The Light on the Dark Side of Me
Author: Mykia
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Set the beginning of Season Three, around Anne. After Dru
kicks him out, Spike wanders aimlessly in search of focus. He receives
inspiration when he runs into the Slayer at the last place he expected
to find her—and the last place she expected to be found.
Disclaimer: I don't earn a thing from these wonderful characters.
Part Twelve
As soon as her mom mentioned that she'd invited the Scoobies for
dinner, Buffy knew it was going to be awkward, not to mention so not
what she wanted to put herself through. Rushing back into the accepting
bosom of her pals was not something she was going to do; every time she
said something to Willow or Xander right now, she felt like she had
penance to pay for all the worry she'd put them through.
They wanted her to crawl or something; beg their forgiveness for
deserting them in order to heal from her emotionally devastating
wounds. Every time she saw Willow's brand new and painted Avoidy Face,
she felt like hijacking a loud speaker and screaming that she wasn't
about to grovel. And while she lay in bed at night, Buffy spent hours
counting the ways they'd forfeited the right to condemn her for running
rather than supporting her.
They hadn't been there for her when Angel went all damage-bound. And
she understood it. Really, she did. She knew that she didn't have the
right to expect sympathy for losing her boyfriend when the monster
wearing his face had been off killing certain soulmates and pretty
fish. Her pain was less important to what Giles was feeling, or her
friends and classmates at the loss of a favoured teacher. At least, it
was less important in their eyes. In hers, it took up great chunks of
her confidence and screamed at her with pain every day that she had let
Angelus live.
They couldn't empathise with losing a lover—a friend—like Angel. They
couldn't empathise, and even now Buffy didn't think they were capable
of sympathising with her experience. She'd known it on a deeper level
of consciousness, and that's why she'd run. Why she'd ensured time
enough to start the process of healing. And now they were punishing her
for grieving. Oh, not actively, but she could feel it simmering under
all the usual banter and Xanderisms. And it was so close to the surface
that she knew she'd be facing it soon enough.
So, she just knew dinner was gonna be awkward. The real question was,
why did they agree to it? It had been their recent mission to find as
many excuses as possible to get out of quality Buffy time, so why were
they choosing now to be available? It wasn't like her mom's cooking was
that great.
Buffy found herself eyeing the candy pink phone Spike had bought for
her, considering why she would have preferred spending her night eating
food alongside him without wigging at the image of his consumption of
blood. For the first time, Buffy recognised Spike's level of emotional
maturity and realised he was the only one who had let her grieve
without condemnation. He'd understood the reason behind her
leaving—he'd just decided to appoint himself her purpose for going back.
It was beyond strange to think of a vampire as being mature, but in
this instance, Buffy could see that Spike had experienced enough
similar pain that he'd surpassed her friends in understanding. He was
her equal in this, and Buffy felt no guilt in recognising it. He was
her emotional equal and more of a friend than her alleged real friends
had not even tried to be.
While a dinner party with her friends as reluctant guests was the last
thing she could even imagine wanting, it was so of the preferable to
the party of strangers that somehow took over her house. Yet despite
the lack of respect for her mom and even her own wishes, Buffy stamped
down the irritation with Willow and Xander and tried to embark on a
good time. Right up until they decided to not partake in the goofy
funness that so wasn't her right now.
Willow stood in the Summers' living room, making googly eyes at Oz and
Buffy recognised it as the opportunity it was to try and put some of
the badness behind them. She loved Willow. It wasn't the redhead's
fault that Angelus had become Angel again after he'd melted the
barriers between the Hellmouth and actual Hell, and Buffy harboured no
resentment toward her friend. Which made her confusion over the
collective cold-shoulder even sharper. Life was going to get really old
really fast if she didn't make peace with her friends soon, and if she
could do it through this stupid party, who was Buffy to object? At
least it meant she wouldn't have to beg.
"This is large," Buffy manoeuvred slowly.
"You like?" Willow replied, her tone all with the friendliness, but her
body language giving the Ice Queen a run for her furry coats.
"Yeah. It's great." And it was. In a world where she hadn't been gone
for months with no contact, largely because she'd put a honkin' great
sword through her boyfriend's belly and sent him on a one way zap to
Hell. "I-I was just sort of hoping it would be...us."
"Sorry. What?" Willow made out like she couldn't hear, but Buffy
couldn't see any efforts to actually try. Apparently the boyfriend
she'd heard play all summer was way more interesting than the supposed
bonding session going to waste right in front of her face.
"This is amazing, but I was sort of hoping we could just hang together.
The gang."
Yup, no doubts how interested in the 'gang' Willow was. Buffy could
have been Harmony for all the attention she gave her. Hadn't she
decided she wasn't going to crawl back to them? Okay, so she'd left. So
what? Was her pain really worth so little to them? Were they that
selfish that they couldn't allow her the time she'd needed to deal?
Two steps away and Buffy envisioned the scene continuing on for months,
with Spike the only one in her corner. And strangely enough, thinking
of him gave her the courage to approach Willow head on. Marching
straight back, Buffy tapped Willow on the arm and indicated that the
redhead should follow her into the other room, all the while mentally
gearing herself up for an argument. She had no idea what was going to
fuel Willow's side of it, but she was ready, willing, and able to get
things right out into the open.
Once they'd reached the dining room, a little of the puff wheezed off
the Buffy Train of Determination. Nervousness was making her feel
dizzy, and the clenching in her belly made her want to flee rather than
hear whatever grievances the gang felt they rightly harboured against
her.
"Is everything okay?" She was officially a wimp. A gutless, little girl
wimp that couldn't face her friends and their disappointments. "You...
You seem to be avoiding me, i-in the one-on-one sense." And her
confidence flew right out the window. God, she so needed Spike to back
her up here. The weight of her pretty pink phone pressed against her as
she palmed it nervously.
"What? This isn't avoiding. See? Here you are, here I am."
That surprised tone was so fake and Buffy cringed at how awkward this
was. She could never have imagined this. Of all the hurdles she'd
thought would be in the way of her return, getting back on track with
her friends hadn't been one of them. Nerves had her fiddling with the
phone in her pocket and Buffy flipped it open and pressed buttons
almost in a daze.
"So we're cool?" <i>Please say we're cool. Even if it's a really
big, scary lie.</i>
"Way! That's why, with the party, 'cause we're all glad you're back."
Willow smiled, but she was avoiding again and looking back toward her
boyfriend and Buffy couldn't be bothered doing anymore patch work. All
the fight left her and she felt limp and dejected.
"Okay.
"Okay. Good." And she was gone. Willow beelined straight back to the
band and Buffy caressed her phone, tears biting at her throat. She
wished she could go hide in Spike's arms.
She'd already relegated the party a massive disaster as far as 'Welcome
Home, Buffy' was concerned, so encountering Xander and Cordelia in a
sloppy, kissy moment almost turned her stomach. And as her luck would
suck, Xander called attention to them as she'd tried to pass.
"Hey, Buff, uh... What are you doing?"
Because that question was just so original and filled with genuine
interest. Not. Anger was bubbling now at the resentment that, no matter
what she did, no matter how much she didn't deserve this, she was going
to be stuck in the middle of fall out anyway.
"I was just taking a break from all this wacky fun." She was so tired
and her face hurt from all the fake perkiness that had been her all
night. The need to be back in her not-so-homey home in LA was building
every time one of her friends spoke, and she had no idea how to calm
the raging swell of irritation. And why couldn't Xander even see that
she was so far from thinking anything in her house was of the wacky
fun, and take a break from being the wounded male for just a second and
help her readjust?
"Some kind of party, huh? I guess a lot of people are glad to have you
back."
Buffy could feel the insincerity like a knife in her back. She still
couldn't believe her mom hadn't burst out of the kitchen in an
inebriated frenzy, screaming at all these people to get out of her
house and stop touching her things. She was either working up to a
massive fit when they'd all gone, or she was lapsing because of the
guilt.
"It seems like people I didn't even know missed me." Her sarcasm
totally missed the mark, but she figured it was hard to concentrate
with Cordy gnawing on your neck.
A few inquiries about Giles, a reminder of the ewwwness that was
Nighthawk Xander and how it was beginning to turn Cordy on, and Buffy
had had enough. She was a stranger in her own house, wandering amongst
people that had no right to be within these familiar walls, and friends
who may have had the right but who she no longer wanted there. Not
until they could make the effort to put themselves in her shoes and cut
her some slack.
Her aimless search for some meaning in the gathering had her on the
edge of rumours—those claiming she was just out of rehab were so not
cool—but then she found herself outside the kitchen door just in time
to hear her mother tell another stranger how difficult it was to have
her daughter once again in the house.
"Having Buffy home, I-I thought it was gonna make it all better, but in
some ways, it's almost worse."
With tears in her eyes, Buffy knew one way to make it all better. No
one wanted her here. She was a dilemma that none of them knew how to
deal with. And she was different. Being on her own for months and being
forced to deal with the heaviness of her grief while supporting herself
had changed her—and she thought for the better. But everything here was
so negative when it really shouldn't have been. Giles seemed to be the
only one truly happy to have her back, and it hurt Buffy's heart to
think that it might be solely because he had his eye back on her
destiny and the aim of his job was once again on an even trail.
With a mind to retrieve her bag and quickly pack, Buffy almost jogged
past more people she didn't know but who were welcoming her back, and
clicked her door shut once she made it to her room. Thoughts of packing
disappeared the second her eyes fell on Spike, standing straight and
sexy against her window.
She didn't question the urge that had her in his arms, shedding her
tears of disappointment against his shirt. She didn't care that he'd
risked revealing his presence by visiting her when her home was filled
to the brim with people. All that mattered was that he was there when
she needed him, and it was a trend she was more than happy to accept.
"Thank you."
His arms tightened around her and Buffy decided once and for all to
ignore any new claims he might make to being evil. He may say he didn't
care, but the strength of his arms told a different story; a story that
Buffy wanted to read until her eyes closed for good. That realization
came as less of a shock than she might have expected, but within a very
short time, Spike had become the only solid thing she could depend on.
The only friend who could bear to be near her. The only presence that
could make her feel anything but hurt.
"No need to thank me. Told you I'd come." His voice was clipped with
barely repressed fury and it was the first indication that Buffy had
that his appearance wasn't so simple.
"What?" she started before pulling back and seeing the strain around
his mouth and recognizing how livid he was. "What's wrong?"
"Turn off your phone, Slayer."
Buffy flushed and reached into her pocket to snap off the signal that
had brought him to her, and wondered again at how fast he could move.
And at how automatic it had been to call for him by any means necessary
when she'd been feeling weakened and uncomfortable.
"Oops. Sorry."
He kissed her fiercely and Buffy forgot what she'd been running to her
room for in the first place. Forgot everything until the music from
downstairs broke through and reminded her of her original plan, and she
pulled away. All this kissage was playing havoc with her emotions and
Buffy realised she'd have to take time out soon to assess what exactly
it was that she was doing.
"I want to leave with you." She licked her lips and ducked her head,
suddenly shy in the face of asking a vampire if she could come be his
live-in-buddy. "I mean, is that okay? Can I stay with you for a while?"
The relief Buffy felt at his smirk was profound and her shoulders
sagged.
"You mean, we live together, save the world together?" He tilted his
head, looking at Buffy's frantic nod while he contemplated the idea.
"Sure. Sounds bloody brilliant. Not to mention convenient."
<i>Convenient?</i> She so hoped he was referring to the
world saveage with that remark.
"Okay, good. Thanks." And then she was a whir of supernatural speed and
action, snatching out her bag from under the bed and loading it up with
freshly piled clothing. Buffy nearly fell over her feet as she saw
Spike sifting through her underwear drawer, his hands filled with
multi-coloured lace and cotton. "What are you doing?" she squeaked,
embarrassed as he held up a scanty piece of nothing that she often wore
as a bra.
"Saving you time by helping you pack. Put some backbone into it before
I go down there and rip the heads off all your supposed friends." The
amber was flashing in his eyes, but Spike remained gentle on her
underwear. He shoved handful upon handful into the inside pockets of
his duster and Buffy's face flamed even hotter. There was no stopping
the internal movies that had her naked, freshly showered and searching
those pockets while his duster remained on his back.
"O-okay." That husky, breathy compliance meant nothing. Really.
Before she could zip her bag shut, Willow was behind her and the guilt
that she shouldn't be feeling surged up and brought the emotions back
full force.
"You're leaving again?"
Buffy flinched at the look of betrayal, but her hurt weighed heavier.
If Willow didn't want her to feel so unwelcome that she chose to move
on, she should have been more...well, welcoming, just for starters.
"What, you just stopped by for your lint brush and now you're ready to
go?"
"Now, there's an idea. You got one of those, Slayer? No matter what I
do, my tees always get fluff on them. You'd think I'd be safe with an
all dark wash." Spike stepped into the limelight and a feral growl of
satisfaction rumbled in his throat. His fangs were itching to slice
into the neck of this one, and it had nothing to do with hunger and
everything to do with vengeance. He'd worked hard to get Buffy to want
to come home, and now these idiots were doing everything to remind her
why she couldn't have stayed and played out her grief for losing her
wanker boyfriend the old-fashioned way. Making his life Hell.
"Spike?"
Her eep of terror was satisfying, and even Buffy's tears stemmed the
flow for a little before starting up again.
"The one and only. Now, if you don't mind, the Slayer and I have
somewhere to be."
She ignored him, even though her heart was pounding hard in her chest.
"You brought Spike home with you? You're with Spike now?"
What words were there to get her out of this situation? Buffy felt
herself succumbing to a panic attack. She'd been caught leaving, and
now everyone would know that she'd chosen to leave with Spike. At least
no one had seen that kiss or him stuffing his coat with her underwear.
"You wouldn't understand," was all she had. But it was the truth.
Nothing she could say about this would be comprehensible for any of
them. Oh, Giles might have tried, but she was pretty sure he was still
freshly wounded and unreasonable on the whole 'vampires kill people'
gig.
"You know, sure, this would take a lot of effort to understand, I admit
that. But you could have tried me. Maybe I don't even need to
understand. Maybe I...I just need you to talk to me."
"How could I talk to you when you were avoiding me?"
"This isn't easy, Buffy! I know you're going through stuff, but... so
am I."
She knew it was unfair, but Buffy had nothing left in her to care about
hearing her friend's pain. She had great gaping Angel holeage in her
heart and she was only just beginning to sew it shut—and strangely with
the help of Spike's presence and his kisses. He'd given her meaning
each and every day she'd woken up breathing, the sun shining, and him
just being there. For her.
And world saveage.
"I know that you were worried about me, but—"
"No! I don't just mean that. I mean, my life! You know? I, um... I'm
having all sorts of... I'm dating, I'm having serious dating with a werewolf, a-and I'm studying
witchcraft and killing vampires, and I didn't have anyone to talk to
about all this scary life stuff. And you were my best friend." The
tears did it. Willow's sobs and tears broke Buffy's resolve to defend
herself and she felt the guilt leak into all the cracks in her
self-esteem and sting.
"Boo-bloody-hoo. Do you have any idea how self-centred you are?"
Both girls looked at Spike in shock, Willow flinching at his obvious
disgust while Buffy couldn't help stare at him as if he were her
saviour.
"So you're dating a werewolf. Has he gone all shaggy the morning after?
Has he told you how worthless you are in bed? Has he been out killing
your friends? Have you put a whopping big sword through his gut and
waved him off, all soul-having, as he got sucked into the great gaping
maw of Hell? Have you watched him die knowing that your friends
couldn't be bothered telling you that he'd possibly be getting his soul
back beforehand?"
Willow slumped against the door in devastated shock. "Buffy?" She shook
her head, an argument obviously going on behind closed doors as she
tried to resolve the pressure of Spike's words. "But...I told Xander. He
said he caught you before you went inside. He was supposed to tell you."
"I guess he forgot that part when he told me to kick Angelus's ass."
Buffy was shaking, new and sudden fury making her fists clench and
unclench, but before she could release any of the tension, her mom was
in her face and just as accusatory and ignorant as Willow had been. And
still her panties were bunched up in Spike's pocket. The knowledge was
the only thing that kept her from losing it completely and screaming
all the way to a straight-jacket.
"What is this? Is this some sort of a joke?"
Spike stood back and watched how easily these humans could become
unglued, but he kept his arms folded and tried to hold his tongue,
suspecting the Slayer would be happier if he stayed out of this
meltdown. It wasn't easy, though. Not by a long shot. He'd overheard
all the slights and the things that had been hurtful and his first
thought as he'd raced over to save her was how much he'd enjoy seeing
the exact shade of their blood. His rage had calmed only slightly as he
waited for her in her room, but as they piled up their arguments
against her again, he wondered if they had even one tiny clue how
bloody grateful they should be he'd convinced her to come back at all.
Right now he had half a mind to take her back to LA. Tossers were
emotionally manipulative to the last and needed a lesson or two in
humility.
"Mom, please, could you, could you just—"
"No, Buffy. I can't just. What is this?"
"She was running away again."
Spike really wanted to snap the little redhead's neck, but before he
could give into that overwhelming impulse, he stepped up behind Buffy
and took her hand and grabbed her bag. There was no point arguing the
point. He'd take her away, put her up for the night, and then when
everything had settled, he'd bring her back to talk sense with her mom.
Though Joyce was heading to the top of his list of revenge munchables.
He settled for glaring at Red as he tugged on Buffy's hand.
"No, I wasn't." Buffy looked at her hand in Spike's almost in a daze.
Her eyes were blurred, her feet were cold, and things were very much
out of control. "I'm not sure."
"Well, you better <b>get</b> sure and explain yourself
right away! If you think you can just take off any time you feel
like..."
Spike wasn't listening to any more. Buffy babbled behind him, hardly
knowing what she was saying in an effort to both explain herself and
please everyone, but he'd had enough. She was the Slayer. She shouldn't
have to explain herself to anyone. She provided a world for these
people to live in, breathe in, sleep in.
"Just bloody fuck off, the lot of you."
And then they reached the downstairs.
TBC