated and disappointed by her lack of willingness to get physical with him. But the other part of him--the part that rarely showed itself--was touched by her innocence and vulnerability. It was something rare and pure and it made his heart smile. "You're a hell of a woman, Buffy Summers."
Her head shot up. "I'm what?"
He leaned down to kiss her gently on the top of the head. His lips lingered there for a fraction longer than necessary, but he reluctantly pulled back. "You heard me," he said, before stepping away from her.
Buffy sat there, repeating his words over and over again in her mind. When she heard him disappear into the bathroom, she let out a breath of air she had been holding and closed her eyes.
And then she smiled.
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