Blue Horizons
Chapter Thirty-Five
“You feelin’ all right, luv?” Spike asked, concerned, as he watched Elizabeth pick half-heartedly at her salad.
She managed a ghost of a smile. “Just not hungry,” she insisted.
He frowned but didn’t want to comment while the rest of the house was present.
“How’re you liking Winston’s class?” Anya asked, trying to drag the unusually silent woman into the conversation.
“Fine,” Elizabeth shrugged, dropping her fork onto her tray with a clatter. It was actually true. She didn’t hate the class; she just didn’t really feel any desire to take it, either.
“Nine out of ten for presentation!” Cordy abruptly exclaimed, still fussing over the A- she’d gotten on her project. “Can you believe that?!”
“We were way more presentable than everyone else,” Xander agreed, sharing in her pain. “Although, technically, A-. Not exactly something you’re allowed to complain about…”
Cordy sighed. “My professor hates me and is out to get me,” she decided. “It’s the only explanation.”
“Professors do that, you know,” Andrew piped up in his usual breathless staccato. “Like, they hear things about you, and then get these bad ideas and…” His mouth practically shut with an audible snap when he noticed everyone staring at him. “There was a Fox News Special about it, at least,” he mumbled under his breath.
Spike chuckled at that. “Before or after the latest Hollywood sex scandal?” he demanded.
“Before,” Andrew replied cheerfully. “But only because Drew Barrymore was one of the ‘victims’ that came forward…”
Cordelia let out an exasperated sigh. “Since when did my pain become a diatribe on the quality of Fox News?” she demanded sarcastically.
“Quite a while back,” Anya informed her. “You really should try to keep up with the conversation.”
“My pain!” Cordy explained theatrically. “Why must it always be mocked?”
“Because, frankly, ‘s pretty lame pain, luv,” Spike felt obliged to point out.
Cordy scowled at him. “Elizabeth, you’re closer. You hit him.”
Elizabeth looked up, somewhat startled, before obeying Cordy’s request and giving Spike a light whap on the arm.
“Ow!” he felt obliged to exclaim in response.
She rolled her eyes and cracked her first smile of the lunch at him in response. “Baby,” she teased.
He chuckled at that before dangling a french fry over her water glass in a menacing manner.
She squealed and caught his hand, beginning an impromptu little play fight that had Xander and Cordy making kissy faces after only a few seconds.
“God, they need to get a room,” Cordelia decided, shaking her head.
“They already have a room,” Anya reminded her. “I think they need a room within their room.”
“What?” Xander retorted sarcastically. “And miss the rousing nightly chorus of ‘oh god’s?”
The trio giggled at the expense of the bleached pair who remained quite thoroughly oblivious to what was being discussed around them. Elizabeth had now managed to take Spike’s cookie hostage and was holding it far out behind her in a move that encouraged his body to wrap around hers in his attempts to retrieve it. It was an opportunity Spike was taking full advantage of.
“So, yeah,” Xander shook off the familiar sight and turned to one of the remaining sane members of the table. “Heard back from the Times yet?” he asked Devon.
The young man in question looked up from the newspaper in question that he had just happened to be reading intently and shook his head ruefully. “Not supposed to hear back until April,” he said with an impatient sigh.
“S-Still,” Jonathan managed to get out, “it’s cool that you trying and all. I mean…” He trailed off, embarrassed.
“Very cool,” Cordy agreed, flashing Jonathan a reassuring smile.
“The local paper’s willing to sign me on for the summer if that doesn’t come through,” Devon provided. “So it works either way.”
Anya frowned. “Would you be staying in the dorm, then?” she wondered. “Because I hear it’s hard to just sublet for the summer.”
Devon shrugged. “No need to worry about that too much yet,” he pointed out. “But, yeah, I might have to move out.”
“That’s no good,” Xander insisted. “And what about Oz?”
Devon shook his head. “Haven’t seen Oz much this past month. So, no clue what he’s planning.”
Xander’s attention turned to Elizabeth and Spike who had finally returned to eating - or not eating, in Elizabeth’s case - in peace. “You two are staying, though, right?” he demanded.
Spike nodded. “Stuck with all you losers for the long haul,” he agreed.
“Hey!” several voices said at once, and suddenly Spike found himself pelted with french fries.
He sniffled in Elizabeth’s direction, but she just grinned at him. “You were so asking for that,” she insisted. “There’s no way I’m helping you.”
“And ‘s everyone against Spike once more,” he sighed, taking a bite of his pizza before looking at it in surprise. “’S not covered in congealed animal fat today!” he cried in delight.
“Really?” Andrew looked over at him in amazement. “Is it good?”
“Edible,” Spike decided after a moment’s hesitation.
Devon, Andrew, and Cordelia all looked down at the discarded ravioli on their plates before leaping up in unison to try out this new wonder that was ‘edible’ food.
“You can tell it’s winter,” Anya commented with an amused smile as the three of them nudged each other out of the way in their effort to get to the pile of clean plates.
“It hasn’t actually been too crazy yet,” Spike pointed out.
Elizabeth cast him an annoyed look.
“I mean, no one’s dropped out, an’ there haven’t been any screamin’ matches,” he provided.
“You sure?” Elizabeth sighed. “’Cause I’m considering both at the moment.”
“Have you caught up in class yet?” Anya inquired. “I found that the urge to destroy perishable items faded the instant I no longer had any back assignments.”
Elizabeth groaned. “Only one extra problem set left,” she agreed. “I don’t suppose you’re free this evening to help me?”
Anya gave her an apologetic smile. “Xander’s taking me out to the first of Cordy’s class plays,” she said excitedly.
“Ooh, the first post-illness date,” Spike joked lightly. “Gonna be extra loud tonight?”
“To make up for everything that you two have put me through,” Anya retorted defensively.
Jonathan flushed bright red at all the sex talk.
Fortunately, Willow and Oz arrived at that moment to save him.
“Hey, our two house ghosts have arrived!” Xander announced jovially. “For a while there we thought the two of you were victims to Hell Semester, and no one had even bothered to tell us.”
Willow tried to smile at that, but given the reality of Oz’s situation, it was a little hard to do.
The pair was instantly met with concerned looks.
“Somethin’ happen?” Spike asked, noticing both sets of drawn features.
Oz shrugged and sat down. “Might get expelled,” he said in his usual dry monotone. “Nothing big.”
Xander chuckled at Oz’s joke, and then frowned when he slowly began to realize that this wasn’t a joke. “Wait, you were kidding, right?” he demanded.
Oz grimaced. “I wish.”
“How?”
“What?”
“Why?”
The flurry of questions all came out just as the wandering adventurers returned with the pizza they’d freed from the tyranny of the dining hall staff.
“What’s going on?” Devon asked, concerned.
Willow and Oz exchanged a look. “Pretty much everyone is here,” she pointed out. “Except Tara.” Her brow furrowed. “Where’s Tara?” she inquired. “She usually eats around now…”
“She hasn’t been around much this week,” Elizabeth provided. “I think she’s got papers due.”
Willow nodded before turning back to Oz. “Now’s as good a time…” she trailed off.
Oz nodded. There was no way the people he’d dropped that little admission to were going to let it pass, and soon everyone else would be trying to drag it out of him as well. “Veruca and I torched Simmonds’ place. She got expelled. I’m up before the board of directors today to see if I’m getting expelled, too.”
Stunned silence filled the table at that.
“So, yeah, bye. In case I get kicked out,” Oz finished.
“They can’t kick you out!” Cordy finally insisted, still in shock. “I mean, really, who hasn’t thought about burning down a professor’s house? Huh? Anyone?”
The hint of a smile turned up the edges of Oz’s lips. “Thanks,” he nodded in her direction.
“Man, when did this all happen?” Devon asked, concerned that his friend hadn’t told him.
“A while back,” Oz admitted. “I was kinda a fugitive for a while.”
Spike batted one hand in the air dismissively. “They can’t kick you out,” he insisted. “Even if they try, we’ll just let you back in.”
“Y-Yeah,” Willow agreed, an idea forming in her head, “I mean, they’ll probably kick you out of housing, but it’s not like they can close off Devon’s room from you.”
“Thanks,” Oz agreed, “but I want to hear the verdict before I figure out what I’m doing.”
Elizabeth reached over and gave his hand a squeeze. “Are you all right?” she asked sincerely.
He gave his usual curt nod and finished up the pizza he’d wisely selected in record time. “Are we…?” he trailed off, casting an inquiring look in Willow’s direction.
“We’ve still got plenty of time,” Willow informed him, checking her watch.
“Yeah, I know,” Oz agreed, “but I’d…” He cast a nervous look at the faces around him. Obviously, his confession had been a bit more difficult than he’d let on. And even though no one seemed to be accusing him, he felt rather like some specimen in a zoo that everyone was staring at.
Willow sighed and plucked a Tupperware container from her backpack to ‘liberate’ her salad. The food and strategic pieces of silverware safely secured within her oh-so-innocent looking bag, she got up to leave. “Wish us luck,” she requested.
“Good luck,” everyone echoed in unison.
Oz and Willow practically fled the dining hall.
Everyone blinked.
“Well, that was sure…abrupt,” Devon pointed out.
“Is anyone else wondering if that was just some random hallucination?” Xander wondered.
Anya, Cordy, and Spike all put up their hands in unison.
“Good, then at least it’s a mass hallucination,” Xander managed a slight smile.
“Now I feel guilty,” Elizabeth commented.
She got several quizzical looks in response.
“I mean, here I am griping about my life, and Oz’s worried about being expelled?” she clarified. “Makes my problems seem kind of pathetic.”
“Welcome to the club,” Cordy agreed.
“Th-They’re not really going to kick him out, are they?” Jonathan chimed in. “B-Because we could probably do something…” He trailed off.
“Got the decided feelin’ he wants to get through this on his own,” Spike commented. “Not always the easiest choice to make, but sometimes necessary.”
“Yeah, because you did so well getting through everything on your own,” Anya retorted.
He winced at that. “’Least made me realize that there was no purpose in tryin’ while you two busybodies were meddlin’ in my life.” He cast a fond/annoyed glance in Anya and Cordy’s direction.
“And learning to just cave in to us,” Cordy agreed with a grin, “the most important lesson you’ll ever learn.” She stared at the bottom of her orange juice. “Will you get me another glass?” she pleaded him, fluttering long, dark lashes in his direction.
Spike groaned in protest.
“I’ve got it,” Xander assured him, taking the empty glass from Cordy’s hand and earning himself a wide smile for his efforts. He blushed in response.
Anya frowned. “Can you get me another apple, too?” she requested, trying to catch his attention.
“Huh?” He shook his head and turned to look at her.
“Apple,” she repeated. “One of the green ones. And no bruises.”
“Right. Sure thing, Ahn,” he agreed before heading off, glass in hand.
Anya sighed but shook the thoughts from her head.
“Don’t worry so much about dear old dad,” Cordy was reassuring Elizabeth. “Yeah, he’ll stick with the tough act for a little while, but he’ll cave in soon. Just pull the whole sweet little girl act with him next time you see him, and he’ll let you off the hook.”
“That makes so much sense that I’m going to pretend that I’d already thought of it to save myself the embarrassment,” Elizabeth agreed with a small smile. “Yeah, he never really has been very…consistent about anything.”
“You should set a series of reasonable goals and then achieve them,” Anya said brightly. “Start by seeing if you can get him down to two econ classes next year and take it from there.”
“Or, alternately,” Andrew nervously joked, “Jonathan and I could hack into the school’s computer and put false classes under your name.”
Elizabeth laughed at that one. “Thanks,” she agreed, “although I think Oz could use the hack job more than me…”
Everyone sobered at that again.
“Do we know when they’re getting back?” Anya wondered. “Because I want to know what happens.”
“S’pose they’ll come back by the dorm when everything’s settled,” Spike commented. “We’ll just hafta wait till then…”
* * *
“God, you make me feel so good,” Elizabeth moaned, head thrashing back against the pillows as her thighs firmly held Spike’s head in place between them.
Not that he had any desire to stop, of course. He looked up at her with dreamy blue eyes, delighting in her pleasure. He wished she could always be like this, no pain, no worries, just bliss… He lowered his eyes to the task before him and nipped gently at her clit, twisting it slightly.
She gasped in response, and her knees turned into Jell-O, unconsciously releasing him. However, her hands quickly replaced her thighs, twining into his hair, savoring its softness…
A third finger pressed into her silken folds, spreading her open wide and striking that sensitive spot deep within her. He was always torn whether to draw this out and make her ecstasy last or to give her immediately what she so desperately craved. Immediately won out this time.
“Spike…” His name fell from her lips like a prayer.
Lazily, he crawled up her body, spooning up against her slight form. “You called, luv?” he whispered huskily.
“Why talk?” she pouted. “Want more.”
He smiled at her mock-childish talk and rolled her over to face him. “My love,” he said tenderly before capturing her lips with his own.
Elizabeth sighed and wrapped one leg over his hip, inviting his inside. Her hands traced the sharp contours of his face, while their lips explored and caressed, and she once again concluded that this man was unbelievably, breathtakingly beautiful…
Instinctively, their bodies joined, once more merging into one. Their intense kiss grew lazy, and they moved apart, just looking at each other and feeling the way her body held him so tight within her.
“You don’t feel guilty…?” she began.
“Never,” he cut the thought off. “Never regret our happiness for a second.”
“Never,” she agreed softly, the fingers of one hand twining around his and guiding it to her breast.
He let out a gasping breath, causing them both to moan as he shifted within her. Ever since his entry, the two of them had remained still, just allowing their natural bodily rhythms to cause them to rock together.
“Tell me you love me,” she requested softly, fingertips gliding down the sweat-slicked skin of his back.
“I love you,” he assured her fervently. “God, I love you so much… I…” He trailed off helplessly, unable to convey the depths of his emotions with mere words. Instead, his lips met hers once more, and his hips began thrusting deep within her, starting the cascade of sparks throughout her body once more.
“You’re so beautiful,” she sighed, “so perfect…”
And then his lips fully trapped hers, and there were no more words, no more thoughts, just wonderful, heated oblivion…
“You know,” she commented with a gasp when their bodies had finally broken apart, “technically, I was supposed to be doing my econ homework…”
He gave her a lopsided grin from where he was lying beside her, staring up at the ceiling. “If you wanted to get any homework done, then you shouldn’t’a been so naked,” he pointed out reasonably enough.
“I wanted to,” she insisted. “It’s just that I was getting all ready to do my homework, and then there was this cute Spike butt.” She patted the source of her distraction. “And then I went, ‘Hmm…econ or cute Spike butt?’, and I realized that it was a very rhetorical question.”
He laughed. “So now ‘s my fault you’re not doin’ your homework?” he teased.
“No, it’s your sexy butt’s fault,” she clarified. “Bad butt,” she joked slightly, giving it a playful swat.
A fire lit up in the backs of his eyes. “Oh, you have no idea what you’ve just started, Summers…” His voice was low, husky, erotically dangerous…
“Bad butt,” she repeated with an unashamed grin and another little swat.
And then she screeched when Spike tackled her and rolled her onto her stomach so that he could get at her own rear end. He gave her a little swat in return - nothing at all painful, of course - and she giggled and squirmed beneath him, trying to get away.
“Big Bad’s got you now,” he teased, tickling her sides mercilessly.
She giggled and squirmed and finally managed to turn beneath him. “Must escape evil clutches…” she joked back amidst her mirth.
“And my bad butt,” he reminded her, settling between her spread thighs once more.
A delight little hum escaped her throat when she realized that he was hard for her once more. “Good butt,” she countered, giving it an encouraging little squeeze…
* * *
“Are you all right?” Willow asked softly as they stepped out of the administration building.
Oz nodded numbly. “I expected worse, y’know?” he sighed.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Willow insisted. A pause. “Well, OK, it was kinda your fault that you let Veruca screw with your head like that, but not really.”
Oz managed a weary smile and Willow’s charming tendency to babble. “Thanks for coming with me,” he finally said into the still of the night.
“Hey, no prob,” Willow assured him. “What are best friends for?”
“I know you have a lot of work,” he agreed. “And when did you last have time for Tara?”
“Best friend currently not in jail or expelled,” Willow pointed out. “I’d say that’s definitely worth all the time.”
“Well, not expelled permanently,” Oz corrected. “I am kind of expelled for the semester.”
“But is it really an expulsion if they let you come back next year?” Willow wondered. “It’s kinda more like a suspension… Can you get suspended in college?” Her brow furrowed.
“Somehow, I seem to have managed it,” he retorted.
“’Cause it really seems more like a high-school thing, and they never actually used the word ‘suspended’,” Willow continued to ramble. “Which, when you think of it, is actually sorta a cover up. Because, hey, they did suspend you, but they just didn’t want to say it because then they’d be caught up in that whole high-school thing, and-”
Oz put one hand on her arm to halt the endless stream of words. “It’s OK,” he assured her. “I’m all right.”
A tear leaked from the corner of her eye. “But I’ll miss you,” she insisted. “Y-You’ll stay in the dorm, right? Even though they kicked you out of housing? ‘Cause there’s no way they can actually enforce that… Well, there is, but they won’t go to all the fuss of doing it, so you can stay, right?”
He sighed. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m kinda thinking…get away for a while, take a break…”
Willow fought back her sniffles. “Absolutely,” she determined to be supportive. “I mean, whatever you think is best and all…”
He gave her a soft smile and a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Thanks,” he repeated.
She gave him a smile as well and…
“Slut!”
Willow fell to the ground with the force of the blow, dizzy and confused.
“Traitor!”
Oz’s eyes widened when a severely unhinged Veruca turned on him. Gone was the somewhat-seductive woman who had tried to lure him to his doom. (Yes, he had read too many epics, thank you very much.) And, in her place, was a wild, feral creature. She had several cuts on her face - most of which looked self-inflicted - and it was obvious that she hadn’t paid any attention to any sort of hygiene in weeks.
“You. Are. Mine,” she informed Oz in precise tones. “And you!” She turned to point an accusing finger at Willow. “Stay away from him, slut!”
Willow blinked. “Hello? Gay here!” she felt obliged to point out.
“Slut!” Veruca repeated. “The two of you, working together, set me up I know it, all a set up, made me do it…”
Veruca was babbling irrationally now, and Willow and Oz backed away, not quite sure how to deal with the crazed woman. Oz nodded to the campus police emergency box just a little ways away, and Willow ran after it to get help.
“Lied to me, turned against me, should’ve known I couldn’t trust you, just like all the others, just like daddy…” Veruca went on. “Daddy?” she cried out to the night sky. “Can you hear me now? Well, watch this!”
Oz’s eyes widened when he saw the knife that Veruca produced from her pocket before she was upon him, screeching like a banshee…
* * *
“What would he do if you just said no?” Spike inquired, breaking the post-coital silence that surrounded them.
“The end of the world,” she moaned.
He rolled his eyes. “Seriously,” he insisted.
She squirmed against him slightly uncomfortably. “I don’t know… Cut off my tuition, un-enroll me, and drag me back to Sunnydale.”
“You know that he can’t actually do that, right?” Spike pointed out. “Well, except for the tuition bit,” he conceded.
“Yeah, and without the tuition, the rest follows,” she countered.
“Not necessarily,” he offered. “There’re other options - scholarships, work-study, loans, that sort of thing.”
“Spike,” she said, her tone cool, “I can’t.”
“Why not?” he persisted.
“Because if I turn on him on this I can never go home again is why not,” she informed him matter-of-factly.
“And that bothers you?”
She sighed. “Yes,” she admitted. “Now, can we just not talk about this?” she requested.
He let it go for the moment. “I love you,” he murmured.
Another sigh. “Can we just not talk at all? Can you just hold me?”
“Yeah,” he mumbled, his voice strained, but he acquiesced to her wishes nonetheless.
Blue Horizons
Chapter Thirty-Six
Elizabeth had always hated emergency rooms. The cold white tile, nurses walking about at a clipped, frantic rate, hurried but seemingly uncaring at the same time, not fully able to comprehend the depth of pain and fear in the eyes of those waiting…or perhaps able to comprehend, but not able to respond in the environment where the chaos could so easily consume them.
Before Elizabeth even had the chance to shiver, a cloak of leather was wrapped over her own jacket and a strong arm was around her shoulder. She allowed her head to curl into the crook of Spike’s throat with something akin to awe. How could he know her well? Know her feelings even before she did? How could he possibly be this close to her, and…?
Her introspection was cut off when one of the nurses came out to usher them small Westing House group through the hospital maze. Elizabeth had to force herself to focus on the woman’s words.
“…A nasty cut…not too serious…shock the worst…”
It was all good news, but it was still terrible. That something like this could’ve happened to Oz and Willow, two of the nicest people she’d ever met… It was just incomprehensible.
The nurse cleared aside one of the pale green curtains that partitioned the in-patient rooms from the bustling corridor. “We should have their release papers ready in a few minutes,” she informed Tara, who had used her position as Willow’s significant other to take charge of the group. “I’ll give you Mr. Osborne’s prescription and further instructions then.”
Tara nodded and ushered her friends inside.
Elizabeth gulped at the stunned, weary expressions on Oz and Willow’s faces. The two were sitting side by side on the hospital bed, both still clad in the clothes they’d worn out that evening although Oz now sported a left arm wrapped almost entirely in gauze. Willow was holding his free hand, and together they just stared off into the white wall, their eyes still looking vacant and shocked.
“Willow…” Tara whispered with a little sob.
The sound of her girlfriend’s voice seemed to break through the cloud that surrounded Willow’s mind, and she turned to see them in surprise. “Tara, baby?” she whispered back hopefully.
In an instant, the two of them were in each other’s arms, sobbing and making all sorts of silly promises that people make in tragic situations.
Oz watched the spectacle before him, pulling back to the here and now as well.
“How you feelin’, mate?” Spike asked cautiously, settling himself back against the wall and really wishing that he could have a cigarette.
Oz gestured to his arm. “They’ve got me on painkillers,” he said simply. “It still hurts, though.”
“How did she…?” Devon ventured with a slight shudder.
“Knife,” Oz said simply. He blinked and frowned. “Despite how easy it looks in the movies, it hurts like a bitch to try to block a knife with your arm.”
Spike managed to crack a small smile at that. “Better’n trying to use your eye,” he joked lightly, index finger of one hand flicking upwards to brush over the scar tissue there.
A weak ghost of a smile flittered across Oz’s lip. “Yeah, no freaking that the blood in my eye meant that I was half blind,” he agreed, recalling the previous year’s emergency room event.
“How bad is it?” Xander spoke up for the first time in a soft voice.
Oz sighed. “It’ll heal,” he said simply.
“What I want to know,” Cordelia said, arms crossed and eyes flashing dangerous, “is what happened to the skank who did this?”
“Yeah,” Anya agreed with deadly intent, “I feel a spell of vengeance coming on…”
Oz shook her off. “They took her to the psych ward,” he insisted. “She was kind of…”
“Nuts?” Jonathan provided.
Everyone stared at him in disbelief.
“Well, she was!” he insisted, blushing horribly.
Embarrassed by proximity, Andrew started blushing, too.
Oz nodded numbly. “I guess the whole arson thing should’ve tipped me off about that,” he agreed.
“The nurse said you two are OK to be released soon,” Tara finally pulled back from the fierce embrace she and Willow had shared and glanced around the room. “Do we have any idea what’s going to happen to Veruca?” she ventured softly.
“If you ever want to sue…” Anya began.
Oz shook his head. “The police have her. We’ll worry about pressing charges later.”
The nurse entered at that moment, and paperwork was filled out, instructions given, and all the while Elizabeth clung to Spike like a lifeline, burying herself in the comfort of his warm embrace. When he finally pulled her chin up to inform her that it was time to go, she just gave him a soft nod and made the trip back to the dorm in silence…
* * *
“Luv?” Spike asked softly after they’d returned to their room and curled up together on his bed. His long fingers ran through her hair soothingly.
She placed an absentminded kiss against his still-clothed chest.
“Luv, what’s wrong?” he asked softly before rolling his eyes at his own idiocy. “I mean, besides the obvious, obviously.” He frowned for a second at the contorted nature of that sentence before shaking it off.
She managed a weak smile in response. “Just feeling a bit overwhelmed at the moment,” she sighed, curling her body around his further. “Or completely dumbfounded. In a really bad way.” She shuddered slightly, and he tightened his grip on her. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do in a situation like this,” she admitted in a soft whisper.
“No one does,” he agreed wearily, shutting his eyes for a moment and breathing in deep, inhaling her scent, her essence, and letting it calm him. “You just do what ‘as to be done, an’…”
“What has to be done?” she demanded. “I mean, what can I possibly do?”
“You went to the hospital,” he pointed out. “Put up the united Westin’ House front.”
Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully. “You know, I think that’s the first time all of us have been together in one place all semester. And the time before that was when Faith left…”
“Disaster brings people together,” he decided.
She bit her lower lip. “Well, no, actually, it was finals,” she amended her assessment.
He cracked a smile. “See? What’d I tell you? Disaster.”
She giggled slightly at that as well and batted one hand at him playfully before sobering again. “God, now I feel guilty because I’m glad it wasn’t us.”
“’m not,” he retorted. “Besides, ‘s not like ‘ve got some crazy ex-girlfriend who would…” He trailed off in abrupt realization. “Dru’s in Europe,” he provided as a worried afterthought.
She smiled at that and then rolled her eyes. “God, how do you do that?” she wondered, propping herself up on her arms so that she could look down at him.
“What?” he asked curiously, looking up at her through the curtain of her golden hair.
“Make me feel better about everything,” she clarified.
A smirk curled across the edges of his lips. “If you wanted me to make you feel even better…” he began suggestively.
She swatted at his chest playfully. “Stop it,” she pouted. “I’m trying to be all morbid and mopey.”
“And ‘m trying to get laid,” he countered.
She looked down at him curiously then, as if she were discovering something for the first time.
The intensity of her gaze caused him to squirm slightly, making him nervous. “Luv?” he ventured forth softly.
A fingertip to his lips hushed him, and he sighed at the contact. With a soft smile, Elizabeth let her fingers drift across his face, following the sharp line of one cheekbone until she reached the scar that trisected one eyebrow. She stroked along the white scar lines gently, watching as his eyelids fluttered closed at her attentions. His lashes were long and dark, curled more than was typical for a man, soft and gentle in contrast to the angular planes of his face. She was struck once more by his unique beauty…
“You’re a good man, William,” she finally put words to all the thoughts that flitted about her mind on ephemeral, gossamer wings.
A genuine, dimpled smile lit up his face at that. “No, ‘m not.” He was lying through his teeth, and they both knew it and were incredibly amused by it. “’m all bad, baby.”
She giggled and then blushed when his eyes opened and those sapphirine orbs fixed on her once more. “You’re my bad boy?” she teased lightly.
“The badest,” his voice rumbled in agreement before that light she’d come to identify as love took hold of his face. “And all yours, Elizabeth,” he agreed shyly.
She smiled and bent her head to steal a kiss from his lips. He really was just too tempting when he did the cute, shy thing, especially when combined with that puffed up bravado that was so incredibly Spike. Her tongue parted the lips of her wonderful, living contradiction, and she thrust deep inside his mouth.
Contented to let her take the lead, he laid back and enjoyed himself, encouraging her to further plunder his mouth and pulling her body over so that she was covering him more completely. He sighed when she pulled back to nibble at his lip and took a gasping breath in the brief reprieve allotted him.
Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut tight, savoring the taste and feel of him. God, what had she ever done to deserve him? He was sweet and powerful and funny and exciting and smart and fun and… He was just so wonderful, and he loved her so much, and…
She felt a pang in her heart.
He deserved more. He deserved a woman that could really and truly be with him, a woman who loved him just as fervently as he loved her. He deserved a strong woman, one that would fight for him instead of turning away like a coward. Most of all, he deserved happiness.
This wasn’t a man you had a cheap fling with. He was a forever sort of man, the one you married and stuck by through the good and the bad and…
“Elizabeth, you’re crying,” Spike brushed aside the tear that was threatening to spill from the corner of her eye. His fingers were shaking slightly as he caressed her face. “What’s wrong, luv?” he pleaded with her. “Tell me.”
“You’re a good man, William,” she repeated.
He frowned. Her voice sounded lost now, distant. “An’ you’re a good woman,” he insisted.
“I’m not.”
“You are,” he hissed vehemently.
“No, I’m not,” she insisted. “I’m weak and…”
“Never,” he countered. “Never weak. You may not see it, pet, but there’s such strength inside you… ‘S just waitin’ for you to realize it.” He smiled and pulled her down to his chest. “’S part of what I love ‘bout you,” he admitted softly, stroking her hair.
She sighed, her worries pushed to the back of her mind for now. “You’re doing it again,” she informed him somewhat cryptically.
“Makin’ you feel better?” he deciphered her meaning.
She smiled. “Can you read my mind or something?” she wondered.
He pondered that for a second before smirking. He closed his eyes and put his fingers to his temples as if in a telepathic trance. “OK,” he joked, “’m pickin’ something up… ‘Spike is the sexiest man alive. I love his big, thick-’”
“Spike!” she squealed in horror, cutting him off with a pillow to the face before he could finish that statement.
“What?” he protested with false innocence. “’S what you were thinkin’! That, and ‘I want your big, thick-’”
“Eek!” she squealed over the word, hitting him with the pillow again.
“ ‘-inside me right now’,” he went on merrily in the background. “ ‘Since, truly Spike’s the God of Sex, and-’”
“Ego much?” she shot out, hands on hips.
“Much,” he agreed with a grin. “Although my ego’s nowhere near as big as my-”
“Spike!” she screamed in mortification once more before shutting him up the only way she knew how and crashing her lips down upon his…
* * *
“A bit off our game today, are we?” Spike taunted lightly, watching Elizabeth fall to the mat on that cute little ass of hers once more. “Or maybe you’re just too busy thinking about my big-”
“God, are you ever going to shut up about that?” she demanded, blushing horribly as she scanned the dojo to make sure no one else on the team was listening to them. Kendra’s eyes were very studiously not looking in their direction from where she was supposedly spotting two of the newer students. Elizabeth’s face turned even redder.
“Not as long as I keep getting such entertainin’ reactions,” he countered gleefully, bouncing on his toes lightly as he waited for her to take up a defensive stance once more.
Elizabeth shook down the slight dizziness that just looking at him, hopping about with energy, caused. Wearily, she shook her position once more, and they exchanged a quick bow.
Elizabeth successfully dodged Spike’s first attack and circled around counterclockwise. It was always a good strategy since her boyfriend hopelessly favored his left side. However, where she usually would’ve attacked with effective accuracy, her blows all landed a second too late and were easily blocked. If she hadn’t felt so tired, she would have undoubtedly been frustrated.
“Gotta do better’n that, luv,” he countered cheerfully, happily unaware of the effort their usual sparring was taking her.
Elizabeth forced herself to focus and finally caught his ankle after a rather effective feint, causing Spike to tumble down onto the soft padding.
He held his hand up as she approached, ceding the point. “That’s my girl,” he said with a fond smile, obviously delighting in her ability to thoroughly kick his ass.
She managed a weak smile of her own, her mind dimly aware that he was being cute and Spikish and that she should be smiling as a result. And that if she didn’t, he would know that…
“Elizabeth?”
His voice was concerned and close. How had he gotten that close without her knowing about it? He had just been on the mat, and now he was standing beside her and looking worried, and… Why was it getting so dim in here? And why did she feel…so…dizzy…?
Spike lunged forward with lightning-quick speed, catching her as she slumped on her feet. He let out a little gasp of fright when he realized that she was unconscious.
The spectacle had caught Wesley’s attention immediately, and he raced over to where his top student seemed to have collapsed. “What happened?” he demanded, reaching them just as Spike laid Elizabeth out on the mat.
Spike shook his head, barely containing his panic as he felt for her pulse. “She just fainted…”
* * *
The first thing Elizabeth was aware of when she woke up were the gentle fingers that caressed her forehead. They felt so perfect that for an instant she entertained the notion that she’d died and gone to heaven. Continuing to focus upon the warm hand, she soon noticed another touching her, this one gripping her own hand tightly within its grasp. She sighed. She felt safe and comfortable and surrounded and… Lazily, she opened her eyes.
“Hey, cutie,” Spike whispered softly when he saw that she was awake.
“Spike?” she whispered a bit hoarsely. Strangely, his presence didn’t detract from the unreal notion that this was heaven in the slightest.
“Who else?” he asked rhetorically, resuming his stroking of her hair. “How you feelin’, kitten?”
She shifted slightly and winced. “Kinda drowsy,” she admitted. “What happened?”
“Passed out right in the middle of practice,” he provided, shifting in the hard wooden chair he’d moved over beside the cot.
Elizabeth blinked at her surroundings for the first time. “Where…?” she began tiredly.
“Nurse’s office,” Spike explained.
Elizabeth groaned and felt her head spin. “I really fainted?” she repeated in disbelief.
“And you’re bloody lucky this isn’t the first time,” Wesley’s severely displeased voice cut in from the doorway. He cast Spike an annoyed look. “I told you to call me when she woke up.”
“She just woke up five seconds ago!” Spike retorted.
But Wesley’s attention had already turned to Elizabeth. “You gave us all the fright of our lives in there today,” he informed her matter-of-factly, “which is bad enough in and of itself…”
“Hold on, now,” Spike turned on him. “She’s sick. Cut her a break.”
“Yes,” Wesley said, looking down at her crossly, “sick of her own devising.”
Spike frowned at that, confused.
“When is the last time you’ve eaten, young lady?” Wesley slipped fully into annoyed authority mode.
She frowned. “I-I…”
Spike’s brow furrowed. “You skipped lunch?” he inquired.
“And breakfast,” she admitted meekly. “And I kinda didn’t eat dinner last night…”
Wesley shook his head. “Ridiculous students and their complete disregard for their health,” he muttered under his breath.
“You ‘aven’t eaten since lunch yesterday?” Spike repeated incredulously. “And you came to practice because…?”
“Because you always yell at me when I don’t eat,” she shot back.
He sighed wearily. “’m just suggestin’ that maybe collapsin’ from low blood-sugar levels isn’t the wisest thing,” he pointed out.
She sulked. “Yes, I was stupid,” she agreed, “but I was working on my math all through dinner last night, and then this afternoon…” She trailed off with a shrug.
Wesley let out a weary sigh. “Go home and eat,” he instructed. He shook his head again. “Bloody ridiculous…” he swore under his breath, leaving the two of them alone.
Elizabeth sat up suddenly, pushing Spike aside in his efforts to help her. She felt incredibly uncomfortable to be alone with him right now because she knew what was coming.
“We should get you somethin’ to eat before we discuss this,” he delayed the inevitable for a little longer.
Elizabeth nodded numbly and let him wrap his arm around her waist and help her back to the dorm. Their closeness didn’t bring her the comfort it usually did, however, because she could feel the concern and anger buried deep down inside him, just waiting for her to be better before he let it out. It wasn’t really that great an incentive.
Five o’clock on a Friday evening wasn’t a prime time for dining college students, and the two of them entered a cafeteria sporting only a dozen or so students. None were at the Westing House round table.
“Go, sit down,” Spike suggested softly. “’ll get your food for you.”
She flashed him a weary, grateful smile and handed him her dining card before walking over to the table and slumping in her favorite seat. She was still feeling a bit tired and dizzy and welcomed the rest very much. Reluctantly she admitted to herself that she’d pushed her body a bit too far. This feeling really wasn’t at all pleasant.
“Here you go, kitten,” Spike said softly, suddenly at her side.
She managed a small, grateful smile and turned to the tray in front of her. The forced moderation she’d been exhibiting lately vanished with her current hunger, and she dove into the dining hall tortellini like it had come from a fancy Italian restaurant.
Beside her, Spike ate silently, watching her obvious hunger with slight concern…and even more so since he knew she’d been fighting against it so often lately.
Elizabeth had gotten halfway through the canned peaches before he spoke.
“You tryin’ to starve yourself to death, or what?” he asked a bit harshly.
She turned to look at him with a weary sigh. “I was stupid, OK?” she retorted a bit testily. “I got distracted. It won’t happen again.”
“I should hope not,” he agreed, a bit of the British stuffiness he fought so hard to escape coming through in his tone. “But you know that’s not what ‘m worried about…”
She refused to look at him. “Oh?” she tried to sound casual.
“Elizabeth.” Spike turned her chin to face him and fixed her with a serious gaze. “What’s with these strange eatin’ habits you’ve picked up lately?”
“There’s nothing strange about them,” she insisted.
One eyebrow quirked upward incredulously. “Oh?” he said, obviously unconvinced. “’Cause it seems to me like you’ve been eatin’ as little as possible. ‘m surprised you haven’t collapsed before now the way you’ve been picking at your food.”
She turned back to her peaches and set about on the task of finishing them off. “I’m just on a diet, OK?”
He blinked. “A diet,” he repeated. “This diet involve starvin’ yourself to death?”
She glared at him. “I’m not starving myself!” she exclaimed in a hissed whisper. “I just need to drop a few pounds.”
He looked her up and down appreciatively. “And these not-so-unsightly pounds hafta go, why?” he pressed.
“Not-so-unsightly to you maybe,” she sulked.
“And your handsome boyfriend’s opinion doesn’t matter?” he tried to tease gently.
She rolled her eyes at him. “It matters,” she assured him, “but…”
“But what?” he pressed. “You know you’re beautiful to me just the way you are. Hell, I like the curves. Gives me somethin’ to hold onto when we-”
She smacked him playfully, but she was smiling.
He grinned in response. “To tell the truth,” he admitted, “first time I saw you, I worried a bit that you were too skinny. But then you plumped up nicely an-”
“Plumped up?!” she repeated in complete horror.
He frowned confusedly.
“That’s absolutely the most horrible thing you could possibly say to a woman!” she exclaimed.
“Sorry, luv,” he assured her, wincing slightly now that he thought about it. “What I meant was that when I met you you were absolutely, perfectly beautiful, but you’re even more absolutely, perfectly beautiful when…” Elizabeth’s arms were crossed over her chest defiantly. “Oh bugger!” He sighed. “Blew it, din’t I?”
“Completely,” she agreed with a sigh, turning back to her tray and studying the piece of chocolate cake there with longing.
“Doesn’t make me wrong, though,” he pointed out.
She bit her lip. “No,” she agreed, realizing it was ridiculous to refuse to eat while they were having a conversation about her refusing to eat. Plus, chocolatey goodness…
“’m worried about you, luv,” he admitted softly. “You’ve been tense lately, and ever since…” He trailed off.
“What?” she challenged him to say it, looking him right in the eye.
“The stress, and the eatin’, and the way you’ve been actin’…distant, even from me,” he began, “it seems like it all started back when your father came to visit. Wanker,” he felt obliged to add under his breath.
Elizabeth refused to look at him. Not like it would help, of course. Spike was observant enough that he would still be able to puzzle out what was going on in her head. Sometimes it was irksome just how well he knew her.
“What if it did?” she countered somewhat sullenly.
“Then, maybe,” he suggested kindly, “’s time you actually did somethin’ about it…”
Blue Horizons
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Elizabeth lay on her side and stared at the bookshelf that lined the back of Spike’s desk, forming one of the walls that lined their little ‘bedroom’. She had been studying the grain of the wood for hours, pondering her fate and that of the man that slept on the far side of the bed.
It had not been a good day. Oz had announced that morning that he was going home for a while. Everyone understood, given all that had happened to him lately, and he had promised to return before the end of the semester. However, a feeling of sadness had still shrouded Westing Hall all day.
That had been followed by a rather vocal shouting match between Willow and Tara, of all people, that Jonathan had been able to hear all the way down at the end of the hall. Jonathan, much to his surprise, had also found himself the host of something of a party when the house population gathered in his room to be as far from Tara and Willow’s fight as possible.
Cordelia had made some pointed comments about Hell Semester. No one had contradicted her.
After the situation in the double had resolved itself, Elizabeth had set about on the task of finishing her econ problem set. She’d been lying across Anya’s bed, scowling at the equations in her book when Xander had abruptly rushed in and pulled Cordelia out on an important matter concerning “their play”.
Elizabeth had blinked at this, and Anya had proceeded to explain that Xander was helping with the set design for Cordy’s directorial debut. It was obvious that Anya wasn’t exactly thrilled that her boyfriend was running off and spending so much time with Cordelia. Or, actually, it was more like she wasn’t thrilled that he was spending so little time with her.
The two of them had spent the rest of the afternoon munching on a box of chocolate chip cookies Anya kept for just such an emergency and talking about how hopeless men were. Anya had bitched about Xander and his seeming crush on Cordy, and Elizabeth had reluctantly admitted that things had been much more strained between her and Spike lately. Anya had, of course, been shocked and demanded to know details. The problem was that Elizabeth couldn’t really pin anything too specific down. It was just a feeling she had…
The feeling had been reinforced when he had brought up her father again that evening. The previous night she’d brushed him off with an “I’ll think about it.” But tonight…
They really could yell up quite a storm when they put their minds to it. Spike had accused her of not having a bleeding clue what she wanted. She’d accused him of trying to run her life. There’d been a moment when she’d decided to sleep back in her and Willow’s old room, but given that Willow and Tara seemed to be making up within, she’d returned to Spike’s bed. And, even though she was still somewhat annoyed, she could still admit to herself that she was glad she was here for the night. After all, this was where she belonged…
They still hadn’t fully reconciled, though. For the first time ever, they’d used the size of the bed to sleep as far apart from each other as possible. Deep in her chest, Elizabeth could almost feel a palpable loss as she lay on her side, staring at the wood grain of the desk. It was probably what was making it so difficult for her to fall asleep.
Spike had actually fallen asleep rather quickly. The strain of the past few days had obviously overcome him, and within an hour of her return, the gentle, regular rhythm of his breathing had indicated to her that he was deep asleep. Usually, she found the sound soothing, lulling her into her own dreams. However, her mind was running about a mile a minute, too frazzled to just stop and listen.
She hated this, she decided. She wished her father had never come into town, so she wouldn’t have to take his stupid classes. She wished Spike had never started bandying about the word ‘love’, so that she wouldn’t feel guilty because she never returned the affectation. Most of all, she wished she’d never, ever met that jerk Angel because then she wouldn’t be so fucked up in the first place. It was all strange and new and confusing, and she wanted it to all just go away. Well, maybe the whole wishing Angel had never existed thing wasn’t exactly new… But still.
Calm down, she instructed her mind, taking several deep, purposeful breaths. Try to think about this logically.
That was the whole problem, though. None of it was logical. She had all these weird, half-formed feelings that she didn’t know what to do with, and every way she looked at it, she ended up miserable.
Option #1. Things just stayed the way they were now. Personally, this was her favorite. She could deal with her father’s demands. She’d done all right on her econ problem sets, and with Anya helping her, she was sure she’d do fine on the midterm. She was dealing, really she was. And this option would’ve worked just fine except for the fact that Spike kept trying to push her out of it. And what kind of boyfriend tried to do that anyway?
The kind that wants you to actually be happy, a voice in the back of her mind insisted on defending Spike. Well, fine, if she wanted to side with Spike, that led her straight to…
Option #2. Cave in to Spike’s wishes. Ditch econ. Tell her father to go screw himself. Admittedly, it had some appeal. Sometimes it was scary how alike she and Spike really were. But this idea just wasn’t practical. She had no doubt that her father would carry through on his threat to revoke her tuition. So that would mean what? She’d move in with Spike? Become his little stay-at-home wife? It’s not like he had all that much money, either. She could probably stay in this room, sure, maybe even eat off of his dining hall points… And, what? Live in a perpetual state of limbo? The idea gave her the creeps somewhere deep down inside.
God, how she wished that she could resort to Cordy’s tactics and have her parents cave in. Only she didn’t have the rich, distant aunt to back her up in case things fell straight through the floor. The only other real choice she’d come up with was…
Option #3. The ultimatum. If Spike didn’t stop bugging her about this, she’d employ the ultimate threat: get used to it, or I’m leaving. It pained her even to think about this one. God, how could she possibly live without Spike? She needed him. Practically everywhere she went, everything she did… It was all so much about him.
Oh yeah, and that’s sooo healthy, a sarcastic voice in the back of her mind pointed out.
She told it to shut up. After all, she and Spike were a couple, so it was only natural that…
What? He does everything, and you just tag along and watch? There was that strange, independent streak again. She was really starting to hate it. But, admittedly, some of what it was saying was true.
Spike was a wonderful boyfriend - loving, attentive, surprisingly sensitive despite his Big Bad demeanor, not to mention great in bed… A smile slipped upon her features at that one for a second, but she quickly brought her mind back on track. Spike was great, and she really enjoyed being with him, more that she ever had with anyone else before. But…
If there was one sticking point in her conversation with her father that had driven a nail through her heart, it was his treatment of Spike. If he had given her a direct order to stop seeing Spike, it almost would’ve been easier. Her father could easily enforce what classes she took, but she doubted he could actually force her to stop seeing Spike. If nothing else, the two of them would have just had to be sneakier.
But, oh no, that would’ve been too easy. Her father had to take the more painful road, the one where he trivialized Spike’s very existence and made it all too clear to her that they would never last…
Almost as if to contradict this line of thought, Spike turned over in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent under his breath as he dreamed. Elizabeth tensed slightly when his arm unconsciously slid around her waist, his body instinctively connecting with hers, even if the position had to be extremely uncomfortable to him.
Taking pity on the backaches he would have tomorrow if she let him sleep in this half-sprawled position, she rolled onto her back. He immediately settled comfortably against her, his arm around her waist tightening and his head resting on the pillow of the crook of her shoulder.
She managed a small smile as she stroked his peroxide locks absentmindedly. Even if they were arguing while awake, some primal impulse still always brought them back together. She felt a lot of the tension she hadn’t even realized she’d been carrying release at the feel of him in her arms once more. It felt so right to have him here, so perfect…
She leaned over to lay a gentle kiss on his brow. He made a soft humming noise and snuggled in deeper against her. He looked almost like a child as he did it. Like he was clinging on for his very survival…
It was a rather odd thought. Spike wasn’t a particularly tall man, but he was still large enough in her arms to make her feel petite. And, if he was a child, then what did that make her…?
With a snort of annoyance, Elizabeth decided that she was way too fatigued to think straight right now. Her thoughts were getting too weird. Yup, it would probably be a good idea to go to sleep. See? Just like Spike was. It looked so nice and relaxing, and he looked so at peace right now. Yup, that was definitely for her. Except for the fact that she was still just as awake as ever…
“Why me?” she rhetorically asked Spike’s sleeping head.
He nuzzled her slightly in response.
She sighed wistfully. It would be so comfortable to just fall back into their old patterns together. This Christmas had been like a glimpse of heaven. Everything was perfect, and no worries…well, except for Dawn, but that had straightened out in a remarkably easy fashion. She missed that life now. She wanted the two of them to be like that forever. And yet…
The sad truth of the matter was that what they had shared had just been a brief moment in time. For a short while, they’d been able to deny the fact that they were from different worlds. But how long would it be before she was dragged back into the world of the wealthy and incredibly stuffy? She briefly entertained the wild notion of just snubbing that world altogether, but somewhere deep in the back of her mind, she depended on it. The safety it provided her if it turned out she couldn’t find her way in this world after all… Could she really just abandon it? Give up all the advantages she had been given in life, bring shame to her mother’s name, be laughed at and ridiculed by the only society she’d ever known before college?
And for what? A college fling. Spike was a great guy, yeah, but in the end he was still from a completely different world. He really couldn’t understand what it was like for her. And, honestly, how often did it turn out that the guy you dated in college turned out to be The One? What if she made this choice and years down the road, it turned out she’d been wrong to stay with him?
Her father always screamed at her to think about her future. Well, there it was.
And that was why it just had to be a fling. Because the odds of them actually belonging together were so slim… It just wasn’t worth the risk.
Unaware of her turn of thoughts, Spike smiled in his sleep. His fingers had somehow found their way past the hem of her nightgown, and his hand now rested on the bare flesh of her stomach.
It felt nice, wonderful, but how could she know that it was really real? Her father…
She sighed. She was thinking in circles again, and it was so tiring. Whatever she did, it always came back to Option #1 anyway. She and Spike had managed just fine before; there was no reason they couldn’t do so again, and there was absolutely no reason to ruin what they had before it was absolutely necessary.
Except that he loves you, and you’re lying to him…
She brushed the thought aside. Spike wanted to be with her, and she wanted to be with him. They were happy. There was absolutely no reason to rock the boat.
Deciding once again to battle with the ever-elusive sleep, Elizabeth closed her eyes once more, settling her head above his on the pillow. She smiled at the feel of his soft hair against her cheek and slowly began to drift away. Not even she could have said whether it was his comforting presence or the reaffirmation of her decision that finally allowed slumber to overtake her…
* * *
Elizabeth and Anya shared a sympathetic look the instant Elizabeth and Spike had arrived at the small theater. Xander and Cordy were buried in a large pile of wood blocks, foam rubber cutouts, and various brightly colored boards. They were talking animatedly together, apparently oblivious to Anya’s existence. Elizabeth could only assume they were searching for something to use in the rather vacant spot that would form the side wall of the room they’d set up on the stage.
Anya, for her part, noticed the unusual amount of physical distance between the bleached pair and sighed inwardly. It was never a good sign when even the cuddliest couples started having problems. Willow and Tara and then Spike and Elizabeth fighting on the same day? It made her wonder whether all relationships were doomed.
“Is that…a large fluorescent green egg?” Spike blinked at one of the stage props from last year’s spring play with pure and total bewilderment.
Anya’s brow furrowed. “Quite possibly,” she decided.
Xander let out an exclamation of victory, and he and Cordy quickly began pulling out what looked to be a pale blue wardrobe.
Elizabeth blinked. “What…?” she began.
“Don’t even try to figure it out,” Anya advised. “It will result in powerful migraines.”
Elizabeth and Spike were forced to nod in agreement.
“We’ll need to paint on some stripes…” Xander was saying, studying the junky piece of furniture they’d extricated from the heap.
Cordy nodded vigorously. “I’ll go find the duct tape,” she offered, “and…” She trailed off when she noticed that their audience had increased. “Good,” she exclaimed brightly. “More slave labor!”
“What?” Elizabeth’s mouth gaped open like a herring’s, but before she knew it a paintbrush had been thrust into her hand.
“You paint all the time,” Xander announced. “This should be no different. We just need to put zebra stripes on the dresser here.”
“Why?” Elizabeth dreaded to ask.
“Because otherwise it won’t clash with the pink polka-dots enough,” Cordelia explained as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Spike, you can help Xander duct tape the ceiling beam in place.” She sighed and looked down at the limp wooden structure in front of her. “It just doesn’t want to stay put…” she sighed wistfully.
“Huh?” Spike looked about as dumbfounded as Elizabeth.
“Just come with me.” Xander snagged a duster sleeve before the peroxide blond could make a crafty escape.
Elizabeth stared at where her boyfriend was being dragged away, then down at the brush in her hand, then back over at the bug ugly blue dresser. “I second the ‘huh?’” she announced.
Anya nodded in slow agreement. “I think they’re crazy,” she whispered conspiratorially in Elizabeth’s ear. “They’ve got me trying to swat flies into that purple thing.” She gestured to what looked to be some gelatinous goo in a large silver bowl.
“What play is this exactly?” Elizabeth wondered.
Anya shrugged. “I’m kind of afraid to ask,” she admitted. “Mostly because I suspect this all of being one of those psychology experiments where they test to see what ridiculous things people will do before they finally refuse.”
Elizabeth had to admit it was the most reasonable explanation for their current situation.
Cordelia raced back into the room at that, brandishing a roll of duct tape like the fate of the world depended on this special delivery. She didn’t dare leave such precious cargo in the confused hands of Spike and dashed right past him to give it to Xander. In an instant, she’d left the men to their perplexing task and had descended upon Anya and Elizabeth.
She frowned at the still blue dresser. “That doesn’t look like a zebra,” she pointed out Elizabeth’s complete lack of action.
“Um, do you want black and white stripes, or just black over the blue?” Elizabeth’s rational mind had apparently shut down to accomplish her bizarre task more effectively.
Cordy frowned at that for a second. “Yeah,” she agreed, “’cause if we want the white, we’re gonna have to paint the whole thing white first…”
“That was my thought,” Elizabeth agreed.
“I think you should leave it blue,” Anya commented, joking slightly. “That’s so much more strange than black and white stripes.”
Cordy nodded seriously. “Good point,” she agreed. “Leave it blue.”
Elizabeth and Anya shrugged and both turned to the black paint can. After all, when in Rome…
Across the room from them, Spike had adopted a similar philosophy. He had no idea what he was working on or how the hell Xander could tell it was broken, but if the other man said that yellow thing was supposed to stand out at an angle, then it must be so.
Besides, viciously attacking things with duct tape was always fun. The poor prop had turned almost silver before the two overly-enthusiastic students were done with it.
“Still don’t know what ‘s s’posed to be,” Spike declared, “but nothing with that much duct tape can possibly break.”
Xander grinned at that as well. “Now all we have to do is make it yellow again.”
Spike groaned. “Don’t I even get an explanation why?” he whined petulantly.
“No,” Xander announced with joking sternness.
Elizabeth approached at that moment, abandoning the now-striped dresser. “Cordy told me to help you. Apparently my visual arts experience translates into covering things with aerosol paint in her mind.”
Spike grinned at that. “Dunno,” he teased lightly, “that nightscape you did with-”
She whapped him playfully in the head before he could finish. “Asshole,” she pouted despite the amused smile on her face.
“Maybe,” Spike agreed as leer, “but you-”
“I don’t know what you’re about to say,” Xander cut him off, “but if you’ve got that expression, then I know I don’t want to hear. Now, we need to make this thing yellow again.”
Spike rolled his eyes before they filled with excitement again when he was handed a can of yellow aerosol spray paint. A mischievous gleam darted around to all the unsuspecting innocents in the room.
“Way to go, Xander,” Elizabeth chided. “You’ve just unleashed the apocalypse.”
Xander cringed in apology when Spike’s feral eyes landed on him for a brief instant.
“Honey,” Elizabeth caught Spike’s elbow and directed him to the thing that Xander was yellowing, “don’t attack the unsuspecting populace with yellow spray paint.” She said the statement in a perfect mock-nag.
He chuckled before sighing and turning to his all-important task. It was vital that that thing turned yellow, dammit!
Cordy dropped by on one of her endless circuits of the room and nodded with approval. “Finally got it fixed,” she commented to Xander.
He gave her a little grin. “Nothing that manly men with duct tape couldn’t handle.” He thumped his chest twice jokingly.
Cordy laughed and gave him a quick pat on the shoulder before running off.
Across the room, Anya sulked.
Spike noticed.
“Treadin’ in dangerous waters there, mate,” he commented off-handedly.
“What?” Xander asked, completely clueless.
Spike nodded his head over in Anya’s direction. “Make the Missus jealous if you keep that up,” he clarified.
Xander blinked in surprise. “Anya’s not jealous,” he insisted.
Elizabeth and Spike both fixed him with ‘surely, you aren’t that much of an idiot’ stares.
“She is?” he ventured in nervous surprise.
“Been stressin’ out all semester,” Spike said in his best ‘duh’ voice. “You honestly haven’t noticed this?”
Xander shook his head numbly.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake…” Spike grumbled. He turned to Elizabeth. “Luv, can you…?”
“Right,” Elizabeth nodded seriously. “Vital guy talk. I’ll go soothe Anya’s nerves.”
Spike gave her a grateful smile. “Much appreciated, pet.”
She managed a shy smile in response and leaned in close for a minute to steal a sweet kiss from his lips before she dashed off after Anya.
Spike sighed as he watched her go. Practically ripping his eyes from the woman he loved, he turned back to Xander. “Women get jealous,” he informed the less-experienced man matter-of-factly. “Even if they insist they don’t. And especially when they’re PMSing, which they also claim not to do.”
“But what could Anya possibly be jealous of?” Xander asked, bewildered.
Spike rolled his eyes heavenward, caught the young man by the shoulders, and pointed him in Cordy’s direction. “Maybe the beautiful woman you’re spendin’ all your time with?” he suggested sarcastically.
“But Cordy and I are just friends!” Xander insisted.
Spike felt like hitting Xander, and then himself, very hard in the head multiple times. “Look at it this way, mate,” he offering, pulling over a spare chair and turning it around to he could sit on it backwards. Xander followed his cue and sat down on the edge of a wooden crate. “OK,” Spike went on, “so there’s this bird you really like. The two of you finally get together, but then not too long into it, you get real sick. You’re out of it for a while, and when you get better, turns out this girl’s hangin’ out with another guy all the time. Tell me you don’t feel jealous.”
“But it’s not like that,” Xander insisted.
Spike snorted. “You tell me this, why?” he wondered.
“Because you’re suggesting-” Xander began.
“Not suggestin’ a thing,” Spike insisted with an innocent sweep of his arms, “but your girl’s worryin’. And if you have even the slightest bit of common sense, you’ll go tell ‘er exactly how you feel about her.”
“B-But…” Xander ventured hesitantly.
A scarred eyebrow rose. “But?” he repeated.
“What if I don’t know?” Xander finished nervously.
A frown marred Spike’s smooth brow. “Don’t know?” he repeated incredulously.
“Stop repeating everything I say!” Xander exclaimed defensively.
“Maybe if what you were sayin’ make a lick ‘f sense, I would,” Spike retorted.
“C’mon,” Xander rolled his eyes. “You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed how attractive Cordy is.”
Spike glanced over at the woman in question. “She’s beautiful,” he agreed. “You don’t think Anyanka’s beautiful, too?”
“Of course, I do,” Xander insisted. “It’s just… Shouldn’t it mean something? That, I’m, y’know…”
“Noticing another woman?” Spike repeated incredulously. “Christ, you’re off your rocker, Harris.” He let out a sigh of despair and pinched the bridge of his nose to release the tension. “’S real simple,” he finally informed the other man. “Who do you want to be with, Cordy or Anyanka?”
“Well, of course, Anya,” Xander insisted. “She’s my girlfriend. But-”
“This ‘ad better be a good ‘but’,” Spike warned him.
Xander couldn’t help but grin evilly at that set-up. “As good as Elizabeth’s?” he teased.
“Oi!” Spike exclaimed in horror. “That’s-!”
“Kidding. Kidding,” Xander assured him, chuckling slightly at the way Spike’s face had turned a bright red.
“Better be,” Spike grumbled under his breath, sulking.
Xander rolled his eyes. “Sorry,” he insisted, “it was a bad joke.”
“Bloody brilliant joke,” Spike conceded reluctantly, “but that still doesn’t mean ‘m not pissed…”
Xander cracked a smile at that and watched the other man returned to his seat.
“Now, what’s this ‘but’?” Spike demanded. “And, so help me, Harris, if you make one more reference to my ‘Lizabeth…”
“I really like Anya,” Xander decided to ignore the other man’s grumbling and plunged ahead, “but I’m still attracted to Cordy.”
“So?”
“So, shouldn’t that mean that Anya’s not right for me?” Xander pressed.
Spike sighed. “You want Anyanka?”
“Yes.”
“You want Cordelia?”
“Maybe.”
A snort of annoyance. “What’s that mean?”
“Well, sometimes I have fantasies…” Xander began hesitantly.
“Yeah, and I ‘ave fantasies ‘bout Sarah Michelle Gellar, but it doesn’t mean ‘m ditchin’ Elizabeth anytime soon,” Spike pointed out.
Xander sighed at that. “She’s hot,” he agreed. “Now I’ve got both her and Cordy on a beach, and-” Spike waved a hand in front of his face. “I’m awake! I’m here!” he insisted.
“Good,” Spike agreed. “Now, do you seriously want to date Cordy over Anyanka?”
“No,” Xander insisted.
“Then, what you’re doin’ is called harmless fantasizin’,” Spike informed him. “It means about as much as that guy at the coffee shop that ‘Lizabeth’s so fond of.”
Xander raised an eyebrow at this.
“Says he’s got a nice ass,” Spike shrugged, “which he does. Don’t care, though,” he said with a smug smile, “’cause she says my ass is cuter. And tastier.”
“TMI,” Xander informed him, covering his eyes as if that would somehow block the mental image.
Spike grinned evilly. “So go tell Anyanka that hers is the ass you really fancy, and let her finally stop worryin’ that you’re plannin’ to dump her for Cordy.”
“Right…” Xander looked hesitant.
“Oh, for cryin’ out…” Spike sighed in exasperation. “Go,” he pointed. “Say all those things that birds think ‘re sweet, and all guys think are poncy. An’ hurry so I can stop feelin’ like a poof for havin’ this conversation with you in the first place.”
Xander grinned. “Don’t worry,” he assured Spike, “Elizabeth asks, and I’ll inform her that you said ‘Ugh! Go fuck woman now!’” He affected a delightful caveman voice.
“God, you’re so hopeless,” Spike sighed, shoving Xander slightly to get him headed in the direction of Anya.
Not needing any further motivation, Xander went over to where she and Elizabeth were giggling over something. “Anya,” he stated matter-of-factly, “in my eyes, your assets exceed all other women’s, and I would like to demonstrate this fact to you through many orgasms.”
Anya laughed and gave him a quick hug. “You’re very strange,” she informed him with a smile before turning back to Elizabeth and Spike. “Uh…Xander and I have to go…er, study…” she improvised horribly.
“We did hear what he just said, luv,” Spike felt obliged to point out.
“Right then,” Anya nodded seriously. “We’re off to have orgasms, then. Way better orgasms than the two of you have.” She felt the childish impulse to stick out her tongue and went with it.
Spike and Elizabeth exchanged a look as Anya and Xander left. “Believe we’ve been given a challenge, Summers…” he began.
She whapped him on the arm. “Insensitive much?” she teased.
“And you know you love it, baby,” he retorted lasciviously, sidling up in front of her so that he was pressed between where her legs hung over the desktop.
She smiled at him. “That was really sweet,” she informed him, rewarding him with a quick kiss to the lips.
He smiled in a happy daze for a second before her words sunk in. “‘Sweet’?!” he protested.
She giggled and caught him up in a fierce hug. “Sorry,” she insisted, “I meant that it made me want to have sex with you.”
He grinned. “’Just said that, it would save blokes a lot of grief,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, but ‘sweet’ is shorter and easier to say,” she pointed out as they got up to go.
“Hey!” Cordy protested. “We still have to put glitter-tape on the ladder!”
Elizabeth and Spike groaned before turning back to their friend.
“Why does the ladder need glitter-tape?” Spike cringed inwardly in anticipation.
“Well, where else am I going to put the fruit bats?” Cordy retorted matter-of-factly.
“Ouch, my brain hurts,” Elizabeth teased, whispering in Spike’s ear.
“Mine, too, luv,” he assured her, taking the shiny pink roll from Cordy ruefully.
Elizabeth giggled as she took the first piece of tape from him. “So,” she asked curiously, “what did you tell Xander?”
“Nothin’ unusual,” he shrugged. “Just to be honest ‘bout his feelings.” He leaned over to fasten one end of the tape to the ladder.
Behind him, Elizabeth worried her lip between her teeth. But, by the time he turned to face her, she was all smiles again…