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This part contains spoilers for Get it Done.
I couldn’t sleep. Nothing but visions of
Ubervamps every time I shut my exhausted eyes. God… not enough. It’s not
enough. I wandered aimlessly around the house, tiptoeing past sleeping bodies…
dead bodies. Could be dead. Would be dead. Because I turned it down. Why?
Why did I think I knew what to do? The whole reason I jumped through that
portal was because I don’t know what to do. God… what are we gonna do?
I was stepping down the basement stairs before I actually realized
what I was doing. Going to Spike… for what? To cry? Should I tell him what I
saw? He’s… he’s probably still mad about what I said. And, if anything, now
I’m going to be even worse about it… now that I know what’s coming…
I saw him when I reached the bottom. I could
smell the cigarette smoke rising to my nostrils… dizzying me a little. He’s
smoking again? He was crouched in the center of the basement, shiny
leather-clad back to me, thumbing through a book. Smoke billowed up as he
flipped a page.
“Bad dream, Slayer?”
I stepped closer, noticing blood dripping down
his ear. My hand stretched over it on instinct, “Are you okay?”
His head jerked away, “’m fine, Slayer.”
Okay, only a couple words so far and Slayer’s
been two of them. Something is wrong with him. Great. Mood-swing much,
Spike? I ran a finger over his ear again.
I jumped when he slammed the book down. He
stood, whirling around, “God, Buffy! Don’t bloody touch me!”
My jaw could have just slammed to the floor like
the book… and if I opened my eyes any wider, they could hit the floor too. The
hand that touched him was now a tight fist, clenched hard to my side.
“Don’t… touch you?”
The cigarette drifted to his lips again and he
nodded, blowing smoke my way.
“Why not?” My voice cracked, probably from
anger… maybe sadness… maybe from cigarette smoke.
He backed up, leaning against a pillar, hands in
his pockets, “That’s how it all started, isn’t it?”
I didn’t say anything… partly because I didn’t
have anything to say, and partly because I wasn’t sure about what he was
“Isn’t it?” he stood straight up now, “The
touching… made me soft, didn’t it? The warmth of you… obsession with you…
started it all.”
“So, everything is my fault?” I knew it was a
childish thing to say. I wasn’t even sure why I said it.
“Damn right it is!” he flung the cigarette to
the floor and stomped on it, drawing himself closer, “One day it’s ‘not ready
for you to leave, Spike!’” his foot scraped against the wood, but his eyes
never left me, “And the next it’s ‘go ahead and go, Spike.’” His eyes
I couldn’t look at him. My eyes fell to the
floor. I’m sorry, Spike. It’s been so hard. Everything’s just so… I have to
make all the decisions, and I think I just made the worst one. The girls… it’s
all my fault. Everything is my fault. My thoughts ran like railroad tracks,
intersecting each other. They never formed into words… instead they piled
inside of me until I felt hot tears in my eyes. They rose to find blurry
The hardness was leaving his face, and he
stepped back a little. “See? I don’t know what to do with tears, Buffy, I
don’t know… dunno if you want me to… to hold you or… to kill you.”
It didn’t help that he said that. Why did he
say that? Tears slipped out, stretching warmth down to my chin. Don’t
do that. Rub them off. It doesn’t help to cry like this. Doesn’t make pain
or bad decisions go away.
His cool fingers began to brush them away,
finally cupping over my cheek. His stare fell into my eyes just as I started
to clear away the stupid crybaby feeling. He dropped his hand.
“Whatever you want…” his voice shook, and he
gulped before speaking again, “I’ll do as you ask…”
I focused on not crying, even though every word
pierced my heart. I don’t know what to ask for. I don’t know what I want.
“I’ll always do as you ask of me.” He hung his
duster on a nail, “I’m yours.”
Hold me. Be strong. Help me. Save me. I
don’t know… So many words flushed over my mind, trickled over my tongue.
Nothing came out. Just silent pleas to his silent back.
I was up the stairs in a flash. I slammed the
door so hard I was sure it woke up every potential in the house. I splashed
water over my face, trying to cleanse off the feeling. The feeling of guilt…
of failure… of desperation. I’m the Slayer. I need to be stronger. I have to
“I mean, they never stop!” Xander glanced away
from the road, “Giles just picks up more girls anywhere he goes... He’s like a
rock star! That’s what it is!”
“He’s not bringing anymore girls, Xander,” Dawn
spoke up from the back seat.
“See, that’s what he says, but I’ll bet he’s
already got four new push-Xander-over-the-edge teenage slay-girls on the way!”
“You’re on.” Dawn sat back in her seat, “How
Xander glanced into the mirror, “What? How
much? It’s a gentleman’s bet, Dawnie.”
“Spike once told me gentlemen’s bets were for
tightwad money-grubbin' po—”
“Could you just, like… not do Spike quotes in
the car? We could end up in a ditch.” Xander sighed, “Besides, what does Spike
know about being a gentleman?”
The conversation drifted out of my head. I
stared out the window. At least Dawn and Xander think about Spike, too. Maybe
everyone’s in a think-about-Spike phase. Maybe it’s not just me.
Spike... Spike. Just… all I can think about. I
have outdone myself this time. I’ve screwed him up so much with orders and
requests and actions. I just string him along… I think. Just keep him around
until he’s gone. Because he will be gone. He can’t live forever. Well… he
can, but he can’t stay with me forever. He won’t… stay with me forever…
And the night I told him to just go… if he was
gonna keep holding back, he might as well go. His face just twisted when I
told him he was better then… more useful to me without the soul… more
convenient. I shuddered, just the thought of the words chilling my spine.
“You alright, Buff?” Xander asked. “Been kinda
“I, uh… just feel a little…”
“Yeah, I get that. Traveling millions of years
through time’s gotta take some kind of physical toll... even for our Buffster,”
his hand patted my shoulder.
That’s not even it, Xander. It’s what I saw.
It’s what I know. It’s what I did. I closed my eyes. Gnashing teeth opened
wide, crying out, swallowed me whole.
Then we pulled up next to the Hellmouth.
Principal W—Robin sent me home early. ‘Get some
sleep,’ is what he had said. Get some sleep? Yeah. Great idea, Prin—Robin.
‘I’ll just get right home and start dreamin‘ up our apocalypse! Hey, I
might’ve even helped start it! Go me!’ That’s what I should’ve said back to
I could hear the girls in the backyard. I went
in the house, heading for the kitchen. The basement door was open, and I could
hear girls down there too... training. I had just started to walk away when
the girly shriek came from below.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” I bolted
Spike was crouched in a corner and turned his
head when I reached the bottom. The girls were huddled together near the
stairs. Vi’s shocked face turned to me.
“Buffy! Did you know you have rats in this
My heart stopped racing, and my hand rubbed my
eyes. “Rats? Uh, no. I didn’t know that.”
“Pretty nice-sized one, Slayer.” Spike stood,
dusting his hands. “Ran behind those boxes there. Can still smell ’im.”
The girls made a combined, “Ewww.”
“Okay, girls. Go outside and practice with
Kennedy.” I huddled them upstairs, “Spike and I will take care of the rat.”
He half-smiled, turning back to the boxes.
“Look tired, Slayer. Must be runnin‘ on empty.”
“Yeah,” my eyes wandered across the floor, “Not
much with the sleep lately.”
“Anything you’re sharing?” Spike glanced back
before sidestepping quickly.
“Oh, it’s… it’s nothing really.” Nothing
really? It’s enough to keep my eyes open every second… why didn’t I tell him?
“Right,” he nodded, like he had expected my
non-answer, “He’s back there. Behind the shelf.” He stood across from it,
“You pull out the shelf, and I’ll catch him when he darts out.”
I grabbed the front of the shelf, “You sure you
can catch it?”
He chuckled, “Had enough practice, love.”
I yanked out the shelf, and jumped back when the
brown fur scurried across the floor. Spike dove on top of it. I heard him
grunt, and his bones shifted. I heard his teeth sink into the squeaking rat.
My stomach turned, and I felt the air catch in my throat.
He must’ve heard me, because he stopped seconds
later, throwing the rat to the floor… either that or he had… drained it
already. He stood, wiping his mouth on his sleeve before turning around. His
face was soft again.
“Sorry, love… force of habit.”
Oh, God. That was just disgusting. “It’s
okay.” I tried to lie, “I, uh… I think I better go upstairs now.”
He nodded, looking embarrassed. He stepped back
towards his bed.
As soon as I closed the
bathroom door I lunged for the toilet. God, as long as I live, please don’t
let me ever see that again…
Continued in Part 15