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The singer crooned on stage, but Buffy sat at the bar, not hearing and staring into space.
For a few wonderful hours, she wasn’t Buffy. She wasn’t Buffy who was ripped out of heaven after she sacrificed herself to save the world. She was Joan, who was upbeat and excited to find out she was a “superhero”. But now she was herself again, and her world felt just as heavy as before.
She saw something in the corner of her eye, and when she turned her head, she saw Spike. He was looking at her, expression earnest and open. Ready to say something like “If there’s anything I can do” or jokingly offer to beat up her friends. Though honestly, that didn’t sound too bad right now.
But she couldn’t deal with it right now. “It” being having someone so ready to support her when all she wanted to do was drift away and ignore everything.
So she pointedly looked away from him. She heard him give an annoyed huff, like “Well okay then” and walk off. But then a smidgen of guilt started to grow in the pit of her stomach, and just half a minute later she was getting up to follow him.
“Spike, wait,” she said when she was just a few meters away. Most people wouldn’t have been able to hear her from that distance in a loud club, but Spike was a vampire so that wasn’t a problem. He stopped in his tracks, right next to the stairs, then turned around with a look on his face that said “Yeah, what do you want?” She got next to him and then,
“I’m sorry.”
Surprise smacked the annoyance off his face.
“Buffy–”
“I’m sorry, I just…” Buffy paused, trying to fit words together. “I thought everyone knowing about the heaven thing would make things easier. That people would get it now.”
Buffy shook her head, looking at the ground. “But Giles is still leaving, and Willow thought the best thing to do was mess with my memories, and everyone’s just trying to not talk about the heaven thing, and…”
Buffy looked back up at Spike. He was watching her with silent sympathy. Not pity, which would have pissed her off, but just a kind-of gentle understanding.
“And somehow you’re still the only person who seems to get me,” she finished in a whisper.
“Buffy…” His expression was opening up, like he was holding his breath (metaphorically) for what she’d say next. Or do next.
Buffy took a step closer. She looked up at him. He stared back.
Then her eyes drifted lower, and her hand was coming up to his neck, and she was leaning in, and…
And somehow the world felt a little less heavy.