LEAVING
Set mid-Season 6
Thanks to Francis for beta-ing
Feedback- would love it!
Premise- what Spike might have done?
*****
"Spike!" Buffy bolted upright, heart
pounding. As she recognized her surroundings, her breathing and heart rate
gradually returned to normal, but the feeling of danger and dread did not go
away.
"OK, it was only a
dream. I'm fine, Spike's fine, nothing to worry about....." Even as she said
these reassuring things to herself, Buffy was pulling on sweat pants and a shirt
and looking for her shoes. Moving quietly in the hall so as not to wake
Dawn and Willow, she slipped down stairs and out the door, her feet
automatically taking the shortest route to the cemetery. As she
walked, she chided herself for being foolish and losing much needed sleep just
because she dreamed something was wrong with Spike, "who", she
reminded herself, "is perfectly capable of taking care of himself".
Her feet however, continued toward the familiar stone building with the heavy
door.
As she approached,
she noticed a car parked out front. It was the old Desoto that Spike had
come to Sunnydale in - but it didn't belong in the cemetery, and certainly not
in front of his crypt. Sure that her premonition of danger had been right,
she began moving faster. Her pace increasing with her sense of unease, she
ran to the door and burst in. Only to find the blond vampire calmly putting
clothes in a well-used duffle bag. He looked up at her and cocked an
inquisitive eyebrow, "To what do I owe this visit,
Slayer?"
"Spike, are
you OK? I dreamed....I mean , I thought..........." , her voice trailed off as
she took in the scene - two bags by the door and the one half-filled one in his
hand.
"What are you
doing?"
"What does it look
like, Slayer? I'm moving on. Isn't that what you told me to do?"
"You're leaving?" Disbelief and dismay flickered across her face as she
waited for his reply.
"You
don't really expect me to stay here indefinitely, hoping you will change
your mind about us, do you?"
The automatic "there is no us" died on her lips as she realized he was
serious. "Uh, no, no, of course not. No reason you should." she said
quickly, all the time thinking, "Yes, I thought you
would. You can't be leaving? leaving
me?".
"It's the right
thing to do - get out of your way, let you go on with your
life"
"Oh, yes,
absolutely", she nodded vigorously, totally unaware that her eyes were
filling with tears.
"But..."
"But?"
"But, you weren't
going to tell me? To say good-bye?"
"I thought we already did that, Slayer. I remember it pretty
well. You were very
clear".
"But, but,
well..... Dawn! Dawn! She'll be devastated. You can't leave without
saying good-bye to her". This in a tone of voice that suggested she had
solved a serious problem, while still unaware of the tears that now began
to roll down her cheeks.
Spike rolled his eyes and turned his gaze to the ceiling, refusing
to look at her, "Oh, now don't start that on
me".
"Start
what?"
"What you're
doing"
Still unaware and
confused, Buffy stammered out, "I'm not doing anything. I just
think....you need to..... I mean, You can't leave Dawn." she said
firmly. "She counts on you, she lo-likes you, you can't leave her (me,
you can't leave me). They all left, they all leave, no one ever says
'good-bye' they just leave."
Spike stopped poking black tee-shirts into his bag and looked at her
with a puzzled expression, "Who leaves: who left? What are you talking
about?"
"A-Angel", (growl from Spike),
"Riley". (eye roll), "Giles, my dad - they all left me-us - they left
us. Dawn gets very
upset."
"Dawn gets
upset?"
"Yes, she
gets upset, she cries. You - you promised m-her you'd never leave
us-her."
"Well, that was
then and this is now, isn't it?" (My God, Slayer, do you really think
I want to leave? Are you fucking blind?) "Why should I
stay?" (Give me a reason, Buffy, please give me a reason)
Desperate blue eyes stared into tear-filled green ones - willing her to say what
he needed to hear; but she remained silent even as tears soaked her face
unnoticed and unwiped.
The
staring contest from opposite sides of the room was suddenly interrupted by the
abrupt arrival of Willow and Xander; both very out-of-breath. They wore
worried expressions and Xander was holding a large
ax.
"Buffy! Are you OK?
What happened? What did he do to you?" Willow managed to get out between gasps
of air.
"What? What did who
do to me? What are you doing
here?"
"Spike. What did he do to
you? Xander asked. "Willow heard you say 'Spike' and then you were
gone"
"He didn't do
anything to me. Why do you
think....."
Xander turned
to Spike, raising the ax menacingly, "What did you do to her? Why is she
crying?"
"Who's
crying? Is somebody crying? Is it Dawn?", Buffy quickly
scanned the room looking for someone who might be crying. The other three
all turned to stare at her.
So softly they could barely hear him, Spike whispered, "You don't
even know you're doing it, do you? Your body knows how you feel and you
still won't believe it".
"My
body knows? Knows what? Leave my body out of
this!"
"That's right, dead
boy, Buffy's body is not your
concern"
Ignoring Xander,
Spike waited expectantly for Buffy to respond, but when she didn't he shrugged
and turned away. "Right, then, I'll just be going
...."
"NO!"
Xander
and Willlow exchanged glances, "No? What do you mean,
no?"
Moving toward Spike
and raising the ax again, Xander said quickly, "Why don't I just
dust him right now, Save someone else the trouble". As he swung the
ax toward Spike's head, a small angry blond leaped between the ax and Spike,
pushing it to one side and falling against him.
"Jesus Christ, Buffy! What are you doing? I almost killed
you"
Spike grabbed the off
balance Buffy and pushed her away growling out, "Easy. love, I can handle
the wanker".
"Bring it on,
Dead Boy, bring it on".
Willow and Buffy simultaneously turned to hiss, "Xander,
shut up".
"All right, color me
confused. Spike dead, Spike leaving, what's not to like about
this?"
"He, he has to see
Dawn. Dawn won't want him to leave", Buffy said, locking eyes with him again.
Breaking the staring contest Spike turned
away.
"You can tell her
good-bye for me, Slayer. Tell her I'm sorry. The niblet just isn't a good enough
reason to stay"
Having
forgotten he was told to shut up, Xander threw back his shoulders and snarled at
Spike, "Well, it's about time you realized there is no other reason...ow!
What was that for, Willow?"
Buffy stared at his back, tears still flowing. He turned to
look at her and said, "No, I guess there isn't..." They locked
eyes again, his hard stare challenging her to speak up, to tell them how
she felt, but Buffy just stood mute and miserable.
Willow, who had been watching the interaction of the
last several minutes with dawning comprehension, formed an "O" with her
mouth, then grabbed Xander by the arm, "Xander, come on, we don't need to be
here".
"I want to be sure
he leaves"
"Xander, let's
go. NOW!" She pulled him with her toward the door and out into the night,
leaving Spike and Buffy looking at each other. After several
seconds, Buffy took a deep breath and turned
away.
The eyes that were
looking at her so intently turned cold and hard as the angry vampire
snarled, "Still not willing to give up that image, huh? Can't have the
Scoobies thinking Buffy isn't perfect. That she
....."
"That she what? That
another man is leaving her? That she can't even keep a neutered demon
around, let alone a real man?" (Oh God, why
did I say that? I'm sorry, I'm
sorry).
"Oh, right, 'real
men' have done so well by you. Replacing a neutered demon should be
easy"
"I can
handle it. I'm used to it. Go ahead, leave
me!"
I thought it was Dawn
I was leaving..?"
"That's
what I meant, leaving Dawn, leaving... leaving us.... " the tears were now
accompanied by gulping sobs, but the stubborn look on her face dared him to
notice or comment on it.
Shaking his
head, he let out an unneeded breath and said softly, " I need to go,
Buffy. If I wasn't already dead, living like this would kill me. I
just can't do it anymore. I'll let you know where I am when I get settled - in
case you need me"
Picking up
his bags, he opened the door and started out to the car.
"Spike?" Buffy said
tremulously.
He
stoped, but didn't turn around, "What?"
"Nothing, I just.....I..... you.....be
care.....don't.....(don't let anything happen to you, don't get
killed) ....wear your seat
belt".
With a sad,
half-smile on his face he continued out the door, "Yeah, I love you too, Slayer"
, not caring if she could hear his whisper or not. It was hard
to know if she did, as she was now on the floor and sobbing out loud for the
first time that night.
He threw the bags in the old car and got in . For a minute or two he
just sat there, engine idling; then with a muttered curse, slammed the car into
gear and pulled away from the crypt, spraying grass and gravel behind him.
The old Desoto roared through Sunnydale and out into the desert. Gradually
it slowed more and more until it was finally sitting, idling again, in the
middle of the road. Inside the car, the steering wheel was suffering
serious abuse as he pounded it with his fists. Along with the assault on
the steering wheel there was a serious bout of name-calling and cursing along
the lines of, "idiot, wanker, fucking idiot, bitch, wussy, whipped git"
.
When he had worn
himself out, he sat quietly for a minute then, sighing, turned the car around
and headed back the way he came.
He pulled the car back up behind the crypt
where it couldn't be seen in the daylight and stepped out quietly. As he
approached the door to the crypt, he found a fledgling vamp coming from the
newer part of the graveyard. Both could hear a high-pitched keening sound
like something was in terrible
pain.
"What is that?" Spike asked
conversationally.
"Don't know,
but something sounds hurt. Should be fun".
Spike dusted the fledging without slowing down or looking at him - all
his attention focused on the door and the sounds coming from it. His stomach
clenched (please, let her be all right, let her be OK). He stood in
the doorway long enough to see that the sound was coming from a doubled-over
Buffy, rocking back and forth, clutching her knees and repeating over and over,
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, don't leave me, don't leave
me".
As soon as he
realized she was not really hurt (except by you, asshole, wanker,
stupid git), he ran to her, picked her up and folded her against his
chest. "It's OK, love, I'm here, I'm here. Stop crying. Please
stop, it hurts me so much when you hurt". For several minutes they stood
still, her arms around his waist, his enfolding her as though to shelter her
from the world.
Choking back her
slowly drying tears, she looked up at him and demanded, "Then how
could you do that to me? What if I had waited till tomorrow to see if you were
OK? I wouldn't have known what happened to you, I wouldn't have known if
you were alive or dead". She began to pound on his chest with her little
fists. Not serious, Slayer punches, but frustrated, hurting girl
punches.
"I am
dead, love, remember? Dead, evil thing, demon, etc." He extended his arms and
pushed her away from his chest.
Buffy shook her head, "No, not dead, never dead to
me".
She leaned back in his arms
and looked up at the face she had grown so accustomed to that she sometimes
forgot to notice how beautiful it was. Reaching up with her hand, she
touched one of those knife-sharp cheekbones and gently slid her finger down his
cheek to the corner of his mouth. (The mouth that she remembered doing so
many wonderful things.....)
He smiled
down at her and gently tucked behind her ear a piece of hair that had stuck to
the dried tears on her face. Red-eyed, tearstained, dirty, he thought she
was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen (softness and strength, fierceness
and gentleness, all in the same beautiful package).
"Well,
Slayer, what do we do now? I, apparently, can't leave you - 10
miles was as far as I could go - and you, apparently, don't like it if I
do. And don't hand me any crap about 'Dawn needs you', either," he
growled, fixing her with a glare that would have frightened anyone
else.
Sighing heavily, Buffy
studied the buttons on his shirt intently for several seconds before raising her
gaze to his face. " Don't suppose I can convince you I was crying because I
stubbed my toe?" she muttered as she peered up at him from under wet eyelashes.
"On something really, really
hard?"
Up went the
eyebrow - making a verbal response unnecessary, although his murmured,
"Not a chance, love", drove the point home.
"Didn't
think so, but it was worth a shot", she shrugged and smiled up at
him. As she moved her shoulders, she realized that they were still holding
each other by the arms and suddenly she was very conscious of the feel of his
body close to hers, his scent, the way her body was responding to his
nearness, even as she tried to step back and put some distance between
them. Glancing up to see if he had noticed, Buffy could tell by the change
in his expression that he (as always, she reminded herself) knew before she did
how she was reacting to his touch. The look he gave her was no less loving than
before, but along with the love was that predatory lust that had made it so
impossible to resist him for those four months they were together so often and
so secretly. Suddenly she was very aware of the feel of his hands on her
arms, even as they pulled her close and slipped around behind her
back.
She remembered those
hands, remembered what they could do, how they felt on her body. Without
realizing she was doing it, she found herself caressing his biceps and sliding
her arms up around his neck. "Buffy", he breathed as his face neared hers
and his mouth (oh, she knew that mouth) came closer and closer. With
a start of surprise, she understood he was waiting for permission to kiss
her. Even as she felt his body (she remembered that body - all hard muscle
and smooth, cool skin) responding to her increased heartbeat and breathing, he
wouldn't touch her until he knew it was what she wanted. Standing on her
toes, she pulled his face down to hers and surrendered to the kiss she was just
realizing she had been craving for months. She felt her body mold itself
to his, remembering how perfectly they fit together, feeling the softness of his
mouth on hers, his gentle, then demanding hands moving around her body, the
proof of his lust pressing hard against her leg. "Oh God, Buffy, I've
missed you so much" . His mouth slid down to the hollow of her neck and
his tongue ran across her collarbone and back up her shoulders to her ear.
With a sense of infinite relief, she allowed herself to feel and enjoy all the
whispered endearments that she used to try so hard to ignore when she was trying
to convince herself he couldn't/didn't love
her.
Pulling herself
out of his embrace reluctantly, she took his hand and led him toward the door.
"Come on," she said softly.
"Where are we going?"
"Home, Spike. We're going home".
the end
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