Chapter Text
She really needed to stop celebrating her birthdays.
“What do you want, Spike?”
He shrugs, leaning against the doorframe. “With Anya going ‘round the bend, figured someone should check on you. You and I… We’re the ones who should be panicking, yeah?”
“You mean–”
“You and I know what it’s like to be stuck in the world’s tiniest box, don’t we?” he asks quietly, and she knows who the sudden hardness in his eyes is intended for.
The ones who brought her back and fumbled an important step, leaving her to come back to life right where they’d left her.
Trapped, her limbs weak from months of disuse even with the decay reversing, the air thick and musty and hard to breathe, each gasp that filled her lungs feeling like it might be the last…
She didn’t even realize she was gasping for air until her knees buckled beneath her, giving way until she was falling…
“Shh, luv, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”
She clings to the leather of his duster and inhales the scent of him like a woman drowning. God, she’s missed this. She knows that she shouldn’t feel better in his embrace, that the smell of cigarettes and leather and Spike shouldn’t calm her down, but she’s so tired of fighting it. So tired of trying to feel okay when she’s not.
Okay, so the sex had been unhealthy and bad, a method of punishing herself that she can recognize was way unhealthy and way unfair to both of them…
But before the sex, before the kissage… He’d been the only person she could stand to be around, the only one who let her just be Buffy. She wasn’t trapped in a role with him, never had been. As much as she’d always hated it, he knew her better than she knew herself and he’d never been afraid to let her know it.
“Buffy?” The concern in his voice finally shakes her from her thoughts, and she wonders when her breathing had settled. Probably around the time he had started gently stroking her hair, holding her as tenderly as she’d ever been held.
“Spike…” She sighs and pulls back just slightly, catching his arm and holding it in place when he starts to pull away. There’s resignation in his eyes and she manages a small smile that she hopes is reassuring as she lets go of his arm, moving her hand down to hold his, lacing her fingers through his as she stares purposefully into his beautiful blue eyes.
Even now, he watches her with wonder, and she wonders how she ever doubted the way he feels.
“I don’t know if I can ever feel the way you want me to,” she says softly, finding the words a lot harder to say than she’d imagined. “But this… being avoidy Buffy isn’t working. I miss you. A lot. And I don’t mean the…” She knows she’s blushing before she even feels it, Spike’s cocky grin telling her the way it always does.
Rolling her eyes, she smacks his chest with her free hand. “Shut up and let me talk.”
“With pleasure,” he chuckles, and the lack of his usual leer puts her off guard but she knows it’s for her, the way so much of what he does is, and it makes it easier.
“I’ve felt trapped for most of my life. Trying to tick all the boxes of what I should be, who everyone around me wants me to be. The others… they mean well, but they all have ideas of who I should be, who they think I am. Ideas that I’ve let them go along with for way too long.” She swallows, closing her eyes and smiling when he squeezes her hand gently–it’s not a hurrying gesture, not with him, just a quiet sign of support.
He knows how hard these things are for her to say, even though she knows he probably figured this all out a long time ago.
“When I came back, did you ever wonder why you were the one I told?”
She opens her eyes when the room remains silent, unsurprised to see him mulling the words over. He’s never been one to tell her what she wants to hear, after all. If there’s anyone she can count on to give it to her straight, it’s Spike.
“Reckoned it’s because I wasn’t part of the inner circle at first,” he finally says, shifting uncomfortably on the floor. “But then I realized–you couldn’t talk to them, could you? Couldn’t bear to make them face up to what they’d done, not when they thought they were saving you.”
“That was part of it,” she agrees, smiling softly.
“Just part?”
She nods. “You’re the only person who’s never tried to put me in a box.” She pauses and can’t help but laugh. “I mean, besides when you really tried your hardest to kill me, anyway.”
“Buffy–”
She places a finger on his lips and shakes her head. “Bad joke, sorry. What I mean is, I’ve never put on an act around you. I’ve never had to. You’ve seen me at my worst and you still just… let me be Buffy.” She blows out a breath, looking down at their joined hands.
“Can we go back to that? I know it’s not everything you want and I can’t promise anything–”
“Buffy.” She’s scared to look at him, staring down at the floor instead until he reaches out and gently cups her chin, bringing her chin up until she meets his eyes. Her breath catches at their beauty, not because of the dazzling blue but because of how much love there is contained within them.
“I’ll be whatever you need me to be, luv. And all you ever have to be is yourself with me, pet. That’s a promise and I’m bloody good at keeping those, as you might remember.”
Funny thing about crumbs… they can be as rewarding to give as to receive.