Here’s the second part of my fic. Part three is on its way.
The door flew open before he could touch the handle. Buffy stood on the other side, her eyes large in her pale face and her chin wobbling slightly. He stared at her frozen form, drinking her in, before she launched herself at him. He grabbed her in a fierce hug, tightening his arms around her and burying his face in her neck.
The last six weeks had been the longest of his life.
“Buffy,” he moaned. He heard her give a shaky laugh.
“You’re back,” she said, giving him a wide, stupid grin. He thought she’d never looked more beautiful. “Of course you’re back,” she added, rolling her eyes and smiling ruefully.
“You got my message I was on my way?”
“Yeah.” She narrowed her eyes a bit at him. “Nice of you to keep in touch while you were gone. I was about to come out there and mount a rescue operation. Because Angel? The suckiest liar ever.”
“Don’t I know it,” he muttered, and she flashed him another grin before looking at his thin coat with concern.
“God, you’re freezing,” she said, grabbing his hands and rubbing them between hers. “It’s supposed to snow. I was hoping you’d make it back tonight. Dawn’s in town visiting, and I got a tree… mmmph!”
She broke off with a grunt as Spike swooped in and dropped a firm kiss on her mouth. He squeezed her fingers as she deepened the kiss, tilting her head to nuzzle her nose against him. God, they fit together so perfectly. He pulled away and smiled softly at her.
“You look good.”
“I feel good,” she said quietly. “Not perfect, but… good. Especially good now that you’re here. I had some time to think about some things while you were gone. I guess I’ve got a few things to tell you.” She looked nervous, and he felt his heart clench in his chest. “Maybe the hall isn’t the best place…?”
She was about to lead him into the apartment when he grabbed her and pulled her into another desperate kiss. She gave a gasp of surprise that he quickly swallowed, cradling her head tenderly between her hands. This is it. She’s going to find out, and you’ll lose her. It’s all over.
Buffy held him tightly as if she sensed his sudden despair, and after a moment she pulled back with a frown.
“Hey,” she said softly, stepping back to look at him. “It’s okay. You’re home now.” She took his left hand and started rubbing it absentmindedly again. “You’re still so cold,” she said. “You should get warmed up before you…” Her eyes suddenly grew large, and she took a step back, dropping his hand.
Oh God. She knows.
“Buffy,” he said desperately, reaching for her as she backed slowly into the apartment. “It’s not what you…”
“What did you do?” Her voice was low and dangerous, and he shivered at the dead look in her eyes.
“I have some things to tell you too,” he said, trying to stay calm. “Please, let me just talk to you for a few minutes. If you want, I’ll go away when I’m finished. You won’t have to see me again.”
Buffy was shaking her head frantically, tears trembling on her eyelashes. “No. No. Oh my God.” She covered her mouth with her hand, swallowing back a sob. “You think I’d want you to leave? Spike, what did you do?“
“Please, Buffy.” He spoke roughly past the lump in his throat. He knew he was begging, but he didn’t know what else to do. All of his carefully prepared explanations had completely disappeared from his mind. “It’s me. You know me.” In his misery, he could do no more than hold out his hand, silently pleading with her to take it. “Buffy,” he whispered fiercely, “you know me.”
After a frozen moment, Buffy stepped back out through the doorway and raised her hand to his, lacing their fingers together. She studied his face carefully for a long minute, blinking tears away. “I see you,” she said, giving him a crooked smile. She stepped away and stiffened her back, all business. “Okay, we’ll talk.”
She walked into the apartment, then turned back to him with a raised eyebrow. Her face crumpled slightly when he merely winced apologetically instead of following her in. “You need to be invited in, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question, and she didn’t bother to look up for his nod. “Come in, Spike.”
The inside of the flat was as warm and cozy as it had looked from the outside. Buffy had indeed put up a tree, a rather bedraggled looking affair festooned with mismatched ornaments. He recognized one of them, a cheap and tacky plastic statuette of Count Chocula that he’d given her for a gag gift last Christmas. Buffy perched herself stiffly on the sofa across from the fireplace, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. Spike hesitated before sitting down gingerly next to her. They sat in silence for a long minute before Buffy stirred restlessly.
“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, staring at the fire. Her eyes widened, and she turned to Spike. “Did Angel… oh my God, did Angel do this? I’m going to kill him!”
Spike burst out into a sobbing laugh. Buffy looked at him as if he had gone crazy.
“It was…it was the bloody Powers,” Spike wheezed. Buffy’s mouth dropped open, and he sobered quickly. “It was my choice.”
Buffy leaned against the far side of the sofa, staring at the fire again. “Tell me,” she said quietly.
And so Spike told her everything. He told her of the link to the Conduit that Angel had given him. He told her of how, in his rage and pain, he’d dared to threaten the Powers that Be. And he told her of the bargain he’d made.
He moved to kneel in front of her, but she still wouldn’t look at him. She sat curled in on herself, her face crumpled and awash in tears. Reaching up, he gently ran his thumb over her cheek until she gave a choked sob and grabbed his hand.
“It was an exchange.” His voice was no steadier than hers, and he cleared his throat before going on. “Don’t know if you’ve ever noticed this, but they’re not big on giving anything away for free. I asked for a miracle… and they wanted one back. They undid the prophecy, and in return they gave me what I asked for.”
Spike dug into his pocket and removed the precious vial he’d been carrying. He dropped it into Buffy’s hand, curling her fingers around it.
“It’ll make you what you were,” he said. “No more curse, no more poison. You’ll be the Slayer again.” He squeezed the hand that held the vial. “I made my choice, and I’d do it again. No regrets, yeah? This is yours, to do with what you want. If you want to throw it away? We’ll never speak of it again. It’s your decision now, love.”
Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/7972.html
