Chapter 11
Buffy found it very
disconcerting that her friends had accepted Spike into her life so easily. No
one had questioned the fast courtship or the fact that he moved in with her.
Willow and Xander welcomed him instantly into their group. She almost felt like
the outsider with how easily Spike got along with everyone. Even Oz got along
with him, coming over with Xander to watch sports on the big screen television.
The two American men getting enamored with world "football" as the
days went on. Willow came over and spent quality time with her friend, knowing
that once the baby came, her time would be cut short.
As it got closer to Willow’s
delivery date, Buffy started to go over to Willow’s apartment while the men
went over to hers. She painted a mural of a park and children playing in the
nursery. Willow absolutely loved it. Spike would come over to fetch Buffy after
the game was done, dropping Oz off in the process and peaking into the baby’s
new room.
Willow grew bigger and
bigger, ending up taking maternity leave two weeks early because she couldn’t
walk from the car to her office. With Spike’s transportation help, Buffy stayed
most of the day with Willow, keeping her company.
Buffy was fixing Willow
a fruit salad when she came into the kitchen with her hand over her expansive
belly, panting. Buffy looked up from the cutting board and saw the flushed
color on the redhead’s cheeks. "Willow, what’s wrong?"
"Buffy," pant,
"I think…," more breathing, "my-water-just-broke." Willow
doubled over in pain as her labor pains hit her.
"Oh my God!"
The large knife dropped to the floor as Buffy hopped up and down. "Are you
sure?" Buffy twirled around, looking for something, not quite sure what.
Breathing through the
pain, Willow finally felt the contraction loosen. "Yeah, kind of think
that little trickle going down my leg isn't the tons of water I've had to
drink." Willow winced at the harshness of her words, but Buffy was too
busy hopping up and down and looking around the counter to notice.
"Okay calm down,
easy slow breaths. Okay where's the...the thing." she made gestures with
her hands, "Oh the whatchmacallit. Shit, Willow the..." Willow stopped
her and held up the phone.
"You mean the
telephone?" Buffy stopped her impression of a dog chasing its own tail and
looked at the phone in Willow’s hands.
"Yes," Buffy
looked up at the ceiling, thanking God, "Yes, the phone, okay call Oz,
tell him you’re in labor and to meet us at the hospital." Willow shook her
head at her friend; sometimes she could act as the stereotypical blond. A few
short minutes later, Buffy was running to the car, keys in hand. She hopped in
and started the engine. It didn’t matter that she didn’t have a license, Willow
needed to get to the hospital and Super Buffy could get her there. She put the
car in drive and gunned the engine, only to realize Willow was still hobbling
down the walk. Buffy slammed on the brakes and put the car in reverse, coming
back for Willow. Buffy hopped out, opening the passenger door for Willow,
helping her get in. "Hurry, hurry, hurry!" Willow shot her a look
that could have made Atilla the Hun piss in his pants.
"Sorry but that
marathon I ran this morning took a bit out of me. Oh, my bag… it’s in the
closet." Willow looked at Buffy as she sat in the car.
Realization dawned on
Buffy and she ran back into the house to grab the bag. Somehow, they made it to
the hospital in one piece, despite the erratic untrained driving of Buffy.
~*~*~
Spike walked into the
maternity ward, carrying a vase full of white roses for the new mom. Buffy had
finally called him an hour ago, letting him know about Willow and her new baby
girl, Tara. Oz got to the hospital an hour before Willow actually gave birth,
amazed that she went through only four hours of painful contraction to only
have to push a total of three minutes before Tara popped out.
Spike walked into room
405 to encounter a vision of beauty. Sitting in a rocker, Buffy held a pink
bundle, rocking back and forth in her arms. The tiny red face peaked through
the cloth and wailed when she saw his shocking white hair. Buffy shifted the
bundle in her arms, quietly shushing the baby. She looked up, smiled at Spike
when she saw the flowers. She indicated for him to put them on the bedside
table, next to a sleeping Willow. Spike came over to her and bent down to peer
into the blanket. "Well, hello there, little poppet."
Buffy smiled and cuddled
the bundle closer, "Meet Tara Rachel." She moved her arm down, so
Tara’s face popped out more towards Spike. He looked down at the vision; Buffy
smiling gently at the baby, talking in soft whispers, taking care of this
miracle. Madonna and child. Tears threatened to escape Spike’s eyes as he
watched the woman he was falling in love with, so far beyond the lust he first
felt all those months ago. She cradled the baby back in her embrace, comforting
the baby as her mother slept.
Chapter 12
Spike refrained from any
kind of sexual contact with Buffy, including kisses, no matter how tempted he
was at night as he held her body next to his. He knew he pushed far beyond any
normal boundaries that first night, letting his jealousy gain control over his
body, creating an uncrossable chasm between them. She seemed receptive of his
presence once again, not shying away from his accidental brushes, or of being
in the same room as him. She started laughing at his jokes, genuine laughter,
not the fake chuckles she used to force out when they were around her friends.
Spike thought that they seemed to turn a corner and their relationship was of
friendship instead of forced hostility.
Entertaining the idea
that he might have something more with Buffy, Spike made reservations at a nice
restaurant. Buffy needed to get her mind off of her mother. Joyce’s health had
declined since he first met her. She slept during most of their visits. Even
the paintings Buffy brought stopped giving Joyce joy. Spike knew the end was
near and instinctively wanted to protect Buffy from the pain, but he knew he
couldn’t shield her forever.
~*~*~
The dinner was
delightfully romantic, Spike being the perfect gentleman. Buffy enjoyed the
food, the atmosphere, and even the company. They walked up to the apartment arm
in arm, not even realizing the comfortable pose they held. Spike lighted
candles on the mantle as they watched the late night news. Spike sat on the
couch, letting Buffy lean into his frame as she fell asleep. He sat there through
Jay Leno’s Tonight Show, but finally had to admit that he had to wake Buffy up
to go to bed. He moved forward, letting her body slump down into the cushions.
He looked at her sweet face, so regretful of the circumstances that brought him
into her life, yet so thankful for them, too. Not being able to control himself
anymore, Spike leaned his lips against hers, enjoying the warm pliant lips
against his. She woke up with a start, feeling his unfamiliar, cool lips on
hers. She looked up into his eyes. Surprised green met lustful blue and the
connection was made. Buffy moved forward, and let her lips brush against his.
It was his turn to be surprised. His eyes turned to midnight blue when he saw
no malice, no hatred, nothing but lust and friendship shining back at him.
Could it be more than just lust? Spike pushed his thoughts out of his mind,
willing to take what she would give him. He picked her up, letting her drape
her legs over his forearm and arms around his neck. He carried her into their
bedroom and laid her down. She moved quickly and caught his arm as he turned
around. He looked back at her, seeing her fingers slowly unbutton her blouse.
With trembling hands, she reached out for him. He sat down, next to her,
watching her shrug off her blouse and unzip her skirt. Standing before him clad
in bra, panties, garter belt and stockings, Buffy breathed in slowly not
knowing what else to do. She began to move her hands over her body, suddenly
embarrassed at her brazenness. Spike reached out, stopping her arms. He looked
soulfully into her eyes, silently thanking God of the gift he was about to
receive. His fingers found her hips and rested there. His head came forward to
lean on her small abdomen. He felt her shake and kissed her belly button,
reassuring her.
Slowly, his fingers
moved down her thighs and reached for the clasp of her garter belt. Unlatching
each tiny clasp, he reverently worshiped her body. Spike dragged her silky
stockings down her legs, trailing his fingers across her uncovered skin. She hissed
as he tickled behind her knee, caressing the soft skin. She stepped out of the
stockings, letting Spike look at her. This was more of a gift for herself than
for him. She felt so sexy and loved tonight that she wanted it to continue.
Spike took off the garter belt, his eyes roaming over her scantily clad body.
She smiled down, encouraging him to continue. He reached for her again, only to
stop a few millimeters away from her bare belly, savoring the electricity
flowing from her body to his. She watched Spike withdraw from her, only to see
him start taking off his shirt; she was glad he changed when they got home and
she didn’t have to sit through him taking off his whole suit. He revealed his
toned body, letting her eyes wander over his skin. He proudly sat on the bed
while she stared at him.
Spike took her hand and
gently pulled her closer, her knees hitting the mattress between his jean clad
legs. His hands flew behind her, reeling her even closer. His cool fingers
danced up her spine, finding the clasp of her bra. The straps fell first
because she held the cups. He smiled knowingly and carefully moved her hands
way, letting the lingerie fall to the ground. Her rosy nipples stood out from
the brown areolas. He felt her falter, once again. He made eye contact and
brought his face closer to her body, not looking away as he made contact with
her breast. He slowly sucked in the nipple, running his tongue around it,
making her moan. He paid similar attention to her other breast, all without
loosing eye contact. His fingers found the edge of her lace panties, drawing
them down her legs as he sucked on her breasts. She moved out of them,
straddling his hips as she climbed onto the bed. He twisted his body, letting
her fall down to the mattress, laying her pliant body out for him to gaze at.
He noticed her breathing increased and a rosy tinge to her skin, feeling proud
knowing he created it. Spike stood up and quickly divesting of his jeans, he
got back onto the bed. His erection pressed tightly against Buffy’s leg as he
moved closer. Holding her like a prized doll, Spike began to kiss her. First he
met her lips, sucking on her lower lip and making her moan. He trailed down her
cheek to her neck. Inhaling her scent, he licked and nipped at the tender skin,
letting his lips acquaint themselves with her skin.
His hands were not idle
while he made love to her face with his mouth. They caressed, pinched, and
touched every part he could reach. She mewled with pleasure as his finger wound
in her soft curly hair, probing to find a prize. She widened her legs, allowing
him access to her treasure. His hips found themselves pressing up against hers,
ready to connect. He looked into her shiny eyes, knowing she was there with
him. He grasped his long cock, positioning at her entrance. In one smooth
motion, Spike seated himself in her warmth. Her tight channel clenched at the
invasion. He kissed her lips, letting his tongue probe inside her mouth. He
felt her body relax, not only did her tongue play with his, but he felt her muscles
relax around him, letting him move in and out smoothly. He set a slow pace,
letting her body become accustomed to his love making.
He watched the emotions
cross Buffy’s face, the wonderment and pleasure carrying him through it. Her
back arched off the bed, moaning his name. He smiled, knowing she gave herself
to him, allowing him to love her. He felt his heart swell in love for her. He
drove into her two more times, finally succumbing to his own pleasure. He
rested a bit, still connected inside her. Slowly, realizing that he probably
was crushing her, Spike moved out of her and off of her. He gathered her body
into his arms, feeling her own arms wrap around him and they went to sleep.
The next day Buffy got
up early to skate in the morning and opened the shop at noon. Spike dropped her
off at the gallery ten minutes until noon, wishing her a good day and headed
off to his own office.
Buffy set her belongings
in the back, ready to unlock the doors when the answering machine caught her
attention. She grabbed a pad of paper and pressed play, thinking it was a
customer. "Yes, this is Gladys Mayer from the Sunnydale Rehabilitation
Center. I need to get in contact with Buffy Summers."
With her heart thumping,
instinctively knowing it was her mother, she dialed the number, preparing
herself for the inevitable news. "This is Buffy Summers, I got a call from
Gladys Mayer."
A few clicks whirled in
Buffy’s ear when she finally was connected. "Gladys here, may I help
you?"
"Yes, I’m Buffy
Summers, I believe you called?"
"Oh… yes dear… I’m
sorry to say…" Buffy’s eyes closed, her suspicions were confirmed.
"She’s gone?"
"I’m terribly sorry
dear. She never woke up this morning." Tears ran unchecked down Buffy’s
face. The nurse rattled off some information that Buffy didn’t hear. Her knees
weakened, leaving Buffy sobbing on the cold floor. She should call someone.
Willow? Hank? Spike? Dawn? The phone lay at her side, beeping from the
disconnection. Without much thought, Buffy dialed Dawn’s cell phone number.
Buffy didn’t have to say anything, Dawn knew. She could tell by Buffy’s voice.
The day was much of a
blur, Buffy had no idea what was going on or who was with her. All she knew was
her mother was gone and she was free. The pain of her mother’s death was surprisingly
not painful. Buffy knew it was inevitable and saw it coming closer. The only
pain she had was to lose her best friend, never again able to go visit her,
talk to her, comb Joyce’s thinning hair. The heartbreak Buffy was feeling
wasn’t directly related to her mother, it was because of Spike. Last night’s
revelation that she loved him, truly loved him, broke her heart because she
knew she what she had to do. Their relationship was based on something wrong,
unnatural.
Sometime during the day,
Dawn called Spike, only to find out that he was in a meeting. She left a
message with Harmony that it was a family emergency, but by the time Spike came
out of the meeting, Harmony was gone. He had no idea what he was walking into
when he opened the door to the gallery. It was quite a shock to see Oz holding
little Tara in the front room, rocking her asleep. Oz’s normally impassive face
was twisted with sadness. Spike sprinted into the back, passing Xander on his
way. Spike stepped in the normally warm work room to find almost all the ladies
in his life sitting on the couch, huddled in a hug. Dawn and Willow flanked
Buffy’s suddenly miniscule frame. Buffy peaked through a gap between Willow and
Dawn to see him fall to his knees, tears running down his face, almost like how
she first collapsed. She got up and went over to him. Kneeling on the floor,
she took his shaking body to hers, trying to give the comfort that she knew he
needed. Buffy knew he had been visiting Joyce without her, getting to know her,
making her time pass faster. Willow and Dawn left the two lovers, embraced on
the floor, alone.
The sunset as the moon
rose and Spike held Buffy to his chest. Her breathing was slow and deep,
indicating her sleep. Tears still ran down Spike’s face, he was quite fond of
the older Summers’ woman. Doubt littered his mind, knowing that she could pull
away from him again. Their agreement was based on sparing Joyce’s feelings and
now that her feelings were inconsequential, would Buffy find him
inconsequential?
~*~ ~*
The day of Joyce’s
funeral was so bright and cheery, such a contradiction to the feelings of the
few guests surrounding the grave, watching as a white casket got lowered into
the ground. Spike held Buffy as she wept for her mother’s life. Willow, Oz, and
Tara stood behind them, tying to give Buffy the support she desperately needed.
Xander stood with some people from the skating association Buffy belonged to.
Dawn stood next to Buffy, weeping for the mother she never had and the one she
did have and rejected. Hank held his obligatory husband spot on the other side
of the casket appropriately sullen and stoic. When he showed up, Spike felt
Buffy’s body stiffen automatically. He watched Hank through half closed eyes,
directing Buffy away from him.
Roses flew through the
air, hitting the ground that swallowed Joyce’s still body and people turned
their back, retreating to their inner sanctums. Spike continued to hold Buffy,
letting her pay tribute her mother. Hank walked up behind them knowing this
would probably be the last time he would have a chance to talk to Buffy.
"Buffy." Her body stiffened into a board. Spike looked over his
shoulder at Hank, glaring. "I’m sorry… she was very special."
Slowly, Buffy turned her
body. Spike saw the fire flaming from the sadness, "Don’t." Buffy
held her chin held. "You have no idea how special she IS." Without
another word, Buffy strode towards Spike’s car, waiting for him. Dawn already
had taken up residence in the backseat.
After a couple minutes,
Buffy hazard a glance at the two men that were talking animatedly. Spike shook
his finger and stood menacingly in front of Hank. She couldn’t hear their
words, but knew it was about Buffy. She watched Hank say something nasty, she
could tell by the way his mouth formed the words. She knew all to well the
scathing words that that mouth could form. She saw Spike tense his jaw and
strike. His fist flew so fast, Buffy didn’t even have time to register it
before Hank was on the ground, clutching his jaw. Spike bended down close to
Hank and said a few words. Then, he got up like nothing happened and walked to
the car.
Back at their apartment,
Buffy bandaged Spike’s knuckles in the bathroom. She noticed on the drive back
that they became purple with tiny cuts marring his normally smooth skin. She
ushered him past Dawn, Willow, Oz, Tara, and Xander to fix them. She didn’t ask
what the argument was about, and he didn’t offer her any explanation. He sat
patiently on the toilet and let her fuss over him, reminding him of the first
time he met Joyce and the way Buffy fussed over her. Tears flowed between the
two in the tiny bathroom, ignoring the food and guests in the other room only
to cling to the other.
Food in the
refrigerator, guests long gone, and their thoughts and doubts hidden left the
apartment’s tenants quiet. Buffy fell asleep once again in Spike’s warm
embrace, wondering what would come tomorrow and how she would handle it.
Chapter 14
Sitting over at the
dining table with a mug of coffee and the paper, Spike watched Buffy move
around. She didn’t get up early to train. Her brushes were dry. Spike was
worried. She took Joyce’s death so gracefully. Never screaming at the
injustice, the insanity, only tears of sorrow and love. As it got closer to
noon, Buffy watched Spike. He showed no signs of going to work, she shouldn’t
question it because she showed no signs of going back to her life. He caught
her staring at him, "I’m not going to work today, kitten."
She looked shocked,
"I thought… the big merger…" Buffy didn’t want him to put his life on
hold for her necessities.
"Can wait,
pet." Spike walked up to Buffy, holding his arms wide. She stepped closer,
into his embrace. His head tilted down, burying itself in her fragrant hair.
She let his embrace warm
her bones and then pulled away slowly, "No, you go. I’ll be fine
here."
Spike looked down into
her green eyes, nodding. He wrapped her back into his embrace and stood there
for a minute, drinking in her comfort and pouring out his.
~*~*~
Spike climbed the
apartment stairs, wearily. He unlocked the door, opening and getting into the
dark chamber. Spike didn’t notice the loss of warmth in the apartment nor the
lack of noise that usually came from Buffy. He went into the kitchen and made
himself a drink, slowly looking over the mail. He sat quietly, unwinding from
the countless phone calls he had today when it suddenly hit him. Buffy was not
in the apartment. He looked at the clock, it was past eight, too late to be at
the gallery. He moved quickly through the apartment, first to their room and
then to her work room… it was empty. The painting supplies long gone from the
shelves, canvases wrapped up and taken. He went back into their room and opened
the drawers… empty. She had left.
Sitting on the couch,
the one he bought for her, Spike sunk down into the cushions. She went through
with her threat. Once her mother was out of the picture she would allow her
father to fry in hell for his transgression and let Spike fry along with him.
Four months later…
Buffy strolled down the
sandy beach in a pair of white linen Capri pants, a yellow t-shirt, and white
zip up sweatshirt. The sun popped out from beneath the clouds, warming the cool
air. She walked up to a large flat rock and sat down with her sketchbook.
Gliding her hand across the paper, Buffy recorded the beauty that was early
morning in the Bodega Bay area. The cool breeze rustled the trees around Buffy
as she continued to sketch the blue waters and green pastures. Her golden hair,
now tinted slightly darker whipped around her face, making the daily excursion
come to an end. She walked back the way she came, not disturbing the beach’s
natural residents as she made her way back to her rental house, owned by her
mother’s brother, Rupert Giles. She idly wondered why her uncle would own such
property, surrounded by similarly large, worn houses that sold for more than
half a million dollars. He was a kind man that couldn’t stand Hank Summers from
the very beginning, and she knew he would not tell anyone of her whereabouts.
He acted as her liaison to her customers and friends, allowing Dawn to go to
school and not worry about the art shop. She didn’t want to put Willow or
Xander in danger of loosing their jobs by staying loyal to her friendship so she
stayed out of contact with them.
She kept her lease of
her apartment, knowing she would eventually come back to it. Her uncle had told
her of an angry, bleach blond man looking for her, inquiring her location.
Evidently Hank had given Rupert’s name as a possible association to her. He had
sent her a few letters, but she had not opened them, she send them back to her
uncle, untouched. A few orders for paintings came in, giving her a necessary
income. Every time she sent something to Sunnydale, Buffy would smile sweetly
at the old postman, asking him to smear the location stamp. She had received
several requests from Spike, through his company for paintings and she accepted
the order. She knew he was trying any angle to get in touch with her, but she
stayed hidden. She finished the paintings, having Rupert deliver them. Spike
knew she was okay, he spent enough time studying her other paintings to know
her work and he knew that what was delivered was indeed her work.
The days melted
together, giving Buffy much needed time and space to grieve. She spent the
mornings on inspirational hikes and the afternoons at the local ice rink. She
trained harder than ever, recovering the loss of time and strength the attack
cost her. She built up her stamina and ankle strength, affording new and
different jumps and twists in her program.
She learned how to drive
and got her license. The money she was paid from the sale of her art paid for a
used car, giving her a mobility she never had. She drove down to the harbor,
and up the coast. She watched the whales migrate from their mating waters to
their birthing places, amazed at how elegant those large creatures could be.
She painted a large 4 by 4 foot mural of a particularly large gray whale,
coming up for air. His body came out of the water, revealing his forty-foot
frame, dwarfing the other marine mammals around. It was her favorite painting
by far. She felt like the whale’s large eye saw into her soul, searching for
it.
~*~*~
Spike sat in his office,
drinking his stash of whiskey away. It’s been five and a half months since she
disappeared. The painting on his wall told him that she was alive and doing all
right. Her strokes were clean and precise, accurate to a fault, creating an
illusion of a sunrise through a corporate window. He knew she painted it for
him, knew she knew morning was his favorite time of the day. It was when he
held her without question and inhaled her essence. Even now, when she’s gone,
he still held her in his dreams. Lying still and quiet on the bed, enjoying her
warm skin against his. But it all was an illusion, just like her painting.
The sound a knocking
broke through Spike’s muddled thoughts, he looked up to see Xander Harris
standing in the doorframe to the office. "What do you want, whelp?"
"Are you drunk
without me?" Xander walked into the room. Through the past months, the two
men had gotten close in Buffy’s absence. They bonded over drinks at the local
bar and became good friends. Spike even let Xander in on the little deal they
had pertaining to her father. Xander was amazed that Buffy would go along with
such a thing until Spike explained about her mother. Xander sat down in one of
the chairs opposite of Spike’s desk.
"What’s it to
you?" Spike slurred. He poured another three fingers of whiskey into his
glass and gulped it down.
"Nothing, man…
just… what would you do if she walked through that door, and saw you like
this?" Spike looked at the door, hoping that she would walk through the
door. "Relax, she ain’t here. But, if she would, you wouldn’t be earning
any points with her."
"Well, she ain’t
here and she’s not going to be. She left. Left the apartment, left the shop,
left me."
"I would’ve leave
you too, if you acted this way."
Spike’s blue eyes flared
with anger. Turning his gaze on Xander, they narrowed, "What did you say,
wanker?"
"I said that you
are being a royal pain in the ass and I don’t blame her for leaving."
Spike stood up and stalked over to Xander. Xander stood up, ready for him.
"Mind repeating
that?"
"You," Xander
pushed a finger into Spike’s chest, "Are," another push,
"Being," Spike growled, "A," Xander ignored the warning and
continued to poke him, "Pain in the ass."
Spike pulled his fist
back, "Don’t want to hurt you, whelp."
"Whatever, Spike.
The point is, if she happens to come by again you are in no condition to get
her back." Xander backed away, heading to the door.
"She isn’t going to
come back." Spike’s voice sounded suddenly sobered.
Xander turned around,
"Are you sure about that?" Xander walked out of the room, leaving
Spike to contemplate what he’d said.