Spike had not told Tara anything at all about what Julia had confided in him and that felt a bit strange. He was used to telling Tara everything. He'd confess feelings and urges and ask her why certain things were wrong in the human world, and she'd explain to the best of her ability. He didn't always have the best instincts for dealing with people, but Tara's were always dead on. He'd become accustomed to simply trusting her judgment.
But something about Julia's vulnerability and the whole situation made him keep his mouth shut, feeling that she deserved privacy. He had a whole range of emotions he was now dealing with all on his own. But it was all right. Tara was there if he really needed her to explain why he couldn't do certain things. He knew he shouldn't track down 'Mike' because Julia insisted it wouldn't solve anything. So he refrained.
He was a little proud of himself, all in all.
Julia had made it clear she didn't want anything serious, and he was all right with that. He liked her just fine, he appreciated her sweet nature and her intelligence and he respected her surfing ability. But he wasn't in love with her.
The trouble was, Spike liked being in love and he hadn't had those feeling for anyone since Drusilla. He loved Tara more than anyone in the world, Drusilla included, but he wasn't in love with her.
These feelings he felt comfortable sharing. Tara was soothing in the way only she knew how to be, and resolved to find him a love interest since her own was going so well.
Spike protested half-heartedly, but the truth was, he really wanted to be loved. He wanted to wake up next to someone everyday, not that Tara wasn't wonderful to do that with, but a lover would be a little different.
Despite what he had reassured Julia, that he wasn't interested in a long-term relationship, he was feeling now that maybe he was ready.
* * *
Buffy strolled across campus, looking for another distraction from writing her History paper, when she stumbled across what she didn't realize she was looking for.
Spike was sprawled on a park bench under a magnolia tree, eating cherries from a bag balanced on his chest and reading a book.
Buffy froze and watched him for a few seconds. He didn't look ready to bolt from the situation so she assumed he hadn't noticed her presence. She squinted to read the title of his book and nearly bounced with excitement when it turned out to be 1984 by George Orwell. It was a book they'd covered last month in her English class and she actually had a whole slew of opinions and intelligent comments about it.
Here, dropped right in her lap, was both an opportunity and a subject to talk with Spike about.
She approached him slowly, “Can I sit down?”
Spike hadn't heard her voice in a while and didn't recognize it, thinking it was just someone implying her was hogging a public bench, he sat up, keeping his eyes on the page, and popped another cherry in his mouth.
When he glanced up as she sat down he nearly choked.
He ended up swallowing the cherry whole. Buffy looked at him with a warm smile and asked, “Do you think Winston was really a rebel, or did his giving in at the end completely undo all the acts against the Party?”
He stared at her dumbfounded for a few seconds wondering what on earth she was talking about and why under the stars she was even talking to him at all.
Then he realized she meant the book he was reading and cleared his throat, “Oh, um, well, nothing is really undone just because you fail later on. If you succeed even once it still has to count, doesn't it?”
Buffy practically glowed all of a sudden. Spike noticed she was actually quite pretty when she wasn't scowling at him. Then he promptly disabled that thought, if the Slayer ever had an inkling that he thought about her like that at all, he was quite confident she would try to stake him.
“I completely agree. Everyone else in class all kept insisting that because he sold out everything else he did was meaningless. But he tried, that matters, right?” Buffy swung her legs against the sides of the bench like a child and Spike found himself thinking how charming that was.
“Yeah, well, you have to remember your class is full of a lot of idealistic students who've most likely never done anything worthwhile in their lives. I bet you've done a lot more than they can even imagine. They've just got head full of sensational ideas that have never actually been put into action.” Spike offered her the bag, “Cherry?”
Buffy looked from the bag to his mouth and swallowed. She'd just noticed that the cherry juice had stained his lips a vivid red, making them look absolutely edible. Buffy was worried if she put anything in her mouth she might very well start to drool so she politely refused.
Spike glanced at the magnolia blossoms in the grass, “Not that I'm complaining, Slayer, but why the change of heart?” He looked up at her and she was momentarily dazzled by the blue of his eyes in contrast to the new tan he was sporting and she shook her head to clear it.
“Oh, well, I think I might have over-reacted a bit a the Bronze. I really didn't believe that you weren't up to old tricks and I just jumped to conclusions.”
“I don't blame you.” He said quietly and Buffy looked up sharply in surprise.
“I wouldn't believe you if you approached me in Brazil and insisted you'd given up saving the world and were now all about the carnage.” He went on to elaborate.
That actually made Buffy feel a bit worse, Spike was displaying understanding for his own mistreatment.
“Well, yeah, but I did go a little far. I was wondering if you want to try again? Just start over and pretend all that didn't happen.” Buffy picked at the hem of her skirt anxiously.
Spike seemed to be mulling it over for a few seconds and then turned back to her, “Well, hello, Slayer. I've come back but I've turned over a new leaf. No more death and people-drinking for me I'm all about the bag lunches.”
Buffy smiled, “Welcome to the Hellmouth, Spike. You're in for a wild ride.”
* * *
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