Wounded Hearts

Take the ribbon from my hair
Shake it loose and let it fall
Laying soft against your skin
Like the shadow on the wall
Come and lay down by my side
Till the early morning light
All I'm taking is your time
Help me make it through the night

I don't care what's right or wrong and I won't try to understand
Let the devil take tomorrow
Lord, tonight I need a friend
Yesterday is dead and gone
And tomorrow's out of sight
And it's sad to be alone
Help me make it through the night

And it's sad to be alone
Help me make it through the night
I don't want to be alone
Help me make it through the night
--Kris Kristofferson, “Help Me Make it Through the Night”

Buffy and Spike arrived at the Towne Motel where Spike insisted on paying for both their rooms. After checking in, Spike called a cab to take them to the police impounding station where their wrecked vehicles were taken so that they may retrieve their personal belongings. Both Spike and Buffy had luggage in their respective cars.

Buffy also called information and got some listings of several funeral homes in the Sunnydale California area. She finally found one that could meet their needs and she called the coroner’s office and made arrangements to have Angel and Drusilla flown to California where the Sunnydale Funeral Home would pick them up and take care of the services.

It was all so surreal, she thought after hanging up the phone. She didn’t know how she could sound so calm and normal when talking about burying her dead husband even while she was right in the middle of doing it. She felt numb. Why couldn’t she cry? What the hell is wrong with me she thought?

She looked at herself in the mirror attached to the wall before sighing and then leaving the room to meet Spike outside to wait for the cab to arrive.

“Hey” Spike greeted her as she came out of her room. He was standing on the sidewalk smoking a cigarette.

“Hey” Buffy replied.

“Did you...uhh...make the arrangement?” Spike asked.

“Yes. It’s taken care of.” Buffy said curtly giving Spike a look that expressed she didn’t want to go into details now.

Spike finished his cigarette and flicked the butt into the parking lot.

The cab finally arriving cut through the silence and Spike offered his hand and helped Buffy into the cab before sliding in himself. Ten minutes later they arrived at their destination and Spike instructed the driver to wait for them while they collected their things.

Thankfully the contents had already been removed from their mangled vehicles and were waiting for them at the front of the garage. Neither Buffy nor Spike was prepared to come face to face with the broken pieces of machinery that killed their spouses.

Most of Buffy and Angel’s things had already been sent out to their new house via moving trucks so she simply had a few travel suitcases. Spike and Drusilla, on the other hand had apparently been living out of their car. He had several garbage bags filled with God knows what which he loaded into the trunk of the cab along with his own suitcases leaving no room for Buffy’s things so they had to squeeze them into the backseat with them.

“Sorry” Spike apologized in embarrassment.

“It’s O.K.” Buffy assured him.

After the cab dropped them and their things both back off at the motel, they stood there on the sidewalk surrounded by bags and suitcases.

“What the bleeding hell am I going to do with all this stuff?” Spike said aloud.

“Well, for now, let’s get it moved inside.” Buffy answered.

Buffy helped Spike as best as she could with her one arm mostly useless to carry all his things inside before he stopped her and finished what was left including retrieving her things and taking them next door to her room. He left her cases on the bed and then went back next door.

“Need help with anything?” she offered.

“No…I’ll try and go through some…uhh…stuff and uhh…condense before we get the rental car. Besides your arm is broken. You shouldn’t be doing all this stuff.” he informed her.

“We’ll have the trunk plus the backseat so it should all fit. Don’t get rid of anything you don’t want to, Spike. We could always get one of those SUV’s too if we need more space and I still have one good arm. It’s not like I’m an invalid.” Buffy tried to make him feel better.

“Yeah, whatever” Spike said absently.

Buffy sensing his mood, excused herself, “Well, I’m going to go take a shower and get cleaned up. We can maybe go get something to eat later.”

“O.K., pet” Spike said, his back turned towards her.

She quietly let herself out and went back to her own room.

Buffy got her suitcase that contained her toiletries and headed for the bathroom. She started the shower and then undressed. Taking a shower while sticking one arm outside of the tub to prevent your cast from getting wet proved a lot more difficult than she anticipated. She tried to soap and shampoo herself as best as she could. Finally, in frustration, she pulled her casted arm into the shower and sunk down to her knees; backing up to the end of the tub, just out of the water’s spray and began to sob uncontrollably.

She didn’t know how long she had been there but it must’ve been awhile. Her body felt numb and ice cold water was pouring down from the shower. She heard banging on the outside door but just stared silently straight ahead. Suddenly the banging stopped and then a minute later the bathroom door flew open to reveal Spike. He flung the shower curtain open and winced as he looked at Buffy’s weak and shivering form, huddled at the edge of the tub.

“Bloody hell, Buffy!” he exclaimed as he turned off the water and grabbed a nearby towel and draped it over her.

“I’ve been banging on your door for ten minutes! I had to pick the lock open. You left almost 2 hours ago and when you didn’t come back to go for dinner, I came over and you wouldn’t answer the fucking door…you didn’t answer the door, Buffy” tears started to stream from Spike’s eyes as he lifted Buffy out of the tub and carried her into the main room. He vigorously rubbed the towel over her skin, trying to bring warmth and feeling back. He opened one of her suitcases and rummaged through it and came back with a pair of sweats and a t-shirt he had found.

There was nothing sexual in the way he took the towel off of her and dressed her. He paid no attention to her nudity in his concern for her well-being. She was still non responsive and he was worried.

“Buffy? Pet? Please…say something.” He pleaded with her.

Finally her eyes met his and her lower lip quivered, “I’m so cold, Spike”, she said.

“I wonder why! You were sitting in an ice cold shower for 2 hours you silly bint!” Spike ranted at the same time he was elated that she appeared to be O.K.

“I’m sorry…I just wanted to wash my hair and this damn cast and I couldn’t rinse right and I tried and…” Buffy babbled then burst into tears.

Spike sat down on the bed next to her and drew her into his arms, “Ssshhh, pet. It’s alright now.”

About fifteen minutes later, she was just down to sniffling. Finally she pulled away and looked at him with puffy read eyes and snot running out of her nose.

“I’m hungry.” She said matter of factly.

“Well then, let’s go get something to eat. There’s a diner across the street.” Spike replied.

“O.K. Just let me brush my hair.” Buffy ran one hand through her now air dried locks.

She took one look at herself in the mirror and saw her face and shrieked, “I look horrible. I can’t go in public like this, Spike.”

“You look fine. Don’t worry about it. Some people find puffiness and snotty noses rather attractive; however I do think I will have to change my shirt now” Spike replied trying to lighten the moment as he looked down at his snot and tear stained shirt.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry.” Buffy said mortified.

“It’s O.K., pet. It’s washable. I’ll go change. You do whatever it is you women do to your faces and I’ll meet you outside in ten, alright?” Spike said.

“Alright.” Buffy agreed.

Thirty minutes later they were digging into their dinner. Neither one of them had eaten anything since leaving the hospital and while at the hospital it was some broth and Jell-O. Neither realized how hungry they really were until they began eating. After they had gorged themselves they sat back with a groan of having eaten too much.

Finally Buffy began to speak, “I always felt weird after funerals when I was a kid. I mean, the whole family makes gobs and gobs of food and I would feel guilty sitting there eating all this food thinking about whoever it was that died and how they can’t eat anymore and how can I be eating when they are dead? I mean, what kind of heartless person keeps doing normal daily activities like eating or going to the bathroom or thinking about other things besides the person who died? You know? Why do we feel that way when someone dies? It’s so silly and stupid but…it always happens, you know?” Buffy continued on as her voice grew ever shakier and tears began to fall again as other patrons starting looking at their table as her voice got louder and she sobbed out, “And I never understood how this all happens. How we go through this. I mean, I knew him, and then there's just a body, and I don't understand why he just can't get back in it and not be dead anymore. It's stupid. It's mortal and stupid and before the accident I was having fruit punch, and I thought, Angel will never have any more fruit punch ever, and he'll never have eggs, or yawn or brush his hair, not ever, and no one will explain to me why.” She finished on a keening wail.

Spike sat there dumbfounded as a single tear slipped down his cheek. He reached over and took hold of her hand with his and gave it a squeeze.

“We don’t know how it works or why” he replied.

Buffy lowered her eyes as the hushed whispers from the other tables amplified.

“Come on pet. Let’s get out of here.” Spike said standing and throwing a few bills down on the table.

He led her out of the diner and back to their rooms. He helped her inside and watched her lay down on the bed and curl up. He sighed and left the room and went next door. He smoked a cigarette and then removed his shoes and shirt. Leaving on his jeans, he got into bed and lay there staring up at the ceiling in the darkened room.

He continued tossing and turning for what seemed like forever before he heard a soft knocking on his door. He got up and stumbled to the door. Opening it revealed Buffy.

“Buffy? What’s the matter?” Spike asked groggily.

“I…can’t sleep. I…was wondering…if…maybe…I could stay with you.” Buffy said looking down in shame.

“Ummm…yeah…alright…come in…its cold out there.” Spike moved away from the door so she could pass through.

“Let me just put a shirt on…” Spike said as Buffy stood there in the middle of the floor looking at him.

“It’s O.K. I don’t mind.” Buffy’s eyes flew wide open, “I mean...I didn’t mean it like…that...like...you know...oh God...I should just go back to my room.” Buffy started towards the door.

Spike already had his t-shirt back on and in lightening speed was over to Buffy, “No, pet. It’s O.K. I understand. I know you didn’t. God, this is rather hard, isn’t it?” Spike chuckled slightly. “And I didn’t mean THAT either.” He teased in an attempt to show her everyone can have a slip of the tongue.

She smiled back at him and then sadness once again masked her face.

“Come on. Hop on up. I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman.” Spike sat on the bed and patted the space beside him.

Buffy was thankful for the dark right now as she slid onto the bed and rested her head on one of the pillows.

Spike slid himself down as well and looked over at Buffy. She gave him a nod and with that he reached out and cradled her into his arms.

“I just need some help to get through the night…” Buffy said softly as her eyes closed and she finally drifted off to sleep.

Spike rested his head against hers and closed his eyes as well and replied back to her sleeping form, “Me too, pet. Me too.”