Go From Here

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Chapter Eight

It'd been a few weeks since Spike and Buffy had cried in each others arms and took their first real step toward healing. It had been a breakthrough for them, there was no doubt about that. Both felt as if a weight had been lifted. It wasn't enough to stop what they still carried, but it certainly cleared the way for them to be more open to discussing what had happened and allowed honesty to rush forth without the fear of recriminations.

"So, you've been quite the mover and shaker, huh?" Buffy asked Spike one day as they strolled through the park. It had become somewhat of a ritual for them to meet at least twice a week, weather and schedule permitting, in the park for a chat. It had also become customary for Spike to catch ‘Pangs' at the club they performed at and to have a pint or two with Wesley. Spike had even joined them for dinner once or twice. Now that he'd gotten to know Wesley better, he could see where he had been completely off the mark in his assumptions about the man. While there was still an upper crust reserve to him, Wesley would no doubt give someone the shirt off his back should he deem them a good friend. When Wesley had found the pair crying together in the club, he'd been sympathetic and understanding, not once flying off the handle or questioning their relationship.

Spike now glanced over at Buffy, a boyish smirk playing on his features as he tossed her a good natured shrug. He was downplaying his vagabond status as much as he could.

"How is it you can move so much without worrying about work? Don't you ever worry that the one town you decide to stay in for a while won't have work for you?" Buffy asked, the responsible side of her kicking in. Spike reveled in it. Her concern over him filled him with a warmth that he was finding he was becoming addicted to. Once upon a time he'd taken care of her, and now she was taking care of him. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had done that.

"If they don't, I move again. Or I find some mediocre job to tied me over for a while before I move on again."

"I admire your adventurous spirit, but I would want the feeling of home. I'd miss coming home to a place that was all mine, and knowing that I had people there for me."

He stopped walking and turned toward her. "The only place I ever felt at home was in Sunnydale with you Buffy. I knew I could never get that back the way it was, so I guess I've been looking for that same kind of feeling again. I keep going because. . . well, I've never found that sense of home that I had."

She nodded slowly. "I can understand that. Though I spent all my time there trying to get out. I'm not the vagabond sort and once I made the decision to move here with Willow and Xander, I guess everything else just fell into place. It was just far enough away from. . . that place."

"That place," he chuckled lightly. "You make it sound like a torture chamber or something."

"It was," she wrinkled her nose. "When I got released from the hospital I was sent to a private school and I was heavily monitered not only by my parents, but by the people at the school. My parents had taken it upon themselves to tell my teachers all the sordid details. I was watched like a hawk. No boys for Buffy."

"Xander passed because you'd known him since he was one."

"Right. Anyway, ever day was an interrogation. Did I meet anyone? Was I keeping up with my studies? On the weekends if I wanted to go anywhere with Willow and Xander, it was a fight. If I wanted to go anywhere you were held over my head like some kind of black cloud following me around, keeping me in check, making sure I didn't slip."

Spike watched as she silently brushed away some tears at the memory. He knew that she needed to tell him what had happened and so he let her continue without interruption.

"Of course it was hard when you were brought up because then it was like I was reliving it all over again. And I felt empty inside, like a piece of me was missing and I knew it was because a piece of me WAS missing. Now, you're talking to a girl who'd always wanted kids. I'd always imagined the house, the husband, the kids, the cat and the dog. And when I was pregnant and we had all those plans, I thought my dreams were coming true. It didn't dawn on me then how young I was to be having a child. I just wanted it. I wanted you. Knowing that I had this life inside of me that we created and that one day we'd be counting ten toes and ten fingers and playing patty cake and that we'd have a baby, a HUMAN that was OURS. . . it was hard to think of our baby being gone like that. That I would never know what it looked like, what the sex was, if it had your eyes and my hair or vice versa. . ."

She looked up to see Spike had tears streaming down his face now as well. She let out a little whimper and flew into his arms. "Do you ever think there will be a time when we won't end each session with us bawling our eyes out?"

Spike buried his face in her hair and let out a heavy sigh. "I don't know, pet. The picture you painted. . . I-I wondered the same things. I wanted the same things. I don't know what was worse, having it be brought up all the time like you, or having it be swept under the rug and ignored like me.
Not being able to talk about it, not being able to acknowledge that it ever even happened and basically not being allowed to grieve and have a support system, it made the whole thing seem almost like a dream." He pulled back and pushed back some of her hair. "You felt like a dream to me, like we never happened and I so absolutely knew that we had. It felt like the most perfect love was nothing but a figment of my imagination and it hurt my heart to know that something that perfect was just kept out of my reach. Over time I thought maybe it was better to think you were a dream and that it had never happened. My heart knew though and it never let me forget because every time I thought about you, it ached so much I thought it would break my chest."

Buffy nodded, "that's why I felt so broken for so long." She stepped away from him. "Hell, who am I kidding? I still do."

"Buffy. . . "Spike began, trepidation in his voice.

"Yes?"

"I know you're with Wesley and I respect that and you don't have to answer me this—"

"What is it?" Buffy asked, caution in her tone.

"Did you ever fully stop loving me? After all this time, after everything. . . did we ever truly end for you?" His face was a mask of fear and longing.

She stared at him, silent, for a long time. Finally she answered. "The thought of you never died. It's easy to romanticize something that you don't have access to anymore. People who break up under normal circumstances do it. It's easy to remember the good times and forget that the bad times were ever there. Unfortunately for us, the bad times were something that just couldn't be tossed aside and forgotten.
At times I imagined what it would be like if we found each other again. If we were given a second chance."

"And?"

"And here we are. We're different people now Spike. We're given a second chance to mend the past, not to get back together. I've grown up since that starry eyed teenage girl you used to know."

Spike reached out and gently caressed the side of her face, smiling tenderly at her. "Sometimes I still see her. A grown up version of her."

Buffy smiled and looked away. "It's getting late. Wesley and I have a date tonight."

Spike nodded. "Same time next week?"

"Sure."

"Buffy, you know that I wasn't trying to—"

"I know, Spike. It's human to wonder these things."

"I really do like Wesley and I meant what I said, I respect your relationship."

"I know. I'll talk to you soon. Bye."

"Bye." Spike watched her go and clutched his heart as she faded out of sight. He sat down, suddenly feeling winded. The feeling of loving someone had been such a foreign concept to him for such a long time, he had a hard time recognizing the feeling until it burrowed right inside him.

TBC....