Prompt #167 - Antapology - Sorry (1/1) - spikesdeb - BtVS

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Title: Sorry
Fandom: BtVS
Prompt: #167 - Antapology
Word Count: 1176
Rating: G
Pairing: Spike/Buffy
Author's note: Set Season 6 just after Dead Things, Buffy's horrified with her actions and visits Spike in his crypt, surprising herself and him with her apology. Many thanks to seductivembrace for once again doing a lightning fast look-over to make sure it's fit for human consumption!

SORRY

Spike tried to lever himself to his feet as he heard the crypt door creak open. It hadn't slammed back against the wall, which was a good sign, surely, but still – he was in no shape to defend himself. Again. One eye was still swollen closed and every bit of his body ached where he'd been pummelled and kicked; he felt like hell. He gave up trying to move and lay back down on the bed. Que sera, sera would have to take over because he was in no shape to figure out his own destiny today.

“Spike? Are you here?” Uncharacteristically, Buffy was treading lightly through his crypt, not upturning furniture in her search for him. “Spike?” Buffy's voice was getting shriller, as though she was really concerned, and Spike allowed himself a little sliver of hope even through the pain. He licked his dry lips and croaked, “Down here.”

Buffy hesitated. It had all seemed like a good idea in the middle of the night when the guilt and the disgust had her sobbing into her pillow and failing to find sleep. Now she was here, trying to figure out what on earth she could say to make this better. Anything would be inadequate and sound insincere and really, she was so mixed up inside that she didn't have any clue where to start. Who was she sorry for? For Spike? For herself? What was making her feel bad? The fact that she'd beaten him down, or the fact that she felt bad about it?

She knew what Giles would say. Vampires are evil, soulless beings who didn't deserve any sympathy, and generally she was good with that. But if that was the case, why did she hate herself right now, and feel ashamed? Too many emotions were whirling around inside her and she felt sick to her stomach. But she'd come here for a reason and the choice was either to turn around and go stick her head in the sand or face up to her brutality and try and make it right.

Gingerly, she inched down the ladder to the lower level and steeled herself to show no reaction when she found what she knew she would find. She failed, miserably. The gasp that left her mouth echoed around the crypt and it took all her willpower not to simply turn around and run. Spike coughed as he tried to sit up.

Buffy was horrified; Spike's injuries looked much worse now than they had when she'd left him lying on the ground in the alleyway. How was she capable of delivering such vicious blows? For the first time she felt like a murderer, not a slayer, and it completely destroyed her. She'd called Spike a monster, but really, he was just being what he was meant to be. What did that make her?

The silence stretched out between them, Buffy's ragged breathing the only sound as she struggled to control her emotions. Spike pushed himself to get to his feet, hunched over as he made his way towards her.

“Love...”

“Don't!” Buffy hissed and held her hand up to repel him.

Spike hung his head, defeated by the pain and her tone. He had nothing left to fight her with so he slumped back onto the bed and turned his head away, tears mingling with the bloody wounds on his face. He prayed for the oblivion of unconsciousness, but it wouldn't come, and he was painfully aware that the Slayer remained at the foot of the ladder, apparently undecided as to what to do next.

Just as he was expecting to hear the creak of the wood as she escaped, the bed dipped and she was sitting beside him. She spoke so softly he was glad of his vampire hearing, and even so, he wasn't sure he'd heard her right, so unexpected were the words.

“I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm like this. You try to help me and I hurt you and hurt you and I call you disgusting and evil and really I'm the one that's wrong. I don't recognise myself in the mirror, Spike. Who am I? How am I capable of this? And all the time I'm hurting you I want you, and I want you to hurt me too, because at least then I feel.”

Spike struggled around to face her, hating the haunted look in her eyes, but knowing she needed to get this out. Telling her she was fine wasn't going to work, because she clearly wasn't. Seeing his battered features brought on a bout of crying with Buffy covering her eyes with her hands as she sobbed. Spike reached out to hold her, but stopped, unsure if she'd even let him give her comfort.

She was screwed up, and he was screwed up. Maybe two screw-ups would make one good thing between them; maybe not. He was still musing on what to do when she shuffled up the bed and lay down beside him, mumbling into his chest. It took a lot to shock Spike, but this was doing it in spades. Buffy seemed to have gone from wanting to kill him to wanting to snuggle in less than a day, and while part of him was rejoicing, part of him wanted to push her away to make her feel the rejection that he lived with daily.

Yeah; like he ever would.

Tentatively, he wrapped his arms around her and held her as close as his injured ribs would let him, wincing as she hugged in closer. They lay side by side, not speaking for a while, until Buffy raised herself up and forced herself to properly look at his face. He could see her struggling to keep her composure, but she managed it, locking his eyes with hers and speaking in a tremulous voice.

“I'm so sorry, Spike. Can you forgive me?”

He was a demon, he understood the urge to kill and maim, had done so gloriously over his long existence. Never once had he wanted to apologise to his victim, accepting his vicious nature gladly. But Buffy would never be comfortable with how she was made, the way she straddled the dark and the light in different ratios day after day. To Buffy, a demon was a demon and evil beyond redemption. To be asking him for forgiveness, crass as it may seem, was a huge thing for her, and he could barely believe it was happening.

What else could he do but reply, “nothing to forgive, love. It's done, yeah? Told you, put it all on me. I'll always take care of you, if you let me. It's what I'm here for.”

Buffy sagged against him, clinging tightly, her face buried into his chest and was soon breathing evenly as she slept. And Spike felt the pain of his injuries leeching away as the warmth of her body covered him. Tomorrow would be more of the same old battle, he was sure, but for now, this would do.