Comics!fic: Hey There, Blondie Bear (Part 5/5)
Title: Hey There, Blondie Bear (Part 5/5)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Being normal doesn’t include having a vampire for a boyfriend, even one with a soul, but Spike’s not willing to be just her friend anymore. Is “normal” all it’s cracked up to be? Is it worth the price? Begins after issue #10 (which will be released 6/13), which is when Spike will temporarily leave S9 for his own miniseries. 3,000 words. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4.
A/N: Finally, the end! Thank you so much to everyone who has read and commented and offered encouragement so far. This fic kept growing in unanticipated directions, and the feedback really motivated me to get through the rough patches. Meanwhile, I think I’ve listened to “Hey There, Delilah” more times in the past month and a half than I have combined since 2007…
I’ll be traveling tomorrow and won’t have Wi-Fi until Friday night, so I’ll be delayed in responding to comments, but thank you in advance for any feedback, and I hope you like the ending!
Part 5
The blare of her cell phone at two in the morning made Buffy’s heart pound faster, but it wasn’t until she saw Anaheed’s name on the caller ID that she started to panic; her roommates never called in the middle of the night when she was on patrol.
“Hello? Ana, what’s-”
“Buffy?”
She froze. Terror shot through her- she was imagining things, she had heard wrong- followed by an intense, dizzying feeling, like everything in her body was liquefying and pouring out, her heart, her stomach, all her bones-
“Buffy, are you there?”
Her voice didn’t feel like it had returned, but she heard herself say, “Spike?”
“Yeah. I’m here.”
She could hear pent-up emotion behind the simple phrase, like there was so much more he, too, wanted to say. Her feet were running before she’d even realized it.
“You’re at my apartment?”
“Yeah. Your roommate let me borrow her phone.”
“Kay. I’m coming.” Her strides lengthened, sneakers slapping the concrete.
“Kay.”
“Don’t hang up!” She could hardly talk while running so fast her calves were already pleasantly burning, but if he hung up, he might disappear again-
“I won’t.”
Hot, sweet relief coursed through her. He didn’t try to talk to her, but she heard Anaheed’s voice in the background and him responding, “She’s on her way”; she heard vague sounds that could have been his coat brushing against a chair or his booted footsteps on her floor- she imagined him clomping around her living room, impatient, nervous- and it was enough. Five minutes later, two streets from home, he muttered something else to Anaheed and then said clearly to her, “I’ll be outside.”
When she rounded the corner of her street and saw him, hair and face illuminated by a nearby streetlight, her heart felt like it might burst through her chest. He was still half a block away when her feet slowed, as if of their own accord, until she trailed to a stop. His arm lowered, and she ended the call.
Go to him. But her feet seemed glued to the sidewalk. She had tried not to imagine their reunion much because it always hurt when the daydreams ended, but the inevitable times she had pictured it, he had run into her arms, sometimes even swinging her around like a couple in an old-fashioned movie; she hadn’t had to run to him.
He didn’t run, though, and it took a few seconds for him to even begin walking. Rationally, she knew he must be nervous- she herself had moved past mere butterflies to, like, miniature unicorns stabbing her stomach from the inside- but the emotions churning through her (elation and fear were not a good mix) made her disinclined to be rational.
Instead, his hesitation felt like a blow. Why wasn’t he running to her? Why was he walking, like she was just an old friend, like she hadn’t put her entire heart on the line for him.
Don’t get angry.
But it was so easy to feel angry because- because-
He was right in front of her now, finally; after so long he was close enough to touch. His chest rose in an unnecessary inhale, and he breathed out, “Buffy.”
It sounded like a prayer and felt like a caress, and it was too much.
“Where were you?” The anger burst out, uncontrollable, and suddenly she wanted nothing more than to hit him-
Except- except maybe to kiss him, too, but now wasn’t the time-
He looked stupidly startled by her fury, and it only fueled her wrath.
“Where were you? I’ve been looking for you for months-”
It had not even occurred to her to steel herself against crying- this was supposed to be happy- but she was not going to cry, she was not going to cry- other than the bloody tears already sliding down her face, she was not going to cry-
“Buffy!”
He didn’t sound reverent now, oh no, just stunned.
“I went on TV for you! I went to Harmony for you!”
“Buffy! I just found out a few hours ago! I came as fast as I could!”
Despite everything, relief rushed through her; he hadn’t known; he hadn’t been waiting on purpose, trying to punish her, seeing how much he could make her grovel. Disappointingly, her bruised, fragile ego did not suddenly feel in tip-top shape again.
“But-” she began feebly. “How could you not know? It was everywhere. Where- where-”
“I was in space.”
He looked a little like he thought she was crazy; she supposed she couldn’t blame him, especially if he had seen the running “joke” in the campaign that proved she had been aware of this likelihood.
“Oh.” She wanted to look down at her feet, but her eyes seemed rather attached to his face; even careworn and with bags under his eyes he was better looking than the sketch, the finished version of which sat on her bedside table in a frame, another gift from Harmony.
“I- I’m-” His gaze migrated, until he seemed to be staring past her ear. “Sorry. That I didn’t come sooner. I didn’t know…”
Tears threatened again; he shouldn’t be apologizing for something that wasn’t his fault.
“No, I’m sorry,” she said thickly. “I shouldn’t have gotten…I’m not- I’m sorry.”
“S’all right,” he muttered, and shrugged.
It was a simple movement, unimportant, but it made her painfully aware that he hadn’t tried to touch her yet. His hands were stowed in his pockets, and he stood a good two feet of unnecessary personal bubble space away.
Can we have a do-over? she wanted to ask, but instead she said formally, “Thank you for coming.”
“Oh.” He looked surprised again, as well as uncertain. “Course.” He paused before adding, sounding more distantly formal now, too, “You’re welcome.”
Buffy waited, but he didn’t say anything else. Her heartbeat was uncomfortably erratic. Wasn’t he supposed to say something now? Hadn’t she said enough? It was his turn.
But he didn’t speak, and so finally she asked, “How did you find out?”
He didn’t hesitate, and Buffy knew he must have anticipated the question. “We landed in New York City around eleven- their time- and I was buying smokes from an all-night convenience store. A Middle Eastern man was working, but halfway through paying, this girl comes in from a back room- his daughter, about Dawn’s age, her name was Mariam- and she took one look at me and started yelling. Mostly in Arabic, so it took a while to hear the ‘Blondie Bear’ bit.
“Spooked the hell out of me,” he admitted. “Her dad didn’t know what was happening either at first, and he started yelling, too, and then she showed us a poster on the wall behind the counter- it was half covered by another, so I hadn’t noticed- and it was…” He blinked and swallowed, like he still couldn’t believe it. “It was my face. And it said, ‘Have you seen Blondie Bear?’, with a number to call.”
The number was for one of Harmony’s assistants, Buffy knew; her producers had created the poster using Jim’s sketch and distributed it on the Internet for anyone to re-post or print.
“And I thought Harmony had gone off her rocker, but then I saw it said ‘also known as Randy,’ and I…” He focused on her again, so keenly that Buffy felt her skin burn as hot as if he had touched her. He was drinking her in, like he couldn’t believe she was here.
“You and the Scoobies, you’re the only ones who know that…who would call me that. Not that I’d thought about it in years.” He paused again, and Buffy could only wonder at what sort of memories and emotions the name had evoked; good feelings or bad ones? That experience had been a light spot but only retrospectively and during such a bad year…
“I knew you had to be involved somehow. I asked what the paper was, and the girl started speaking English, and she explained that Joan was a slayer looking for her ex-boyfriend and that Harmony was helping her, and she kept saying, you’re him, aren’t you? You’re Blondie Bear?, and I just kept asking, what else, and finally she took me upstairs to their apartment, invited me in just like that, no hesitation, and brought me her laptop and…” He looked awed, like the scope of the Blondie Bear Campaign was still difficult to believe; Buffy could relate. “She showed me. She showed me Harmony’s website, the original clips from months ago, and other blogs, and she let me check my email, and then we watched the episode you were on. After, she asked if I was going to go to you, and she told me I had to and-”
He gave another small shrug. Buffy’s stomach swooped, but not in a good way; did he mean to imply he had only come because the girl insisted?
“I thanked her and left. She said I could use their phone to call, but I didn’t want to-” He hesitated before continuing more slowly, “Talk about everything…over the phone. I wanted- I needed to see you. I flew as fast as I could.”
The resulting silence and his uncertain expression told her he was done, that he expected her to speak now, but what was she supposed to say? He had barely addressed anything. If he still loved her, shouldn’t he have said that by now?
Her chest felt unbearably tight. Maybe he had meant to imply that he was only here out of a sense of duty, that he’d thought it would be better to let her down in person; it couldn’t be much of an inconvenience for him; it wasn’t like it was hard for him to skip from one side of the country to the other, what with his ship.
She took a few deep breaths, struggling not to let herself start crying again. If he was here to say he didn’t love her anymore, she was not going to show him how much it hurt.
“Thanks. For coming,” she said again, trying to sound nonchalant and not at all wounded. “But if your answer was ‘no,’ you could have just called.” Maybe he’d thought talking in person was nobler than using technology, but she wished she hadn’t; she would rather never have seen his face again, so she wouldn’t have such fresh memories when grieving. “You didn’t have to come all this way.”
Spike blinked. “If my answer was- what?”
Something blossomed in Buffy’s chest, something she tried hard not to identify. “If you don’t want to be with me.”
No, the way he was looking at her like she was mad as Drusilla was definitely not giving her hope-
“Have you gone completely carrot-top?”
Sense memories filled her, from a long-ago dark night in a house that was forever gone- treading lightly and speaking softly, even though what they spoke of deserved more than clandestine whispers, because everyone else slept; the weight in her hands of a newly won weapon that was meant for her; the taste of recent victory and new hope; affection and other, stronger feelings that were so new and too scary to define…
“What makes you think that?” His aggravated tone was incredibly endearing and also infuriating.
“I- I thought you’d- sweep me off my feet,” she said, trying to sound peevish.
Spike stared at her for five long ‘Mississippi’s, and then he stepped forward. Before she knew what was happening, she was crushed against him, her feet were in the air, and his mouth was devouring hers.
Her mind seemed to slip its tether, until she was aware of nothing but the feel of him, arms wrapped around her back so tightly it hurt, hands clutching her, gel-sticky curls between her fingers, tongue twining with hers until she couldn’t breathe… When she did have to gasp for breath, she had no idea how much time had passed or when he had set her down again. He still held her, though, which was good, since her legs felt pleasantly like jelly.
“Is that proof enough, you daft bint?” he breathed. He kissed her again, hard, as if to make a point. “You could have made the first move.”
“I’ve been making the first move for months!”
He opened his mouth; frowned. “Point.”
“You still love me?” She hated how pathetic she sounded, but she couldn’t keep from asking.
“Of course.”
“You said you were going to move on.”
“I tried,” he said, much too agreeably. “Didn’t work.”
“Oh.” She thought something snarky might be called for, but what came automatically was, “Good.”
He kissed the corner of her mouth. “I.” Another kiss. “Love.” And another. “You.” He pulled back, looking faintly apprehensive. “And you really…?”
“You don’t believe me?” she cried. If they hadn’t been in each other’s arms, she definitely would have smacked him. “After everything I did? After I went begging to Harmony-”
“Can’t usually trust what you hear on Fox,” said Spike, but she could hear the relief behind the joke. He leaned so his forehead pressed gently against hers. “I believe you.”
“I love you,” she whispered, and then again, more strongly, because the words felt much easier- almost good- to say when he was actually there, “I love you.” A weight seemed to lift from her chest; she felt like grinning.
Spike, on the other hand, looked like he might cry. He took a deep, unnecessary breath, and then another. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw the website and the shows,” he said hoarsely. “I thought I was dreaming.” He paused, eyes fluttering closed as though to collect himself. When he opened them again he said, in a slightly more normal voice, “I can’t believe Harmony did all that.”
“I can’t believe a lot of things,” Buffy admitted, and suddenly it was the easiest thing in the world to talk to him. “Did you see SNL?”
“No…”
“Xander has it TiVoed.” Thinking of Xander made her think of her sister. “Dawn’s going to be so happy to see you!”
“Really?” He sounded doubtful, which made her squeeze him harder.
“Really. She organized this whole thing. You think I could have? I would have staked Harmony ages ago, especially after that Cosmo…”
“What?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly. “Everyone’s been helping. Xander’s been collecting all the articles and links- presumably to torture us with someday, so maybe it’s not all that altruistic. Koh’s been searching for you, even Robert put some friends on the look-out. Andrew- well, actually we’ve tried to stop him from helping. Not sure he’s listened, though. There might be a half-built SpikeBot in his apartment.”
“He’s building you a SpikeBot?”
She stared at the incredulous tilt of his lips suspiciously. “That isn’t a compliment.”
His grin was unrepentant. “Says you!”
She rolled her eyes but snuggled closer, pressing her cheek to his shoulder. His hands tightened around her almost imperceptibly, one thumb rubbing circles into her arm, and she heard what sounded like a very soft sigh. She realized, with no little amazement, that this was the first time they had ever truly embraced for its own sake. It was achingly intimate, and yet for once she didn’t feel self-conscious.
“That last interview,” he said softly, and the words seemed to tremble. “With Harmony on her show. Did you mean what you said about wanting kids someday? With me?”
A blush warmed her cheeks but not in a bad way. “Are you going to ask me if every individual thing I said was true?” she murmured.
“Well, there was some exaggeration in that interview. Some, uh, glossing over.” His attempt at jocularity couldn’t hide the return of nervousness to his voice; strangely, instead of frustrating her, his insecurity just made her want to cuddle him.
“Just a tad,” she agreed. She lifted her head from his shoulder so he could see her eyes when she added, “I meant it.”
She couldn’t be sure in this little light, but she thought his eyes grew brighter. Without having to think about it she kissed him again, slowly and languidly this time; and it was also the first time they’d done that, and with a sudden clarity she knew she wanted to try every couple-y thing they had never done before, romantic date nights and cheesy walks on the beach and sexy bubble baths and cliché mile-high sexy-times (as easily said as done with their very own ship) and all the simple, day-to-day things in between, slaying together, and shopping together, and arguing over what to watch on TV, and waking up in the same bed; she wanted it all.
And she probably could have stood there all night in his arms, but she did have a home conveniently nearby where they could start doing those sorts of couple-y things; she even had blood in the freezer, bought as a promise to herself that he would return.
She ended the kiss. “Will you come inside?” She added without thinking, because it seemed relevant, “I have blackout curtains.”
“I saw.” His grin froze halfway unfurled. “You mean- you want me to spend the night?”
And the night after that. And the ones after that, and all the days in between, forever and ever.
“Yes.” It seemed such a naked thing to say, but that was what she did now. And she added, because it seemed important that he should know, “I put them up as soon as I got them.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled. He brushed a thumb across her cheek, where tear tracks were probably still visible. He had no answer for her, except to cup her cheek and kiss her. It was soft and gentle and purposeful; it felt like a promise of all the days and nights she couldn’t ask for. His smile afterward was small and pleased and shy.
Matching it, she took his hand and led him to her door.
Epilogue:
“Hi, you’ve reached Buffy Summers. I’m not available to answer your call, but if you leave your name and number, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
Beep.
“Hi, Buffy! It’s me! Hope you and Spike had a good space honeymoon-type thing. You know how happy I am that he came back and you’re together again. Yay Blondie Bear and Joan! So anyway, now that he is back and you’re all lovey-dovey and adorable, when are you guys going to come on my show?”
Fin