Chapter Fifteen
Buffy’s heart was thudding in her chest as she walked into the tiny cubicle. Relief flooded through her once more at the sight of Spike, sitting in the hospital bed, kicking his legs against the side. A lollipop stick was protruding from his mouth, and a butterfly bandage covered his left eyebrow. A brilliant bruise was forming around the spot where the glass entered his skin. He was damn lucky he didn’t lose his eye. A large smile brightened his features when he saw her.
“Ello, baby,” he said, holding out a hand to her. She took it, curling her fingers around his tightly, allowing him to draw her into his arms. She settled between his thighs, and rested her head on his chest. He frowned when he realized she was trembling. “Pet? What’s the matter?” She sniffed, and pulled back a bit to stare at him with wide eyes.
“What’s the matter?” She raised a finger to gently brush it over his bandage. “You’re hurt,” she said softly, tears filling her eyes.
“Hey, I’m alright. Just a little scratch is all,” he reassured, brushing his knuckles over her cheek. Her worried, hazel eyes drifted closed at the contact, grateful to feel it, him, alive and well.
“I was so scared,” Buffy admitted, feeling the tears spill from her tightly closed eyes.
“Shh. I’m okay.” He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest. Her fingers fisted in his shirt on his back, her nose breathing in deep his scent, a scowl forming on her face. He smelled like the track. Oil and rubber, and dirt. She found that she hated it. “The car’s not so good, however.” She felt his chest rumble a bit, at his bitter chuckle.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. She didn’t give a hoot about that damn car. He was what mattered to her.
“Oh, well. Have to talk to Mark about fixing her,” he said, half to himself. Buffy’s eyes snapped open, as his words registered.
“Fixing? As in to race?” She pulled back again, horror written across her features. His brows drew together at her look, making his head throb. He immediately relaxed his facial muscles.
“Well, yeah. That’s what we bought her for,” he told her, confused at her reaction. She pulled fully out of his arms then, and started to pace the room.
“But, it could have KILLED you today. And you just want to run right back out and do it again?” The heels of her boots echoed in the room as he watched her flurry of motion. She was worrying her hands in front of her as she walked, her eyes trained on the floor.
“I’m fine. And yeah, I want to keep it up. I love it.” Spike was at a loss. He truly didn’t understand the reaction she was having. Accidents came part and parcel with racing. Very few were fatal with all the safety precautions that were required now a days.
“What about me? Do you love me?” She turned and looked at him, her chin trembling with emotion. Silent tears slid down her cheeks, and she hugged her arms around her waist. Spike slid off the bed, stunned that she would ask such a thing.
“Of course I love you. You know I do,” he told her, reaching for her. She avoided his hands, taking a deep breath to say what she felt she had too.
“Enough to give it up?” His blue, bottomless eyes widened, searching her face for an indication of how serious she was. Anger flared in them when he realized just how much she was.
“That’s not fair, pet,” he growled, looking down at her.
“Oh, like it’s any more fair for me to sit in those stands every week, and watch you play out some adolescent game of defying death? I am a wreck, every goddamned Saturday. Do you understand that? Wondering if you’re going to make it through another race unhurt. And guess what? Your luck ran out today. You almost lost your eye, Spike. It could’ve been a hell of a lot worse.” Spike let out a huff of disgusted air, and started to pace himself.
“I’m FINE, Buffy. This is what I want to do with my life. I’m good at it,” he told her, mind spinning. The turn of this conversation was making him feel ill, and he knew that things were changing. And not for the better. “How can you ask me to give it up?”
“Because I love you, you idiot. And I don’t want to watch you die!” she exclaimed, crying in earnest now. His heart started to crack as he looked at her, so tiny and scared. But, he couldn’t give her what she wanted anymore than he would ask her to change who she was.
“Baby, I can’t. It’s not cause I don’t love you enough. It’s because, if I give it up for you. All that’s going to happen is resentment. And I love you so bloody much, I don’t want that to happen.” He reached out for her again, hoping to reassure her, but she jerked away from him, a look of betrayal on her face.
“I can’t. . .I just can’t.” Her eyes met his, her meaning loud and clear. Spike recoiled from the pain that lanced through him, his entire body going rigid. Her heart broke at the look on his face, but she couldn’t do this. He was going to get killed one day if he kept this up, and she couldn’t do it. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, turning on her heel and fleeing the room, nearly knocking over Giles as he walked in. Spike watched her go, tears filling and slipping from his eyes. One look at his son, and the lecture Rupert had been about to let loose died in his throat. Spike looked so stricken, so devastated, that he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
“Will?” Spike’s eyes jerked to his father, and that’s when it broke. His entire body wracked in shudders, and a sob tore from his throat. He looked at his father, his entire being begging him to make it better, like he used to when he was ten, and had split his knee open. “Oh, Will,” Giles said, gathering his child up, and trying to comfort in the only way he knew how. Just being there.
~*~*~
Joyce stared at the door to her eldest daughter’s room, hand poised to knock. The sounds that had been coming from inside for the last two days were heartwrenching. The day of the wreck, Buffy had come home from the hospital, not talking or looking at anybody. She’d gone straight up to her room, and locked the door, not coming out for anything. She had finally found out what was going on when she saw Rupert at the gallery. Buffy had broken up with Spike. And neither were taking it well. Without Xander around, (another problem that just wasn’t being taken care of), Spike had taken off for the storage shed where the DeSoto was. Unable to deal with his grief, he had decided to take his pain out on the car, even though he lacked the tools to fix it properly. Mark had tried to talk to him once, leaving before their conversation disintegrated into a fist fight.
Willow had called repeatedly for Buffy, but she wouldn’t come out of her room, or answer the knocks at her door. They were on the verge of an intervention, the bust up of this relationship compounding the tension from Cordy’s pregnancy and Xander’s disappearance. Her heart ached for her daughter, whose sobs hadn’t decreased in the last 42 hours. If anything, they had increased, with an intensity that could cripple.
Sighing, Joyce raised her hand and knocked softly.
“Buffy?” she called, not hearing anything other than her daughter’s cries. She tried again, and waited. This time, she heard the rustle of sheets as her daughter got up, then the twist of the lock on her door. The sight that met her when the door swung open had her aching heart burst into spasms. Buffy stood, wearing only a t-shirt, her hair in wild disarray from the troubled sleep she had been getting. Her face was red and splotchy, her eyes swollen. Tears stained her face and agony swam in her eyes. Her lips were dry and cracked, and huge bags, the color of bruises sat beneath the usually clear orbs.
“Mommy?” she said, tears welling up again.
“Oh, baby,” Joyce said, opening her arms. Buffy flew into them, sobs tearing from her ravaged throat, as she shook with grief in her mother’s embrace.
~*~*~
Spike looked down at the crumpled shell of his car, his vision blurred from the tears swimming in them. He had been at the storage shed for two days, growling at anybody who had the balls to try to talk to him. His father had given up, choosing to let his son work through it, and be there for him when he was needed. His jaw hurt from the repeated clenching he had been doing in an effort to force the tears back. His head hurt from the combination of emotion and his injury. His stomach rolled from the pain. He was exhausted from the emotional roller coaster he was on.
One minute, he was ready to go crawling to her on his hands and knees, begging her to take him back, and swearing off racing forever. The next, he’d say sod it all, her loss; cursing her selfishness and the fact that she had done this too him. Not even Dru lying about being pregnant had hurt him this much. He’d suspected it the whole time, finding out from his best friend in London just what she had been up to. And the fact that he ALWAYS used a condom, was just enough to have her breaking into tears, her lies being thrown back at her. When she had finally admitted it, he hadn’t really felt pain. More like relief that it was over.
No, the only thing that could be compared to this, was the death of his mother. He was losing another woman that he loved with his whole heart, and he felt helpless to stop it. Even though this had a solution: stop racing. But how long before he started to hate her for making him choose? How long before they fell apart because he had compromised himself?
With a scream of anguish, he threw back his head and stared at the ceiling, not really seeing it. He fisted his hands in his hair, pulling hard to block out the image of her tiny form fleeing the hospital. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, that he didn’t hear the door opening, or the sound of someone talking to him.
“Mr. Giles!” the voice cracked out, the authoritative tone finally breaking through Spike’s whirlwind of emotions.
“Wha?” he said, spinning around to look at the short, fit man in the dark business suit behind him. The man stood, silently staring at the disheveled young man, with his two day stubble, wild platinum hair, and torn clothing. William Giles looked like a man that had been on a three day bender without the benefit of alcohol.
“Mr. Giles? My name is Richard Hammond,” he said, waiting for the spark of recognition in Spike’s tormented eyes. His voice was as smooth as silk, with just the hint of southern twang underneath the polish. When it finally came, he continued. “As you know, I am a representative of the H.S.I. racing team, owned and operated by Harker Sheldon.” Spike’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the little man. His thick, grey hair was swept back from a broad forehead. Serious brown eyes regarded from within a tanned, round face. Thick, grey brows peeked from over top of his thin, wire rimmed glasses. A bushy mustache was perched over his thin upper lip. He was shorter than Spike, but compact, the muscle hinting from beneath his perfectly tailored suit. He had the look of a man that lived, and lived well.
“Yeah?” Spike drawled, searching through his pockets for a cigarette. When he produced a crumpled pack, he pulled one out, and lit it, waiting for the man to speak again.
“Mr. Sheldon has been keeping his eye on the dirt track circuit, looking for new talent to put into his cars,” Hammond continued, running a hand over his maroon tie. “You, Mr. Giles, have caught his attention.”
“So?” Spike said, blowing smoke out of his lungs, trying to appear nonchalant. No need to let the man on to how excited he was. Hammond bit back a smile, seeing through his tough guy routine.
“So, he would like you to come down to Charlotte and show us what you got.” Spike’s eyes snapped open wider at that, his heart thudding in his chest.
“Why me? Why not someone from ARCA or Busch?” he asked, taking a deep drag to calm his overactive nerves.
“Mr. Giles…”
“Spike.”
“Spike,” he barely managed not to roll his eyes at the nickname, “Mr. Sheldon has never felt the need to explore those avenues. He likes to give the up and coming drivers their shot. A shot they might not have without many years on the racing circuit. He likes to reward talent, not experience.”
“Is’at right?” Spike mumbled, excitement replacing the anguish in his eyes. All kinds of thoughts were racing through his head, none of them sticking around long enough to gel into anything coherent.
“Yes, Spike. That’s right. What do you say?” Spike looked at the older man, stunned. This little man was standing here, calming handing Spike his dream like it was the salt at the dinner table, and he wanted to know what he would say?
“I’ll give it a go,” he managed to get out, before he dropped to his knees in front of the man and made and ass out of himself kissing the ground he walked on. Mr. Hammond didn’t even bother hiding his smile this time, and set his briefcase down on the back end of the DeSoto. He glanced at the smashed hood, unfazed. He’d seen worse. Opening the case, he reached in and pulled out an envelope. He then turned and handed it to Spike.
“In that this is your plane ticket for tomorrow afternoon, a hotel reservation, and some cash. I trust I will see you there?” Spike nodded numbly, cigarette forgotten in his hand as he stared down at the envelope in his other one. “Good. See you in a couple of days then.” With that, Hammond snapped his case closed, and walked out of the shed. Spike just stood, staring after him. Here it was, his ticket to everything he wanted. He thought about the dream he’d had, about being in victory lane with his best friend, and his girl. Well, his best friend was MIA, and his girl couldn’t handle his love of speed. But, he could have at least one third of that dream. And he was going to take it.
~*~*~
“Feeling better, honey?” Joyce asked, heartened as her daughter finished some soup. When she had calmed after she had collapsing on her mother in the hallway, Joyce had coaxed her into the shower, and downstairs for some hot chocolate and some soup. Dawn had been sent over to a friend’s house, her curious, twelve year old eyes banished from the wreckage of her sister. “A little,” Buffy said, pushing the bowl away. She toyed with the placemat, her eyes going distant. “Mom. Am I wrong?” Joyce smiled at her, and placed a gentle hand over her daughter’s.
“No,” she told her. Buffy looked relieved, but she lost it after her mother’s next words. “And neither is Spike.” She sighed at the frown she got, and went to explain. “Honey, he needs to live his life. If his dream is to race cars, then that’s what he should do. But, if you can’t live with that, then that’s your right. It’s not an easy thing to deal with.”
“But if he loved me. . .” Buffy started, feeling the tears starting again. She brushed them away with an agitated hand.
“It doesn’t work like that, sweetheart, and you know it,” Joyce told her, her voice soft. “You can’t ask him to give up everything he wants, anymore than he can do it to you. It’s not fair.”
“But it hurts,” Buffy said, her eyes swimming, her face twisted in the effort to keep them at bay.
“I know it does. And it will, for a long time. I’m not going to lie to you about that. But, if you two are meant to be, you will be,” Joyce finished. Buffy snorted, but didn’t say anything. What could she say? It was true. She leaned forward on the table and pushed her hands into her hair.
“I don’t know, Mom. I love him, so much. This is nothing like I felt for Angel. It’s almost like I need him to breathe,” she said, her voice sounding hollow. All Joyce could do was pull her daughter to her and offer her the comfort of her love.
“I know, baby. I know.”
~*~*~
“I”ll get it!” Dawn yelled, bouncing from her seat on the couch. Buffy was upstairs in her room, having a well-needed talking session with Willow. Joyce had gone to the gallery to try to finish up some paperwork. “Hi, Spike,” she said brightly, her smile fading as she took in the bag slung over his leather covered shoulder. “Where’re you going?” she asked. He looked down into her young face, a sad smile touching his lips.
“Got an offer to drive. I’m gonna take it,” he told her, sighing at the tears that welled up in her eyes. “None of that now, Nibblet. I’ll keep in touch.”
“You promise?” she demanded, her lower lip trembling. He raised his hand and trailed a finger over her cheek.
“O’course. How could I not, you’re my brave little one. Remember?” she nodded, surprising him when she launched at him, squeezing him tight around the middle. He blinked back his own tears, gently brushing a kiss across her silky hair, and giving her a quick squeeze.
“Where’s big sis?” he murmured, pulling away.
“Upstairs,” she answered, her wide azure eyes roaming over his face, as if memorizing him.
“Get her for me?” She nodded and turned to bound up the stairs. A few seconds later, he heard the sound of footsteps, and looked up to see Buffy and Willow coming down. “Pet,” he greeted, his eyes drinking in every inch of her.
“Spike. Dawn says you’re leaving,” she gasped, praying it wasn’t true. The look on his face told her otherwise. She had to fight to keep from throwing herself into his arms, wailing like a banshee. She had to let him go. Spike shifted on his feet, bringing his thumb up to scratch his eyebrow. His lips pursed as he looked at her, and he nodded.
“Yeah,” he said after a deep breath. “Got an offer, kinda can’t refuse it,” he said, a swift, small smile darting across his mouth.
“Well, that’s good, for you. It’s what you’ve wanted. I’m happy for you,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her, wondering why they were being so formal. Willow watched the scene with a heavy heart, her own tears threatening to spill.
“Yeah,” he answered, looking down at the floor. When he looked back up at her, his eyes were so dark, and so full of pain and love, she almost lost it. “I had to see you, before I left,” he said, softly, his voice thick. That quiet statement, was all it took for it to become real to her. In an instant, she was in his arms, holding on for dear life, her breathing hindered by the steel of his arms around her waist. She didn’t care, though, and she pulled back to cover his mouth with hers, needing to feel him one last time. Their tongues battle furiously as they tried to force the imprint of the other into their memories, tears sliding down their cheeks. They pulled away, they were both crying in earnest, neither trying to hide it.
“I love you,” he gasped, resting his forehead against hers. Her fingers were tracing his face, adding the injury in his eyebrow to the picture of him she had in her brain.
“I love you too,” she whispered back, peppering soft kisses on his mouth and jaw. The jarring sound of a horn blaring jerked them back to reality.
“I gotta go,” he said, disentangling himself from her, ignoring the voice in his head screaming at him to grab her and hold on. She nodded, not paying any mind to her own inner voice telling her to go with him. He looked at her a moment more, his heart clenching at how very beautiful she looked to him right then. She was trying to be brave, her chin set, and her shoulders firm. But he could see his own heartache being reflected back at him from the hazel depths of her eyes. “Bugger,” he said, before hauling her against him once more for a hard, demanding kiss. As soon as he released her, he was gone in a swirl of black leather. She gripped the door, her knuckles turning white as she watched him get into the cab. He gave her one last, lingering look as it pulled away form the curb, to take him to the airport, and out of her life.
~*~*~
Spike stood staring out the window, watching the airplanes, waiting for his flight to be called. He turned at the sound of his name being called, confusion and anger written across his face.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, as Xander came to a stop beside him. He eyed the black duffle bag the boy was carrying with suspicion.
“I called the house, and found out what you were doing. Giles is having a fit.” Spike felt a stab of guilt for not telling his father properly, instead of leaving the note, but he didn’t want him to try to talk him out of it.
“That didn’t answer my question,” Spike reminded him. Xander looked down at the floor, then back up at him, his face set.
“I’m going with,” he said quickly.
“The hell you are! What about Cordelia? Or did you conveniently forget about that baby you put in her?” Spike snapped, truly disliking his friend in that moment. Anger flared in Xander’s eyes for an instant, before he looked back down.
“She’s better off without me,” he said quietly, when his eyes returned to Spike, revealing the guilt and the self loathing he felt to his core. Spike sighed, and shook his head.
“You can’t leave her. She loves you. And she’s having your baby,” he said again.
“What can I give her, Spike? What can I do other than bring her down?” Xander replied, desperation ringing through his words.
“You can be a man,” Spike returned. “You don’t have to be your father. Make it right, Xan.” The brunette sighed, blinking rapidly to stave off the burning in his eyes. He nodded, not really knowing how he was going to do that. When he had heard what Spike was doing, he’d left his aunt’s, determined to go with him. As he had gotten closer to the airport, his aunt’s car pushed to it’s limits, he realized what he was doing was wrong. He loved Cordy, with all his heart. He just didn’t want to fuck up her life anymore than he already had.
“You’ll keep in touch?” Xander asked, when he had himself under control. Spike snorted, and looked away.
“Yeah. You take care of her. And that baby. If it’s a boy, name it after me” he teased, happy to see a slight smile curl his friends lip.
“Be careful. You won’t have me with you to keep you straight,” Xander said, a short laugh punctuating his sentence. Spike joined him, and nodded.
“You know it.” They both looked at each other, when his flight number was called, uncomfortable with goodbye. Sighing again, Spike held out a hand, which Xander took, neither knowing which one pulled the other in for the tight, hard hug that happened. Quickly, they broke apart, a long moment of silence stretching between them before Spike turned, and started towards the gate. Xander watched as the blonde slowly made his way through the line, to reach the flight attendant at the end. Once he did, he handed her his ticket, then turned and saluted Xander, before disappearing through the doorway. The brunette continued to stand there, silently watching the plane as it taxied down the runway, and took off into the bright, blue sky.
A/N: Okay, just a short explanation. You will notice in the following chapters, that I have aged them. I decided that I wanted them to be a bit older than what I had originally thought. Over the next few days, I will be fixing the rest of the text, so that the ages coincide with what I want. So, that being said, welcome to the present.