Chapter 90 - Choices

At first, he had just driven. He didn’t have to think of anything when he was flying over the pavement, the roar of the engine in his ears.

Predictably, he eventually ended up in a bar. It was an average little place two towns over; he’d been on the highway long enough and here was where he decided to stop. After getting a drink to start on, Spike planted himself in a booth at the back. Predictably, once he no longer had distraction, he started thinking about Buffy.

Whenever he thought they’d gotten something settled, she found a way to unsettle it all. Was this how it was going to go, cycles of them being perfectly fine until she brought up the same question with different words?

He just hadn’t been able to deal with it right then, again—when they should have been perfectly happy in light of recent events.

Her words had been cutting. It wasn’t that he thought he wasn’t enough, but that what he’d struggled to do wasn’t enough, would never be enough for her. Stop killing. Now stop killing forever, even though he wouldn’t have her by his side to make it all bearable.

Spike halfway suspected that she hadn’t come up with this recent question on her own. It probably came about during one of her talks with the Watcher. But that was neither here nor there.

She said that she knew he was a vampire, yet his not acting like a vampire seemed to be something she thought she should automatically be given.

Spike finished his first drink, tilting his head back. He set the glass on the table.

But he’d given it to her. Given her all she had wanted from him. Wanted then, at least. He didn’t necessarily believe that she was saying one thing and thinking another, but she seemed to reconsider what was acceptable.

Buffy hadn’t asked for anything directly today, but she’d wanted to know what he’d do if she wasn’t here. And her not being here was not something he thought about. Spike wasn’t totally sure what he’d do. But it did seem likely that he would do as he’d always done. He’d never made a pretense about changing.

She’d seemed more or less fine with this. Buffy had reluctantly accepted his past and what he’d already done as long as he stopped and didn’t do anything now. Apparently the future was another story.

Spike stared at the empty glass, and then he stood to go get a refill.

It had nothing to do with her or what she meant to him. It had to do with what he was. Curbing himself for her was just that—for her.

She didn’t understand. And she didn’t understand that she didn’t understand.

-----

Buffy moped around for the rest of the afternoon. First she was annoyed, but that quickly passed. Then she was uneasy and bothered, replaying their conversation in her head and trying to figure out where it had gone so wrong. Finally, she was back to annoyed, but at herself.

The house was too quiet. Her mother had gone back to work at the beginning of the week after it was clear that Buffy didn’t need her constant care. TV was boring, and she sure wasn’t reading any more magazines. In fact, she’d thrown all the magazines in the trash.

Buffy went out. She drove around town, went to the coffee shop, and window-shopped at the already closed downtown stores. She really hadn’t been in the mood to do anything, though. After evening fell, Buffy did patrol for the first time since her injury, but she didn’t find a single vamp.

She eventually ended up at Spike’s. Buffy sat in her car, staring up at his door. She sat there for longer than she should have. Then she made herself get out. Right. She would go up, talk to him, and…fix it somehow.

Buffy got out of the car and made her way up the stairs. She knocked on the door. No one answered. Well, he was probably still out…driving or whatever. She knew he liked to drive. The door was locked, and Buffy opened it with her key.

Abruptly, she was struck that she had never before used the key he’d given her. Every other time, he’d been here or they’d arrived together.

Buffy closed the door. She checked to make sure that he wasn’t there and then sat alone on the bed. After a moment, she lay back, rolling on her stomach and burying her face in the sheets. The sheets didn’t smell like anything but detergent. Huh. Spike had done laundry.

She checked her watch. It was after nine.

Maybe she should call him.

Buffy sighed, folding her hands under her chin.

She was starting to feel really bad; she hadn’t meant to upset him. She was used to being upset after they talked, but Spike never got upset. If anything, he got mad. He’d done a little of that, too, but it was the other that was bothering her.

Buffy had just asked a question. She hadn’t actually asked him to not kill people after she was dead, but she had to admit that she’d hoped the answer would be that he wasn’t going to. Somehow, that had turned into her insinuating that if he did, she must not mean anything to him, and him asking if anything he did would ever be enough for her.

Not exactly what she’d planned. Though she really hadn’t planned any of it; it had just happened.

A part of her mind whispered that everything he’d done he had done for her. Everything she’d asked, he’d done. Even though he said it was hard for him, even though he admitted he didn’t find much wrong with doing what vampires did.

You know he’s a vampire.

She knew that, she did. But it was still hard when she was forced to face the stark reality of how very human he wasn’t, and she couldn’t help wishing it were just a little easier. She couldn’t help wishing that they didn’t look at things so differently. But no matter what Spike did for her, he wasn’t going to stop being a vampire.

And she didn’t want him to be. He wouldn’t be Spike.

What did she want from him?

She’d wanted him to stop killing. That was all she’d ever wanted, and she’d gotten it. She would like him to say that he would always stay like this, but maybe that wasn’t fair. Maybe this was the compromise, and this was as much as she was going to get.

She had no control over what he did after she was gone. She might not like it, but was it going to be a deal breaker, something she was prepared to lose the now over?

The answer was immediate: No.

Buffy impulsively reached for her phone. She dialed Spike’s number. It rang several times, and when he answered, there was noise in the background.

“Spike? Where are you?”

He told her the name of a town she only vaguely recognized.

“What? Why are you there?”

“Just ended up here. Told you, went for a drive.”

“Oh. Um, look, I didn’t mean to—”

“Never do, do you?” he asked.

“I wanted to talk to you. About today.”

“Rather not do this on the phone, love.”

“I’m sorry about what I said. I didn’t mean—Spike? Spike?”

Her phone beeped. Buffy pulled it away from her ear and looked at it.

He’d hung up on her. Spike had hung up on her.

She wanted to apologize, and he thought she was going to go off again. She wanted to tell him it didn’t matter, and he was out getting drunk. Buffy put the phone in her purse and walked out of the bedroom. He didn’t want to do it over the phone? Fine.

-----

Drinking hadn’t really helped the frustration. It had just sort of mellowed him. He had been less tense, but frustrated. Buffy’s recent call hadn’t helped, either. It had just made him annoyed again, irritably wondering what she wanted to ‘talk’ about now.

Spike took another swig from the bottle.

Killing someone usually helped him get out of this sort of mood.

Though that didn’t say much for him, did it? If he went and killed someone after he’d had a fight with Buffy about killing people.

On the other hand, no matter what he did, it seemed like it wasn’t enough. Why bother doing anything? Buffy would never know.

Spike sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to. He’d told her he wouldn’t, and he wouldn’t. But, he considered, that didn’t mean he couldn’t window-shop. Purely hypothetical stress relief.

Spike scanned the crowd. The bar was swinging now, and there were lots of people talking and drinking and playing pool. He visually moved from person to person, automatically and instinctively sizing them up. He finally picked out a girl who was sitting by herself at the bar.

She had light brown hair and was wearing jeans and a form-fitting top. More importantly, she was uncertain, out of her element. A stray.

Spike watched her off and on as she finished her fruity drink. If he could have killed someone, that’s who he would kill. There was something almost soothing in the knowledge that he could, even if he wasn’t going to.

However, when he caught sight of the girl moving through the crowd, Spike finished what was in his bottle and stood up after her. She headed down the hallway to the bathroom; he walked behind her without a sound.

Was he doing this to prove something? What was he doing? He wasn’t going to kill her; he had no intention of killing her.

She turned and went into the bathroom, never knowing what was behind her. He turned to the adjacent door that obviously led out into the alley.

The door shut behind him.

He stayed in the alley. Alleys were also familiar territory. Cars and people went by on the nearby street while he had a smoke to clear his head. It was just as easy to do nothing out here as it was to do nothing in there. And he was done drinking. It hadn’t been his intention to get dead drunk, but if he went back in there, he might.

Sometime later, the door opened again, and he watched from the shadows as a hormone-driven pair came out, kissing and groping at each other.

Typical.

But after a moment, Spike realized two things. One, the girl was the one he’d been watching inside, and two, the guy was a vampire.

He watched as the vampire maneuvered her up against the wall, as he went from kissing her to biting her. She screamed. Stupid fledgling didn’t even know to cover their mouths. It was one thing if you wanted them to scream; it was another to attract unwanted attention. But then again, the screams usually stopped once you had a good hold. And hers did.

He should kill the vampire, he supposed.

Spike pulled the stake out of his pocket. The vampire never saw it coming; a second later, his dust was floating to the ground.

The girl gasped, putting a hand to her neck while crying and sniffling. But she didn’t immediately move. She was nervously glancing between him and the alley exit behind him, some sort of mental alarm going off that she might not be completely saved.

It was probably the way he was staring at her neck, or the way he’d already gotten too close to her. Or possibly the way he’d licked his lips. Spike remembered watching her inside. She was already bleeding out; he wouldn’t even have to bite her.

Buffy would never know.

No. Even if it was so tempting and easy, he wasn’t going to break his promise to her. Even if she didn’t understand how hard it was, he wasn’t going to do something he’d already said he wouldn’t.

Although, he could just lean in and take a taste. There wouldn’t be much harm in that; she’d already been bitten.

His tongue darted between his lips again. They were barely a foot apart. Spike leaned in closer, his arms caging her in, his head tilting down. He reached up to pry her hand away from her neck.

Then he paused, finally resting his head against the bricks.

“Just go.”

She made a choking sound, but she slowly scooted out from under him. He didn’t move to make it easier for her. She shuffled away, only breaking into a run when she was past the dumpster.

Spike turned and leaned against the wall.

After a moment, he lit up another cigarette. Only after he’d smoked two more did he decide to leave the alley himself. He slowly walked out, going around the building and into the bar’s parking lot. He’d had some time to himself, some time to think, and while he didn’t feel particularly better, it was time to leave.

And then he saw a very familiar car pull in.

-----

Buffy stopped her car next to Spike’s bike. Okay, he was definitely in there. She would go in and find him, and then talk to him. Turning to open her door, Buffy jumped when she saw someone standing right outside it. Then she realized who it was.

She opened the door and got out, gravel crunching under her feet.

“Buffy.”

“Um, hi.” Buffy closed the door.

Spike frowned at her. “What are you doing?”

“I’m coming after you.”

A hint of a smile graced his lips. “I was coming back, love.”

“I know. But I have something to tell you. And you turned your phone off.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s better in person, anyway.”

Spike leaned against the side of the car. “How did you find me?”

“It’s a small town. When I got here, I stopped at a gas station and asked where the bars were.”

Spike was silent, obviously waiting for her to speak.

“I’m sorry,” Buffy said. “I’m sorry for how things got out of hand earlier. Of course I don’t want someone different, something different. You’re what I want. You’re who I want. And I know you’ve done so much. It is enough. You gave me what I asked for; I haven’t given you anything.”

Spike’s look softened. “I haven’t asked for anything from you, pet.”

“That’s not the point. The point is that a relationship is compromise.”

“I do understand how you can’t live with things,” he said. “That’s why I don’t do them. For you.”

“I know. And…that’s the compromise. Later—it doesn’t matter later. Because I won’t have to live with it. I might not like it, but I’m not going to ask you—what I sort of asked you today.

“I do know you’re a vampire. And I know that means a lot of things that I can’t understand because I’m not a vampire. It’s just that sometimes it’s really hard for me to deal with. Sometimes it hurts to think about things. But that’s my problem, not yours. So, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to end up like that this afternoon. And I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

Buffy bit her lip, waiting.

“Well, that’s all right, then,” he said.

“Really? We’re okay?”

“Yeah.”

Buffy turned, leaning next to him against the side of the car. She looked at the neon lights on the front of the bar.

“What you just said, Buffy, it means something,” Spike said. “Really.”

For a moment, they stood together in silence. The night was warm, and the bar was the only business on the strip that was still open. Presently, a girl came out the door and quickly headed toward a car. Buffy automatically noticed that she had something on her neck and wasn’t looking so well.

The girl paused when she saw Spike. She met his eyes from across the parking lot, and then she looked at Buffy. But she didn’t come any closer.

“Thank you,” she said. Then she unlocked her car and got in.

“Who was that?” Buffy asked.

“A girl I saved.”

A breeze blew.

“I might not kill people after you’re dead,” he offered, looking straight ahead.

“Oh?”

“Never know what might happen.” Spike shrugged. “If long enough goes by without doin’ it… Not that I’m aiming for it, mind. I’m just saying.”

“So I should plan on living a really long time, then.”

“Should plan on doin’ that anyway.”

Buffy smiled. “But you might not?”

“Might not,” he said. “But I might, too. But it depends on me, not you. You get that?”

“I think so.”

“I’d still bite people, though, even if I didn’t do the other,” he added. “Vampire.”

“You are. I know.” Buffy paused. “And you know I really didn’t mean the thing I said about the blood like a bad thing. It’s just starting to feel weird the way we’ve been doing it. It just needs to happen when it happens.”

“We can do that.”

Buffy paused again, glancing down. There was something he had asked her. Spike had given up everything for her. But maybe if this was going to work between them, concessions would have to be made, on both sides.

“I suppose,” she said slowly, not looking at him, “that if you saw someone being attacked, you could…deal with it.”

“Is that right?”

“Only if it’s really serious. And you can’t go looking for it; it just has to be if you see it. And you can’t kill them. You can’t even leave them unconscious, because then something else might kill them. Just a bite. I mean it.”

“All right… Thieves, too?”

“I can’t believe I’m having this conversation,” she muttered. “Someone beating up an old lady for her purse, yes. Someone busting out an electronics store window, no. Okay?”

There was a short silence. Then Spike slapped his hands against her car. “Right. Back to Sunnydale, then?”

“No.”

“No?”

She turned to face him. “I think we should go to L.A. We’re already on the way. Get the rest of your stuff from your apartment.”

Spike smirked. “Lose the apartment, you mean.”

“Well, you’re going to be here now. What do you need it for?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

“We can make a long weekend of it. Take a little vacation. I think we deserve a vacation,” she said decidedly.

“Won’t argue with you there.”

Buffy smiled again. “All right. Spur of the moment trip!” She glanced at his bike. They’d have to drive separately and meet. “Uh, you’re not drunk, are you?”

He waved a dismissive hand. “Been drinking, but not drunk.”

A few moments later, they were both in, or on, their respective modes of transportation and heading down the highway. Buffy was in high spirits, and beyond calling her mother tomorrow to tell her where she’d gone, she wasn’t going to worry about anything at all for the next few days.

-----

It was weird and a little exciting to be back at Spike’s place in L.A. She had been there twice—the night they’d first made love and the night she’d made the deal with him. Buffy was looking forward to spending the weekend there before he got rid of it.

Unfortunately, after they arrived, several things became evident.

While Spike had paid the rent for several months in a large lump sum, he had neglected to pay things like electricity and water. Also, he’d taken his only set of sheets with him. The result was a hot, dark room with a bare mattress that was less than welcoming.

Buffy stood behind Spike, just inside the apartment.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

Buffy left the door open, so there was a minimal amount of light coming in from the street. “I think I have a flashlight in my car. But it’s way too hot to sleep here. And, uh, I kinda need to use things that need water.”

“Sorry. Didn’t really remember that it wouldn’t be completely up and going. We could go to a hotel,” he suggested.

“I guess we’ll have to.” She sighed. “We can come back tomorrow in daylight and get your stuff.”

“We’ll go someplace nice. Make a real trip out of it.”

Buffy considered. “I guess. I mean, that would be nice. It’s just that I was sort of looking forward to just the two of us.”

“We don’t have to leave the room, love.”

“I know. But it’s different.”

“If you’ve got another suggestion—”

“No, I don’t.” Then Buffy paused. “On second thought, I do have a much better idea.” She smiled, reaching for her phone. “I know someone with a summer house.”

-----

An hour later, Cordelia was unlocking the front door to a trendy looking house in a sought after zip code. It was large, though modest in comparison to the neighboring homes. But still had a tall fence, privacy shrubs, two stories, and a backyard pool.

“C’mon in. Good thing you called when you did, I was just leaving the club.” She ushered them inside.

“This is great, Cordy. Thanks. You’re sure it’s not a problem? I don’t mean to put you out.”

“It’s no big. We mostly use it as a guesthouse now. And no one else has had any guests.” Cordelia eyed Spike, who was looking at the big screen TV. She leaned in to Buffy. “You owe me a big talk tomorrow. We need to schedule some girl time. But it’s after one and I’m beat right now. Are you two good for tonight?”

“Yeah. Totally. Well, we might run out and get some food or something. And I don’t have any bathroom stuff.”

“There are new toothbrushes and all that stuff upstairs. Guesthouse. Oh, and even if things are a little dusty, we always have the cleaners in after the place is used. If I’d known you were coming, I would have gotten someone to spruce things up and—”

“It’s fine,” Buffy interrupted. “I can handle clean dust. This was sort of a totally unplanned trip.”

“Okay, then. Here’s the key, and I’ll leave you two to it!” Flashing a brilliant smile, she shouldered her purse and opened the door. Then she made a face like she had just remembered something. Pulling Buffy in, Cordelia whispered, “There are also some condoms hidden in the tissue dispenser in the second floor bath.”

“Um, okay.” Buffy nodded. “Thanks.”

Spike turned to her as soon as the door shut behind Cordelia.

“Condoms, huh?” He leered and raised an eyebrow.

“Shut up. She was trying to be helpful. You know, since I didn’t bring any stuff with me.”

“I s’pose you might need some of those on a romantic weekend.”

Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck. “Not so much. Which is a definite vampire plus in my book.” She smiled. “You know what else is in the second floor bath? A Jacuzzi.”

“Is there now?” he asked with interest.

“I know I could use a Jacuzzi on a romantic weekend. Which I think is what we’re definitely having.”

“I’d have to agree with you.”

Smiling, Buffy broke away and quickly started up the stairs. She hoped she looked playful and seductive, like she was daring him to catch her.

Judging from how fast he caught up to her, she did daring very well.