Title: Blue Eyed Devil Author: Pattyanne snapkik@yahoo.com Disclaimer: None of the BtVS characters belong to me. Feedback: Love some, thanks! Rating: Up to NC-17 Summary: AU. Spike Devlin is the lead singer for the band 'Blue Eyed Devil'. Buffy Summers is the local preschool teacher he falls in love with shortly before leaving for a nationwide tour. AN: Thank you to Jennifer for recommending the beautiful song, 'Sunday Morning'. Part twenty-eight... After a solid fifteen minute cry, Buffy managed to plug up the waterworks and think straight. Her throat and her head were both aching savagely, and she climbed the stairs to head for the bathroom and her giant economy sized bottle of aspirin. She shook three of the tablets into the cupped palm of her hand, rinsed out a plastic cup sitting on the counter, and swallowed the medication. Then, taking a deep breath, she looked at herself in the mirror. It was just as bad as she'd feared. Her eyes were swollen and shot through with red, and her skin was pasty and sick looking. Running a sink full of cold water, she washed her face, then reached for a towel and patted it dry. She still looked like hell. It wasn't the crying...it was the misery that went along with it. Spike was gone. And who knew if he'd EVER come back now? The fact that he'd been behaving like an ass didn't make his loss any easier to bear. Buffy didn't care about being right...she cared about being with him. And she'd only had a few precious days left. Now, even that small amount of happiness had been brutally jerked out of her hands by her own capriciousness. The whole thing had been so stupidly unnecessary in the first place. And over Riley, of all people! She liked him well enough, as a friend, but she wouldn't have cried for him if he suddenly up and left town. She wouldn't have spent a lick of time wondering if he was coming back...or when...or what he was doing while he was gone. She loved Spike Devlin. She would cry a river on the day he would be leaving and every day after that, she was sure. And she would miss him. Painfully. Horribly. Yet, if she'd been given the choice again, she wouldn't have done anything different. The heart ache would be worth all the joy that came before it. How had something so wonderful gone so terribly wrong? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Wandering her house aimlessly again brought her back downstairs to the living room. She straightened up the mess they'd left it in last night, replacing the cushions on the sofa and tossing out the remaining donuts from Krispy Kreme. She never wanted to see another one of those things again. The rain was still coming down in sheets, and when she looked out the side window she cold see small rivers running down the sides of the street towards the storm drains, filling and clogging them with dead leaves and other debris. She cranked up the fireplace to dispel some of the gloomy chill, then flicked on the stereo. His voice filled the small room. "Sunday morning rain is falling Steal some covers, share some skin Clouds are shrouding us in moments unforgettable You twist to fit the mold that I am in..." Although she wanted badly to turn it off, she couldn't make herself hit the button. He'd surprised her with the CD last night, pulling it out of his jacket pocket and slipping it into the player behind her back. It was Blue Eyed Devil's first CD, and only three or four of the songs on it were well known at this point. Not including the one she heard now.... "But things just get so crazy, living life is hard to do And I would gladly hit the road, get up and go If I knew....that someday it would lead me back to you That someday it would lead me back to you..." The lyrics were hauntingly perfect for her current situation, and his voice was entrancing. The longer she listened, the harder it was getting to swallow the pain that threatened to strangle her by massing in her throat. "That may be all I need In darkness she is all I see Come and rest your bones with me Driving slow on Sunday morning And I never want to leave..." Sadly prophetic words. He would be leaving. Regardless of whether or not he wanted to...he would be leaving. In four days. Buffy shut her eyes tightly to stave off another crying jag. All this weeping wasn't helping matters. But then again, nothing else was helping, either. "Fingers trace your every outline Paint a picture with my hands Back and forth we sway, like branches in a storm Change the weather Still together when it ends..." But they weren't together. And this was the time above all others that they SHOULD be. The end was closing in on them rapidly enough as it was. Now, the process had been cruelly accelerated. "But things just get so crazy, living life gets hard to do Sunday morning rain is falling and I'm calling out to you Singing someday, it'll bring me back to you Find a way to bring myself home to you.." A moment of clarity made itself known to her when she heard the last few lines of the song he was seemingly singing to her. "Of course he'll come back," she said out loud, drying her newly moistened cheeks on the back of her hand. "He loves me." God...how faithless she had been. How completely and utterly faithless to think for a moment that he would simply walk away from her forever come Thursday morning. Spike would come back to her...or at least he would have if she had not started that stupid 'thing' that she had started. So what if he was jealous and possessive. Was SHE any less so? Didn't the thought of him with another woman bother her? Although she was not the worldliest woman in town by any means, she was perfectly aware of the sorts of things that happened when popular bands went on tour...the drunken and reckless behavior...the parties that lasted until sun up....the girls that followed them from town to town, wait- ing for a chance to get into bed with a rock star. Andy had made the comment about the girls in the audience throwing their underpants onto the stage. Spike had instantly denied it, but Buffy suspected it wasn't an altogether unknown phenomena. Spike would be out in the world, experiencing all the temptations his music and male beauty would throw into his path, while she would remain behind. How he would react was.... "Oh, god..." Laying one hand across her mouth, Buffy sank down on the sofa. Was THAT the devil that had prodded her into starting their altercation? Had she been subconsciously testing him? Maybe. But for what purpose? What in the world had she hoped to accomplish with such a thing? Trying to find out if he loved her as much as he claimed...or trying to gather ammunition to protect her heart and salve her pride by saying "I knew I could never really trust him" when it all blew up in her face? "And you may not know That may be all I need In darkness, she is all I see Come and rest your bones with me Driving slow on Sunday morning And I never want to leave..." She had to fix this! Before it snowballed into something neither of them could control. First, she would need to find him. No...first she would have to make herself look a little less like warmed over death. Then...she would go looking for him and bring him back. She didn't care anymore about who had done right and who had done wrong. Pride meant less than nothing when your heart was so totally on the line. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Buffy showered and applied a little make up in record time. She pulled on a heavy sweater and a pair of faded jeans, then zipped her feet up into her boots. Barely pausing to skim a brush through her hair, she grabbed a jacket and ran downstairs. After a frantic five minute delay to search for her car keys, she located them and shoved them into her jacket pocket. She flung open the front door, then stopped dead in her tracks when she saw who was standing on the bottom step of the porch. "Spike...!!?" "I'm sorry." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Never had Buffy seen anyone so thoroughly drenched. He seemed to be bleeding water from every pore on his body. How had he gotten so wet walking from his car to the front porch? "How long...how long have you been standing out here in the rain?" "Well, actually...I never left," he admitted. "I got as far as my car and then...Buffy, I'm sorry." He looked at her with his heart in his eyes. "I'm so sorry." Her heart thudded against her ribs as she reached out one hand and took his, pulling him out of the downpour. Unable to articulate any response to his apology, she became practical instead. "Take these wet things off," she ordered him, yanking at his jacket, "before you get sick and can't sing a note." "Buffy...please..." She dropped the jacket on the entry way floor, then began tugging on his t-shirt. "I can put all this stuff in the dryer. Except for the jacket, I mean." The t-shirt joined the jacket on the floor, and she moved to unbuckle his belt. "I can get you some towels...or...or maybe you should go and take a hot shower. I could make you some...." "Buffy!" He caught her trembling hands and held them in his grasp. "Please...look at me, baby." She bit her lower lip and slowly allowed her eyes to travel upwards from their fixed position in the middle of his chest. "Please...tell me that you still love me," he begged. "Tell me I haven't fucked everything up beyond hope." She shook her head, "Spike..." "I'll do anything," he inserted quickly, obviously fearing that she was about to shut him down for good. "Anything." Looking up at him, she could only think of one thing that she wanted. "Kiss me," she whispered. "That's all you need to do right now." The worry began to fade from his expressive eyes as a slow smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. Once again, the world...their world...enveloped them in warmth and love, all it's sharp edges softened. Even the rain began to fall more gently when they came together. TBC..... (Hmmm. Mr. Devlin has some making up to do, doesn't he?)