Chapter 10: November 2005
Nika walked into the lobby of the Hyperion hotel late Friday afternoon. She, like nearly every other female in America, knew that the Friday after Thanksgiving kicked off the holiday shopping season. This meant that she could be certain of catching Angel at home, since very few males voluntarily stepped foot outside the doors of their homes. If her Danny was any kind of an example, most men chose to spend their Friday-after gorging (again) on leftovers and watching sports.
She glanced around the lobby of the hotel, having no way of knowing if she was seeing what she should be seeing. Wesley still refused to talk much about his time there, which she understood better than he might think. Sometimes, the happy times were more difficult to explore than the hard times. When the good times end, it was hard to go back there, if only because it was impossible to put into words what had been lost. Nika herself had found it terribly difficult to talk about her parents, because to talk about them would be to admit fully that they were gone.
“Can I help you?” A tall black man came out from behind the lobby counter, with an expectant smile.
Nika returned the smile, mentally naming him. “This is Angel Investigations?”
“Yeah, you’ve come to the right place,” he assured her. “I’m Charles Gunn. Somethin’ I can do for you?”
“I was hoping to talk to Angel,” Nika replied. “Is he here?”
Gunn looked surprised at her forthright attitude, but finally nodded. “He’s upstairs.”
“I’ll get him,” Cordy said, coming into the lobby from the office. She’d done her shopping early in the day, wanting to get the good stuff off the racks before anyone else had the chance.
Cordy felt like she recognized the woman in the lobby from somewhere, but she couldn’t quite place the face or the name. She watched as Nika took a seat on one of the round chairs, and started up the stairs. As she approached Angel’s room, she could hear Connor’s voice.
“It’s not that big of a deal, Dad. I just need my own place.” Cordelia stopped by his door, unwilling to interrupt, and wanting to eavesdrop.
“Connor, if this is about you not having girls in your room, including Dawn—”
Cordelia could almost hear Connor rolling his eyes. “This isn’t about Dawn, Dad. If we want to be alone, there are other places we can go. I’m going to be twenty-one in a few months. Most people my age are already on their own. I just want some space.”
“But you do realize that, you know, being with Dawn, there are things—things that you need to know—” As Angel stumbled around, trying to initiate the “birds and the bees” talk, Cordy had to bite back a laugh.
Connor didn’t even try. “I’ve already had this talk.”
“You have?” Angel sounded peculiarly disappointed for someone who was having so much trouble moments before. “With who?”
“With Cordy, when she figured out Dawn and I were interested in each other,” the boy replied. “Oh, and Spike told me he’d kill me if I hurt her, but I feel the same way, so I understood.”
Cordy could hear Angel sputtering at the thought that Spike of all people had spoken to his son of romantic things before he could. “Look, Dad,” Connor continued, running right over what were sure to be more protests from the vampire. “It’s not that I don’t like living here, but I want—I want something normal. I’m actually meeting some of Dawn’s friends, and thinking about going to college maybe, but I can’t bring anyone here. How am I supposed to explain that my dad doesn’t look that much older than me? Or half the things that walk through that door? I want somewhere I can bring people without having to explain my whole life.”
Angel was speechless, and Cordelia sighed. She had known this was coming, and to be honest, she was glad of it. Connor had made leaps and bounds in his adjustment over the last few years, and it was time that he set out on his own, find out what he wanted from this new world he now lived in. It was the right thing, if only Angel could see it.
Apparently, Connor took Angel’s silence the right way—as in, his dad had no clue how to respond. “Just think about it. I’m not asking you to make a decision tonight.”
Connor came out the door of Angel’s room moments later, smiling in a pained way at Cordelia as he passed. She knocked on the doorframe as she entered, watching as Angel gave her the same pained smile. Really, they were both so much alike it was scary sometimes. “How much of that did you hear?” Angel asked.
“Enough,” she replied, with a smile. “He’s growing up, Angel. What did you expect?”
His face darkened. Granted, there wasn’t much of a change in his expression, but Cordelia knew how to read him like a book. “I expected to have more time before we had this conversation.”
Cordy sighed. She’d spent the last couple years trying to get Angel to soften on his stance towards Wesley. So far, nothing doing. This thing between Connor and Dawn however, with the inclusion of Dawn’s friends, could change all of that. “Angel—”
“You knew about Connor and Dawn before I did,” he interrupted, his tone accusatory.
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I did. And before you ask, I didn’t tell you because it wasn’t any of your business. Come on, Angel, just because I want to know everybody’s business doesn’t mean I go around spilling their secrets. I remember what it was like to have a secret boyfriend. That was half the fun for a while.”
He looked frustrated. “But I should have been the one to have that talk.”
“You would have screwed it up,” Cordelia replied bluntly. “Connor needed information, and he needed good information. As a human. From a human. I don’t think you were really ready to discuss condoms.”
She could hear him swallow. “Condoms?”
“That’s right, Angel. Birth control, STD’s, all those things that humans have to worry about and vampires don’t.” Cordy rolled her eyes. “Honestly, what you would do without me—”
She let that sink in a moment before she broached the next topic. “Speaking of which, I’m going to give you a piece of advice. Connor is dating Dawn. Dawn’s friends include Wes. Which means, Connor will probably be hanging around Wesley and Spike quite a bit. If you don’t want to alienate your son, you’ll keep your feelings about both of them to yourself.”
When it looked like Angel was going to protest, she kept talking. “Besides, Angel, it’s been three years. I know Wes screwed up—big time—but you need to get over it.”
Angel looked at her mulishly. “He cost me years with my son, Cordy.”
“Yeah, he did,” Cordy said quietly. “But he had the best intentions, and he cost himself a lot more than that. I’m not saying you have to trust him again, or ask him to come back and work for you, but I think you need to let go of this a little bit. You have Connor back, and you guys are getting along. Don’t jeapordize that over some grudge against a man who once was your best friend.”
Angel’s expression didn’t change, and Cordelia decided not to push. He’d either figure it out or he wouldn’t; there wasn’t much she could do about that. “Moving on—there’s a woman downstairs who’s looking for you. I think she might be a client, so be on your best behavior.”
She followed him downstairs, curious as always. Nika had been talking with Connor, and now faced the vampire as he descended, an odd expression on her face. “Hello, Angel.” She greeted him as though they’d been introduced, and it took him a moment to figure out where he’d seen her before.
“You’re—you were with Wes the other night. At Caritas.” The tone of voice and his body language would have intimidated even the bravest soul, but Nika didn’t even flinch. In fact, all she did was raise an eyebrow, as though to dare him to make something of it.
Connor was the one to remember his manners. “Oh, Dad, this is Nika. Nika, this is my dad, Angel. Nika’s one of Dawn’s friends too,” the boy added pointedly.
Nika smiled gently. “Thank you, Connor. Angel, I need to talk to you, and it might be best if we do it in private.”
Already upset by Cordy’s reference to Wesley—the name that was never mentioned—Angel was not inclined to listen to reason. “Whatever you want to say to me, you can say it to my friends and colleagues.”
There was a moment of silence as Nika looked around the lobby, taking in the wary faces of Fred, Gunn, Connor and Cordelia. She didn’t want to be rude. On the other hand, she was really only concerned for Connor’s sake; she couldn’t care less about Angel’s feelings.
“Very well.” She was well aware that she didn’t look as though she posed much of a threat, and that didn’t bother her. She was fully convinced of the righteousness of her cause, and so was not afraid. “I want you to stay away from Wesley.”
Angel stared at her. “What? I don’t—”
“I understand that he hurt you,” she continued, disregarding his interruption. “And I know what it’s like to lose a loved one. I really do. But because I know what it’s like, I won’t let you hurt him.”
Angel was beginning to feel uncomfortable. It was one thing to try and kill Wes in the heat of the moment. It was another to remain stubbornly angry for a few years. But to have someone come into his hotel and suggest that he would kill a man in cold blood—that was something else altogether. “I would never harm Wes.”
“Wouldn’t you?” she asked softly. “I’m sorry. I don’t trust vampires. At least, I don’t trust the ones I don’t know, and I don’t know you. After your display the other night, I wouldn’t be inclined to trust you even if I did, as it’s clear to me that you’re still angry with him. I’m here to warn you off.”
“Are you threatening him?” Cordy asked angrily. She didn’t know who this woman was, but no one got away with threatening her man.
Nika turned and looked at her, the calm expression on her face at odds with her words. “No, actually, I’d like to bribe him.” She turned back towards Angel, reaching into her bag and pulling out a round orb. Cordelia and Angel recognized it right away.
“An orb of Thessula?” Angel said, frowning. He looked at the woman, who was still regarding them all with such a calm air about her, that it was hard to know how to take her. “I don’t understand.”
Nika smiled. “Your soul still isn’t anchored, is it?” she asked quietly. “I can give you that.”
“In return for leaving Wes alone,” Angel said, beginning to understand.
Nika shrugged. “As to that, you and he will have to work that out on your own. I ask that you not harm him in any way, nor seek his harm in the future. If that means you have no contact, then so be it. But if you could forgive him, I think he’d like that. I want to protect him as best I can.” Her eyes darkened to a stormy gray. “Of course, if you do come after him, I’ll have to hurt you. Fair warning.”
Angel was quiet for a long moment. Having a stranger in fear of him—if not for herself, then for her friend—reminded him that Angelus was never so far away as he would like. And it was very Angelus of him to hold onto a grudge for this long. Hadn’t he been forgiven far greater wrongs? Wasn’t he still seeking redemption?
And this woman was offering to bring him one step closer to that place—was offering to put one more leash on his demon in return for something she shouldn’t have needed to ask for in the first place.
“Let’s go into my office,” he suggested, his countenance softening. “We should talk.”
~~~~~
Spike growled his frustration. This wasn’t going well. He was supposed to meet Buffy, and he still had no idea what he was going to wear.
“You know, clothes are typically of more use while on your back, rather than strewn about the room.” The vampire turned to see Wesley standing in the doorway, with a superior expression on his face.
“Sod off,” he replied, turning back to consider the mess he’d made. The ex-Watcher was right. The contents of his closet were all over the room. Spike sank down onto the bed, the very picture of dejection and nervousness. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, his hands muffling his words.
“Yes, well, I could see why you might feel that way,” Wesley replied. He came into the room, settling down on the bed next to his friend. “You’re meeting Buffy tonight?”
A grunt was his only reply. “Spike, I’m sure it will be fine. After all, she sought you out, and not the other way around. That’s usually a good sign.”
“I’m tired of lookin’ for signs from that bint,” he replied. “What the hell am I doin’, mate?” Spike demanded.
Wesley considered the question for a moment. “Perhaps you are merely getting closure,” he suggested. “You didn’t have much chance for that, from what you’ve told me. I don’t know. Maybe you could even be friends.”
Spike laughed hollowly. “Don’t think so. You don’t make friends with someone you were in love with. Just doesn’t work.”
Wesley thought for a moment. He and Spike had actually become quite close over the past two years. You couldn’t fight side by side, save each other’s life repeatedly, and even share a few beers without coming to know a person rather well. And you didn’t become close without sharing their pain, without wanting to help them bear their burdens.
It was one of the greatest hurts that losing friends had entailed for him; not only was there the loss of the relationships, there was also the knowledge that there would be no one to help you bear your troubles.
Spike felt the bed move as Wesley stood, and while he heard the other man walking around, he didn’t look up. He felt like a teenager about to go on his first date, and it scared him. Not just the feelings, but the fear of what was to come next. He and Buffy’s relationship had never been what anyone would call healthy, and Spike didn’t think he could go back to that now.
“As Buffy was the one who contacted you, perhaps it will be different this time,” Wesley said.
Spike didn’t raise his head. “Dunno. I can’t—I can’t go back to what it was, you know?” He struggled with the words; Wesley thought he might choke on them. Spike, usually so quick witted and sharp tongued, now found it almost impossible to explain what he meant.
The vampire had little difficulty telling others what they were feeling, and in fact, had an almost uncanny ability to identify others’ emotions. Articulating something other than rage, pain, or even love was next to impossible for himself, however. “I haven’t fed off a human in over four years, yeah?” he began. “Other than Nika, an’ that wasn’t much. It’s not about Buffy not bein’ right anymore. ‘s about you lot treatin’ me like a man, an’ not a monster.” He stopped, unsure of how to explain with more clarity, but Wesley understood.
“We are what is expected of us,” he said softly, understanding. “Though, Spike, the changes you have undergone are quite dramatic. I doubt that you could go back to what you were.”
Spike shrugged, doubtful. Wesley had put most of his clothing on hangers, back into the closet. “Maybe. I wonder, sometimes, if it hadn’t been Nika that I met, if I wouldn’t have eventually started feeding again.”
“Perhaps.” Wesley smiled. “I would say that the both of us were lucky bastards to have met her.”
Spike laughed. “I’d give you that one.” He took the clothing that the other man held out to him.
“Be happy,” Wesley advised him. “Whether it is with Buffy or someone else. In either case, at least make sure you are as presentable as possible. It does no good letting the other person see that they have gotten to you.”
“Present a strong front?” Spike asked, with a raised eyebrow, and then nodded slowly. The idea appealed to him, much as the idea of Buffy pursuing him had. Before, he had remade himself in order to impress her. Now, he had remade himself, but not for her. Perhaps it was high time that she saw he could change for reasons other than her happiness. “Thanks, mate.”
“You’re quite welcome,” Wesley replied, and then hesitated, adding slowly. “You know, Spike. There will always be a place for you here.”
Spike’s lips twisted up into a half-smile. “That’s good,” he replied. “Because ‘m not plannin’ on goin’ anywhere.”
~~~~~
“Okay, so how do I look?” Buffy asked her sister, standing and slowly twirling for her.
Dawn couldn’t keep the amusement off her face. Buffy had been running around like a madwoman for the last two hours, trying to get ready. And every time Angel or one of his crew asked her what was going on she’d given them the look of death and replied that it was none of their business. Of course, this time it wasn’t about hiding her relationship with Spike. Buffy really believed that it was no one else’s business.
Laughingly, Dawn said, “Buffy, you look great. You looked great in the last three outfits you tried on. I don’t see what the problem is.”
Buffy sat down on the bed next to her sister. “I’m just—scared, I guess. Last time, things with Spike got so twisted, so out of control. I can’t do that again, and I can’t seem to let him go either.”
Dawn sighed quietly. “Buffy, you do realize that just because he may still have feelings for you, doesn’t mean he’s going to want to be with you, right?”
Buffy laughed sourly. “After what I did to him, I’m surprised he even agreed to meet me tonight. It’s just—I feel as though I’ve gotten closure with Angel. I got it with Riley, last time he came to town. And now—”
“Now Spike’s the last one left,” Dawn murmured.
Buffy shook her head. “Something like that. Spike was in my heart, and he never knew it. He’s still there.”
That particular statement rendered Dawn speechless. “Buffy—”
The Slayer shrugged as though it was of no concern. “I let Angel go, Dawnie, and it was the hardest thing I ever thought I would have to do. If I have to let Spike go, I will. But I need to know one way or the other.”
Dawn didn’t say anything in reply, feeling suddenly both very old and very young. She wanted to give comfort, but didn’t have the words. “Are you going to tell him you’re pregnant?”
Buffy shrugged. She had told only those closest to her—in heart, if not in distance. Her closest friends, Dawn, and that was pretty much it. She hadn’t even told Angel yet, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Maybe over the Christmas holidays, part of which she would spend in L.A. But Giles had promised to come for New Years, and Willow was going to come back to Sunnydale with him. Even Xander was going to stay put for a while.
The Slayer was grateful for their support, and even for their willingness to put down everything and come running, as though this pregnancy was the next apocalypse. She couldn’t help but think that there was only one person she really wanted there, however. One person she knew would be up to the challenges of keeping the demon population down without her.
“If it comes up, I will,” she finally replied. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell him, it’s that I don’t know how to say it. ‘Oh, by the way, Spike, while you were gone, I got myself knocked up.'”
Dawn looked away, saying in a low voice, “You could get un-knocked up, if you wanted to.”
“I’ve thought about it,” Buffy admitted. “It’s not just being pregnant and single, but also being the Slayer. There’s a chance I won’t even be able to carry to term, you know. One wrong step while out on patrol—I know it might be smarter.”
She smiled suddenly. “On that other hand, that’s what Peter wanted, and I’m not real interested in giving in to him. Plus, this could be my only chance.”
Dawn nodded, feeling relieved. She hadn’t been sure Buffy really wanted this baby, but it seemed that she did after all. “Good luck tonight, Buffy.”
Her sister smiled, gave her a hug, and walked out the door, head high.
~~~~~
Buffy wanted to get to the coffee house early for a number of reasons. She didn’t want Spike to think for a moment that she’d stood him up, for one. She also wanted to watch him walk in, as she hadn’t gotten much of a chance to observe him in Caritas. And part of it was that she would feel more comfortable being nervous and antsy with a mocha in her hands rather than at the hotel. Besides, Angel kept giving her weird looks. She needed to get out of there.
Not for an instant did she think that Spike might not show. He had always kept his promises, and then some. She took a sip of her drink and smoothed down the front of her pink sweater. It had been torture to find something to wear that wasn’t too flirty but still looked good.
She pushed up the sleeves, and then pulled them down again, always keeping an eye on the door. Buffy knew she hadn’t been this nervous before a date since—since sophomore year of high school with Owen. And look how well that had turned out.
On that rather sarcastic thought, the door swung open and Spike strode in. It didn’t help Buffy to realize that every woman’s eye was instantly on him. And why not? In dark gray and black, with his curly hair and uneven gait, he looked dangerous and vulnerable all at the same time.
Buffy took a deep breath. Oh yeah. The attraction was still there.
Spike spotted her immediately, slightly surprised to find her there early and obviously waiting for him. Not even noticing the other women who were watching him, he moved through the tables as smoothly as he could. A few days without any action meant that his leg was working as well as it ever did. He liked to think that Buffy wouldn’t notice his awkwardness.
“H’lo,” he said, unsure of what to say.
She smiled tentatively in turn. “Hi. Do you want something to drink? Hot chocolate?”
“I can get it,” Spike replied, but she was already up.
“It’s okay, I wanted another drink,” Buffy called over her shoulder as she headed for the counter.
Spike sat, feeling more than a little off balance. He didn’t remember ever doing this before. The last time they had even come close to sitting together amiably, sharing a drink, was that night in the Bronze, before she died. The night he had told her how he’d killed the Slayers. And that night, he’d had to cajole her into, well, everything. She hadn’t wanted to be there.
Tonight, Spike wasn’t sure he wanted to be here.
Oh, he wanted to be with her, but he didn’t want to all at the same time. Watching her wait in line at the counter, she looked different. She’d grown her hair out again, and it cascaded down her back the way he’d always loved. She looked like your typical southern California girl, out for a cup of coffee.
Spike frowned. He couldn’t figure out what this was—a date, a business meeting, friends… The meaning behind this little tête-à-tête matterd more than he cared to admit.
Buffy looked happier at least, and her figure was fuller, as though she’d actually put on some weight. There was a light in her eyes that hadn’t been there since before she’d died, even though she still looked more serious than a girl—woman—her age should. But she looked better in general, and Spike knew he wasn’t the one responsible for putting the life back into her.
That was all he’d wanted, was to give her a little life back.
Buffy set his drink down in front of him, sitting down gingerly in her chair. Now that he was close, Spike sensed that something was different about her. He hadn’t a clue as to what it was, but it was a deep, fundamental change.
He pulled the plastic lid off his cup and stared at the melting whipped cream on top, not really wanting to look at the Slayer. “They didn’t have marshmallows,” she said softly. “I asked.”
Spike’s lips curved up into a half-smile. “That right? You remembered?”
“I remember everything.” There was a long silence before Buffy added, “Spike, I’m sorry.”
“I got your letter, Slayer.” His tone was more gentle than his words.
She was silent, not knowing what else to say, and Spike was the one to finally speak. “So what’s going on with you, Buffy?”
It would have been an ordinary question if the person asking it wasn’t Spike, or if the woman sitting across from him wasn’t Buffy. The two of them didn’t ask or answer questions like that, not with each other, and yet it hung between them like some rare jewel.
Buffy laughed. “You know, I was supposed to ask you that. Ask you what’s going on with you now.”
He shrugged. “It’s alright, luv. You can answer.”
“No, you first,” Buffy replied stubbornly, wanting to try to do this the right way. Somewhere in her mind she’d decided that “the right way” meant finding out how Spike was doing, putting him first, not making it all about Buffy.
Spike looked amused. She looked imperious and intent and—like she actually cared. It was the last that got him talking. “Got the chip out.”
“Dawn told me,” Buffy said, when he seemed to be waiting for her reaction. “She said you weren’t hunting humans either. How come?”
Spike took a sip of his chocolate, hardly noticing the heat or the taste. He wasn’t sure he could taste anything but her scent on the air. “At first? I didn’t want you to be right.”
Buffy laughed ruefully. “Well, I was wrong, if that’s what you wanted to hear.” She looked away, a touch of shyness in her expression. “I’m glad.”
At her words, Spike felt some of the tension melt away. “After that, after I met Nika an’ Wesley, it was because they treated me like a man, an’ I couldn’t betray that.”
A stricken look flashed across Buffy’s face, and was quickly wiped away. Spike had already seen it, however, and he knew she was thinking about that night in the alley, thinking about what she had said to him. He went on, wanting to ignore the elephant in the room, not wanting to address the issue of how sorry she was.
Spike didn’t want to have to try and figure out if he had forgiven her yet.
“Wes an’ I fight demons for money. We get along alright. I live in Nika’s basement.” He managed to shrug without moving, the gesture contained only in his eyes. “Not much else to tell.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Buffy said, laughing a little.
Spike’s eyes narrowed. “What? That there isn’t much else to tell, or that I get on with anyone?”
She hesitated as she realized that she meant both. “I—I don’t know, Spike. I think there’s probably more to the story, but if that’s all you want to tell me, that’s okay.”
“But you think it odd that I get along with someone who’s not you, yeah?” he asked, suddenly feeling the need to attack. “Or maybe anyone who’s human.”
Buffy didn’t want to be honest. She really, really didn’t. Truth hurt, as Spike had demonstrated a number of times with his cutting remarks. “It surprises me,” she admitted reluctantly. “Maybe it shouldn’t, since you’ve always got along well with mom and Dawn. It’s just—it’s obvious you belong here, and—I’ve never seen that before.”
“Maybe that’s because you weren’t willing to look hard enough,” Spike replied, an edge to his tone.
“Maybe,” she conceded.
He sighed. Spike hadn’t come to fight, no matter how crazy she might make him. “What about you?” he asked, wanting to change the subject. Knowledge was power, and he didn’t want to tell her so much about this new life of his that she would have more power over him. She still held his unbeating heart in her hands.
Buffy shrugged, suddenly unwilling to talk about her life with its myriad issues. She could still remember a time when she told him all her problems, but that was because he didn’t count, as he’d sung so eloquently. “Not much to tell,” she said reluctantly. “I slay, I work, I try not to die.”
“You still working at that hell-hole?” he asked.
“The Hellmouth?”
“The cow-hat place,” Spike replied, sounding both annoyed at her deliberate obtuseness and amused at the same time.
Buffy shrugged. “Receptionist and part-time claims adjustor for an insurance company. I actually like both jobs, and they pay more.”
“You going to go back to school?” he asked, drawing her out, prying her open with questions as he’d often been able to do with silence.
Buffy sighed. “Maybe, someday. When I can afford it, or when Dawn’s out of college, or never. At this stage, never is looking a lot more likely.”
Spike wanted to take her in his arms and tell her everything was going to be okay. He wanted to pull the world off her shoulders. He wanted to offer up his undead body as a sacrifice on her altar.
It pissed him off.
He had worked hard at forgetting her for so long, and now he felt like he was sliding right back to where he started. “What the bloody hell is this, Slayer?” he demanded, his voice harsh and gravelly. “Why now? Why are you comin’ to me three years later?”
The words came rapid-fire, hitting Buffy like a series of bullets. If she was honest with herself, what she wanted from him was forgiveness. She wanted to say she was sorry, and she wanted him to say that it was forgiven a long time ago, and then—What? Walk off into the sunset together? Part as friends? She hadn’t a clue.
That was what she wanted, but she had promised herself that she would answer his questions, submit to his demands, up to a certain point. She owed him that much. “I broke up with my boyfriend about a month ago.”
“What does that have to do with me?” he demanded, interrupting her.
A little of the old Buffy came into her eyes. “Would you just let me finish?” she asked, starting to get frustrated. This meeting wasn’t going how she thought it would. Not that she’d known how it was going to go, but this wasn’t it. “I—when he broke up with me, what he said, I could hear myself in his words.”
She took a deep breath. Vocalizing her own emotions wasn’t easy at the best of times, and this definitely wasn’t the best of times. “He was a jerk, and I’m not sorry he left. But I started looking back on all the guys I’ve dated, and I think that what I regret most, happened with you.”
He took it the wrong way, and not the way she meant it. Buffy could see Spike’s face harden, his eyes turn icy. “That’s right. You shouldn’t have slept with a dead thing, Slayer. Excuse me.”
He got up to go, but Buffy’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, stilling his movement. “No, not sleeping with you. My biggest regret is that I slept with you for all the wrong reasons, and that I hurt you. That’s what I regret.”
Spike was still under her hand, the normal responses of a body absent. Not even his chest moved in the rhythm of breathing that was still so much of a habit for him, though not a necessity. They stood in their tableau of longing—Buffy’s hand, Spike’s face, and anyone who looked could see they had been lovers. It was just that obvious.
Slowly, he took his seat again, feeling both relieved and bereft when Buffy pulled her hand back. “So, the wanker left. Any particular reason why, or was he just a jerk?” Spike wasn’t sure why it was important, but it was.
“Both.” Buffy hesitated. She still wasn’t sure she should tell Spike about her pregnancy, but she wanted to. She could still remember a time when he might have been the first she told, if only because she could be certain of trusting him with the information. “I’m pregnant.”