Chapter 8
Chapter Notes: WARNING: Some more angst. But you also know what’s coming, so don’t worry.
Two Days Ago in Toronto
“Your mother was such a sweet lady. We’re so sorry for your loss.”
“When I heard…I was beside myself. Are you doing ok?”
“If you ever need anything, we’re here for you.”
“I made a casserole. Just put it in the fridge for later.”
“What time is the service?”
“We just loved Anne. She always had the nicest smile.”
“So sorry for your loss.”
“We’re so sorry for your loss.”
“I made my famous spaghetti. Your mother always liked it. I’ll go put it in the kitchen for you.”
“At least she’s no longer in pain.”
“How are you holding up?”
“Do you need anything?”
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Your poor father.”
“Sometimes these things just happen.”
“She’s in a much better place now.”
“So sorry for your loss.”
“We didn’t know what to do so we made a casserole. Sometimes we just forget to eat in times like this.”
Spike sat on his father’s sofa staring into space, hordes of people chatting with one another, surrounding him, looking over at him periodically with sympathetic faces. He didn’t even know half of these people and yet, they were all so sorry for his loss. They all had something to say to him, a corning dish filled with food, and a sad expression that was supposed to make him feel better. None of it did and he wondered what the hell was wrong with his father when he opened up his home to these leeches. The ceremony was in three days, as Anne wanted it on a Sunday. So his father held a sort of vigil for her friends and family to come over and reminisce about old times while her corpse sat in the next room, dolled up like a stuffed pig for everyone to get one last look before they burned her to ash. He couldn’t go in there. He was already feeling guilty for having stayed away for so long, but at least the last time he’d seen his mother she was healthy. Or at least her cancer hadn’t gotten to the point of no return and she still had color in her cheeks. That’s how he wanted to remember her, not as some plastacene shell with a fake smile. The funeral director gave him the chills when he’d gone over the details with him. How anyone could find joy in that line of work was beyond him, but the man had serious problems.
He’d stood in the doorway at one point but that was as far as he could go. Luckily someone distracted him with some cheese-encrusted dish to put in the fridge with all the others. He hadn’t seen his father since that morning and figured he’d gone off somewhere to be alone. He snorted, again wondering why he’d even bothered with these people when all either of them wanted to do was be alone. He looked up and saw some old bat with a bad perm making a bee-line towards him and he couldn’t take it and didn’t think she’d appreciate him screaming at her so he quickly got up and went to the back yard.
As soon as the back door shut out the din behind him, he closed his eyes and inhaled the fresh air deeply, holding it for as long as he could. He exhaled and rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand and walked to the back steps, pulled out a smoke and lit it. As soon as he’d clicked his Zippo shut, he heard the loud clicking of heels on the wood patio and turned, shaking his head when he saw her.
“Thought I’d find you out here,” she said with a sly smile, leaning against the railing.
“Nancy,” he said curtly and turned away, taking a drag of his cigarette.
She walked closer, and he could feel her sizing him up. She looked exactly the same. Still had that jet black hair, razored and wild like a rock star. She was tall and thin but curvy in the right places, alabaster skin and eyes so dark they were almost black. It figured she’d come to a gathering like this wearing a red dress. She never had any tact. “Mind if I join you?”
“Suit yourself,” he said with a sigh as he sat down on the top step of the patio.
She sat down next to him carefully, trying to avoid any splinters that might snag her precious frock and after smoothing away the wrinkles in her lap she turned to him. “You look good.”
He snorted and stuck his cigarette in the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, well…feel like I got run over by a bloody train.”
Nancy rubbed his back with one long slender hand. “You doing ok?”
“If one more person asks me how I’m doing…”
Her hands lifted in submission. “Sorry. Had to ask, you know.”
“Yeah,” he took a drag, “So what are you doin’ here anyway, luv?”
“Well,” she sighed and rubbed her shins, “heard about your mom and I figured you’d be here. It’s been a long time.”
“That it has.”
“You know, those things’ll kill you.”
Spike shot her a sideways glance and took a hard drag off his cigarette.
“Sorry…bad joke,” she said warily. “I never was any good at this sort of thing.”
“I know,” he said sadly. He instantly thought about Buffy.
“I always liked your mom. She hated me, but I think I respected her for it.”
Spike chuckled and flicked his cigarette into the yard. “She warned me about birds like you.”
“Yeah,” she said nudging his shoulder with hers, “but you didn’t listen.”
“Never did listen to her,” he said softly, not even talking about them anymore. He buried his forehead on the heels of his hands and groaned. “Fuck, I hate this.”
Nancy swallowed, not used to seeing Spike in this state. He was always such a cocky bastard, all balls and swagger, which is what she liked most about him. Seeing him weak was unfamiliar, but she missed having him around and from the looks of it, he needed comfort. But when he started crying, she didn’t know what to do. She patted him awkwardly on the back and said, “Hey, don’t cry. You have to be strong, now. Don’t cry.”
Spike sniffed and raised his head, keeping his eyes closed as he counted to ten. “You’re right,” he wiped his eyes and set his jaw in a thin line.
“Come on,” she said as she stood up, “let’s go check out the grub situation.”
He nodded and followed her into his father’s house.
~*~*~*~
Nancy didn’t stay long, but gave Spike her number in case he needed to call for anything. It was weird seeing her after so many years without having her around. In some ways he was grateful she’d come, grateful to have someone to talk to that wasn’t an old friend of his mum’s, pretending to know who he was. But Nancy had an agenda that he could smell a mile away. She still wanted him, and the bitch was taking advantage, knowing his habits better than anyone. Nancy didn’t mean anything to him anymore, but she could still manipulate him like no other. He was too weak to resist at the moment.
It was then that he thought about calling Buffy, but realized he forgot to bring her number with him. He’d call when he got back to the hotel, or so he thought, but by the time he’d returned late that evening he panicked. The cleaning crew had come in and threw away Buffy’s business card. He trashed the place looking for it, cursing himself for leaving it out. Of course he didn’t know anyone who’d have her cell, and when the hotel alerted them that she had called earlier that day, he cursed Buffy for not leaving a call back number. He needed to speak to her, needed to hear her voice and now he had no way of contacting her. Maybe she’d call the next day. Needing to talk to someone, he picked up the phone and dialed the only number he had memorized and called his best friend.
~*~*~*~*~
The next morning Spike woke up bright and early. He had to go to the funeral home and have his mother cremated. He’d been going through the motions the entire day, trying to keep his head together. But by the time he went back to his father’s house to deliver the ashes, he’d lost it completely. His father wanted to split up the ashes, some for him, some for Spike. His father wasn’t even thinking as he divvied up his dead mother like a deck of cards, determined to just get it over with, dumping Spike’s share in a plastic bag and leaving the room abruptly after. Spike just stared at the bag in his hands and hadn’t realized he’d been crying until Nancy wrapped her arms around him. He didn’t even hear her come in, but there she was, trying her hardest to soothe him. But Nancy wasn’t her…Nancy wasn’t taking away the pain, try as she might.
Spike was too distraught to resist. She fished his rental car keys from his pocket and dragged him outside. Once he told her what hotel he was staying at, she started the car and drove them there. He stared at the bag in his lap, weeping. The gates had opened and he couldn’t stop if he tried. He vaguely remembered her setting the ashes on the bureau in his hotel room, and then everything else was a blur. He knew what she was doing, but a small part of him wanted the comfort, however wrong or out of place it was. She scolded him for crying and the tone she’d used brought him back to that time and place when she could do or say as she pleased, him as her willing slave. If he could just stop crying…
“It won’t bring her back, Spike,” she said with mock-concern as she stripped him of his clothing. “This is what you need,” she kissed his neck.
God, he hated her. She smelled wrong, felt odd; her hands weren’t touching him right, her words weren’t soothing him. And yet, he did nothing to protest when she removed her clothing.
“We aren’t dead,” she said silkily, “we’re alive, William. You just need to feel, baby.”
He glared at her, hating every inch of her. Despising her for belittling his grief and yet, he was grateful to her for making him feel something other than despair. He spun her around, bent her over, and violently thrust his cock inside her. She wanted him to feel something? Then she’d feel his hatred. She wanted to make him stop crying? Then he’d make her cry his name. Make her remember what she’d fucked over. She was right, he did need this.
Nancy was begging him to fuck her harder, so he slowed down. Nancy shouted his name, so he covered her mouth with his hand. Nancy wanted to come, so he pulled out and pushed her on the bed. When she finally shut up, smirking at him with that evil grin of hers, he lay down next to her and said, “I don’t love you anymore.”
“Thank god for that,” she giggled and straddled his waist. He closed his eyes and let her fuck him. It didn’t matter anymore. She didn’t matter.
~*~*~*~*~
Current Day just outside of Toronto Pearson International Airport, 8am
Buffy managed to sleep in a chair for a few hours while she waited for her flight back in New York. Of course they didn’t have an available flight right at 11pm on a Saturday evening and she had to wait until 3 in the morning for the next one out. The entire four hour flight was filled with anxiety and she couldn’t rest knowing that there was no possible way to convince the pilot to turn the plane around and take her back home. Now she was standing outside the airport, flagging down a cab and shaking her head at her spontaneous decision. Images of him and Nancy making love weren’t helping her current condition and she decided right then and there that it didn’t matter. She’d find out soon enough, find out why that idiot hadn’t called her and just who this Nancy person was.
When the cab pulled up to the Marriott, she closed her eyes and prepared herself for the worst, repeating over and over in her head that Spike was grieving and shouldn’t be held accountable for his actions. Unless he still had feelings for this person, in which case, he was going to get his ass kicked.
Remembering the hotel room number, she walked past the check-in desk and went straight to the elevators. Once she’d found his room, she knocked. No answer. She knocked again. Then she pounded repeatedly on the door, figuring he was asleep.
When the door opened, Buffy stood still, taking in the girl with the bed head who’d answered. She almost assumed she had the wrong door when she noticed that the girl was wearing Spike’s ‘Pogues’ t-shirt. “Yeah? It’s 8:30 in the fucking morning,” she said angrily.
Buffy inhaled and adjusted her purse on her shoulder. “I’m here to see Spike. Is he here?”
The girl cocked her hip out and smirked. “He’s sleeping. Kinda wore the guy out last night.”
Buffy closed her eyes. “Is he here or not?”
“Yeah, he’s here…but like I said, he’s sleeping.” Nancy started to shut the door but Buffy’s hand shot out and braced it.
“I’m coming in.”
“The hell you are,” she said puffing out her chest.
Buffy brushed past her and said with all her bravado, “That shirt looks like shit on you. Excuse me.”
Nancy was shouting something at her back, but Buffy ignored it, standing still when she saw Spike. He was already up, sitting on the side of the bed, his hands clutching the edge, eyes wide, chest heaving, looking shocked as hell that she was there. He waited for her to say something, but she just stood there with that disappointed expression.
“Can you give us a moment,” she said to Nancy.
“Whatever, I’m taking a shower.” She turned around and went into the bathroom.
Buffy turned back to Spike who was still staring at her as if she might hit him. “Well. You really cashed in that free pass, huh?”
He lowered his head and closed his eyes. “I’m…I’m sorry.”
Buffy sighed and walked over, kneeling in front of him. Her hands cupped his face and tilted it up to meet hers. He leaned into her touch, relishing whatever she was giving him at that moment, feeling like an ass. Then she kissed him, and he choked back a sob and wrapped his arms tight around her, feeling that lump in his throat that had been plugging up the tears he’d been holding. She pulled back, stroking his hair. “If you want me to go, I’ll go. Just tell me.”
“No,” he shook his head, “please stay. I want you here.”
Buffy smiled slightly. “I’m going to go down to the lobby for thirty minutes. Think that’s enough time for you to take care of this mess?”
He looked at the bathroom door and snorted. “Yeah. She’s probably on her way out anyhow.” He held her hands for a moment and said, “Buffy…it’s not what you…”
“Ok, let’s not say those words right now,” she laughed. “Because it’s exactly what I think, which is why I’m staying.”
He gently brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ears, smiling ashamedly.
She stood up and slung her purse over her shoulder. “Half an hour, and I’ll come right back. Maybe we’ll get breakfast or something. You hungry?”
His smile was genuine then and he nodded. “I could eat.”
“Good luck with that,” she gestured to the bathroom with a tilt of her head and smiled before turning to leave. Spike closed his eyes, holding his clenched fists against them as he continued to beat himself up internally. It seemed Buffy wasn’t angry with him, but that initial look she gave him would stay with him for a long time. She’d come for him, flew all the way from New York to see him…and this is how he thanks her.
~*~*~*~*~
Buffy was slightly impressed with the paintings in the hotel lobby. They weren’t bad. Weren’t great, but weren’t hotel-bad either. She’d checked her watch for the fiftieth time and sighed. All her initial fears were instantly forgotten when she took one look at him, sitting on that bed, ready to cry or run. His eyes were red, dark circles surrounding them as if he hadn’t slept in days. Buffy couldn’t help but want to comfort him and after getting a good look at Nancy, she knew instantly what kind of girl she was. Buffy was just glad she got there when she had. She turned around when she heard someone clearing their throat behind her. The bitch.
“Farewell speech or were you going to ask me clothing advice?”
Nancy smirked and folded her arms. “Cute. So you’re Buffy.”
Buffy grinned. So he mentioned me, did he? Guess Nancy didn’t like that. Good. “According to my birth certificate,” Buffy matched her posture, not liking this woman one bit. But she wasn’t easily intimidated and was looking forward to bringing out the claws if need be.
“You’re shorter than I imagined.”
“Oh, and you’re uglier than I imagined.”
Nancy sneered. “Is that why he keeps a memento of me to hang on his living room wall? Because I’m so ugly? Face it, Betsy. You’re another drop in the great big pond of the hundreds of girls Spike fucks and forgets.”
Buffy shrugged, not taking the bait when she mispronounced her name. “Maybe. Maybe not. But at least I can sleep at night knowing I didn’t take advantage of someone whose mother just died.”
Nancy narrowed her eyes, sucked in her cheeks and took one step back. “You don’t know anything.”
Buffy stared her down, knowing that at any moment, Nancy was going to flee.
“Whatever, I’m out of here,” she said coolly and brushed past Buffy, making her way to the entrance.
It was a little cliché, but Buffy couldn’t help shouting, “Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out, you heartless bitch!”
Nancy stopped, obviously struggling with whether or not she should respond, but cracked her neck and walked out the door. Buffy smiled proudly and walked to the elevators.
~*~*~*~*~
When Buffy returned to Spike’s room, they walked to the bed and sat down. She took his hand in hers, stroking the back of it with her thumb. “So, what do we have to take care of today?”
His weary face lit up with a beautiful, grateful smile. Buffy was letting bygones be bygones for the time being, willing to roll up her sleeves and help him out and he’d be forever thankful. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and kissed her forehead. “Today’s the funeral. But you don’t have to go.”
She waved one hand dismissively in the air. “Funeral, shmuneral. That’s the thing with the eulogy, right? Or is that the thing with the cake and ice cream, I can’t ever remember which is which. Either way, I’m in.” She smiled at him.
He laughed and hugged her. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
TBC
A/N: So…how much to we all hate Nancy? Also? Those of you reviewing for this story are just making me smile until my cheeks hurt. I seriously love you guys. If I could, I’d bake cakes for each of you and we’d get fat together on carbs and laugh at those poor women who don’t have cake. Because cake heals all wounds.