Chapter 23
Chapter Notes: I just wanted to give a HUGE thank you to all those that are reading this, and reading AND reviewing. Thank you so very much! I love you guys! 🙂
“I can’t tell you everything, Spike,” Buffy told him sadly as he held her on his lap.
“Buffy, you can tell me anything and everything. You should know that by now,” Spike insisted, brushing some wet strands from her face, his fingers lingering around her locks longer than he knew they should, but he couldn’t stop himself.
“I had a mental collapse I think. I was thinking awful scary thoughts,” she said meeting his eyes.
His hold tightened. “Like what sort of thoughts?”
“Death. Suicide. Dying.”
“Buffy, Christ–” he shook his head. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you let me come out here? I told you to let me come out here!” He couldn’t keep the frustration out of his voice. The thought of her dead, of doing something so horrific to herself was a thought, an image in his head that he did not want. He held her even tighter.
“I know! That’s why I checked myself in here. I was convinced I was going to die one way or another, so I came here.”
“Your dad?”
She pushed off his lap and he fought the urge to reach for her, instead, he sat still, waiting for her to continue.
“He’s part of it, yes. I thought maybe some time apart, maybe he’d want me again.” God, she sounded like a lost little girl and the sound made him ache.
“I thought maybe he’d love me,” she shrugged, twisting her hands before her. “Maybe he missed me and was just too proud to call me. You know-kind of how I was too proud to call my mother? The apple doesn’t fall far from the fucking tree does it?”
“Buffy, I can’t make excuses for your father. I know it’s hard to accept and get over, but that man is an asshole.”
“Yeah I know that logically in my head. I know he is. What kind of father would treat their child the way he has?” The tears were pouring down her cheeks now. “But…but it hurts so badly, Spike. All I want is to matter. And I don’t. Not to him. I don’t matter.” And she sank to the floor, sitting cross-legged, hiding her face in her hands as she wept.
“You matter to me,” he whispered, settling across from her in the same fashion.
“It’s not just that. It’s an amalgam of things,” she told him.
“Tell me more.”
She heaved a deep sigh and stared off for a minute. “It’s just…do you know how much shit I wish I could take back?” she said, looking at him finally. “I wish I could have a do-over of the past five fucking years. I wish I could go back to that time when my Dad picked up and left for Boston and stayed to work things out with my mom like she begged me to. I have no right to be angry with her still for not telling me, for just meeting you and not even bothering to tell me. I don’t have a right to be angry with a dead woman that I can’t yell at and scream at…and whose fault is that? Mine. I should have yelled and screamed instead of just blowing her off the way I did. Should have swallowed my pride. And I’m angry. I’m angry still…everything’s just a mess in my head, and I’m so fucking tired.”
“It’s okay to be angry, Buffy; it’s okay to be angry with her. Just because someone dies doesn’t mean our feelings die with them. She should have told you. We should have told you. Forgive me, I didn’t know any better, I’d never had kids, I wasn’t thinking–”
She shook her head emphatically, “But I’ve betrayed her. I was supposed to do well. I’m supposed to be on the straight and narrow now. Make amends with you, with me, and I’ve fucked everything up further!”
“How? How have you done that?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Yes, you can. We’ve been over this,” he pressed, “You can tell me anything. In fact, I want you to. No more secrets, remember?”
“I can’t!” She yelled. She jumped up and stared down at him, “You shouldn’t have come.”
“Don’t say that,” Spike said hoarsely, standing up. Great, tears were coming again. “Why? Why did you not want to see me?”
“Its part of what I can’t tell you,” she said mournfully.
He threw up his arms in exasperation. “Buffy, for fuck’s sake…do you know how out of my mind I’ve been worrying about you?”
“You’ve been out of your mind? Look where I am!” and she gestured around her.
“I want to help–”
“You’re part of my problem so how the hell do you expect to help me?”
That was not what he was expecting. Spike froze, staring at her. “What?”
“You,” she gestured at him, arms flailing wildly about. “You’re part of my problem! You’re a big part of it! I’m not supposed to feel what I do for you and it’s all your fault for being so fucking perfect. God, why do you have to do that? Why do you have to everything I want and need? Can’t you have the decency to be an asshole like every other male I know?”
“Buffy–”
“And you are my mother’s husband. Do you have any idea how that fucks with my head? I’m not supposed to be in love with you! Here I am thinking you’re off fucking Fred and I’m jealous because I want you to be fucking me. How sick is that? What kind of daughter does that make me that I want her husband like that? That’s disgusting. As if hadn’t already made a mess of things, as if I hadn’t already hurt her enough!”
Getting up from her bed, Spike strode over to a crying Buffy and placed his hands on her elbows, tugging her to look at him.
“What?” she demanded, “What?”
“Buffy…” he began and heaved a deep sigh. This was truth-telling time. If they were ever going to heal, and heal properly, then it was time to admit those things that obviously both of them were afraid to admit. If he’d only known that all this time she’d been having similar feelings…but she’d had Angel! That she’d treated like shit, but nonetheless. He wasn’t a mind reader.
“Buffy, I’m in love with you.”