roadblocks when he had tried to take decisive action.
Maybe that was his answer. Circumstances had seemed determined to keep her ignorant of him. Why fight it?
He now realized just how much had changed in a year. The Andrew of the failed funnel cakes was not the Andrew he'd just seen in Rome. This Andrew probably wouldn't spill the beans accidentally. He'd keep his word, at least until such time as there was a good reason to do otherwise. And, of course, it had been the Andrew wild-card that had begun him on his campaign to Let Buffy Know in the first place....
Spike leaned his head back against the smooth wall of the garage. One forearm rested on an upraised knee. His other leg stretched out in front of him.
The words of the song he'd sung to her while under Sweet's influence returned to him: "Let me rest in peace...." 'S what I need. T' just find some peace.
He was motionless for many minutes, trying to absorb the cool quiet of the subterranean chamber into himself, to lay it like a blanket over the loneliness he'd been contending with for months, and the mis-placed sense of rejection that had been added to it when he'd realized Bufy had chosen to be with someone else. He mentally smoothed that calm over her not needing to be saved. He tucked it around the corners of her not needing him.
He tood a deep, slightly shaky breath, and blinked away the dampness that had gathered in the corners of his eyes. He slowly picked himself up off the floor, just as the elevator dinged, announcing a new arrival.
"Oh, Spike! I, er, though you'd left some time ago."
"Yeh, well, couldn't think where t'go. Just been 'ere contemplatin'. Where you off to?" Spike noted the weariness that seemed to have become a permanent feature of the erstwhile Watcher's face. They all ached over Fred's loss, but seeing Wesley's struggle since then was almost more painful, if for no other reason than that it seemed there would be no end to it.
Wesley stopped and stared off into the distance, through the wall of the garage, at god-only-knew-what.
His gaze finally returned to Spike. "I really don't know either. Just away. From here. For a little while."
Guess there's always a sadder-sack than one's self somewhere...
"Oi! I heard of an indoor shootin' range in town. Could go blow some shit up...."
"Yes. Yes, I suppose it couldn't hurt."
So, Spike put one foot in front of the other, falling into step with Wesley, and found that he had moved on, at least to the degree that it was within his nature to do so. Without consciously making a resolution, he realized that he felt capable of putting in one day at a time, enjoying as much as he could along the way, suffering her absence all over again by times, but soldiering on, living and fighting and waiting. Sooner or later, The Fates would bring their paths to a crossing. And then...well, that wasn't a thought for today. Sooner or later, but not today.
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