A/N: This story picks
up right after Entropy,
so obviously the Spike/Buffy part of Seeing Red did not take place for
the purposes of this story...but otherwise, just assume that everything
else from the end of Season Six happened just as in canon, with the
exception of Spike going to get his soul...Hopefully I'll fill in some
gaps and feel free to ask about it if something doesn't make
sense...and
if it's not a part of the mystery I'll do my best to *make* it make
sense! J
59. Ask Me
Buffy was standing in the kitchen, making a
token effort at washing the few dishes from breakfast that morning, but
mostly trying not to listen in on Dawn's telephone conversation from
the next room -- and trying not to cry because it was Dawn on the phone
and not her.
She knew that she would never be able to repair her relationship with
Spike -- if one could even call it a relationship, after the nightmare
of complicated, painful drama it had consisted of -- if she did not
just get her nerve up and talk to him. But it was harder than she had
ever thought it would be, knowing that she had so much to make up for
to him -- and *not* knowing if he would grant her the opportunity.
"So," she heard Dawn's voice suddenly growing nearer, in motion, and
turned with the dishrag in her hand to see her little sister standing
in the kitchen doorway, surveying her skeptically as she talked to
Spike. "If there's -- nothing else you wanted to talk about right now
-- I guess I -- kinda need to do homework."
She raised her eyebrows expectantly as she met her sister's eyes and
continued to talk into the phone, "Yeah, I know, right? It totally
sucks. I don't see why the monks couldn't have made me Buffy's
incredibly brilliant, college graduate *older* sister, instead of
making me suffer through the inhuman torture that is high school. And
on a Hellmouth, too."
Buffy realized immediately what Dawn was doing -- giving her one last
chance before she hung up the phone, to do what she should have done
weeks ago -- to take that phone from her hand and break the awkward
silence between herself and Spike, a silence that could be felt by both
of them, even across the miles.
Dawn laughed at something Spike had said in response to her words, an
impatient tap of her foot beginning as she gave her sister a pointed
look of exasperation.
Buffy bit her lip, frowning, her eyes wide with sudden terror -- before
she spun on her heel and faced the sink again, very deliberately
picking up a plate and resuming her mundane household work.
Dawn sighed as she turned and headed back in the living room.
"Oh -- nothing," Buffy heard her say, her voice fading slightly as she
moved farther away from her. "I was just looking at this really stupid,
annoying -- math problem, and thinking how much easier it would be if
the stubborn thing could just work itself out..."
Buffy winced slightly, aware that she was the "math problem" in
question, but breathed a sigh of momentary relief as she heard her
sister say her goodbyes for the evening and hang up the phone -- relief
that was swiftly overtaken by a melancholy sense of failure and despair.
She *did* feel relief whenever Dawn hung up the phone with Spike --
because whenever she knew that her sister was talking to him, it was
like every nerve in her body was taut, prepared, ready for action that
her heart was not quite steady enough to take yet. And when Dawn hung
up the phone, there was a certain ease in the thought that the moment
had passed, and her dilemma made moot -- for the moment.
But invariably, the truth would catch up with her denial-bound mind,
reminding her that the problem was not going to go away -- not until
she dealt with it.
"I meant that, you know," Dawn stopped again in the doorway on her way
up to her room, addressing her sister's back matter-of-factly. "The
stupid, annoying, stubborn part -- and I wasn't talking about math."
Buffy's jaw set with irritation, and she did not turn around, refusing
to acknowledge her sister's words. She was more than a little annoyed
with Dawn's attitude, and even more annoyed at the fact that she was
pretty much right -- and found it easier to ignore her completely than
to turn around and try to fight both her sister's surprisingly sound
logic, and the intense urge she felt to slap her.
Dawn let out another heavy, dramatic sigh as she turned and walked away.
And a few minutes later, as she put the last clean dish in the draining
pan, Buffy sat down at the kitchen counter, and began to cry.
*************************************
"Maybe you should just call her." Angel's voice held a defeated note --
as if he knew his words were in the best interests of the person he was
speaking to, but really, *really* had not wanted to speak them aloud.
"Are you bloody kidding me?" Spike demanded, turning on his sire with
an incredulous look, momentarily ceasing his frenetic pacing across the
floor of Angel's suite.
This had become a nightly ritual of sorts at the Hyperion, the only
variant being the precise location where it took place -- depending on
which phone Spike happened to use to call Sunnydale.
"Why should *I* call *her*, when she can't even be bothered with so
much as a question. 'How's Spike?' Would it be so hard? But, no, she
obviously wants nothing to do with me!" he snarled, his hurt and
resentment obvious in his voice, as it lowered to a mutter with his
last words, "Probably bloody well relieved to have that chapter of her
life closed for good. God knows I should be!"
"Spike -- we've had this conversation before," Angel pointed out in a
voice of patience that was strained nearly to its end. "You know that's
not true."
"See, that's the thing, Peaches," Spike reminded him, looking up at him
with a matter-of-fact expression as he finished, "No, I really don't."
"I told you, she thinks you don't want to talk to her, Spike," Angel
repeated words he had stated many times over the past month and a half
that Spike had been staying with him. "She *does* care -- but she knows
you've got a pretty good reason to be mad at her, not to forgive
her...and she's just like any other woman, Spike. She's not gonna
willingly set herself up to be rejected."
"She's *not* 'just like any other woman'."
The softly stubborn words were barely audible -- wouldn't have been at
all, to a human -- but Angel smiled secretly to himself to hear them.
Spike's feelings for the Slayer really had not changed all that much.
"No," Angel agreed, shaking his head wistfully as he turned away from
the window overlooking the lights of L.A. to face his childe. "Gotta
admit, she's not." He paused for a moment, studying Spike's taut
expression of frustration, as he moved to sit down in one of the chairs
in his living room area. "So why aren't you willing to make an effort
for her?"
Spike was silent for a long moment, his eyes closed, as he visibly
swallowed back a swell of emotion that threatened to take his control.
When he finally did answer, in a bare whisper of striking pain -- Angel
could not fault him for his words.
"Because that's all I've ever bloody well done."
Angel was silent, having no answer for that painfully true statement.
Buffy had told him enough during their own phone conversations of the
past few weeks, for him to understand that the pseudo-relationship the
Slayer had shared with his childe had been at best unhealthy, and at
worst downright abusive at times. Buffy had been falling apart -- and
Spike had willingly gone along for the ride, albeit perhaps hoping to
slow it down a bit, or even change the direction she had been taking.
But his efforts had failed, for the most part, and the wreckage of
their relationship had ended up being just as painful as the
relationship itself. Neither of the two had come out of the thing
unhurt, or innocent, Angel knew.
But he knew that Spike had never stopped trying to win Buffy's
affections.
And she had thrown his efforts back in his face, every time.
"Why shouldn't she come after *me* for once, if she really cares so
much? If she really bloody *loves* me, like she said she does..."
Spike's voice broke over the words, and he sank down in the chair
across from Angel, covering his face with his hands, as tears began to
flow again, despite his best efforts to hold them back.
"You're right," Angel said quietly, surprising himself with the words.
"You shouldn't have to always do the work in a relationship -- if you
do -- then, maybe the relationship's not worth having."
Spike looked up at him, a startled, stricken expression on his face.
And suddenly, Angel knew exactly how to play the conversation out.
"Maybe you're right," Spike conceded uncertainly, in a hollow, desolate
sort of voice. "Maybe if she -- if she's not willing to make a single
soddin' step in my direction -- maybe -- maybe it would never have
really worked, anyway..."
"Yeah -- just not meant to be," Angel agreed quietly, a soft note of
subtlety to his voice.
"I mean -- if she really loves me, you'd think she ought to show it,
yeah? Maybe do more than just say it -- *once*! If she loved me, she
would have at least asked to *talk* to me one time during the past
soddin' six weeks. If you love someone, you don't just bloody let 'em
go, like it was nothing to you, just 'cause you're too scared to do
anything. 'He's been gone for nearly two months now -- oh, well, he'll
come back if he feels like it, if he don't -- no big bloody deal'!
That's *not* how love works!" he declared, rising to his feet again.
"I agree," Angel stated calmly. "You're absolutely right."
"I did everything I could to make her love me! I lost Dru because I
couldn't get her out of my bloody head! I followed her back to that
bloody hellhole in Sunnydale, just to be near her -- granted, I planned
on killing her at the time -- but I never really would have. Loved her
even then, I did. And I did my best to show her -- soon as I knew
myself. Took action about it, even if it wasn't the best choice of
action. I'll admit chainin' her up in my crypt was a bloody stupid move
-- but at least I didn't just say it, and then stand there and wait for
her to make the soddin' next move!"
"Until now."
Spike was struck speechless by Angel's unexpected words, and he stopped
in mid-rant, staring at his sire, as understanding slowly began to dawn
on him.
"No," he objected, shaking his head emphatically. "No, it's not like
that, Peaches -- I've *done* my..."
"Do you still love her?"
Spike closed his eyes for a moment, wincing at the question, but
ignoring it as he tried to go on, "*She* needs to do *something* to..."
"*Do you still love her*?" Angel repeated, slowly and pointedly,
leaning forward in his seat to catch his childe's eye. "It's a simple
question, Spike, with a simple answer."
Cornered, Spike dropped his gaze, fresh tears welling in his eyes, as
he admitted in a whisper, "Yes."
"Then it shouldn't be about whose turn it is to move their piece next,"
Angel shook his head as he tried to make Spike see what he was saying.
"It shouldn't be about keeping score, or making someone pay. It should
be about doing whatever it takes -- *whatever* it takes -- to make it
happen."
"Don't you think I know that?" Spike nearly sobbed the words out in
frustration, tears streaking his face as he met his sire's eyes again.
"Don't you think that's what I've spent my entire existence believing
and doing -- no matter who the bloody heartless bint in question
happened to be at any given time..."
His voice trailed off, as he shook his head slowly in defeat, and
whispered, softer, "I just don't know if I can, anymore, Sire. I just
-- I'm just so..."
Angel felt his own throat close with emotion at the word that sounded
so sweet coming from his childe's lips, the word that spoke of Spike's
unconscious desire for his guidance, his support -- and he could offer
him no self-serving advice designed to keep him away from the Slayer he
still loved himself. All he could do in that moment, was what was best
for his childe.
"So what, Spike?" he asked gently, rising from his seat and moving
toward where Spike stood, very still, but trembling slightly, in a
swiftly failing effort to control his emotions. "You're just so --
what?"
As Angel reached out a hand to rest on the smaller vampire's shoulder,
Spike lowered his head, closing his eyes against his tears, as he
swallowed hard, and whispered, "Scared."
Angel could remember a time when he would have viciously mocked Spike
for that admission -- more than one time, as a matter of fact. But now,
he kept his manner gentle and understanding, as he stepped closer,
trying to get Spike to meet his eyes.
"Of what?" he asked him softly.
"Of -- of being hurt. Again," Spike admitted in a tearful whisper, his
eyes pointedly downcast. "Of going to her, and -- and finding out..."
"Finding out...?" Angel prompted after a few silent moments.
"That she -- that she didn't mean it," Spike struggled over the words,
clearly trying hard to express a sentiment that he was not sure he even
understood himself. "Or that she *did* mean it -- but she doesn't
really love me -- just thinks she does. Because how can you love
someone and do the things she did, before? How can you love someone,
and let them go through what she -- allowed to happen? How can -- how
could she -- just let all this time go by -- and not even once -- not
even *try* to...?"
After just allowing his childe to cry for a few moments, putting his
arms around him gently, Angel drew back and met Spike's eyes solemnly.
"I don't know, Spike. Those aren't questions I have the answers to --
because I'm not in her head. No one knows what Buffy's feeling, or why
-- but *Buffy*. And I'm definitely not the person to ask about the
inner workings of her mind!" He shook his head with a quiet, rueful
laugh.
"No, you're not," a clear, soft voice spoke from the doorway, startling
them both at the familiar but unexpected sound. "But I am."
As both vampires tried to get over the surprise of seeing her there,
standing in Angel's doorway -- standing as straight and proud as ever,
but with tear-filled, sorrowful eyes, and a certain brokenness to her
manner in spite of it all -- Buffy stepped slowly, cautiously, into the
room.
"So why don't you ask me?"