Buffy shoved the stake into her pocket and turned as
Spike hauled Willow up off the ground.
"You okay, Will?" the slayer asked.
"Yeah, knocked the wind out of me is all," she nodded,
panting softly.
"Well, you don't have to worry about that one hurling
himself at you again any time soon," Buffy glanced at
her watch as ashy bits of vampire skittered away in
the gentle breeze.
"Hot date?" Willow grinned.
"I was supposed to meet Riley in the library a half an
hour ago," she answered.
"Go on. I'll make it back to the dorm just fine,"
Willow told her.
Buffy nodded and turned, hiding a grin as she walked
away.
"I'm sure you will," she murmured under her breath.
"Did I miss something?" the redhead asked as she
looked up at the smile on Spike's face.
"Not a thing, pet," he answered. "She missed that,
though. Didn't she?"
"What?"
"That," he repeated, pulling her left arm out from
under her right, where she'd hidden it. "You're going
to have one hell of a bruise."
Her eyes followed his to the reddened flesh around her
wrist, "I guess he grabbed me harder than I thought.
Doesn't hurt, though."
"Yet," he added. "Better get it taken care of."
"I will. I can--" she stopped as his arm moved around
her back to place his hand on her shoulder, taking her
along with him as he started toward the sidewalk.
"It's okay, Spike. I can take care of it."
"Pet, you don't have the first damned idea of how to
take care of yourself," he told her.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped angrily.
"What did you do with that picture?"
"Huh?" she asked, thrown by his response.
"The picture of your wolf. The one I threw away. Did
you leave it there?"
"Oh," she looked away from him, embarrassment
replacing her former anger.
"Well?"
"Sort of," she mumbled, refusing to meet his sideways
glance. "I mean, I...well...I left the frame in the
trash can."
"Bloody hell, pet--"
"You don't understand! I couldn't leave his picture
there! It's the only one I have of him. I was so angry
after I found him with--her--I tore up all the
others."
"In other words, you think better when you're angry
than you do when you're moping," he said.
"I wasn't moping. Okay, maybe I was, but I love him,
Spike."
He stopped walked and gripped her by the shoulders,
"Willow, take a look around you! He's gone. He isn't
coming back. You're in love with a bleedin' memory!"
"That isn't fair! You don't know that he isn't coming
back. He didn't leave because he doesn't love me. He
left because--"
"He couldn't be with you. I've heard it before," he
reminded her.
"It's true! That picture is the only thing I have
left. Except for a hundred memories that hurt too much
to think about and an empty cage I can't look at."
His hands moved to her face, cupping it firmly, and
raising her eyes to his, "Why can't you hear what I'm
saying, luv? You deserve better than that. He jumped
in a van and left you here to pick up the pieces. He
drove away from all of it--the places, the people, all
of the things that the two of you were. He couldn't
see a way to stay and make things better, so he left
you alone to figure it out by yourself."
"He had to, Spike. I can't hate him for it."
"I'm not saying you should hate him. I'm saying it's
time to move on."
Her eyes shimmered with tears as she stared back into
his, "I can't. I'm afraid."
"Afraid? Of what?" he asked.
"Of everything. Of being alone. Of losing myself, "she
shook her head free of his hands. "Of losing who I
became after I met him."
"You aren't alone," he promised her, his eyes
registering an emotion she was unable to read. "And he
didn't make you who you are. You would have done that,
anyway. It's called growing up."
She lowered her gaze and thought about that for a
moment before looking back up at him.
"Spike?" her voice was soberly earnest, her hands the
ones to mould around his cheeks, this time.
"Yes, pet?" he said softly.
Her lips curved into a playful grin, "Why is it when
we're alone for more than five minutes, we end up
dissecting my problems in all their gruesome glory?"
He chuckled and placed his hands over hers, "Because
it makes a change from dwelling on my own miserable
unlife?"
She gasped in mock horror, "Spike! You're a closet
brooder!"
"Bite your tongue, luv. Better yet, let me," he
offered with a quick wink.
She giggled and turned to his side as his cool hand
folded around hers.
"Don't you ever get tired of listening to me go on and
on about myself?" she asked as they started walking
again.
"No."
"Well, can we talk about you for awhile?" she asked.
"All right. What do you want to hear about first--the
raping, the pillaging, or the plundering?" he offered
amicably.
"Oh. Right. Never mind."
"Okay," he grinned. "Let's go back to the dorm and get
some ice for that wrist."
"Okay," she agreed.
***
The door to the dorm room opened as Willow was
crawling into bed.
"What were you and Riley studying?" the redhead
waggled her eyebrows as she glanced at the clock. "The
library closed two hours ago."
"Very funny," Buffy said dryly. "We went for pizza. I
tried to call you, but you didn't answer. So just
where were_you_?"
"Just...walking."
"With Spike?" she asked as she wriggled out of her
skirt and reached for her pajamas.
"Yeah. He's okay, though, really. I mean--"
"It's all right, Will. At least I don't have to worry
about him making a snack out of you," she grinned and
stopped beside her bed to reset her alarm clock. "The
best thing about Saturday is--Will?"
The redhead sat up, "Yeah?"
"What happened to the picture?" the slayer asked,
looking at the spot on the dresser where the
photograph of Oz had lain for the last several days.
Willow fidgeted with the blankets and looked down at
her hands, "I gave it to Spike."
Buffy looked over at her in surprise.
"I think, maybe, I don't need it anymore. So, he's
keeping it for me while I--" she hesitated, lying back
against her pillow as Buffy turned out the light and
slid into her own bed. "That sounds really stupid,
doesn't it?"
"No," the slayer answered and buried a smile in her
pillow. "It doesn't sound stupid. In fact, it sounds
pretty good."
She ventured a glance across the darkened room to see
Willow staring thoughtfully up at the ceiling.
"Buffy?" she whispered after a moment.
"Yeah?"
"It feels pretty good."
End.