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Been Here Too Few Years	By : addielogan Category: > Buffy/Spike(William) > Buffy/Spike(William) Views: 18659 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Buffy woke up alone, and from the cool spot
on the mattress beside her, she assumed she'd been that way the entire night.
She was torn between anger and worry, and she got up from the bed in order to
figure out which one of those emotions she needed to give into.
She'd gotten as far as the living room
before she made her decision. Apparently Spike had made it home, only he hadn't
gotten any further than the couch. He was passed out, still fully clothed�boots
and all�and Buffy remembered when she'd first known him and he'd been nothing
more than her unwanted houseguest.
After they'd become a couple, Buffy had been
able to rationalize his earlier behavior, especially as it became less
commonplace. Spike still drank, but it wasn't every night and the nights when
he would go overboard became less and less frequent as their relationship
progressed. She'd been able to pass it off as how he'd dealt with the way his
life had been before her, but that having her in his life now had lessened his
need to go out and get completely plastered.
Apparently, she'd been wrong.
This was twice in a row now, and the fact
he'd done this after the fight they'd had made it all the worse for her.
His way to handle her being upset with him for getting drunk and yelling at her
was to go out and get drunk again?
Buffy leaned against the wall, watching him
and being at a loss for what to do. Yesterday, she'd thought it could be an
easy fix. She thought she could just comfort him, assure him of her love, and
everything would go back to normal. But what could she do if he wouldn't let
her do that?
A sob lodged in her throat, but Buffy
wouldn't let it escape. She felt like all she'd done over the past week was
cry, and she was sick of it.
She needed fresh air. If she could just
breathe a little, find time to collect her thoughts, then
maybe she could handle things better. Buffy went back down the hall and got
dressed before leaving the apartment.

***
*** ***
Spike woke up with a splitting headache and
no sign of Buffy anywhere. He started to go out and look for her, but stopped
short when he saw what time it was. With a muttered curse, he realized he was
going to be late getting into the studio if he didn't leave right then. He
wanted to keep searching for Buffy�she couldn't have gotten far without having
a car�but with the way things had been going for the band, he knew he needed to
get in and get to work.
Ignoring both his pounding head and the
uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, Spike grabbed his keys and his wallet
and left.

***
*** ***
Buffy had gone to a caf� near their
apartment for breakfast, hoping the fresh air she could get sitting out on the
patio would do her some good. Maybe it did, but it was marginally enough that
she didn't really notice.
She went back to the apartment still feeling
depressed, and she wasn't sure if it helped or not to find Spike gone. On the
one hand, they needed to talk, but on the other, she didn't think she was
ready. All she could do was hope the next time she saw him, he was sober.
With a sigh, she flopped down on the couch
and picked up the remote, flipping through the channels before she finally
settled on something distractingly mindless.
She'd been sitting on the couch, staring at
the television for a while, when the phone rang. Buffy considered not answering
it for a moment, but decided it could be something important and she probably
should. With a soft sigh, she reached over to the table beside the couch and picked
up the cordless phone.
"Hello?"
"Buffy? It's your mother."
Hearing Joyce's voice on the other end of
the line shocked Buffy for a moment, and it wasn't until her mother said her
name again that Buffy replied. "Hey, Mom. Is
everything okay?"
"Yes, it's fine. I went in this morning
to see the doctors and discuss the treatments with them, and they're being very
optimistic about everything."
"Good, I'm glad to hear it," Buffy
said with genuine relief. Quickly, however, her confusion returned. "So
why are you calling?"
"Because you need to ask that,"
Joyce replied, her voice tinted with sadness. "Buffy, I know I'm the one
to blame for a lot of the strain in our relationship, and coming so close to
death, well, it made me realize how much I miss having my daughter in my
life. I� I'll completely understand if you say no to this, but I wanted to ask.
Would you be willing to come back to Sunnydale this weekend, spend some time
with me when I'm not in a hospital bed? I mean, I won't be able to run a
marathon or anything, but I thought maybe we could talk a little? Catch
up?"
Conflicting emotions rolled around inside of
her as Buffy tried to decide on her answer. She loved her mother, and she
wanted a relationship with her again, but she wasn't sure it was possible. Then
again, how would she ever know if she didn't give it a try? If she went to
Sunnydale and Joyce was serious about trying to mend things between them, then
maybe this could start them on the right path. And if things were the same as
they were before, well, Buffy could turn right back around and go home. Getting
to Los Angeles from Sunnydale wasn't particularly difficult, and it wouldn't be
like she was trapped there.
"Yeah, I can do that," Buffy
replied. "I don't really have anything going on here today, so I could
really go ahead and come if you wanted. I'll take the bus, so Giles doesn't
have to leave you and Dawn alone."
Joyce's voice perked up when she replied,
though Buffy could still hear how tired she was. "Buffy,
thank you. It means so much to me that you're willing to do this."
"I know. I'll call you back after I
figure out the bus schedule, all right?"
"All right. I'll have Rupert pick you up at the bus
station."
"Okay. Talk to you in a little bit
then, Mom. Bye."
"Bye, Buffy."
Buffy turned off the phone when she heard
the dial tone. The mood in the apartment was so tense even with Spike gone,
that maybe this could be good. She could take a few days to get away, reconnect
with her mother, and get a breather.
She just hoped she wasn't making a mistake
by opening herself up to Joyce again.

***
*** ***
When the band stopped for a break, Spike
went outside, needing to escape the claustrophobic
feeling he was getting inside the studio. He sat on a set of concrete steps,
his hands hanging between his knees.
He hadn't been out there long before he
noticed Oz sit down beside him, and Spike figured the bassist must have
followed him out. "I know you're not much of one for small talk, Osborne,
and I've never liked beating around the bush, so if you've got something to say
to me, go ahead and say it," Spike said, not turning to look at his
bandmate.
"Whatever your problem with Buffy is,
you need to talk to her."
Spike blinked, the topic not the one he'd
expected at all, and now he did turn his head towards Oz. "What?"
"I doubt this is a concept you're too
familiar with, Spike, but when you spend most of the time with your mouth shut,
you get good at reading people. You're stressed, and it's more than Brian or
the other album stuff. It's girl problem stress. And since the only girl you
notice is alive these days is Buffy, then it's obvious your girl problem is in
fact a Buffy problem," Oz replied.
"Might be," Spike said, only
willing to concede that much. Oz's eyebrow arched, and Spike sighed, giving in.
"Fine, it is. I've acted like a bloody wanker, and really, I don't think
just talking to her is going to do much good."
"Have you tried it?"
"No," Spike admitted.
"Then it's a start. Trust me on this
one. Talk to Buffy, tell her what's going on in your life, let her know where
your head's at."
"I can't lay all my shite on her right
now," Spike replied. "She's got her own problems dealing with her
sick mum."
"A working relationship isn't all about
one person's problems. Whatever one of you is going through, it becomes a
collective burden whether you want it to or not, and you can either
face that and work through it together or you can try to ignore it and
let it fester. Either way, both your problems and hers are going to between the
both of you."
"For a man of few words, you sure can
be philosophical when you do open your mouth," Spike said.
"It's all about the observation."
Oz clapped Spike on the shoulder, then got to his
feet. "Talk to her, man. Really�before things get out of hand."
Spike nodded, and Oz left him alone to
think.

***
*** ***
"Buffy? Pet?" Spike called when he
walked into the apartment that evening, frowning as he noticed all the lights
were off. Surely she'd come home at some point since that morning, hadn't she?
Then, he realized he hadn't actually seen
her since their short, yet unpleasant, conversation in the kitchen the morning
before. What if she'd left him? What if Buffy had already been gone for almost
two days and he hadn't even noticed?
God, how bad of a boyfriend was he?
Spike flipped on the light in the living
room, both relief and dread hitting him when he saw a piece of paper with his
name written on it in Buffy's handwriting taped to the television. Relief at
knowing she hadn't disappeared without a word and dread at the fact that she
was gone and had left him a note.
His hands trembled as he peeled the tape up
and unfolded the paper. Was she telling him good-bye? Surely after all they'd
been through together, she'd at least dump him in
person. Unless maybe she was really that upset with him� Did Buffy hate
him now after how he'd treated her when she got back from Sunnydale?
He took a deep breath and started reading
the note, feeling a wave of relief tampering down his worry.
Spike�
Stop panicking. I'm not leaving you. I
know you're probably all hyperventilating right now, but calm down, I'm not going to break up with you.
She knew him well, his Buffy. Spike
continued reading.
My mother called this afternoon and asked
me to spend the weekend with her, and I thought it was something I should do,
given the circumstances. And I know it's sort of a chickeny thing for me to do,
leave and not tell you in person, but I needed a little breather. You hurt me a
lot when you yelled at me the other night, and, well, waking up this morning
and seeing you'd been out drinking when I'd been waiting up for you didn't help
matters much either.
Spike stopped for a moment, his eyes closing
as his jaw grew tight, his anger directed not at Buffy for leaving like this,
but at himself. She'd been waiting up for him last night. Bloody hell, he was a
tosser. He opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and turned his attention back
to the note.
I'll be back next week, and we can talk.
And don't start panicking again, that's not the "we need to talk"
that's code for dumping you. We need to talk so we can make this work.
Something's obviously going on here, and I'm not sure what it is. I don't know
if you know either, but maybe together we can figure it out. I'm going to take
this weekend to reconnect with my mom, but also to give myself a little space
to try to sort some things out in my mind. Hopefully when I come back, we can
work everything out and go back to the way we used to be. I miss that, Spike.
Love,

Buffy
P.S.�I'm really, really not
dumping you, so don't spend the next couple days in a tizzy, okay? I love you.
Her little post-script made him smile even
as it brought tears to his eyes. She was worrying about him even after
he was the one who had hurt her and made her feel like she needed space from
him to think. He'd been a right monster to her these past couple of days, and
the thought of it made him feel horrible.
Spike knew what he shouldn't do, and he knew
what he should. He shouldn't give any thought to the bottle of whiskey
he knew was in the cabinet and he should go on to bed,
try to get some of the rest he probably needed.
Yet as soon as he had started trying to make
himself head off to bed, he switched to rationalizing. Buffy was already
gone�at least for the weekend. What difference would it make if he drank just a
little, a nip to help him sleep? As much as his emotions were in turmoil right
then anyway, it wasn't like he'd be able to get any rest on his own. He needed
a drink.
Spike let his feet carry him in to the bottle.

***
*** ***
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Been Here Too Few Years