Belly of the Beast by OKDeanna

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Chapter 1: A Death In The Family

Buffy Summers never expected to see Spike Pratt again. But as the deafening roar of the motorcycle’s engine cut off and a pair of large, black Doc Martin boots hit the pavement of the driveway, a platinum blond head of hair emerging from beneath a rather nice looking black and red racing helmet, she wasn’t really all that surprised to see him.

Had she secretly been hoping he might return? It had been almost seven years since their disastrous affair and subsequent breakup, and not once, in all that time, had she received so much as a postcard of greeting from him. Yet, looking at him now, his unshaven face and tired, world-weary eyes, she couldn’t deny having hoped he’d come back for her.

Too bad that wasn’t the reason for his actual return today.

Throwing open the front door, Buffy met him halfway up the sidewalk, wrapping her arms around her waist as if they alone could protect her from the detached, cerulean gaze that landed on her face. She tried not to be disappointed by that; she wasn’t sure it worked.

“Hey,” she whispered softly, stopping a few feet from where he stood. “I… didn’t think you’d make it in so soon.”

Spike nodded, his attention moving toward the open doorway behind her, no doubt looking for the familiar, aged face of his godfather. “Yeah, I didn’ think I’d make it, either. Was a bloody nightmare goin’ through all the canyons’ roads on the crotch rocket there last night.” He shuddered dramatically, his gaze sliding back to hers, the slight warming of his eyes the only comfort she’d felt in days. “Sorry to hear about your mum, pet. She and I had our differences, lot of ‘em truth be told, and especially there at the last, but… I liked her. She was a nice bird, leas’ she was, before she learned I sullied her daughter’s virtue.”

If he still blamed her for what happened to them, it didn’t show in his eyes, or his tone. Of course, that didn’t mean it wasn’t there, though. He’d always been a master at hiding his emotions from her and somehow she didn’t think that had changed in their time apart.

“Why don’t you come inside?” she said, forcing herself to smile in thanks. “Dad hasn’t made it back from the funeral home yet, but… he’ll be happy you’re here. Even though we knew it was coming for a while now, he hasn’t been doing too well these last few days. He misses her.”

“And you, kitten? How are you doin’?” he asked, following her into the house, the hard fall of his footsteps echoing in the emptiness of the foyer. “Rupes said you quit your job in L.A. to come back home and help take care of your mum. Can’ have been easy for you, what with the cancer and all.”

She chewed on her lower lip, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. “I’m… good, dealing,” she clarified after a moment, drawing in a quick rush of air. Actually, she wasn’t dealing so much as trying to repress, but… he didn’t need to know that, did he? “I-I made up the guestroom for you. I wasn’t sure if… you’d want to stay in the house, but… I took a chance anyway. Hope that’s okay.”

“’S fine, pet. Doesn’ matter to me where I lay my head. Be out as soon as I’m flat, I reckon.”

She nodded, knowing he referred to his quick ability to fall asleep, and moved into the kitchen while he took a slow, scrutinizing perusal of the living room.

“Do you want something to drink, Spike? We don’t have any beer on hand, but… there might be some soda, if you want something, that is,” she offered absently, her gaze falling on the picture of her mother still taped to the refrigerator door.

It had taken a few months ago, before the chemo treatments caused most of her hair to fall out, and though her skin didn’t have her usual healthy glow in it, she still looked beautiful. Beautiful and brave and… here.

Buffy exhaled a troubled sigh, lowering her forehead to rest against the cool, ceramic door of the fridge, hating the moisture that once again pricked her eyes.

God, how was she going to get through these next few days? Her mother’s funeral, the upcoming gallery showing… and now Spike’s return. She’d be a walking basket case before the week was out, and she couldn’t let it happen. There was so much to do, so much to think about, so much to… worry about.

“Buffy? Are you okay, pet?”

She jumped at the sound of his voice, her hand flying to her chest as she whirled around to find him standing in the doorway, watching her.

“Spike, you…” She stopped as he took a step toward her and slowly shook her head, turning away from the sad, understanding smile he bestowed on her. “What would you like to drink?” She yanked open the door to the fridge, leaning down to peer inside. “We’ve got milk, juice, water, and… it looks like half a bottle of diet cola?”

He sighed, his boots knocking on the floor as he came to stand behind her, his fingers lightly curling over her shoulder. She stiffened as she felt the heat of his palm cut through the thin material of her blouse. “Buffy, it’s okay to be upset, you know. Your mum jus’ died. No one’ll hold it agains’ you if you don’ handle it so well, pet. Leas’ of all me.”

“I’m fine,” she replied, shrugging off his hand, knowing they both knew her statement was a lie. “Do you want something to drink or not?” She twisted her head to look at him, instantly regretting the hard look that came into his eyes.

She hadn’t meant to sound ungrateful, she really hadn’t, but obviously her tone did the trick in letting him know she didn’t want to break down in front of him because in seconds, his hand fell away, that argumentative tenor she’d expected from him earlier strong within his voice. “I don’ want a soddin’ drink, Buffy. I want to know what the hell is goin’ on with my wife.”

“Ex-wife,” she clarified automatically, turning back around to fully face him. “We’re divorced, Spike, and really, I’d hardly think six months married to a seventeen year old spoiled brat even qualifies as a marriage to begin with, especially considering neither one of us was given any choice in either one.”

He looked away. “I knew what I was doin’, Buffy. I married you because I loved you, not because your mum and Rupes forced me to.”

Loved. Past tense. That shouldn’t have stung; she hated that it did. “And yet, you still divorced me because they told you to.” If he recognized the bitterness in her voice, he didn’t address it, which shouldn’t have surprised her. He’d never fought for them, not the way he should have if he meant those words he spoke all those years ago. “Once the baby was gone, you were too, weren’t you, Spike? So if you’re going to play the martyr, at least have the balls to admit the truth while doing it.”

“Bloody mistake, it was,” he muttered under his breath, stepping back, dragging a quick hand across his stubbled jaw. “Never should’ve come back here. Knew it. Told myself not to do it. Yet here I am, a bleedin’ sorry, arsed ponce again.”

He shook his head, a deep, troubled frown marring the angular features of his face. “I think it best I go, Buffy. Us stayin’ under the same roof… ‘S not gonna work. Best I find a motel in town. Last thing Rupes‘ll need is our bloody baggage gettin’ in his way.”

And once again, he decides to run. Color her not surprised. “Whatever you want, Spike. Doesn’ matter to me. Not like I wanted you here anyway. Dad is the one who called you, not me.”

“’M more ‘n aware of that fact, Buffy. You kept your promise to your mum real good, love. Didn’ so much as send me a soddin’ Christmas card in seven years.”

Like he’d sent one to her? “Yeah, well, whose fault is that, Spike? You divorced me, you left town… what was there for me to even say to you after that?”

“I don’ know, pet. Why don’ you tell me?”

Buffy was saved from having to voice the scathing retort on her tongue by the sudden opening and closing of the front door. Tossing a glare at Spike, she slammed the refrigerator door shut and went into the living room to see about her father. “Hey, dad. How’d it go?”

“Everything is set up for Thursday,” he said, pulling off his glasses and collapsing into his favorite chair in the living room, his fingers automatically moving to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I gave them your specifications about the headstone. They’ll have it engraved as you wanted by the day of the service.”

She nodded, kneeling down in front of his chair. “Are you okay, Dad? Was it bad, having to do all that stuff? I wish you’d let me go with you. I could’ve helped, offered you some support, at least.”

He dropped his hand, taking one of hers and linking their fingers together. “Your mother did most of it herself, Buffy. I merely had to go and sign a few papers. You didn’t need to be there for that. You’ve done more than you should’ve had to these past few months. I don’ quite know how I would’ve managed without you here.”

“Well, you’re never going to have to find out, ‘cause this girl is here to stay.” She squeezed his hand and rose to her feet, ignoring the curious look of concern on Spike’s face. “And speaking of being here to stay, look who showed up while you were gone.”

Rupert turned his head, his eyes meeting Spike’s across the room. “I take it that is your monstrosity parked in my driveway then?” At Spike’s nod, he smiled. “Bloody brilliant, motor bike. I should think it corners fairly well, yes?”

“It does.” Spike crossed the room, leaning over to give the older man a quick, manly-hug. “Sorry ‘bout Joyce, Rupes, right nice mother hen, she was.”

Buffy had to look away as her dad’s eyes began to tear up. “She was everything,” he roughly agreed in a barely audible whisper. “I don’ know what I will do without her now.”

Excusing herself as quietly as she could, Buffy headed outside to the back porch, praying the cool air would help quell the swift, angry despair that rose inside. For all her psychology courses and counseling seminars, she’d yet to learn how to deal with her own grief. Repressing her own feelings didn’t work so well when faced with her father’s pain, but thankfully, for a least a few more hours, Spike was there to watch over him, comfort him in the way that she just couldn’t right now.

* * *

Spike watched Buffy sneak out of the room, her squared shoulders and trembling hands the only cue he had about the real state of her emotions. Rupes had been right; his girl needed him here, needed him a hell of a lot more than she let on to the outside world.

But how the bloody hell would he get through to her given the past they held? Two sodding minutes alone in each other’s presence and they were fighting as if they’d never been apart. Didn’t bode so well for re-instilling trust, now did it?

“You’re as worried about her as I am, aren’t you?” his godfather asked, following his line of sight. “I told you on the telephone, William. Buffy isn’t as strong as she’d like for me to believe. She’s barely holding it together right now and I don’t have the strength left in me to hold her up when she falls, and she will fall, William. You know it as well as I do.”

He did. He just wasn’t sure he was the best person to catch her when she fell. “What about those soddin’ school friends of hers? Where the bleedin’ hell are they? Why haven’ they been comin’ round to see her?”

“I imagine they don’t know how to talk to her right now. She’s always been the strong one of that group, the one everyone else turned to for support and advice. Seeing her like this, on the verge of a mental breakdown, it isn’t easy for them, nor has it been so easy for me.” He sighed, rubbing his shaky fingers over his bloodshot eyes. “She thinks I don’t know she cries herself to sleep at night. That I don’t know she goes out onto that bloody porch to cry.

“But I know, William. I’ve always known. She is my daughter in everything but blood, and I know when she’s trying to hide her hurt.”

Sod it all. So did he. “What do you want me to do?” he questioned, blowing out a harsh puff of air. “She won’ talk to me, Rupes. Bleedin’ hates my guts, she does. Can’ say as I blame her, either. Left her in a bad way when I cut out of town, you know that.”

“Yet, here you are, having driven all night to get here and see her again.” He placed a hand on his shoulder, his watery gaze steadier than it had been since he’d come home. “She may not know the real reason that you’re here, William, but I do. You still love her, and you want to protect her from the world.”

Spike hung his head, knowing the other man was more right than he was willing to admit. “’M not bloody promisin’ anythin’ Rupes, but… I’ll try. I’ll try to talk to her, get her to open up, but… if she tells me to go to hell, I’m gone, Rupert. No amount of pleadin’ from you will get me to stay if she doesn’t bleedin’ want me here.”

“Fair enough.”

Nothing about this was fair. Never had been where the two of them were concerned. “You gonna be okay while I go check on her?” When the other man offered him a firm nod, Spike slowly pushed to his feet, doing his best to quell the sudden nerves that attacked his stomach. “I’ll give it a few days, old man, but… after that, it’s up to her whether I stay or not, understood?”

“Y-yes, yes, of course.”

Accepting him at his word, Spike drew in a deep breath and headed for the back porch, uncertain about the reception he’d garner when he joined the woman already taking up residence outside.

* * *

Buffy didn’t react as the backdoor opened then closed, the heavy fall of familiar footsteps cutting through the quiet stillness of the early evening air. She closed her eyes, tilting her head up to catch the last rays of the disappearing sun, and fought hard not to reach up and wipe the tear tracks from her cheeks.

“I’m all right,” she whispered, lowering her head again, folding her hands into her lap. “It’s just been hard, seeing him like that, so broken and lost. He really loved my mother, loved her almost as much as I do, I think.” Maybe even more, she admitted silently.

She’d never told anyone about those last few moments alone with her mother. How harshly the woman had spoken to her. How much she’d blamed her condition on her. And even though Buffy knew it was the pressure of the tumor on her brain making her say those things, she couldn’t’ help but wonder how much truth they held.

If she had been a better daughter to her, a better person, would her mother have still got sick?

Oh, logically Buffy knew it wasn’t rational to blame herself for something no one could control. But… in her heart of hearts, in that deep cave of guilt and shame locked inside her, she had to wonder about it. Wonder if maybe what happened to her mother wasn’t some sort of punishment for her, some sort of checks and balances system meant to teach her a lesson about the disrespectful treatment of a parent.

Buffy hadn’t forgiven her mother for forcing Spike to leave all those years ago. She hadn’t forgiven her for not being more sympathetic to the loss of her unborn grandchild, either. But she had loved her, loved her so much more than either one of them realized.

“Takes its toll, seein’ somebody like that, ‘specially someone you love.” He reached out, linking her trembling fingers with his steady ones. “’S gonna be all right, kitten. ‘M here. I’ll help, with whatever you need me to.”

She didn’t need him to do anything. It was already done. Over. The only thing left now was the aftershocks. “You’d think I know how to do this, wouldn’t you? Know the perfect thing to say. The perfect thing to do. But I don’t, Spike. I don’t have any idea what to say, not to Giles, not to you, not even to myself.

“I just know I hate it. I hate it and wish it would all just go away.”

He sighed, scooting closer as he pulled his hand free from hers, wrapping a strong arm around her waist. “Come ‘ere, love. Let me hold you for a bit.”

Buffy allowed her head to fall against his shoulder, and the rhythm of his stable breaths to calm the tattered remains of hers. When his left hand suddenly found its way to her lap, his thumb idly rubbing the back of her hand, fresh tears fell from her eyes.

“How long are you staying?” she asked, not even bothering to try and hide the slight wavering of her voice. “How long before you have to back to San Diego again?”

“’M not goin’ back,” he whispered, lowering his chin to rest against the top of her head. “Nothin’ more for me there, love, never has been to be honest ‘bout it.”

What did that mean? That he was back for good? That he was back for her? “Spike?”

“Shh, love, let’s jus’ sit here for a bit, yeah? The talkin’ can wait a while. ‘M not goin’ anywhere.”

Yeah, but for how long? How long would he stay once he found out she may be pregnant by someone else? Not just any someone, either. Oh no. It had to be someone he knew and despised, despised almost as much as she now did herself.

She couldn’t really say what made her take Lindsay up on his offer of a one night stand, other than the fact that she was lonely and looking for comfort in the very last place she should have gone. But what happened afterward, after she told him she was pregnant and after he’d accused her of setting him up, that would remain with her for a long while to come.

How could she have been so stupid as to sleep with a guy like him? She knew the reputation he had. How often he used women and then tossed them aside like unwanted leftovers after dinner. Spike himself had had run-ins with him in the past over his horrid treatment of women, and they’d never ended very pretty.

Was that part of the reason why she had done it? To somehow get back at Spike for leaving her and not giving her the real chance they should have had together? She wanted to say no, deny it, but if she were honest with herself, the thought of what he might say if he were to ever find out had fleeting crossed her mind during the sex, and she’d angrily pushed it aside, hating the fact that he still had power over her thoughts like that.

But now, sitting with him beneath the setting sun, feeling his every breath, every slide of his callused skin against her hand, she was glad for it. Glad she still felt something for him. Glad that he still had the power to comfort her, to make her feel safe within his arms.

She hadn’t felt safe in a very long time, her emotions having been all over the map well before she ever got herself knocked up again, or possibly knocked up, at any rate.

God, if only it could stay like this. If only they could stay like this.

But she knew that they couldn’t.

Sooner or later, Spike would find out the truth, and when he did, quiet moments like this would cease to exist. It shouldn’t have disappointed her. She had, after all, got along just fine without him these past few years; but she was disappointed, disappointed and so not looking forward to the look of betrayal in his eyes when he learned she slept with his one time best friend.

A/N: Special thank you to Dusty273 for the awesome beta as always. Love you!

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