Been Here Too Few Years

Spike hated leaving Buffy. She'd insisted on
staying in Sunnydale until her mother was released from the hospital, and he
wanted nothing more to stay there with her—only she wouldn't let him. He'd
stayed through the weekend, but come Monday afternoon, Buffy was insisting he
return to Los Angeles. She'd kept in mind how he'd told her he needed to be class=GramE>back Tuesday, and she wasn't letting him backpedal now.

"Spike, we already had this
conversation," Buffy told him as they stood outside of Sunnydale Memorial Hospital.
"I appreciate that you want to be here with me, really I do, but this
album is important. You need to be in L.A. to work on it. I'm going to
be fine. The doctors are planning to release her tomorrow, and once she's settled
back at home, I'll leave. Besides, if you stay now, I'll just start worrying about
you neglecting the band."

"That's a completely unfair ploy, you
know, telling me I'll worry you more by staying," Spike pointed out with a
frown.

"Yeah, but it's true." Buffy replied.
"I'm fine here. The best thing you can do right now is go home."
Spike flinched at her words, and Buffy immediately reached out and took his
hand. "Hey, I don't mean I want you to go away. I love you, and having you
here for support while my mother was in the hospital has meant so class=GramE>much to me. But I can't have you sacrificing your career for
this. The last thing I want is the band calling me Buffy Ono."

Spike chuckled, and Buffy was glad she
seemed to have diffused the situation before his mood grew darker. She'd
figured out feeling needed was important to Spike, and the last thing she
wanted was to make him feel otherwise. Spike slid his fingers between hers with
the hand she'd taken hold of. "Are you really sure, kitten? I hate leaving
you like this. What if something happens, and you need
someone to support you?"

"Honey, you're not going into the
jungles of South America under strict orders of radio silence," Buffy
replied. "You're not even leaving the state. I can still call you if
something comes up, and I'll be home in a couple of days anyway."

"I know, but I still…" Spike
stopped, and dropped his gaze away from her. While his primary reason for
wanting to stay was because he wanted to be there to support her, another part
of him wanted to stay so he could simply be near her, and it made him feel
somewhat guilty. She had too much stress in her life right then to have to deal
with a clingy boyfriend, too.

Buffy, however, was more perceptive than he
was giving her credit for, and was able to pick up on the second reason without
him actually telling her. She moved closer, placing her free hand against his
hip. "I'm going to miss you, too, you know. But it's only for a little
while, and when I come home, I promise I'll make up for the fact that I haven't
exactly been big with the whole physical expression of love recently."

Spike looked up again sharply. "Buffy,
I haven't been expecting… I know you've been under stress, and I haven't…"

Buffy stood on her tiptoes and put her
finger against his lips. "I know, baby. But it has been a while—at least
for us—and I know you have to be missing being inside me—like I've
missed having you inside."

Suddenly, Spike's eyes darkened, a shiver
running through his body. He pulled the finger that was at his lips into his
mouth and gave it a light nibble. "Whenever I'm not inside, I miss it,
pet," he said as he let her hand drop.

Her response was to kiss him, long, and
slow, and deep. She hadn't kissed him like this in days either, and now it was
making her knees buckle. Spike wrapped his arm around her to steady her even as
Buffy was taking handfuls of his shirt in her fists, moaning into his mouth.

When they finally broke apart for air, all
Spike could think was that he really didn't want to leave her now.

"I'll be home in a couple of
days," Buffy promised him, unclenching her hands from his shirt and
placing them flat against his chest instead. "You can shag me until I
can't walk straight then."

Spike's mouth twitched up in a smirk.
"I'm holding you to that, pet."

Buffy kissed him again to seal the deal,
though she pulled back before it got too heated again, knowing that would only
make it harder to say good-bye. "Okay, now you go in and say your
good-byes so you can get home and make an album."

Spike nodded, though Buffy could still see
the reluctance in his eyes. "We'll be together soon," Buffy promised,
stroking his cheek softly. She smiled at how Spike automatically nuzzled
against her hand.

"I know," Spike conceded, though
he already felt as if he were missing her, even as she stood in front of him.
"Let's go then."

***
*** ***

As Buffy lay alone in bed staring up at the
ceiling, she wished she had it in herself to be more selfish. She missed Spike
the most when she was trying to sleep, nothing seeming right without him cuddled
up against her. For all the talk about men hating to snuggle, hers was
practically a teddy bear.

She'd gotten used to it early on, before
they were even a couple. Those nights when he'd just held her to help her chase
away her demons had gotten her hooked. Part of her wished now that she was the
sort of person who could demand he focus solely on her so she could have him
with her now instead of being forced to sleep alone while he was in Lost
Angeles, but Buffy knew she could never do that to
him. She loved him too much to ever try to stand in the way between Spike and
his music career. He'd been working towards this longer than he'd known her,
and she wanted him to succeed. He deserved it.

Still, Buffy was glad she'd stayed. Her
mother already seemed to be doing a little better, but she wanted to be there
when Joyce came home, for her own piece of mind if nothing else. She also knew
she was going to have to visit, probably often while her mother was undergoing
radiation therapy. Joyce could still take a turn for the worst, and Buffy
wanted a chance to work through their issues before that happened. Even if it
turned out their issues weren't ones that could be worked through, she
wanted to be able to say she'd tried. If she didn't, she'd be facing a lifetime
of regrets, and she already had more than enough of those.

Buffy curled up on her side, hugging the
pillow Spike had slept on the night before. It still held traces of his scent,
and she breathed it in, letting it calm her. For a moment, she didn't realize
she'd begun to cry until the pillowcase grew damp, and she squeezed it tighter,
wishing it could be him. The past week had been an emotional roller coaster,
and no matter how hard she tried to keep herself collected, she couldn't.

Her cell phone rested on the edge of the
bedside table, and Buffy fought the urge to call him. Knowing Spike, he'd turn
right back around and return to Sunnydale if he heard her crying, and she
didn't want him to do that more than she did. Emotionally, she wanted him there
to hold her, but logically, she knew her neediness was not as important as the
album. She could make it through this night on her own. After all, she'd been
sleeping alone for years before Spike came into her life, and she'd survived
just fine. With everything he did for her, she owed it to him to allow him to
let his career come first.

She gripped the pillow tighter.

***
*** ***

Spike was not having
what he'd call the best day of his life. He'd gotten very little sleep the
night before worrying about Buffy, and then his morning in the studio had been
such a complete bust that he was pissed off for having to come back at all.
Their bleeding wanker of a guitar player, Brian, had thrown a complete fit
about Oz and Rory not wanting one of his songs off the album, and when Spike
had thrown his lot in with the bassist and drummer, Brian had hit the roof and
stormed out. After waiting two hours for him to come back, they'd called it a
day, and now they were out of the studio again until Thursday—if Brian decided
to get his head out of his arse that was.

Spike
had been in no mood for drama, but the fact remained that the song was crap.
Brian knew how to play, but he'd never been much of a writer, and cutting that
song made room for one Oz and Rory had written which had actual potential to be
a hit—not that one song on an album that always seems to keep them from being
all ones you don't want to skip past. That and the lyrics were so bloody stupid
Spike had to fight from rolling his eyes every time he sang them.

With the
day a bust and Wednesday called off, Spike made the spur of the moment decision
to go back to Sunnydale. He'd talked to Buffy before she'd gone to the
hospital, and he'd made the ill-fated trip into the studio, and she'd told him
she was planning on coming back to Los Angeles the next morning. Seeing as she
had no car of her own, that would mean either Giles would have to take her or
she'd have to take the bus, and Spike knew it would be easier for her if he was
there to drive her home. So he went back to their apartment long enough to
throw a few things in a bag and set out again.

After
the day he had, too, he wanted to see her. He knew he couldn't put all his
troubles on her, not with her mother being sick, but being with her was bound to
make him feel better. It always did. He knew if he was holding her the fact
that Brian was already exhibiting diva-like behavior before the first
album was even finished wouldn't matter so much anymore. Or any of the other
little annoyances he'd discovered came with making an actual studio album
either. 

Buffy
had told him that morning they were keeping her mother for most of the day,
wanting to get a few more tests and observation in before they sent her home,
so Spike bypassed Revello Drive and went straight to the hospital. He thought
as he pulled into the parking lot he probably should've called, but he hadn't
wanted to take the time to stop long enough to use the phone. He'd just have to
assure her he hadn't put the album in jeopardy by being there, since she seemed
to be worried about that.

Spike
got out of the car and stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath as he ran his
hand through his hair, tousling his bleached curls. He was tired and stressed,
the majority of his day involving screaming at Brian followed by driving so
fast down the interstate he was amazed he hadn't gotten pulled over. He needed
Buffy. Even if he couldn't put all his troubles at her feet and have her give
him the comfort he really wanted, he needed her. She'd put her arm around him,
and she'd kiss him, and he'd feel better.

He
walked into the hospital, but stopped short at the entrance to the waiting
room, the sight in front of him making him feel anything but better. Giles and
Dawn were nowhere to be seen, but Buffy was there, sitting in one of the chairs
with her legs tucked under her talking to Ben. Spike couldn't hear what
they were saying, but he did hear her laugh, and he clenched his fists at his
sides. Ben was in the seat right beside Buffy, so close he was almost touching
her, and Spike felt his whole body shaking with anger and jealousy. He'd
worried about her being there without him, but apparently, she was handling
herself just fine.

Spike
wanted to hurt the intern. He wanted to storm over there, drag him away from
his girlfriend, and make it clear to him that he needed to stay the hell away
from Buffy. But he couldn't do it. For one thing, it would only piss Buffy off,
and he did have enough sense to know if he did that, everything would get
worse. Still, he couldn't see her now, not like this.

He
turned around, left the hospital, and drove back to Los Angeles.

style='font-family:Arial'>*** *** ***

*cowers* Don't kill
me? Please?

Yes, there's angst ahead. I'm warning you
now. Eventually, it's going to get better and there will be happiness, but it's
getting to another bumpy stretch in the road. If you want to duck out for a
bit, I'll understand, but please, don't yell at me first, because I'm not going
to change what I have planned.