Chapter 17
January 5, 2005
I’ve been here four days longer than I’m supposed to. I’m using the money I have squirreled away in my bank account, which after what I got from Spike and my mom, is enough to sustain me for quite some time. Not that I plan to use all of it. I am thinking…
I’m thinking of heading toward Boston. For what, I’m not sure. Closure maybe. I feel like I need to face my father one last time. I can’t let him go on thinking he got the best of me. I can’t let him go on thinking he succeeded in getting rid of me. I feel like all these things are starting to come to a head now and I just need to start somewhere. God knows I can’t face Spike right now. Maybe I wasn’t meant to settle there. Maybe I was meant to work some shit out with him and then move on to find my own life. I don’t know. I don’t know where I belong; I only know where I want to belong and where I felt like I could belong. But as per usual, I was wrong and what I wanted was wrong. I hate that word. Wrong. It’s right up there with the word “No.”
And I can’t be around Spike while he’s doing whatever with Fred. I just can’t bring myself to do it. I don’t do jealousy well. At all. It’s best for him. It’s best for me.
I hate my life.
“When are you coming home?” Spike demanded.
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“That I don’t know.”
“Pet, it’s time now, huh? Don’t you think it’s time to come home?”
“No, it’s not time yet. What have you been up to?”
He sighed heavily, raking a hand through his hair. She really didn’t get how desperate he was feeling at that moment in time did she? “I’ve been working, reading, watching TV, not doing all that much really.”
“What about Fred? Have you seen her?”
“Here and there.”
“Well, why don’t you invite her over and have dinner or something?”
“Buffy… What are you doing?”
“I’m talking to you.”
“Don’t play games with me like you did with Angel,” he hissed.
“Spike–”
“When are you fucking coming home!” he shouted then, frustrated.
“I don’t know I’m going to Boston!”
“What?”
“I’ve decided to go to Boston.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think?”
“To see your father.”
“Give the boy a medal,” Buffy remarked dryly.
“Why?”
“I just feel I have to.”
“No, you don’t have to. Why are you going to put yourself through that Buffy?”
“Maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment . . . I just feel like I have to. Just one last time try and talk with him. See him. If he treats me like shit again, I’ll know.”
“Buffy…listen, all right? You want to go, fine, but let me come with you so you don’t have to do it alone.”
“That’s sweet, but no. I have to do this on my own.”
“Why?” he asked incredulously.
“I don’t know.”
“Would you stop fucking saying ‘I don’t know’?”
“Spike,” she sighed heavily. “You ever take a journey? A journey with yourself?”
“I don’t…I guess. I feel like I have been on one already.”
“Well, this is my journey, and maybe yours. You said yourself we were too dependent on each other.”
“I wish I’d never said it,” he muttered.
“And you were right. Well, this is a journey I have to take and I have to do it on my own so I can get some clarity…I don’t know what’s going to happen when I get to Boston and see him. Most likely nothing, but I have to do it. Alone.”
“That’s what this is about? You having done things for so long on your own and now that it’s been brought to your attention that you might need someone there, you don’t want to admit it and you don’t want any part of it.” He was angry and bitter and he didn’t care anymore.
“No, that’s not it at all. You were the one that told me to go in the first place so don’t start making this out to be my fault!”
“So, what? You’re punishing me now?”
“No! Spike, I just need some time to myself to see him and get some closure and I need to do it alone. I will be back. I promised you I would be and I will.”
“Yeah, next month,” he muttered. “What about your job? You have a job here, remember?”
“It was only temporary. Fire me if you see fit.”
“You’re irresponsible.”
Buffy snorted. “Funny, I don’t see it that way. When I lived in Boston, I never missed a day. I couldn’t afford to.”
“Then what do you call what you’re doing now?”
“Taking care of unfinished business that comes before my job right now, Spike. Just think—if I hadn’t come home to bury my mother and skip out on my job in Boston, you never would have been graced with my presence.”
“Buffy, honestly–”
“I have to go now.”
“Where? Where do you have go now?”
“I’m at the airport now. I’m boarding my plane. I’ll call you when I arrive if it’s not too late your time.”
“Call me no matter—“ Dial tone. “What.” With a roar of anger, Spike flung his phone across the room and it shattered.
*********
Being back in Boston was strange to Buffy. One part of her felt as though she were home in some respect, and the other part felt out of place, however, that pretty much defined her entire stay in Boston for those five years. Home, and yet, not. She felt as though since her parents had split, she had been on a constant search for where she felt completely at home. The closest she’d come to it was in Sunnydale. With Spike. With him she could be who she was: crazy, defiant, stubborn, nurturing, loving and caring. She could be all the things inside her that ached to be free and let them out once in a while, but only once in a while, for she feared that given free reign, they’d run amuck. With Spike she let those things out of their cages more and more frequently, feeling she had a jumping off point, and a safe place to land with him.
It was those things that made her care for him more than she should. Unaccustomed to using the dirty “L” word when it was not in relation to family, it felt even foreign in her mind. She felt a whole lot of it inside her, ready to spew forth and cover Spike like a warm security blanket that he’d always want and need, but would never go without. When the dam burst, she feared it would take them both under with her and there would be no return from it. Buffy could be a rather giving and passionate spirit when she felt there was someone deserving of it. So far, it had been Mr. Gordo, her one time sleep companion in the shape of stuffed pig, and now, Spike.
Which brought her to her current situation: Her father. The seeing of, and the being seen part of her trip.
Whatever the outcome was, she wondered if it’d be as life-changing as these sorts of things were supposed to be, or if she would leave, none the worse for wear, feeling as though she’d said goodbye to an old friend that she’d just caught up with, reminisced over old times, healed a few wounds left, only to think fondly back on it, and smile with only a pin prick of sadness to follow her musings.
The winters in Boston were always bitter and Buffy cursed the fact that she hadn’t thought through the weather conditions better. Thankfully, she’d arrived just before the shops were to close, and so jet-lagged and weather beaten, she purchased herself a couple pairs of jeans, socks, two sweaters, a winter coat, a hat, gloves and a scarf. Thankfully, she had at least sneakers to keep her feet warm. Tossing her light cardigan that did nothing to shield her from the cold in her suitcase; Buffy hailed a cab and had it take her to the Sheraton, the closest hotel she knew of near her father’s penthouse.
She’d check in, call Spike, try to get some sleep and tomorrow, she would see her dear old Dad.