Summary: Two years after the battle at the end of "Not Fade Away", Buffy's still in Rome. An unexpected visitor shows up bringing even more unexpected news.
Author's Notes: Inspired by and writtern for calturner.
Rating: NC-17
Spike froze. Buffy could feel his whole body tense up at the sound of Anne's voice. He pushed off the bed and ran for the phone.
Buffy slowly sat up. She could hear him in the kitchen. Could hear his, “Wait! Anne. Hi, love. Yes, I'm here. Was in the shower, is all. Yeah, Buffy's shower. She had an extra room. Yeah, that's the address…”
Buffy flopped back down on the bed and pulled a pillow over her head. Why the hell did Anne have to call now ? And why had Spike run for the phone instead of ignoring it? And oh God, he was in love with Anne, wasn't he? Or no, he “loved” her. Like a favorite stuffed animal kind of love. Because no matter what he said, Buffy had no doubt Spike was still in love with her, especially after last night and this morning. She almost couldn't remember a time when he wasn't in love with her. It was one of those givens like Twinkies having white cream filling or that she could never pass a shoe store without going in and trying on a pair. Come to think of it, though, didn't Twinkies have strawberry cream filling too for a while there?
She slid the pillow down and wrapped her arms around it and listened. She couldn't hear him. Was he off the phone already?
Buffy let go of the pillow and slid out of bed. She stretched her stiff muscles for a couple seconds before hobbling over to her door and grabbing a short green silk robe off the back. She wrapped it around her body as she went down the hallway and into the kitchen.
Spike was pacing back and forth, chewing on a thumbnail. His jeans were still undone, but he either didn't notice or didn't care.
“Spike?”
He stopped suddenly and looked at her, his thumb still at his mouth. “Shit,” he said. He took a step toward her and put his hand out. “God, Buffy. Sorry ‘bout that. But, couldn't just leave her hanging there, could I?” He started pacing again. “I lied. Outright lied to her, I did. Have to call her back. Have to make this right.”
“Do you think that's really a good idea? Over the phone?” Buffy asked. She grabbed his arm, halting him. This revisiting of crazy basement Spike was freaking her out a little. “Wouldn't it be a better idea to tell her this in person?”
He looked away. “Suppose that would be the fairest thing, yeah.”
“We can do it together. I'll fly back with you—we can leave as soon as we kill that Hunchback Demon of Rome from last night. I'll help you pack your stuff up and we'll have it shipped here.” She let go of his arm and made her way to the coffee maker, still planning. “We should probably look for a place that's good for both of us, unless you don't mind living here?” She looked up at him as she filled the carafe with water. He was staring at her, his mouth a little slack.
“What?” she said.
“You think I'm moving in with you?”
“Are you saying you're not?” Buffy asked, freezing with the carafe halfway to the coffee maker.
Spike wrapped his arms around himself. “Didn't mean to give you that impression, Buffy.”
“What are you talking about?” Buffy put the pot down on the counter, afraid she'd drop it. “Last night—”
“Last night and this morning were—incredible. They were. Never thought I'd be with you like that.”
“Oh. My. God,” Buffy said. “This isn't a ‘let's be friends' speech, is it?”
“No. Well, yes. Would like us to be friends. Told you that when I first saw you again. But sex—even bloody fantastic sex—isn't going to make this work between us, Buffy.”
“I thought we discussed this. It wasn't just sex, Spike. At least not to me. I completely let myself go with you. I haven't done that with you, well, ever .”
“It's still all about you, isn't it, Buffy,” Spike said quietly.
“Not me. Us. Spike, it's about us .”
“I don't believe there is an us . There's you. There's me. And there's Anne.”
“Spike, I didn't…”
“I know you didn't. Neither of us did and that's the problem! It never matters who gets hurt with you.”
“How can you…”
“Because it is all about you. What makes you happy. What you want. Sod all else!” He dragged his hands through his hair. “You tell me you love me right when you know you bloody well don't have to actually do a damn thing about it. Yeah, Buffy. You love me. But can you give me the kind of love you can't run from? All the passion, the fire , the honesty, the sodding commitment ? Can you give that to a monster ?” He crossed the kitchen to stand directly in front of her. Buffy tried hard not to flinch. “Don't think you can. You'll always be the slayer. I'll always be that monster you're supposed to kill. Sure, you'll fuck me and fight with me and ‘love' me, but you'll never really be with me.”
“Spike, you haven't been listening at all. At all . What's happened to you?”
“Didn't know what I was missing, now did I? First time in my life—or unlife—I found someone willing to love me for me, not in spite of me.”
The phone rang. Anne? Buffy thought. She looked at Spike and saw that question in his
eyes as well. On the last ring before the machine picked up, she snatched the receiver.
“Hello,” she said.
“Buffy?”
“Giles.”
Spike sagged and looked down at the floor. Buffy listened absently as Giles told her what he'd learned about the demon and how to defeat it. Looking at Spike, she felt hopeless. And so ready to kill something.
“Thanks, Giles. Wish us luck,” she said before hanging up.
“It's called a Korbaka demon,” Buffy told Spike, her “slayer” voice in place. “Incredibly strong, but it can be killed with a silver blade through its throat.”
“Buffy…” Spike said.
Buffy threw her hands up in the air. “I don't know what else to tell you, Spike. My feelings are real. More real than I've ever felt. You're right, though. I'm not the slayer anymore, but I will always be a slayer. But I don't think you're a monster and I think what happened last night proves that. I know what I've said to you in the past. I was wrong. But I can't force you to believe me. And obviously you feel something for Anne and it's not something I can compete with.”
“It's not a competition, pet.”
Buffy turned back to the counter and picked up the pot. She poured the water down the sink, set the pot down and looked out the window at the view of the alley behind her apartment building. She didn't turn to Spike, but she spoke to him. “Let's kill this monster. Then maybe we can talk again. Decide what it is you want to do.”
Buffy pushed away from the counter and brushed past Spike without looking at him. She locked the bathroom door behind her.
She stared at herself in the mirror for a long time after taking off her robe. It was her—Buffy—but suddenly she didn't know what that meant. Who was the person Spike thought he knew? Who was the person who had hurt Spike so badly and had been completely oblivious to it? She touched the bandage he'd wrapped around her the night before and then quickly unwound it, examining the faint bruises on her skin. Pretty much healed. That much was of the good. But the way she felt right now was not. She was confused and upset and feeling like she'd somehow taken advantage of Spike. He was so different than she remembered. Restrained. Cautious. Though, when she really thought about it, he'd seemed that way regularly after he'd come back with the soul. But that last year had been all about defeating the First. Buffy regretted not having more time to understand the changes the soul had made in Spike. He'd just seemed still so Spikelike. At least after she'd basically mocked him into fighting again.
Buffy paused before stepping into the shower, afraid of what she was thinking. She'd believed she was doing the right thing by reawakening blood-lusty Spike that last year. He'd seemed happy enough to be working side by side with her. She'd definitely needed him that way. And Spike had always tried to be what she needed. She knew that, though she'd never acknowledged it. Not really.
Buffy turned on the water and ducked under the shower spray. But maybe that right there is the problem? she asked herself as she soaped her hair. Maybe he was right and once again Buffy had made things all about her? And Spike, still being Spike, still wanting to be what Buffy needed, had cheated on the one person who'd never hurt him.
Shit , Buffy thought as she scrubbed her body roughly, if that's true, no wonder he's so angry—at me and at himself. What have I done?
But she so didn't want to hurt him—not again. Somehow, she had to show him that he could trust her not to. That, yeah, being with her while he was still with Anne was dishonest, but not wrong. Because what had happened between them the night before felt anything but wrong.
She rinsed herself quickly and got out of the shower. As she toweled off, she thought about how she'd never actually fought for anyone before. When relationships were over, she'd forced herself to accept and move on. But then Spike had shown up at her door. And the way she felt now, she'd never wanted to fight for anyone more.
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Spike was dressed and sitting on the couch when Buffy came out of the bathroom, again in her robe. She picked up the coffee table and put it back where it belonged before trying to meet his eyes. “I'll get dressed and we can go. Giles said these demons are generally afraid of crowds, so we can check some of the quieter areas of the city.”
“Right,” he said, glancing at her and then away again.
Buffy started to say more, but changed her mind and went to her room. She let herself sit on the bed for a minute and smell the pillow Spike had used the night before. She didn't want to regret anything that had happened in that bed. She didn't want Spike to regret anything that had happened. But she was seriously afraid he did.
She pushed herself off the bed and got dressed. Jeans, white tank top, jean jacket, ankle boots. Her standard slayer gear. From the back of her closet she pulled her favorite silver sword and a silver dagger, just in case. She stuck the dagger in her boot and went back out to tell Spike she was ready.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
They'd searched the back alleys and some of the parks without finding anything, neither speaking except to offer suggestions or directions. As they wandered down a side street, Spike mentioned the catacombs.
“What? Those creepy underground cemetery thingies?” Buffy asked. “Don't they close those after something like five in the afternoon?”
“Exactly,” Spike said. “What better hiding place than a tourist attraction after hours?”
Buffy gave him a skeptical look.
“What's the matter, Slayer? Afraid of the dark?”
“No! I'm just not a big fan of really small, enclosed spaces.”
Spike frowned. “Right. Me neither, really.”
“How about a plain old aboveground cemetery? That's where we find most of our beasties.”
“Lead on, Slayer.”
Buffy stopped walking and stared at him. “You can stop calling me that any time now.”
“Calling you what?” Spike asked, stopping too. “Slayer? That's still what you are, isn't it? Said so yourself.”
“That's not all I am, Spike, and you know it.”
“Oh right,” Spike said, settling his hands on his hips. “Forgot. You're also a bitch.”
Buffy gave him a half-smile after putting her non-sword-holding hand on her own hip. “I'm not going to hit you, Spike. No matter what you say to me.”
“What makes you think I want you to hit me, Slayer? What makes you think you could ?”
“Knock it off.”
“Make me.”
Buffy carefully crossed her arms. “Oh, this is real mature. You make big with the tauntage, I hit you, you get your point proven.”
“What point would this be?” he asked, mimicking her stance.
“That we can't communicate unless I'm hitting you!”
“No, that you can't see me as more than your punching bag.”
“That's crap, Spike. I think you're just looking for a reason to go back to Anne.”
“Move right, Buffy.”
“What?” she said, but years of experience had her moving before finishing the word. Just as she did, the demon from the previous night landed a belly flop right where she'd been standing. “Couldn't stay away, could you?” she asked it, holding her sword in both hands.
The demon looked up at both of them and then struck, ripping the sword out of Buffy's hands and nearly stabbing it into Spike's middle. Buffy knocked Spike down to avoid the blade and kicked at the demon's knees.
“Why the hell didn't you shish kabob it when you had the chance, you stupid bint!” Spike asked, rolling her off of him.
“Hey! I just saved your life, asshole! A little gratitude?”
The demon charged at them, sword first. Buffy and Spike jumped apart and it lunged between them. With a glare at Spike, Buffy pulled the dagger from her boot and stabbed it at the demon. It ducked, causing her to miss, and sliced her arm open with the sword.
“Crap!” Buffy yelled. “I loved this jacket!”
Spike grabbed the demon by the head and, after three tries, snapped its neck. It fell to the ground and he was at Buffy's side instantly. “Gotta get that wrapped up, love,” he said, gently examining her arm. The cut started at her shoulder and ended just above her elbow. “You're losing a lot of blood here.” He shrugged out of his leather jacket and button down shirt, leaving him in just his gray t-shirt, and started tearing the button down into strips.
“Spike?” Buffy said as he wrapped the strips of cloth around her arm. “Do you see spots?”
Spike looked at her face and started wrapping her arm tighter. “No, love. No spots.”
“Then, um, do you see the demon whose neck you just broke standing behind you?”
Spike swung around in time to miss being skewered by the blade in the demon's fist. Buffy grabbed the demon as it went by and sliced its arm with the dagger still in her good hand. It dropped the sword and howled. Spike scooped the sword up as Buffy kicked the demon in its midsection, sending it crashing to the pavement. At the same moment, Spike and Buffy drove their respective weapons into the demon's throat. It gurgled once and was still.
Spike pulled the sword out and sliced the demon's head off. “Just to be sure,” he said. He kicked the head far away from the body. He picked his coat up off the ground and put it on.
Buffy examined her arm. The bleeding had slowed quite a bit, but it throbbed. “I did not like that thing,” she said.
“Didn't like us much either,” Spike replied, coming to stand next to her. “Should get that checked out, Buffy. Get stitches and whatnot.”
“I'll be fine.”
“Always are, aren't you?” Spike said.
“Okay, Mr. Passive-aggressive, enough with the cheap shots. We talk this out here and now.”
“In an alley with dead demon bits at our feet?” Spike gestured at the body, which was decomposing really quickly. “Smelly dead demon bits at that.”
Buffy poked him in the chest. “Did you ever stop to think that the problem here isn't me, it's you?”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah! You're the one with all the issues! You're issue-fied. I basically throw myself at your booted feet after finally figuring out that yeah, I can see fat grandbabies in the offing with you—in theory at least—and all you can do is toss the past in my face!” She took a step closer and he dropped the sword to the pavement with a loud clang. “I can't think around you. I don't know what the hell you want from me! I don't think you know what the hell you want from me.”
“I want you to say it.” His voice was so soft, Buffy almost has to ask him to repeat himself.
“Say what ?” she asked. “Haven't I said everything already?”
“No. Really haven't.”
Buffy really looked into his blue, blue eyes and saw it all—his pain, confusion, fear. He was afraid of her. Or afraid of what she might say—or not say. And then she knew what he wanted—needed—to hear.
“That night we were together,” she said, “when the gang kicked me out of the house—you told me. You said the words. But I never really said them back, did I?”
Spike was frozen, watching her.
She took a deep breath. “I'm sorry, Spike. So sorry. For the way I used you to feel something and then pushed you away when I did. I hurt you…” She swallowed hard, trying not to cry. “And then you left and I—really wasn't expecting that. And when you came back, I used you some more, but in a different way.” He was so still. “I think… I think you're afraid to believe me—to believe I love you, am in love with you—because you think I'll use you again and hurt you some more. But Spike…” She gently touched his cheek. “I won't. I swear to you I won't.”
“Want to believe you,” he said.
“You can.” She waited, knowing it would be so unwise to do anything more. Spike made a move toward her, lifting his hand as if to touch her. But he dropped his arm to his side and stepped back again.
“If you won't let me take you to a hospital, at least let's get back to your flat so we can look at that cut,” he said.
Buffy blinked quickly, trying to stop tears from filling her eyes. He didn't believe her. And why should he? She was the queen of mixed signals when it came to Spike. Still, understanding his hesitation didn't make her feel any better.
She cleared her throat. “Right. The cut. Grab the sword, will you?” She leaned over the demon's corpse and pulled the dagger out of its neck. She tried to wipe the gore off it on the pavement before sticking it back in her boot. Then she straightened up, emotions again under control, and gestured with her head toward home. “Let's go then,” she said. Spike nodded and they started down the street.
When they got to her apartment building, Buffy touched his shoulder, stopping him. “Spike,” she said, “is there any point to me still trying with you? Are you giving me a chance here or are you really just looking for a reason not to give me a chance?”
He smiled then and ran his thumb across her cheek before tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Let's figure this out inside, yeah?” he said. Buffy nodded and let him take the lead up the stairs.
When they got to her floor, Buffy paused to dig her key out of her jacket pocket. She found it and looked up, nearly running into Spike's back. He'd come to a dead stop in front of her.
“Spike?” she asked. Buffy moved around him to see what he was looking at. When she saw the blonde standing at her apartment door, she froze as well.
“Anne?” Spike said.
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