Chapter Twenty-Two
Spike sighed heavily, running a hand through his newly shorn, and recently bleached locks. Part of Cordy’s plan was to get him looking ‘human’ again, and she had dragged him out of the house and straight to the hair salon. She had even decided to have the rather large, very gay hair dresser, Rolf, dye his hair. But not just pure white, like usual. No, she had him dye the roots a darker gold, giving his hair highlights. Spike hadn’t been too sure about it, but he could admit that it looked pretty good. Not as harsh against his skin, which wasn’t as tanned as it usually was. Months of hiding in doors had given him an almost pasty look.
Next thing she did was hand him a paper and told him to find an apartment. Nothing was as uncool as a guy who still lived with his father. He’d rolled his eyes, but smiled at the soft barb, and started looking. The third thing she did was take him to lunch (well, actually, he took her. She picked the place.) And reminded him of just who he was before the wreck. That he was still that person, and that’s who Buffy had fallen in love with. Not the racecar driver. Then, she had told him, all he had to do to get the girl was be there. When she went to work, show up and take her to lunch. If she was at home, stop by ‘just to say hi’. She told him to basically be annoying, and Buffy would take him back just to get him to shut up. He hadn’t taken too kindly to that, but then he had noticed the mirth dancing in her eyes. Even Jazz had laughed at him, sharing a very feminine look with her mother.
Then she had turned serious, looking him dead in the eyes, and saying, “just remind her of all the reasons why you two fit, and it will be an easy decision for her.” He could see that she wasn’t just talking about Buffy. He’d smiled, and patted her hand, nodding his understanding.
The their amazement, and Cordy’s amusement, their day out hadn’t gone uninterrupted. Several times through the day, Spike had been stopped. Fans wanting autographs and wanting to give him support had recognized him and stopped him. Cordy watched as he signed papers, bags, and shirts, anything they had handy. He talked directly to each of them, looking them in the eye as he spoke, flirting shamelessly with the girls, no matter what they looked like. He would then move on, making the whole process look seamless, and natural, and leaving the person or persons with a smile. He really was great with the fans.
He would then give her a sheepish smile, and they would continue walking, until the next person came up.
Cordy could tell that he loved it, and was humble enough to appreciate the people that liked to watch him race. Granted, she never would have put the words humble and Spike together, but it was nonetheless true.
After lunch, and she had watched him to make sure he ate every bite, he had kissed her cheek and told her to go on without him. He would walk home. She had smiled, and told him to come to dinner on Friday. He’d said he would, then swept Jazz up in his arms for a final spin and kiss, then put her in her seat in the car. He’d watched as the car pulled away, staring at it long after she’d disappeared down the street.
Now, an hour, and at least ten autographs, later he was standing in front of All Auto Repair. He looked into the open bays, seeing the men in standard mechanic’s uniforms running around. The only one he didn’t see was Xander.
“Can I help you?” Spike jumped when a voice erupted from the side of him, his blind spot making it impossible to see the man that had walked up to him. He scowled, but turned to look at him.
“Yeah, I’m looking for Xander Harris.” The short, dark haired man looked at him, a flicker of recognition passing through his murky, brown eyes.
“Hey, aren’t you Spike Giles?” he asked. Spike put on his best smile, feeling a little worn out from all the recognition.
“Yeah,” he answered simply, taking the hand that had been thrust out at him. He then fished for his cigarettes, lighting one as the other man looked at him.
“Wow, this is so cool. You know, I knew Xander knew you, but I never expected you to actually show up here.” The man with the name tag of Harry beamed at him. “Man, I saw that accident. That sucked.” Spike nodded in agreement, hoping that he would tell him where Xander was soon. “Is it true you can’t see?” Harry asked bluntly. Spike huffed out a plume of smoke, his mouth setting into a grim line.
“I can see. Just not to the side of me. Can you tell me where Xander is?” he asked again.
“Wow. Guess that makes it hard to drive. You think you’ll ever get back in a racecar?” Harry asked, as if he hadn’t heard Spike.
“I dunno.” Spike took another drag, trying to reign in his building anger. The other people he had met today hadn’t been this pushy.
“Well, sorry to hear that. You were damn near the best,” the shorter man finished.
“Harry, how’s that transmission coming?” Spike turned towards the sound of the familiar voice, and watched as Xander came into view around the old Buick that was up on the lift. He looked up from the papers in his hand to look at Harry, and stopped dead when he saw Spike.
“Spike.”
“Hello, mate.” Spike dropped his cigarette to the ground and crushed it out with his boot, then walked over to the brunette.
“Hey. What’re you doing here?” he asked, taking in the changes in his friend. He didn’t know that Spike looked decidedly better than he did that morning, he just knew he looked like shit right now.
“Can’t come and see a friend?” Spike’s tone was just a shade of hurt. Xander snapped out of his surprise and managed a smile.
“Hell yeah. It’s good to see you, man,” he said, holding out his hand, his smile becoming wide and genuine. “You look like shit.” Spike snorted, and took the proffered hand, grinning himself.
“Yeah, Cordelia already told me.” Xander’s smile faded the second his wife’s name was mentioned, and he dropped his eyes.
“You’ve seen Cordy?” Spike studied the bent head, wondering why Xander was putting himself through so much pain.
“Yeah. She came out see me this morning.”
“Why?” The blonde raised a shoulder, and arched his scarred brow. “She didn’t send you here to talk to me, did she?” Spike didn’t confirm or deny, just slid his gaze to the very interested Harry. Xander got the hint, and turned to the man, handing him the papers in his hand. “This needs to be done by closing today. If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my office.”
“Yep. Good to meet you,” Harry said, giving Spike a salute before turning away.
“Come on.” Xander turned and walked through the garage, Spike right behind him. Once they were in the tiny office, the brunette shut the door, and waved to one of the chairs in front of the steel, over piled desk in the middle of the room. The clothes slung over the couch under the window, as well as the pillow and blanket sitting on the edge was testament to where he had been sleeping at night. Spike just shook his head as he sat, leveling his blue eyed gaze on his friend.
“So, what did Cordy say?” Xander didn’t waste any time getting to the point.
“Not much. Just that you were acting like a wanker, and I should get down here and kick your arse home.” Spike didn’t waste any time either. Xander scowled and stared down at the pen he was twisting in his fingers.
“It’s not that simple, Spike,” he started, only to look up sharply when Spike huffed.
“Don’t see why not. She’s your wife. Your daughter’s there. Do you still love em?”
“Don’t be stupid. Course I do.”
“So, what the hell are doin’ here. Go home, kiss your kid, make love to your wife, and act like a husband, a father.” Anger flared through the brunette’s eyes, the beginnings of their first argument ever simmering in the air.
“Oh yeah. And just where have you spent the last six months of your life? Huh? Seems I recall Giles calling me a couple a months ago and saying you were living in the bottom of the bottle. You haven’t concerned yourself with anything outside of that for quite a while. Why start now?” Spike’s eyes narrowed at that.
“Since Cordy showed up at my house this morning asking for my help. What about you? Haven’t exactly seen you coming out to call on your old pal Spike. Too wrapped up in your little poor me act, I suppose.”
“You don’t know a damn thing about it,” Xander snapped, fisting his hands in front of him. Spike merely arched a brow at him.
“I know you’re tearing yourself up inside because you nearly hit your wife.” The sentence hung in the air between them. Xander hadn’t even said it out loud to himself, and to have it fall so casually from Spike’s lips angered him more than he could account for. The blonde watched the fury as it passed over his friend’s face, a thoughtful expression on his own. “Pissed you off, did I?”
“Fuck you,” was all Xander could get out. He was nearly shaking with the raging emotion inside of him. “What the fuck do you know about anything? You got the life you wanted. You’re rich, and good looking, and all you can see is what’s gone. You lost the ability to drive, not live,” he spat.
“I didn’t get the life I wanted. I got part of it. But not all of it.” Spike glared at Xander, then pulled out a cigarette. The two men stared at each other over the flame as he lit the tip, slapping the lighter closed forcefully. “You got a lot of room to talk. Seems you’re always looking for a reason to run scared. And the road always leads back to Tony Harris. When does he stop running your life for you, man? When do you get to do it? When does he stop being an excuse?” Each question was punctuated by a plume of smoke rushing from Spike’s lips as he fought to keep his temper back. “You’re fucking up your life because of something that was done TO you, not BY you. Get over it, and move on. Go beat the snot out of something. Go to a meeting. I dunno, just get rid of the baggage, and see the good that’s in your life.”
“GOD DAMMIT SPIKE!” Xander roared, surging to his feet. “I almost hit Cordelia. The woman that I vowed to love, honor, and protect. I raised my hand and almost let it fly.”
“You seem to keep missing the word almost. As in didn’t. And from what she tells me, she never thought you would do it.”
“It doesn’t matter. What if I can’t stop it next time? What if I turn into. . .”
“Tony?” Xander nodded, glaring down at his desk. “Like I said, man. You gotta stop living in the shadow of what was done to you. You’re not your father. You almost hit her. You didn’t. Be thankful that you had the presence of mind to pull back.” Spike flicked some ashes on the floor watched Xander intently for any sign that he was getting through. “Do you want your marriage?” he asked finally. Brown eyes met blue while Xander nodded without hesitation. Of course he wanted his marriage. That wasn’t the problem. “Then, instead of running away from it, run to it. Let her help you heal.” Spike could see the tears starting to swim behind Xander’s eyes, and decided maybe that was enough for today. He leaned forward and crushed the cigarette out in a can on the desk, and stood. “Don’t throw away your life on a bunch of ‘what ifs’. Go home, take care of your wife and kid, and let go of the crap. It’s been a long time already, Xan. Don’t wait too long.” The brunette didn’t say anything as the blonde stood to leave. They looked at each other for a long minute, then Spike turned, and headed for the door.
“What about you? Going to follow your own advice?”
“Wha?” Spike asked turning back. A smile tugged on Xander’s lip.
“Get rid of the baggage, and see the good in your life. It has been a long time, Spike.” An image of Buffy, flushed and willing against the door of his father’s apartment flashed through the blonde’s mind, and he smiled.
“Yeah. It has been. Thankfully, I don’t think it was too long.” With a wave at his friend, he turned and left, thoughts of going home abandoned. Xander watched him go, thoughts spinning in mind. Before he could talk himself out of it, he picked up the phone and punched in the number for his house.
~*~*~
Spike strolled down Revello Drive, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. His plan was to apologize for being such a git the night before, then try to cajole an invitation to dinner. That was if the fiancé wasn’t there. He’d have to rethink if he was. He whistled lightly under his breath as he took the front steps two at a time, rocking on his heels while he rang the doorbell. He was about ready to ring it again when the door swung open, revealing her to his hungry gaze.
“Spike,” she gasped, her eyes sliding towards the kitchen. *Ah, he’s here,* Spike thought, forcing a smile.
“Hello, pet. Just wanted to stop by and apologize for last night.” He presented her with the bouquet of flowers, smiling at the look of delight that crossed her features.
“Thank you. They’re lovely. But, you didn’t have to. We were both a little wrong last night,” she said with a smile. “Hey, you got a haircut,” she noticed, narrowing her eyes to study the color. “And is that highlights I see?” her tone was teasing. She giggled when he glowered.
“Yeah, Cordy’s idea,” he grumbled, picking at a piece of chipped paint on the door frame.
“Well, I like it,” Buffy approved, giggling again at his pleased expression. The butterflies were having a field day in her stomach, and she remembered what a pleasant feeling just flirting with Spike was.
“Buffy? Who is it?” a masculine voice called from the kitchen, making Spike’s smile fade.
“That him?” he asked, jerking his head in the direction it came from. Buffy nodded, looking at him apologetically.
“Yeah. Can you. . .” she started, taking a deep breath. Spike looked at her expectantly, tilting his head to the side as he waited. “Can you give me a few days to think?” His eyes widened a bit and a smile of electric intensity spread across his face as her meaning sunk in.
“Come out here,” he demanded, stepping back so she could do so.
“Spike, I can’t. Riley’s here,” she stammered.
“You either step out here and close the door so he can’t see me kiss you silly, or I can do it right now, with you in full view of the dining room, should he come looking for you.
“Riley, I’ll be right back, okay?” she called, stepping outside quickly, a look of panic crossing her face. As soon as the door closed, she was in his arms. She put her hand up to still his head as he lowered it to kiss her. “Spike. Come on. This isn’t right. He’s right inside,” she protested, gasping when his tongue slid out to tease her fingers.
“Just want to give you something to think about,” he purred, tightening his arms around her.
“Oh, I have plenty to think about without the help. Thanks. Really, no. I can’t do this.” Spike growled, but unbelievably, understood. He’d be ready to rip out that poof’s heart of he attempted to do the very thing that he was doing now. Besides, he was confident in what her choice would be. With a sigh, he brushed his lips across her forehead.
“Alright, luv. But don’t make me wait too long.” Her eyes grew incredulous at that.
“Cocky bastard.” Spike leered at that, his lip curling seductively.
“You know it, baby.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better now. I think. What brought on the new outlook?” Spike snorted, and stepped away from her.
“I think getting continually kicked in the teeth by everybody over the last twenty four hours, did a good job of rattling my brain.”
“Somebody besides me went after you?” she said with a smile.
“Yeah. Dad had a go, and so did Cordy. Even Xander got in a few well placed barbs.”
“You saw him?” Her face was hopeful for a brief instant, then turned angry. “Not like he has a lot of room to talk.”
“No, he doesn’t. Don’t worry, pet. I gave as good as I got,” he assured her. “Hopefully he’s at his house, right now, doing some overdue arse kissing.” Buffy chuckled at that, and glanced down at the flowers.
“Thanks, again. I need to get back inside.” She waved her hand towards the door, and gave him a shy smile. He returned it, and ran the backs of his knuckles over her cheek.
“Alright. I’ll be off then. Have to go flat hunting tomorrow.”
“Settling down for awhile?” She tried not to sound too hopeful. His smile widened into a grin.
“Yeah.”
“Good.” Buffy dropped her eyes, hoping her face wasn’t as bright red as it felt. When she looked back up at him, her breath was stolen by the intensity in his eyes. “I, uhm, need to go in,” she said, her tongue darting out to moisten her suddenly dry lips. A deep groan reverberated from Spike’s chest at the action. He managed to restrain himself from pulling her to him, and plundering her mouth, fiancé inside or not.
“Yeah, I think you better, if you don’t want to give him a show.” He captured his lip between his teeth, and dragged his eyes over her body, making her feel like he could see right through the thin cotton top she was wearing, and the denim capris. She felt herself flush again at the boldness of his gaze, and backed up a step.
“Yeah. Uhm, yeah,” she stammered, giggling again, and feeling like an idiot school girl. She hadn’t even acted this bad around him in high school. “I’ll talk to you. . . later,” Buffy burst out. Spike chuckled at her, and pushed away from the railing.
“Goodnight, luv.”
“Night.” With one last look, she slipped inside, closing the door with a quiet click. Spike trotted down the stairs, a spring in his slightly limping step. He found himself whistling again as he headed towards his father’s, for once, the fuzziness on the edges of his sight not bothering him.
~*~*~
“Was that him?” Riley asked when she walked back inside. He was standing in the doorway between the living room and the foyer, his big hands on his lean hips. She looked at him, guilt flaring bright in her eyes at the thought that she had just been flirting with her ex on the porch, while her fiancé stood inside, waiting.
“Yeah.” Buffy averted her gaze, finally remembering the flowers in her hand. “We had a really big fight last night, when I went to get Dawn. And he was just apologizing,” she explained, turning to head towards the kitchen for a vase. Riley followed her, reigning in his jealousy as best he could. Never in the last twelve months that they had been together, had he seen the particular look of happiness on her face that she had when she first walked inside. Again, a feeling of dread started to lace it’s way through his heart.
“Well, that was nice,” he mumbled, leaning against the door jamb in the kitchen. Buffy’s eyes flicked to him, then away, while she opened cabinets to find the vase.
“Yeah,” was all she offered, turning to fill it with water. She concentrated fully on her task, her mind running on all cylinders as she arranged the flowers in the crystal.
“I love you,” he said suddenly. She looked up at him sharply, hearing the underlying desperation in his voice. He waited a beat for her to answer, then turned on his heel.
“Riley, wait.” She rounded the table to go after him, barely catching him before he stormed out the door. “Riley.” She looked up at the tense line of his jaw, the angry set of his face, willing him to look at her.
“What, Buffy?” he ground out, pinning her with eyes so cold, they nearly froze her. “What are you going to try to make me believe?” She opened her mouth, but found no words would come. She saw the tears collecting in his eyes, and felt the answering ones in hers. She’d never wanted to hurt him. “You know…” He took a deep breath, looking at the door briefly before returning his eyes to hers. “I always knew, that if he ever came back, that would be it. I didn’t want to admit it. But I knew.”
“Riley, it’s not like that. . .”
“Isn’t it?” He harshly cut her off, his clipped Iowa tones becoming sharper. His body was practically singing with tension as he felt his heart start to shatter in his chest. “Then what is it? Are you still in love with him?” She didn’t answer, knowing that whatever she said would be wrong. Besides, she had no excuse. He let out a disgusted breath, his hand fisting on the doorknob. “You never should have said you would marry me,” he accused.
“You’re right. I shouldn’t have. I’m still so confused about him. . .”
“No, you’re not. That’s the thing. You’ve never been confused when it came to him. You just wanted to believe that you were. He’s always right here.” He tapped a finger against her heart, then against her forehead. “And here. There’s no way you can be confused.” Tears slid down her cheeks at the absolute desolation on his face. How could she have done this? Buffy looked down at the hand resting on his arm, saw the ring glinting in the light. Taking the hand away, she pulled it off, looking at it for a long time, feeling his eyes burning into the top of her head. She didn’t look at him as she held it out, feeling the worst form of coward.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she felt him take it. He looked down at her bent head, his throat closed with hurt.
“I am too,” he told her, his voice rough. She dared to glance up at him then, nearly reeling back from the anger, and the pain, swirling in his eyes. “Goodbye, Buffy.” Without another word, he twisted the doorknob and left, the slam shaking the very walls.
“Buffy?” Dawn’s voice came from behind her, startling Buffy. The blonde turned to look at her sister, the look of anguish in her hazel eye erasing all memories of being mad at her away. In three steps, Dawn was down the remaining steps, wrapping her older sister in her arms, holding her while she cried. Whispered words of comfort filled the air, while Buffy sobbed out her guilt over hurting Riley.