Chapter 17
Spike was starting to notice several interesting things about Buffy. The first discovery was that she absolutely loved; no, that wasn’t quite the right word. She had an unhealthy obsession with cheese. They’d gone to the supermarket three weeks ago and she’d selected seven different kinds. Seven! He was sure they’d go to waste but she managed to eat them all within a week. Seven kinds of cheese. Another mystery was that while no discussion had been made about her moving in since the one time he’d asked, that his bathroom was acquiring more and more of her products, including a box of tampons that were currently housed on the back of the toilet. Not only that, but he almost broke his neck one night on his way to the kitchen when he tripped over her boots that were lying in the middle of the floor. They’d both skated around the issue, but Spike was waiting for the day that her towels and photographs made their way over. It was coming soon, he felt it. Not that he minded.
Buffy also hummed to herself when she painted her nails. He’d ask her what song she was thinking about and she’d always reply, “I wasn’t singing.” But she was. She was! He also noted, with a straining bulge in his jeans, that she constantly moisturized. Every morning and every evening, she had a big fucking bottle of lotion tucked between her knees, pumping away at it as she rubbed her skin down. She took thirty minutes to blow dry her hair, five to get dressed. Unfortunately, he wasn’t allowed to watch the last process.
Which brought up the more uncomfortable things he’d noticed in the past three weeks. There had been absolutely no sex of any kind. None. Not even a little how-do-you-do with the hand or even some over-the-clothing heavy petting. She’d kiss him chastely every night before bed, maybe she’d snuggle up to him, but that was as far as it went. The thing was, Spike understood that she was going through something rather traumatic and that it would take her some time to heal. He got that, he did. But what infuriated him was the fact that she’d done nothing to seek the help she obviously needed. He loved having her around, but she hadn’t left his loft since his gallery showing except to get a few things from her apartment or the grocery store. She hadn’t been working either and it was starting to piss him off. She was better than that, better than sitting around on the sofa all day eating cheese and painting her nails and doing absolutely nothing. So, if she was speaking with someone, if she’d made the effort to get some help, the lack of sex wouldn’t have been a problem because she’d be well on her way, right? He’d done everything he could think of. He’d listened to her, comforted her, he was patient and understanding. Hell, he’d even gone so far as to write down a list of therapists for her to call. Had she called any of them? No. Would she talk to him about it? No!
But she sure as hell walked around his loft wearing nothing but a pair of knickers and a t-shirt all the damn time and swatted his hands away if he ever tried to touch her. And it wasn’t like he was being unseemly or lascivious. He was her boyfriend and he loved her and that’s what boyfriends did. They touched. He’d walk up behind her, wrap his arms around her waist and kiss her neck and her body would tense up and she’d wriggle away from him. Spike bit his tongue every time. Every single bloody time. It made him feel like a leper, like some deviant who was trying to take advantage and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like feeling as if there was something wrong with him for wanting her. And it had to end. If he couldn’t even touch her, why the hell was she slowly moving in with him? If he made her feel uncomfortable, if she was constantly trying to keep away from him…why had she not gone back to her place? It didn’t make any sense and it wasn’t fair at all. She could at least kiss him with a little tongue, fuck…anything! And then…then! He felt like a pervert every time he went to the bathroom to wank off, as if he was hiding from his mum! But the knickers! And the t-shirts! She had to know what she was doing to him. Actually, he hoped she didn’t because then she’d be a right bitch if she did know.
So he made a very difficult decision, a decision that was for her own good. She was either going to get some help or she wasn’t staying with him anymore. Oh, he anticipated the fight, but she was wasting away and it was killing him to see. He wasn’t going to enable her depression anymore.
~*~*~*~
“Are you serious?!”
“Very.”
“Spike…I’m fine! I just need a little reprieve and then I’ll be right as rain in no time.”
“Luv,” Spike sighed and sat down next to Buffy on the sofa, wanting to touch her but knowing she’d reject him so he tucked his hands between his knees, “you aren’t fine. You sit around all day, watchin’ bad TV, cancelin’ your appointments, and…you won’t even talk to me anymore!”
“I talk to you! I talk to you every day!”
She was getting defensive. He knew when the eyebrows came down and her shoulders squared. “I mean about what happened, Buffy. You’ve completely withdrawn from me.”
“God, what is it with you and the details? Maybe I don’t want to talk about it, did you ever think of that? Maybe when you constantly ask me about what happened it’s actually not helping!”
So, she was turning it around on him. He swallowed. “I don’t constantly ask you about it. I asked you once last week when you were all weepy! Buffy, I know you’re not dealin’ with this and you don’t have to do this on your own! There are people who will talk to you, help you!”
“Why are you yelling at me?”
Spike sighed and stood up again, needing a large span of floor to dig his feet into. “So, you think everythin’s peachy? Just a few more days and everythin’ will be fine? Do you really believe that?”
“I’m fine now, Spike,” she said as she crossed her arms. “I think I know myself better than you do.”
“Really? You’re fine right now?”
“Yes,” she lifted her chin in the air.
“Ok then,” he smirked. “Fancy a shag in the bathroom?”
Her mouth dropped open and her cheeks went red. “Wh-what? Are you serious?”
“Yes. Dead serious. You and me, right now,” he said, lowering his voice in that familiar silken tone of his that used to drive her crazy. “I could have those knickers off in five seconds, your back to the wall and have you screaming in no time. How about it, kitten?”
She turned her head away from him and crossed her legs, kicking her foot in the air repeatedly in irritation.
He pursed his lips. “That…is how I know you’re not fine. Before this happened, all I’d have to do is look at you and you’d be ready to go. You won’t even let me touch you, Buffy! I’m goin’ out of my bloody mind here!”
“Oh, so that’s what this is about,” she said as she narrowed her eyes and huffed. “You just want sex!”
He groaned in frustration, running his hands through his hair. “No, Buffy! That’s not…look,” he calmed himself down at sat in the recliner next to her, “I want you, Buffy. Yes! Bloody hell, yes, I want you but that doesn’ mean there’s somethin’ wrong with me. Christ, I’d settle for makin’ out on the couch every once in a while, just somethin’ that lets me know I exist! I feel like you don’t even care if I’m here or not! And it’s my bloody house!”
Shit. She was crying. “I’m sorry,” she sniffled, keeping her eyes downcast. “I don’t mean to pull away from you, I just…”
“What? Tell me.” His voice was softer now, trying to coax it out of her. He hated that she was crying, but at least they were getting somewhere.
“I don’t want to be alone and being with you, just…you know, being here makes it easier. But when you touch me…I feel like my control is slipping away. That I should be the one to initiate it, you know? I-I feel like my world is caving in on me, like I don’t have any control over anything and if I just,” she paused when she started crying again. Spike remained silent. Oh, he had a million retorts, but he kept quiet. “I see him everywhere, Spike.”
Spike took a calming breath. “You’ve got to talk to someone, Buffy. If you don’t…I can’t see us having a future.” She wiped at her eyes and started to retreat so he continued, hoping she’d hear him out. “You’re going to start associating me with him, pushing me away further and I can’t deal with that. I can’t. And neither should you! I’m sorry if you don’t like that but it’s the truth. And you’re not going to like this either.” He waited for her to look him in the eyes. “Anthony Hill raped you, Buffy. He violated you, did horrible, awful things, and has ruined you for the past three weeks. How much longer are you going to let him? How much more of yourself are you going to give to that wanker?”
She inhaled sharply, but she wasn’t crying. She seemed as if…bloody hell, she was listening to him! Well, how do you like that? Oh, but now she looked kind of angry.
Buffy stood up and walked to the bathroom, closing the door loudly behind her. Spike dropped his head on the back of the sofa and sighed. He was so close! He was almost there with her and then…then, she came out of the bathroom with a determined look on her face.
“Fuck him! Fuck him and his stupid ponytail and his…ugh!” She roared, clenching her fists at her sides. “How dare he think that he could do that to me? I’m not weak!” She pointed angrily at her chest and started pacing the floor. Spike just watched in amazement. “I am a strong woman!”
“Yes you are.”
“And he’s a…a fucking bastard is what he is!”
“Yes he is!” Spike smiled with teary eyes as he watched her venting her anger before him. This was the Buffy he knew still lived inside her, the one he’d missed desperately. Even though she was pissed as all hell, that sparkle that had been missing for so long was evident in her eyes. She was in there, fighting to get out.
“I hate him! He should have his dick removed with a razor blade! Fuck, I hope you did something to his dick, Spike.”
“Stomped on it.”
“Good. Did he scream? Tell me he screamed!”
“Like a girl.”
“Good! The fucker!” She clenched and unclenched her fists as she paced the floor with hot angry tears spilling down her cheeks. “I need to break something, Spike!”
“Dishes! Put your shoes on first!” He followed her into the kitchen after she slid on her flip flops and handed her a plate. She yanked it from his grasp and chucked it to the floor with all her strength, smashing it to pieces with a cathartic scream. He held up another. It had the same fate as the first, breaking with a satisfying crash. He’d hand her every dish in his cupboards if she wanted. Three, apparently, was all it took and then she was sobbing again. He immediately pulled her against his chest and held her close, letting her get it all out. He’d never seen her cry like that before, to the point that her entire body was trembling, shaking as she took in deep, powerful breaths only to expunge them with loud, heavy sobs. She clung to him, soaked his shirt with her tears and he held on, not saying a word.
Once she’d calmed down after a long while, he tilted her head upwards, brushed her hair away from her wet cheeks and grabbed a paper towel and held it against her nose. She giggled softly and took the paper towel from him and blew, wiping her nose with it as he smiled at her.
“Feel better?”
She nodded and embraced him again, resting her cheek on his chest. “Thank you.”
“Didn’ do anythin’, pet.”
She pulled back and looked up at him. “Yes you did. Just say ‘you’re welcome’.”
He smiled softly. “Ok, then. You’re welcome.”
“I’ll make an appointment tomorrow.”
Spike sighed in relief and kissed her on the forehead, running his hands up and down her back. “I think that’s a good idea.”
She had tears in her eyes, but she smiled at him. “I miss you.”
“Miss you too, luv,” he whispered, pressing his lips against hers in gratitude. She would be ok, soon, he hoped. He’d have his Buffy back and she’d be ok. He only anticipated a small kiss and nothing more, but when he started to pull away, she held him still by the back of his head. His arms tightened around her waist and he moaned softly when her tongue swept against his lip so gently that he almost missed it. But he didn’t, and he willingly accepted the crumb she’d given him, smiling with eyes closed as he kissed her neck and hugged her. She was going to try and he’d do nothing but love her for it.
A/N: This chapter had some points that hit really close to home for me. So yes, I am pulling from past arguments I’ve had and wouldn’t you know it…it was damn cathartic. And hard…because I had to write from the male perspective on this one, but that’s actually what made this so therapeutic. Huh…interesting.