Driving to Distraction - Chapter 8

Buffy looked out of the window at the small town they were driving into. The low level buildings were a striking contrast to those she had grown used to in Manhattan. They were like cardboard boxes in a seemingly cardboard town.

Looking over at Spike, she wished she could read his thoughts, wanting to know if the smile playing on his lips was because he was thinking the same as her.

This town was too boring to stop in.

Diners at the side of the interstate held more interest and more distraction than this place could ever offer.

“Want to stop?” Spike smirked.

It was the first thing he’d said all day and it felt like music to Buffy’s ears. Since their dinner last night, he had fallen quiet and pensive, as though there was too much on his mind for him to speak. She’d been silently waiting for him to come out of his thoughts.

“Hell no!” Buffy smiled wide at him as he chuckled slightly. She liked the sound of it, not quite belly laughter but it was a sure sign that he knew how to laugh.

It made her giggle along with him.

She kept smiling the whole time they drove through the town and then her eyes widened as they finally made it out the other side and she saw a large road sign.

“Jesus…it’s only four hundred miles to Las Vegas.” She looked over at Spike and watched the smile forming on his lips.

“Then I vote we stop there.”

Buffy nodded vigorously and grinned back at him.


Sitting on the end of the bed, Spike looked around the hotel room. It was nice, better than the motels they had passed on the way into the city. After his outburst at the gas station yesterday, he’d felt the need to make it up to her somehow so he’d convinced her to let him pay for them to stay in a hotel for once. He listened to the noises in the room next to his. She was singing something, it sounded muffled as it drifted through the walls to him.

Splaying his hands out behind him and leaning back slightly, he pulled a face that was somewhere in between a pout and boredom. Getting to his feet, he walked out into the hall, along fifteen feet and came to a stop outside her door. Taking a deep breath, he rapped his knuckles against it in quick succession.

Buffy pulled the door open to find Spike standing in the doorway wearing a mischievous look.

“Can I do something for you?” She smiled at him. She’d been half way to building up the courage to knock on his door and now here he was at hers.

“Don’t tempt me.” Spike grinned at her as she blushed and then gave her a big sigh. “Bored.”

“Uh oh.” Buffy mocked him and pretended to gasp.

“Watch it, missy. Come out.” Leaning against the doorframe, he watched her think it over.

“No.” She raised her eyebrows slightly and shook her head.

He hated it when she did that. The tiniest show of defiance always made him want to push her more until she caved. Leaning toward her, he stopped when his cheek almost touched hers.

“Come on.” Spike purred into her ear softly and felt her sigh against his neck.

“No…” It was less firm this time, more of a pliable ‘no’.

“Just one drink, please?” Spike pulled back and pouted at her.

She caved as soon as she saw his bottom lip sticking out.

“I’ll get in trouble.” Chewing her lip, she watched his eyes sparkle as he realised he’d won her over. She wanted to go out with him, wanted to sit and talk with him, wanted to enjoy his current good mood.

“Promise I’ll look after you.” He offered her a sweet smile of encouragement. He knew she didn’t need any, but he gave her it all the same. He wanted her to come out with him, wanted to spend this night with her in some place other than the hotel restaurant.

“I’ll get my coat.” She said with a smile and shut the door on him.


Twenty minutes later they were stood outside a bar and Buffy wouldn’t budge.

“Come on, love.” Spike had just come back from taking a peek inside. “It’s dark, quiet and I’ll protect you from the big bads.”

Looking up at him, she watched his expression become pleading and she sighed out in resignation. “I’m not drinking anything alcoholic.”

“Great, let’s go.” Spike turned to walk through the door but stopped when he realised she wasn’t following him. “Buffy?”

Looking at her closely he realised she was nervous.

She fidgeted with her hands and then felt her heart skip a beat as Spike held his out to her. Slipping her fingers into his, she marvelled at how nice it felt. His hands were huge, warm, but most of all soft.

Spike looked down at her fingers as they interlocked with his and fought the desire to let his thumb stroke hers gently. She was going to be the undoing of him and he knew it.

Walking through the door with Buffy in tow, he headed straight for the bar.

“Bourbon and a coke for the lady.” He smirked at the bar tender and then narrowed his eyes as the man looked over at Buffy. Turning his head to look at her, he noticed she was blushing violently. “Something I said?”

“Lady.” She giggled at it now but five seconds ago his calling her a lady had sent heat coursing through every inch of her.

“That you are, love.” Grabbing his drink, he paid the bar tender and waited for Buffy to pick hers up before leading her over towards the back of the room.

She noticed it was quieter there, relatively empty and a damn sight darker than near the front of the bar. Settling down on a long padded seat with him, she placed her drink down on the table and played with it.

Spike watched her for a few minutes as she sipped her drink and looked around the room, her eyes seemingly absorbing everything she was seeing as though this was the first time she’d been in a bar.

“Gonna talk to me?” He toyed with his glass and smiled at her.

“Maybe.” Buffy sipped her drink and took a moment to steady herself. There was only one topic of conversation that came to mind and she had to get it out in the open. Ever since yesterday, it had been eating away at her. “About yesterday at the gas station…”

Trying to hide the fact that he was slightly taken aback by her choice of topic would’ve been easier had he not choked on his drink.

“Oh God… sorry.” Buffy patted his back as he coughed and banged his fist on the table.

“Not quite what I had in mind, pet.” Spike sounded like someone had just throttled him.

“Sorry… just… forget it…”

“No… it’s fine, really… it’s fine… go ahead.” Taking another swig of his drink, Spike gained a little composure and readied himself for anything she was going to say.

“Just… you seemed a little down…”

“Just thinking about life, sweetheart.” Spike drank the rest of his drink down and then rested his hand on the table.

“If you want to talk about it… I mean…” Buffy placed her hand gently over his on the table. “I’m listening, not going to judge you.”

Swallowing hard, he stared at their hands on the table. Buffy’s fingers curled around so she was squeezing his softly. As her thumb stroked the backs of his fingers, he sighed and looked up at her face, finding her smiling warmly at him. Not knowing what else to say he just nodded. He was amazed that he was agreeing to tell her about himself. She was practically a stranger but she somehow kept managing to have a profound effect on him, and something told him that he needed to tell someone, needed to get it out into the open.

Slipping his hand from hers, he walked over to the bar and ordered another drink, drank it down fast and then ordered another. Taking a deep breath, he looked back at Buffy where she sat at the table, no longer a prissy daddy’s girl but a real woman, wanting to know his life story, wanting to know him.

Slouching back into the seat, Spike stared at the glass in his hand for a few minutes, watching the liquid as it swirled around.

Buffy was doing her best to wait patiently. She’d managed to get him to agree to talk but whether he would or not was yet to be seen. He looked nervous and she found herself wondering if his life had been that bad that he didn’t want to tell her about it.

Meeting her eyes, Spike tried to figure out where to start, and how far back to go. He’d never really talked much about the events that scarred him, and now he felt as though he was about to undergo some bizarre form of therapy—pouring his heart out to a beautiful girl over a glass of bourbon. Spike sighed at her. God she is beautiful, eyes following my every move, emerald green and innocent.

Innocent—that was the word that hit him hardest. Thinking over the things he was about to tell her, he decided that it was probably the kindest thing he could do for her, show her just how bad the world could get before she found out first hand.

“When I was seventeen…” Spike put his drink down on the table and drew another long deep breath. She wasn’t going to like this one bit. “I almost… almost killed my father.”

“Spike!” She visibly backed away as her heart skipped a beat.

“You said no judging, remember? Besides… I had my reasons.”

“Sorry.” Buffy shifted nearer him again, ignoring the part of her that was panicking about what he was going to tell her. “Must have been a big set of reasons.”

“Just one.” Spike’s voice was quiet and his jaw tensed up.

“Oh.” Buffy noticed how anxious he was and took hold of his hand again to try to reassure him. He really needed to talk, that much she could tell.

“He…” Taking a deep breath, he felt her squeeze his hand slightly, and drawing whatever small comfort he could gain from it, he started again. “We never saw eye to eye, it all started when… no… no use fooling myself. He hated me, resented me, from the second I came into the world.”

“So you lashed out at him, beat him up?” Buffy felt his hand tense in hers. Maybe interposing little comments was a bad idea.

“He… he beat me first…” Stifling the feeling of anger that flared up in him, Spike’s voice wavered.

“Beat you.” Buffy breathed out as she met his eyes and found a whole world of hurt was looking back at her. She felt like throwing up when she remembered what she’d said to him. Abusive.

“Black and blue… for five years.”

“He hit you when you were twelve?” She was shocked. No wonder the poor guy was so messed up.

“Yeah.” Spike chuckled dryly. “Beat the living hell out of me for having the audacity to breathe. He was a real role model. I… he… I kept telling myself I must have done something to deserve it, you know? Must have been so bad that he had to hit me, punish me, beat me unconscious…”

Moving her other hand, Buffy held both of his in hers, wrapping her hands about them.

“I could take it… was always a fighter. Everything he laid on me, I laid on someone else… God… I could take it… my…” Spike’s voice became strained and Buffy began to regret asking him to talk now. She hadn’t realised how distressing it would be to him. “My… mother… I couldn’t handle how much it hurt her, seeing him… watching him… hit me… smash me… break me… think that’s what he wanted…to break me… was too spirited for him… God, Buffy…”

The way he said her name went straight through her. Letting go of his hands, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tight. She could feel him trembling against her, fighting against whatever emotions were welling up in him.

“I’m so sorry.” Buffy whispered softly by his ear, her hands stroking the back of his head gently, hoping it was reassuring him.

“All in the past…”

“We can stop… you don’t have to…”

“I have to… God, I need to… dwelt on bad things for so long, Buffy, so damn long and I don’t want to end up that way… don’t want to go down that route…” Spike bit his lip hard.

Buffy decided it was best not to ask what he was talking about. She had the feeling she didn’t want to know, had the feeling it had something to do with suicide.

Pulling away from her, he tried to smile as she slowly took her arms down from around his neck, her hands settling around his again.

“Always a fighter. I started training when I was fifteen. Never told my folks, dad would have beat me senseless and mum… mum would’ve… doesn’t matter now. When I was sixteen, my father shoved me down a flight of stairs in the block of flats we lived in. Broke my collarbone, fractured my wrist… think concrete looks hard? Try landing on it… least when I was in a cast he laid off me for a bit.”

“Which wrist?” Buffy looked at his hands in front of her and he wriggled his left fingers.

“Bit of a bitch since I’m left hand…” Spike trailed off and frowned as she bent over and kissed his wrist. His heart leapt into this throat.

Looking up at him, Buffy smiled shyly. He was looking at her with awe, his face tender and soft, lips parted slightly.

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.” Feeling awkward, Buffy silently begged him to carry on.

Spike looked at her for a moment longer before starting again.

“When they took my cast off it began all over again. Mum was so distressed by it. She loved me so much… couldn’t bear to see all the suffering I went through. One day my father got a little bored and decided to take it out on me… broke my nose… knocked two teeth out… split my lip… black eye… smacked the side of my head against the wall until I almost lost consciousness. That was his bloody trick… knowing to stop just before I blacked out then waiting for a few minutes before starting all over again… fucking bastard…”

“God, Spike, that’s… I don’t think they have words for that.” Buffy held onto his hands a little tighter.

“Don’t think they do, love.” Spike replied in a gruff voice. “I was ready for him… the few minutes he gave me to recover were his downfall. I couldn’t see well… but could see well enough to beat him down… seventeen years of hell… all that anger building up in me so strong I could almost taste it. I unleashed it all on him. He didn’t stand a chance, Buffy. Mum’s screaming was the only thing that stopped me… couldn’t really recognise him… so much blood on him… on me… he didn’t stand a chance.”

“What happened to him?” She was hoping Spike was going to tell her that they put him away, that they did something to punish his father for abusing his child.

“I walked… he walked. He spent a month in hospital and then discharged himself. He left my mum at the same time I did. I couldn’t be in that flat anymore. I went to see her but… things were so fucked up. When I was twenty-three, he died. I hadn’t spoken to him since I almost killed him… then he was gone… lost opportunities… lost my chance to tell him I was sorry.”

“Sorry? He beat the hell out of you and you were sorry?” Buffy was incredulous.

“Was hoping he’d be saying sorry too, love.” Spike leaned forwards and tucked her hair behind her ear. The more he told her the more liberated he felt.

“So what happened?” Buffy shifted towards him again and recaptured his roaming hands in hers.

“I drank… a lot.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widening, she looked from Spike to the drink on the table. Reaching over, she switched her drink for his.

Spike smiled at that. It felt nice being looked out for, looked after, comforted even.

“Where were you three years ago when I really needed someone to do that?”

Her smiled faded.

“I was… my dad had just left my mom.”

“Bollocks… sorry, love.” Spike rubbed his thumb against her hand and frowned slightly. He’d forgotten all about that.

“It’s okay. You’re spilling your life story, maybe I could get a little emotional therapy, too.” Looking from him to the bourbon, she lifted the glass up and took a swig. Her face screwed up as the liquor burned her throat on the way down.

Spike squeezed her hand gently, hoping it would encourage her to get it out in the open.

“Mom won the court case, but she gave us up to dad anyway on the basis she could still see us and we’d spend holidays with her. She gave her daughters up so they could have a better life. I was so angry with her at the time… she didn’t have enough money to look after us. Now she’s got her life back on track. She’s an artist, has a gallery in Sunnydale. I’m staying with her while I go to college… I’m never going back to New York.”

“Daughters? How come your sis wasn’t there to see you off?” Spike watched Buffy’s expression become saddened. He’d seen that look before by the gas station yesterday.

Reaching into her bag, Buffy pulled out her purse. Slipping a photograph out, she offered it to him with a shaky hand. He took it from her and looked at it. Her sister was as beautiful as she was. Instead of honey blonde hair, she had long dark brown hair, and she didn’t look very old.

“She’s beautiful, kinda like you.” Spike looked up at Buffy as a tear slid down her cheek.

“She was beautiful.” Her voice faltered as she stifled her tears.

Spike felt sick. She wasn’t so innocent about how cruel the world was after all. “What happened?”

“Angel… this guy we knew in New York. He was driving us around the mountains one Christmas. He always drove like a jerk… not like you… when you drive I know you’re in control… when he drove it was like the car was in control. I was in the passenger seat… he was driving so fast, Spike… I did my seat belt up. My sister was in the back, giggling, I can still hear it now… Angel was laughing too, even though I kept telling him to slow down. He hit a corner too fast, there was ice and the next thing I remember was waking up upside down in the car where it had landed in amongst the trees… and blood… I could smell it… it was…”

Buffy looked like she was going to throw up. Leaning towards her, Spike cupped her cheek in his hand and caressed it slowly.

“Breathe, love. Nice and slow.” He met her eyes and she nodded, taking long deep breaths as she steadied herself.

“She’s buried in Sunnydale. Mom cried so much but I couldn’t cry… I was so angry… I wanted to, but I couldn’t cry. I just kept thinking about the wreckage and Angel. I was so angry… I didn’t go to his funeral… dad went…” Buffy shut her eyes tight. “I’m so mean, I couldn’t cry for my sister.”

“Hey, not true, you’re crying now… and your mum was upset, you probably wanted to be strong for her, love, that’s all. It isn’t a crime not to cry at a funeral. You loved your sister, even I can see that.”

Buffy looked up into his eyes and stayed there for a moment, searching them deeply and taking slow breaths to calm herself.

“I miss her Spike… I feel sick…”

“Blood is a hard smell to forget, love, believe me.”

“Your dad?” She watched as he shook his head and she remembered he’d talked about blood yesterday, blood, water, and someone dead. Someone he loved. “God, Spike… your mother?”

As he nodded, she felt ten times worse. She’d presumed that his dad had been the one who’d committed suicide since he’d talked about him dying.

“Mum died last year. She’d been clinically depressed since dad died, she uh… I…”

Buffy watched as Spike tensed up. Chafing his hands in hers, she tried to smile even though it felt like they were breaking each other’s hearts with this conversation.

“She… it was her birthday… Dru had left for New York already and I came by to give her…” He swallowed noisily and Buffy lost herself in his eyes, they were blurring with tears. “A present… tell her I love her, be back soon… that kind of thing. She didn’t answer the door. I had a key so I let myself in… thought she wasn’t home at first… then I pushed the bathroom door open…”

Stopping himself, Spike shut his eyes tight. Images of his mother surrounded by her own blood made him feel sick. Deep red against white. He felt Buffy’s warm hand touch his cheek and took a deep breath. Keeping his eyes closed, he pushed through, knowing he’d feel better when he’d finally told someone. When he’d told her.

“She was so pale, Buffy… like a ghost… not my mother… the water, God, the water… it was just a sea of red. She was laying in her own blood… her wrists… I didn’t know what to do… didn’t know what to do… she was so cold… the police came… it was bad, Buffy…”

Spike raised his head and met her eyes. Her large green iris’ still sparkled with tears.

“I got taken in… questioning they said… like I’d killed my own mother…”

“God, Spike, what happened?” Buffy couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to be accused of killing someone you loved.

“Spent two days locked up. The next-door neighbour testified that I had only arrived about twenty minutes before the police did… never did thank them. After I buried her… well, you know what happened. I came to New York… found my girl in the arms of another man.”

Spike sighed and wiped his eyes with his free hand.

Buffy chewed her lip and held his other hand a little tighter.

“Spike, about that…”

“About what… Dru?” He met her eyes again and she looked pained.

“She was very pretty…” Buffy didn’t know what possessed her to say it. It was like sticking a knife in him and twisting it. What she had wanted to say was who the man was in the picture.

“Yeah, she was…” Spike got the feeling it wasn’t all she wanted to say. He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and she smiled slightly. You’re real pretty too, love.

“The man…” Buffy froze as he froze.

Spike felt like his heart had stopped and he was suddenly staring at a different person. He could see in her eyes that she knew who the man was, that she could tell him who had stolen his girl away.

He pulled his hand away from her like she was burning him.

“Who the fuck was he?”

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