Brilliant Dance
Summary: William ‘Spike’ Giles, the insanely popular, well-natured jock, goes
into personal withdrawal when tragedy strikes. The proverbial curtain has been
lifted and he starts to get a glimpse of how superficial his life is. He meets a
few people, more specifically a very experienced friend and …could end up as
more… girl who helps him. Could this sheltered friendship based on understanding
and restoration turn into what both have been yearning for all their young
lives? Oh, come on, would you be here if it weren’t sappy and somewhat
predictable? But I promise it’s a bumpy road until then!
A/N: The title is from a Dashboard Confessional song, you listen to it and
you’ll know instantly why I picked it. Very Spuffy-like song. Anyway, I am kinda
new...reviews would rock because I simply have no clue what to add. It’ll
probably get a bumped up rating from PG13 in a little while, but you are all
probably used to the terrific smut in the fanfiction world by now! Otherwise
Enjoy!
ALSO: this begins in first person for the basic logistics, it would take way to
long to italicize basically all of this… so all of prologue is Spike POV,
chapter 1 til forever will be third person (i.e. normal storytelling)
Prologue:
Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd is playing in the background.
Hello? Is there anybody in there?
I was listening to the radio when the oldie but helluva goodie came on, never
really understood the meaning of those sad depressing songs until something like
this happens. This is desecration of all things normal and good. It feels like
someone looked down from heaven, saw that I was to happy and said, ‘hey, mates,
lets nit-pick at this wanker and rip out one of the only things that makes sense
to him, this way we get a two for one. One less popular jock, all-star soccer
player! Piffle, we just want to thin out the herd of testosterone driven boys in
that high school! And our wonderful bonus, we have one more shell of a person,
wandering around looking for something to make him feel anything other than
emptiness! Let’s celebrate!’ I know I am rambling, but hey, just endured
something that most people won’t go through until they’re in there forties!
Truth is I don’t know what hurts more, the fact that I had to go through this
now, in a time that I was just getting my life in order, or the idea that it
happened. I try to block out what happened, I make up my mind that I will go on
blaming her for the mess of me that’s left. But as soon as I do, this
overwhelming feeling of the farce I’m trying to pull mixed in with the crippling
guilt, kinda stops a fellow from feeling any more self-righteous than normal.
Can’t blame a bloke for trying, anything’s better than waking up another morning
knowing that it’s not a nightmare, this did happen. See there’s a reason I’m
explaining all this, because if you pop in and take a look at my picturesque
life ::coughs sarcastically:: you’d need to know what put a damper on poor
Willy’s mood.
See the thing of it is my mum died.
Three weeks to the day, don’t reckon I’ll be baking a cake for that, but that’s
it. She had no warning, wasn’t sick. Car accident, not the other driver, because
they were killed too. It was an equal part caused accident. She was driving on a
wet overpass, didn’t see the truck coming and they smashed, fell over the
embankment and tumbled to an instant death. If she hadn’t been dead already, or
so says Sergeant Billy DoGooder, the grossly informative police officer. When I
asked him to know the whole story, there is some guideline of humane ideas of
what to tell a now mother-less son, but the bugger let me know all the sordid
details. Poof!
Anyway, now that you know my emotional status you can swan dive into the life
that is left of William ‘Spike’ Giles, son of one widowed, Rupert Giles, and the
same one who is now gawked at in the hallway. People realize pretty quickly that
something of this caliber is going to change me. They just can’t wait to see
what way I lean. Those superficial idiots are betting on whether I’ll go over
the deep end, stay popular, or become a social outcast. As much as I want to
scold the morons for even thinking its okay to think of my tragedy as
entertainment, I can’t. Reason being: I can’t wait to find out either.
---
I looked around at the office, nice place, I thought idly, as I began to chew on
my already bitten off fingernail. The ‘counselor’ and I use that term loosely
walks back in and takes his seat, the first day I was here he was trying to get
me to emotionally open up and tell him my thoughts and feelings about my
mother’s passing.
I told him to shove it, but he insisted, ‘Believe you me, I’ve met much worse
than you, mister Giles, but I would just like to offer myself as an outlet. You
have to get it through your mind that I am here to listen, understand, and help
you work through your problems.’ I cocked my head to the side and promptly asked
the thirty-something looking man how is mum and dad were doing, his reflex
responded by confusedly saying ‘fine’, then he rolled his eyes. Someone can’t
understand any bit of emotion that I am going through if they have their parents
when there good into their middle-aged years. He made excuses about me shutting
him out. Blathered on about some such nonsense of me having to meet with people
like me, I shrugged, too shell like to care.
So here I was, sitting in the leather bound comfy chair, in front of his desk,
waiting for said idiot to make a further fool out of himself. He told me calmly
that I would be placed into group therapy with other children around my age and
a few adults that have worked through their issues, and would hopefully open up
to them where I had shut him out. I chortled.
He looked a little shaken, probably because I know I sound slightly maniacal,
but I continue to laugh, I tell him again to shove the hours of required therapy
up his Yankee ass and storm out of the room. I hope I don’t have to go back; I
never want to go back. Going back means that I’m giving in, that I would be
choosing to help forget my mother, I can’t do that. No one will ever convince me
that this is okay.
- - - -
Chapter 1:
“Of course you have to go back! I don’t know why you make yourself look like
fool and leave in the first place, you know well and good why you went!
Otherwise you’d be kicked out of school! They don’t take cutting class lightly;
this is the bargain I got from the insufferable principal of yours. He said that
if I had you counseled, you could be less depressed and would go back to doing
nothing but harmless pranks. No you can’t follow orders! You just have to ruin
this don’t you?” Rupert Giles was steaming. No better yet irate, Spike mused. It
was probably at the thought of three years of straight A’s and semi-good
behavior, basically all proceeds going to the Spike Giles College Acceptance
Foundation were about to be smashed into blitherins. Spike didn’t mind too much.
Spike had the decency to look ashamed as his father admonished him; he knew
exactly why he was so pissed off. It probably wasn’t at the cutting class; Spike
had a pretty accurate description of how bad his dear old da was in school,
thanks to his Uncle Ethan. It was because it felt good to feel emotion. His
father was usually as, if not more depressed and empty than him, but when you
have the chance, you grasp hold. Whatever normal emotion that is supposed to run
through you and exploit it to feel again.
As soon as Rupert looked back down at his son, glasses still twitching in his
recently flailing hand, he cooled down and visibly deflated. All the borrowed
anger just left, he saw Spike sitting there head thrown back and eyes squeezed
shut, he knew that feeling all too well. Pain. It seemed to be the only thing
that coursed through his blood anymore. Everything else was cold, as was the
pain, but at least it sometimes turned red hot, like moments ago. It was times
like that he felt almost normal. He hadn’t lost his wife, his son was not
partially orphaned, he did feel like he was a ghost among the living.
He sighed and explained that it could simply not happen again, briefly their
eyes met, they understood each other. This was the scolding that normal fathers
and sons go through, they were supposed to go through it too. Yet it was like
they were going through the motions, not really caring what was being said on
either one’s part, they both got that with one look.
Spike got up and left, Rupert went back to looking over the books for Jenny’s
burial arrangements, all had gone smoothly, but he wanted to make sure that the
costs had successful been fit into the income she had made with her online
business and all that nonsense. It felt comfortable looking at numbers, it took
his mind off things, and tomorrow would probably feel better. It was supposed to
get easier with time, he looked up at the picture on the desk of Jenny and him
lying on a picnic blanket with Spike, still a pre-teen, arms around Jenny’s neck
in what looked like an uncomfortable piggy back. He felt the familiar pang of
loss and burning of tears, fuck what they say; it’s never going to feel normal
again.
---
Dawdling is fun; that’s about the only thing going on in the mind of Spike. He
was replaying the conversations with his father, the counselor, Snyder, and
basically every authority figure he can think of that he spoke to within the
past few days, but he couldn’t help himself, he steps outside of the building
and looks up at the sky. There is a sudden noise, the opening of a car door, he
realizes, he looks up and rolls his eyes: hard.
“Well, well, well, somebody’s late!” Liam O’Connor says gruffly, clearly
enjoying toying with the mopey former, or soon-to-be former athlete.
“Sod off, poofter!” Giles spits out, he doesn’t know what it is, but somehow
being this guys lackey, or at least false friend, doesn’t really seem to
appealing anymore.
He almost laughs at the look on O’Connor’s face, he hasn’t been talked back to
in a long time, last time this happened, Spike was throttled. With the help of
several minions, but Spike was sure he could definitely take him alone. ‘Angel’
as he was affectionately titled by most of the female population of Sunnydale
High, puffed up his chest and decided to keep with the annoyance, it clearly was
working overtime lately.
“What are you gonna do? Sob all over my new jacket?” the joke was really only
used because he loved the fact that when the police came into fifth block to
tell Spike his mother had died, he was carried off on the verge of tears. Angel
had gotten a glimpse of him later in the guidance office, crying, and full on
weeping, it was sad. He basically ruined his reputation. Poor guy should know,
despite the fact that he lost a parent, no high school guy could ever be caught
crying, let alone the captain of the soccer team. Angel scoffed at the memory.
The fire that rose to Spike’s eyes brought a renewed look of fear and surprise
to Angel’s face, he was physically unprepared for his ‘friend’ to launch on him
and start beating him senseless.
The bell rang, about four punches to the nose in, a few people who had a free
period stepped outside, a few girls squealed, other guys cheered it on, someone
had gotten a teacher. Dr. Gregory, a science teacher, attempted to break apart
the squabble but being more than a few pounds overweight he failed. It took the
gym teacher, Coach Wood, to pry the furious brunette off the other brown haired,
but clearly outmatched boy. He screamed a few of the normal things, ‘you can’t
do that here, it’s school property. Calm down, whatever it is it isn’t worth
violence.’ But he already knew that something had provoked Giles.
After sending them to the main office, he went back to phony lacrosse games made
up of bubble gum chewing cheerleaders, science geeks and gothic butterflies.
God, he hoped that the soccer champ would get himself together, he himself had
lost his mother at an unbearable age, but that boys talents may be wasted. Even
if sports weren’t his definite future, it would be a hell of a shame to see
potential like that go down the drain. He blew his whistle and the rubber sticks
were placed on guard. He missed New York.
---
Glaring with all his might, Spike tried to burn a hole in Liam’s head with his
eyes; he was getting mightily pissed off that it wasn’t working.
Snyder came out, took one look at him and went back in and shut the door, Spike
heard a few colorful words with his secretary and then the poor woman came out,
a little flustered and informed the pair that phone calls would be made home.
She says it to both of us, but looks at me, was all Spike could get through his
head. He threw his head back and let out a strangled groan, bumped his head
against the wall. It was going to be a long afternoon.
---
“Buffy! Welcome back!” the excited redhead was bouncing up and down so much that
it was making her sick. Buffy placed a hand on her jumping friend to both stop
the, well, jumping, and to try and calm her. She breathed in relief when she
relaxed. “Oh, my, God! You’ll never believe what’s happened!”
“Pigs flew? Hell is getting nippy? Oh, wait I know, Xander got an A!” she said
sarcastically.
“Hey! I’ll have you know that I get plenty of,” he trailed off at the look the
two girls were giving him. “C plusses!” They smiled, he liked it when he made
them smile.
“No! Oz got the gig!” Her eyes lit up as she spoke of the aforementioned topic.
“Dingoes are playing at eight sharp at The Bronze, this Friday! You will be
there, missy!”
Buffy gave her a mock-sullen look, “As if I would miss it!” she brightened. “So,
what’s new here, haven’t been in school in a week anything exciting happen?”
After spending the last few days of the previous week and the weekend with her
cousin in LA, she had returned to life with her Aunt Marti. She had lived with
her for about two years now, ever since…well ever since.
“Not much, ooh but apparently second free period seniors were witness to Angel’s
thrashing!” Xander added happily. God I hate that jock…jerk. He smiled at his
inner monologue.
“Wow, he hasn’t been taught a lesson since…actually I don’t think anyone has
every really challenged him. At least not after that four person attack on
Wesley. Poor guy probably won’t look at Cordelia again.” She shook his head,
“Good for whoever beat him, finally… who would that be, that way I can give a
congratulations?” Buffy was more than happy to hear that moron got what was
coming to him.
He and Buffy had shared a mini-romance. Mostly mini because they were twelve, he
wasn’t nearly as popular as he is now, and she wasn’t nearly as…independent, as
she was now. He joined the football team in eighth grade and hadn’t been the
same guy since, he made a very public humiliation of how Buffy was a bad kisser,
girlfriend, and person in general, but she got over it of course. It had been
over three years, but she still didn’t like him anymore.
“Spike ‘I’m running for new school badass’ Giles!” Xander said, still surprised
that two birds of a feather would peck at each other…okay bad analogy, he
thought. “I wonder why he…” and he got it, in that instant he realized why he
had attacked him. Probably provoked him with insults about his mom. Jackass.
“I think it’s because of the whole mom thing,” Willow added, as if reading his
thoughts. “Didn’t you say he was supposed to be in your counseling group?”
Buffy blushed a little; she didn’t like bringing up her shrink and all that
stuff. But by California State Law, she was required at least five hours of
therapy a month, but after the first few times it really helped. She still went,
but didn’t like her friends bringing it up, however, when she found out that the
school’s local celebrity made a visit, she had to divulge. “Yep, but he hasn’t
been yet. Maybe still too chicken to show, that’s how I was at first.”
They pushed through the cafeteria doors and made small talk throughout the
beginning of lunch, until they watched Spike walk in take a look at the tables,
made his way over and sat solemnly next to his group and their groupies. Xander
calmly observed how a few of the guys and girls congratulated him on stepping
up; others shot him traitorous glares. “Ooh, I sense dissension in the ranks,”
he said more to himself than the others, but due to lack of conversation they
all looked up.
All would be, Buffy, Willow, and Xander, the core group, had been together since
kindergarten. Xander and Willow even more so since infants. Oz, Willow’s
boyfriend, Xander’s best friend, plus the most kick ass bass player in all of
Sunnydale. Anya, Xander’s off again-on again relationship. Now they were dating,
but she mostly just fit in so whether or not there was a lover’s quarrel. That
no longer means she left the table. Tara, the shy, awkward one, kind of like a
bird they all put their motherly wings over. She was so lost her first day here,
freshman year. She had moved all the way from Virginia didn’t know what to do,
they just took one glance, spoke a few introductory words and the rest was
history. Lastly, Dawn, Buffy’s kid sister, well not really kid anymore, but
sister nonetheless. She was two grades younger, but her lunch was the same,
partly because SHS’s schedules were so wonky, otherwise, after their mom’s
death, the teachers basically obliged to whatever would make the younger sibling
more comfortable. Much to Buffy’s dismay, this was where she felt comfortable,
but still, sneering and hair pulling aside, her sister was okay.
So they all sat watching the hot vs. cold display of the popular table. One
glance around the room told you that just about everyone was waiting for any
hostile interaction. God I feel so superficial, Tara thought quietly, but when
she caught a peek at Dru intentionally snubbing Spike, it was worth it. But
still… her mind edged. “Maybe we should ignore them, its n-not really our
bus-siness,” everyone sent her outraged looks, minus Oz who merely glanced back
over showing his normal lack of facial expression. She held her hands up in
surrender and succumbed to the peer pressure of watching popular people pinned
against popular people squirming under everyone’s intense focus.
“They should make this a TV show! And make copies on DVD, that way we can watch
it over and over and find each little thing we missed the first time around!”
Xander exclaimed rubbing his hands together in fascination. It’s like the
Discovery Channel. His inner voice changed to some cheesy half British, half
Australian announcer, Oi! Look at the poor wounded antelope as the lioness
pounces on her food, he unsuspectingly lies there, not at all attuned to the
fact he is about to be ripped to shreds by one of the fiercest known species to
man: Drusilla Landau, high-school female. He snickered, everyone looked at him,
he shrugged and pointed back to the main attraction, they happily obliged. God,
it must suck to be him!
---
He walked in glanced around the room, no empty place, all right, I just walloped
Liam, I can find a place at a high school lunch table. He took a deep breath and
made a casual entrance and sat in his normal seat, a few people sitting next to
him had their eyes bug out in surprise at his audacity. Yeh, I’m that crazy
right now! He looked over at the lunch line, he wasn’t hungry, but having
something to pick at would take his mind off things, which is when he saw her.
Wearing her customary velvet dress cut to the thigh just to make sure your mouth
full of saliva overflowed. He closed his eyes and tried to get himself under
control, he wasn’t dating her anymore, and she was probably on ‘Angel’s’ side
anyway.
Drusilla: the once face of his salvation. Head of the drama club, undoubtedly
she had earned that one over the years, also the third most popular girl in
school, to his second most popular place. She had met him through Angel, figured
‘o course, Liam had set them up, sloppy seconds, but Spike and most of the
school didn’t know that Angel and Dru had been together. She had let that slip
when Spike walked in on her going down on him in his house, during his party
last homecoming. She insisted that she was too drunk, the next morning, but he
was so furious he couldn’t see straight, he gave Liam a black eye at noon, and
by nightfall had a broken arm and nose for his trouble. Angel had set his
minions on him, which was a sign that from now on he was treading on thin ice.
He broke it off with Dru, let everyone else think it was because he had grown
weary of her romance, really it was her who had grown overly weary of him. She
took his pride, dignity, and heart with him when she ran from his house the
following week, when he had confirmed the rumors: they were no more. She hadn’t
gained the upper hand since, she probably still knew he had a thing for her, but
she was a femme fatale and knew it, who the hell was he for looking twice at a
fine lady.
Recently she and he were friends, of sorts, they had come to an understanding,
they were getting back on the road to recovery when…the incident. That tore
Spike from anything resembling normalcy. She did comfort him a little, a few
make-out sessions and a couple of Jack Daniels dulled the pain, but she didn’t
like the fact that she couldn’t solve his problems with her body. So her
attitude turned cold, not so much because he was grieving, any human being, even
one so demented as her, could see that he needed time, not sex. She was probably
going to give him another try, but judging from the icy look she shot in his
direction; they were far from the baseball diamond, let alone a base.
He looked up and opened his mouth to speak, when her lips curled up in a
malicious grin and shot fiery eyes in his direction again. His mouth closed, she
gave another coyer smile, and promptly grabbed Cordelia and ran for the
restroom. She just snubbed me, a day ago he would have been flummoxed, a week
ago, hurt, a month ago, angry and sad, a year ago, devastated. Right now: he
didn’t care.
He felt the eyes of a hundred or more students: he didn’t care. He felt as Riley
Finn nudges his side and question whether he was going after her: he didn’t
care. He felt the dull throb of loss in his mind: he didn’t care. He looked
straight up, slightly jolted when he looked directly at someone, that blonde
girl, he had chemistry, and English with, Beth, yeah that’s it.
He looked in her eyes looked down again. Look up at Riley, his brown eyes were
dull and seemingly bored with the meaningless interaction of former lovers. I
called this guy my pal Spike cursed himself. He looked across the table and
caught Faith Hawthorn’s brown puppy dog eyes; she actually was concerned. Slut’s
got a heart he mused. He looked back down and sighed, he heard a noise from
across the room, something dropped, he glances up, and that idiot Jonathon
ruined another tray of Pasta Surprise. Nerd, he thought, but the words that once
were harsh and spiteful were simply thought of because of tradition.
He looked at the ceiling and back down, he caught that girl’s gaze again. The
one that he had classes with she wasn’t a nerd. What would you call her kind?
Unique, he smiled, that whole crowd, he gave em a once over, the only one there
who really didn’t seem to fit was the currently black haired guitarist.
Osbourne, or ‘Oz’, nice fellow, he had chatted him up, well we had a nice short
conversation, but I get the feeling that’s a lot for him. That was back at
Harmony’s Snow Dance after party, his band played decent music for high
school-ers.
So if Osbourne found them amusing, something they did was good, that Harris kid
was a bit off his nutter, but quirky, quirky was good. He always wanted friends
like that, after moving here from England, where he was an outcast, the first
thing he had done was make sure he got in good with the in-crowd. He regretted
it, not the first time, mate. But wasn’t it? The other times it was because of
some lame fight or spat with one of the others, now, he wondered, I probably
wouldn’t feel like a hallowed out shell. I would have close friends helping me
through it, he felt so stupid for passing up the chance to have decent friends,
and back then he wanted fame, now he wanted to be common. He looked back down at
the tray.
He felt Finn nudge him again: he still didn’t care. He heard Dru and Cordy come
back to the table, she made some none-to-subtle comment about pests in this
school, a reference to traitors or something, she thought he was listening,
being hurt by her words when really: he didn’t care. He looked at his group, he
hadn’t said anything for a half an hour, they probably thought he was off his
nutter: he couldn’t find it in him to care. He took another look in the
direction of the girl whose name he couldn’t quite grasp, sitting with the
friends he wanted, at the table he wanted to be at, she looked up, the emerald
tinged brown eyes connected, he felt a spark. For the first time in weeks he
felt something, he was sure he looked like a nancy boy. Right puzzled he was;
didn’t know this new feeling because it had become unfamiliar. He looked up into
her eyes: suddenly he cared.
- - - -
Chapter 2:
“God, it must be horrible!” Buffy commented on her way to chemistry class.
She had pulled her grade up to an astounding B-, which for her was terrific.
Last year, though, she had scored, on what she insisted was a fluke, 1430 on the
SAT’s. She was almost positive that she had bombed it completely, but there goes
the correctness of Buffy’s mind. She basically needed to keep up a B average for
the year and she could get into any college that she wanted, minus Ivy League,
which she didn’t really want to attend anyway. She was looking at UCLA, but was
waiting to see where her friends were going to make the final decision.
Right now, grades were the farthest thing from her mind, she and Willow were
discussing the idiosyncrasies of what living in the popular world is like. After
the full lunch hour of watching the interaction, they couldn’t get the soap
opera like atmosphere of their school off the brain. She couldn’t imagine the
pain that poor Spike was going through, she had decided to try and talk to him
in the next class, since they had it together, but right now, in between
periods, they were squeezing in as much gossip as possible.
“I know! All the looks of why would you do that or hey good job man! Plus the
steely gazes of like every kid in that room! He probably feels like an amoeba!”
Willow replied. Oz, who was leaning, books in hand, against his locker, breathed
a laugh. Buffy couldn’t contain the laugh that fully escaped her, seeing Oz’s
expression was priceless.
“Sorry, sweetie, but…amoeba?” Oz explained his and Buffy’s outburst. Willow
rolled her eyes.
“God, I meant under the microscope, amoebas? Forget it, I’m a nerd!” Willow
admitted seemingly embarrassed and defeated.
“It’s good, misplaced, but good. And plus, don’t worry you’re a cute nerd!” Oz
countered. She gave him a smile and he leaned in and kissed her on the nose, she
giggled in delight. “I have to skidaddle, time for European studies, not big
with the fun, but you know, duty calls!” with a goodbye to each girl he walked
off to his next class.
“Smoochies are good,” Willow said dreamily. “Anyway, about the whole debacle
amidst the royal family, what do you think he’s gonna do?”
“Go crazy, but I want to help stop it!” the blonde insisted as Willow finished
grabbing her books out of her locker, they walked towards their next classes
when they eventually had to break up and go to different class rooms.
Buffy walked into her chemistry class, Miss French was creepy, but fair in most
ways, so she didn’t mind the class, just hated the work, as usual. She sat at
her lab table with Kendra McNamara, her lab partner, and waited for class to
begin. She was watching the door, hoping that the brunette she had her mind on
would walk through as opposed to his new preferred schedule. He had been cutting
different classes for two weeks, this was the only one he missed every time, she
was almost positive he wouldn’t be here, but maybe she would luck out and he
would make an appearance in English, next. The bell rang, she opened her book
like the teacher instructed, but after ten minutes she figured it was a no-go.
Damn she thought, she wasn’t a charity worker, or anything like that, but she
knew what Spike was going through, she could help.
She had wished in her early weeks, or months even, that someone had been there
to explain and help, she wanted to do that for him. But him not showing up for
class kind of defeated the purpose before the comforting could even become a
possibility. Men, Buffy sighed and went back to learning about the history of
the Lewis structure, rolling her eyes she daydreamed about what it would be like
if her life had happened differently.
“Okay, we are going to make three dimensional models of Lithium, Buffy, pass out
the black balls.” The class snickered, “the yellow tubes are going to hook in,
you can make different mixtures, follow along with the books to find out which
structures you are supposed to make!” Buffy was startled out of her reverie,
when Kendra poked her; her Jamaican accented voice let her know what her new job
was. Buffy sighed, my life is so mundane!
---
Why is my life so crazy? Spike thought as he took a puff of his recently
acquired cigarette. He had never smoked before, well since about a week ago
technically, but now he looked like a natural. They weren’t addictive to him, he
could probably go cold turkey, but he wanted to feel as rebellious and different
as humanly possible. Maybe then he could be a new person and the old feelings of
loss would disappear.
“Mr. Giles?” Spike shut his eyes, maybe its my imagination, maybe its my
imagination, he opened his eyes and looked across the quad to see Principal
Snyder standing there, hands clenched. Damn, “what on Earth do you think you’re
doing?”
“Smoking a fag in between torture sessions?” his attempt at humor only fueled
Snyder’s anger.
“Get in and put out the cigarette, NOW!” Snyder practically screeched. Spike did
so, it’s not like there was anything holding him to stay out of class, and he
just didn’t feel like going. “You are as good as expelled, kid.”
Spike sighed, one can only hope.
---
“He did it again,” Anya informed the group, she gave an exasperated grunt for
emphasis. “Spike, that is, he was caught off grounds smoking, he is going to be
suspended if he doesn’t get the counseling he missed,” she added quite proud of
herself for getting the interesting gossip.
The group, she had been replaying her information to sat slack jawed at the
revelation, “Huh?!” Xander was the first to speak up. “Who’d ‘ave thunk mister
goody two shoes had that much guts, by the way, when did he start smoking? I
though all student athletes went under the thought of drugs being a bad thing,
they’ve had their fair share of alcohol, but I’ve never seen anyone of them
smoking… anything.” He scratched his head at the thought. “Have you guys?”
“No,” was the resounding answer.
“Screw this,” Buffy announced, “I haven’t even spoken to the guy but I feel like
I’ve failed him. As a fellow mom-less student, I am going to hunt his ass down
and find him before he becomes really self destructive.” She huffed, stood up
from the lounging area where they sat on their break, and stomped off to prove
her dedication.
“Wow, she must really care about him, or at least what could happen to him,”
Anya observed, “Xander, lets go have a little foreplay before class starts!”
Everyone flushed, Xander included, but he still let himself get dragged to the
Janitor’s closet anyway.
---
Buffy had searched for Spike the rest of the school day, but remained without a
clue of where he could be. Anya hadn’t overheard the part where Rupert Giles
came and picked him up, took him home and let loose another,
not-so-realistic-but-part-of-what-I’m-supposed-to-do scoldings, and watched as
he sat bouncing a ball against the wall of his room watching the latest episode
of Passions, what else was on?
There he sat, mulling over what had happened and what had been said afterwards,
he ran a hair through his brown locks and sighed, deep down he had no clue what
he was doing. It felt good though, being this annoying to all the authority
figures, getting their knickers in a twist was the only way he could find
happiness, or relative happiness now-a-days.
He thought briefly of what else made him happy, emerald eyes flashed across his
vision, but he dismissed it as her being in the right place during a time of
emotional breakthrough rather than her being the breakthrough.
He kept running his fingers through his hair; it was soothing in a sort of way,
something his mum used to do for him, when he was younger, or sick. He had no
friends, real friends, there were plenty of fake ones, but nobody who knew what
was going on emotionally inside him. Therefore, he had the right to try and
soothe himself.
He looked across his room, bleach was sitting on the night table, his father had
used it to clean…something or other, but now he sat fingers stilled and now
grasping his hair: he had an idea.
An hour later, after the burning of his head, Spike stared into the mirror and
looked at his new colored locks, not bad for a personal dye job, not to mention
my first. He gave a lopsided grin and looked down at his clothes, all black, had
been since… the incident. He looked like that Billy Idol bloke, from the
eighties, he didn’t really mind, bugger wrote good music, ergo he’s an okay
fashion guide in my book.
His father walked in to tell him it was time for dinner, he grabbed hold of the
wall as not to faint, gave a few British curses then decided that however he
felt was the right way to express his emotion it shouldn’t be one that defaces
his body. To the cocked eyebrow of his son who was glaring at the earring
adorned on his father’s left lobe, he put his hands up, he didn’t care, besides,
he didn’t mind Mr. Idol either. They ate tuna and pretended that a like for the
singer/songwriter was the only thing they had in common, loosing a woman then
both loved was certainly not one of them.
---
Anya was bouncing around, insanely happy that she got an A- on her French exam,
she was humming on her way to her locker. There was a definite chance that she
would get some Xander shaped congratulations, she was grabbing her geometry
books when she turned around and bumped into a big black cloud.
“Aah!” she screamed and promptly watched all her books fall to the ground.
“Watch it, buster!” She bent down to pick them up at the same time the black
blob did; they bumped heads, “Double Aah! Just stop, stay still, I’ll get it!”
“Sorry, luv, didn’t see ya there,” Spike said a little dumbfounded by the
screeching teen.
Anya popped up, eyes wide, “Oh my God! I didn’t even recognize you, you dyed
your hair, that’s probably why! Ooh! I think I’ve been dictated to let you know
a Buffy Summers is looking for you!” She straightened out her dress and smiled,
with that she hopped off to her next class.
Spike opened and closed his mouth a few times and shrugged it off, high school
students tended to act that weird. He looked around, he felt like a caged
animal. Although most people feel that way in high school, he really felt it.
The fact that all teachers had been requested to stand outside of their doors
and watch him, him alone, and make sure he didn’t stray was quite disconcerting.
They all watched him, as if no other kids were in the hallways, he really wanted
to be a rebel, but at that point he decided that he would quite skipping class
if this was the punishment. Sighing, he continued to down to Creative Writing,
Mr. Whedon was a bit crazy, but a weird teacher usually, and in this case did,
translate into a good time. He smiled at the plump red-haired man on his way
into the room. He sat and thought over and over, why does that name sound so
familiar?
---
Buffy was furious, she had a dentist appointment, that came completely out of
the blue. Sure it was to tell her that she didn’t need to wear her retainer in
the daytime anymore, which was definitely of the good, but still. It was fifth
block, chemistry, she was pulled out, where she would see Spike Giles, she had
heard the faculty had it out for him so he would surely make an entrance. So it
was quickly seventh block with a few minutes to go, her aunt was asking her if
she felt up to finishing out the day. She had been doing really well in that
class so I didn’t matter all that much, she was just disappointed that she
wouldn’t talk to Spike.
Tara had asked her, a little before she left for her appointment, why she was so
devoted to talking to this guy when she hardly knew him. At first it had been
all about her telling him that she had gone through the same thing years before
and was still dealing, but now it was kind of more. She had always thought of
him as attractive, because well… she had eyes. Yet for some reason, she couldn’t
figure out why she was drawn to him. Assuming it was probably physical appeal
and a heaping helping of condolence, she went back to wishing she could see him,
but not spazing because she couldn’t.
---
Spike pulled up to his house as confused as ever, the girl he was looking for
hadn’t been in any of his classes. Now he had two chits to look out for, this
Buffy Summers, whomever she was, and the other one, from lunch, he wanted to
talk to her because she was so familiar, but neither of them were anywhere to be
found. He cursed, picked at his recently painted black nails, walked inside and
poured a cup of coffee.
After about ten minutes of re-reading the paper and nursing his cup, an idea lit
up his scull; he raced upstairs and pulled out the yearbook that he had bought
merely because ‘its what popular kids do.’ He flipped through the pages and got
to his year, sophomores last year, he opened to the ‘S’ students, there she was
Buffy Summers. They’re the same person, was the startling revelation he had just
uncovered. Now he had to meet this girl.
Being in a very researchy mood, he hopped up and got the phone book, he looked
for any Summers: nothing. He found Osbourne, he could probably call Oz up, not
without acting like a total wanker, but this girl was bugging him so much he
didn’t mind humiliation. Besides, the taciturn musician didn’t seem like the
type of guy who would rub it in his face. After dialing the number he waited for
him to pick up, come on mate answer your phone.
Three more rings and the phone was answered, “Hello?”
“Hey, is this Oz?” Spike didn’t like the sound of his voice being so wavy, the
kid wouldn’t hurt a fly. He kept that in mind, he didn’t want his ego stepped on
anymore.
“Yeah, this would be…?” Oz answered calmly.
“Spike, Giles, I uh… hi! I was walking along today and Harris… I’m pretty sure
that’s the kids name, but his girlfriend, Enya chick, stopped me in the hall.
Apparently some Buffy Summers is looking for me, I went to contact her but I
couldn’t find her name in the book. Do you have her number?” He said quickly,
the uneasiness of calling up someone randomly starting to set in.
“Oh, hi, well yeah, her dad is in Spain, her mom passed away, so she lives with
her aunt. Marti Espenson, I don’t have her number, but it should be listed as
that. Any problems just give my girlfriend, um, Willow Rosenberg, a call,
alright?”
“Yeah, that’s fantastic, thanks, man I owe you. Um, thanks, see ya!” Spike said,
Oz said goodbye too and Spike put the phone down and breathed a sigh of relief.
Now for the really nerve-racking one, he thought after discovering Buffy’s
number. He tapped his fingers on the countertop in anticipation, since when did
you get so wound up over a chit? He thought back to his past relationships, he
had to stop himself from physically slapping himself on the head.
A perky young sounding voice answered, “Espenson-Summers residence!” He smiled
at the enthusiasm.
“Yeah, hello, pet, I’m looking for Buffy Summers, Spike Giles just so you know,”
he heard the phone drop to a luckily cushioned area, the other person scattered
and picked it back up again.
“S-s-sure,” they stuttered back, he heard what he decided was the younger sister
yell for the elder.
A minute later, “Hello? Xander if this is you again I swear to God, I don’t have
time for this shit!” An annoyed voice on the other end stated venomously.
“No, luv, it’s really me. Are you saying your mates prank call and pretend to be
me? Why would they do that?” He teased.
Buffy paled, this is so much like all those pathetically predictable teen
movies, why the hell did I fall into it? “Sorry, no my friends just an ass, he’s
done everyone from Freddie Prinze Jr., The Pope, every A-list student athlete,
don’t be flattered, its basically an insult,” she joked back.
“Temper, temper, miss. Anyway, your friend Enya…” he began.
“Anya…Ayn-Yah,” she put her two cents in.
“Right, the Anya chit told me to get in contact with you, what would that be
for?” He asked truly unaware.
“Oh, yea I, well its kind of awkward now, but I wanted to know if you were going
to go to the counseling sessions.” She said back rather clipped because she had
an idea of how he would take the unprecedented advice.
Spike was stunned, after the initial shock, anger and rage set in, “How in
bleeding hell did you find out about that shit? I dare you to tell people, it’s
bad enough that they all mock me, they have no compassion. If they found that
out the hours of being called a head case would ruin what’s left of my
self-esteem. Please—,” his rant was cut off because she shouted in.
“Hey! I’m not gonna do anything like that, I just wanted to know because well
personal reasons. It’s not really my business, but—,” she started.
Now he cut her off, “Damn right! Don’t you even think that…”
“God, shut up! Okay, I’m only offering my advice because my mom passed away two
years ago. I found her on my couch, tried to revive her didn’t work. I was
wrecked for a few months, moved to L.A. for a while, but got kicked out for bad
behavior, now I’m back. Been back for a year or so, but I wanted to recommend
that you take the group sessions because they’ll stop you from going to a dark
place that no one should have to. Besides, I’ll be there if you don’t want to
feel all overwhelmed with new people glaring. Either way it’s your decision, but
I was only doing it for your benefit, you have the times and meeting place. Come
if you want to, good luck, bye!” she hung up.
It was Spike who dropped the phone this time, his mind raced, this girl is
unbelievable. For the second time in two days he cared. Not only did he care,
but also he was so motivated by her little speech, he left a note to his father
to get the counseling times for tomorrow. He smiled, things may not be all
right, I may not be able to make them all right, but he had an imminent feeling
of her being able to make it feel all right.
- - - -
Chapter 3:
Four counseling sessions had done wonders for him, according to his father,
history teacher, and new friend, Buffy. He smiled when he entered school; it was
a good day, which was still pretty new to him. The first appointment had been
everything short of a complete disaster, he flipped out again, if it weren’t for
the little firecracker blonde stopping him before he stormed out of the offices
again, he probably would’ve never gone back. However, she calmed him down and
got him to agree to go back in and try again. The second round of the first try
ended mundanely, he was silent the whole time. The second session was much more
successful, they got to talking and he felt as if he weren’t even in his body
because after about a minute of explaining his feelings about his mother’s
passing. He completely lost it, he went into a thirty minute discussion about
how it should be the other driver’s fault, her fault, his fault, hell his
father’s fault, but everyone there told him repeatedly that no one was to blame
but fate. After declaring that he not only blamed but also despised fate, he
listened to everyone else, including the Summer’s girl, they had their own
horror stories, some put his to shame.
He felt blessed that people could understand him and put to rest any thoughts of
it being an insane thought to want to dye his hair and dress in black, to them
it was still odd, but dealing with it happened in many different ways: that was
one of them.
So after, getting a great nights rest, like he had the past two weeks, after
numerous talks with his little support groups (two additional sessions), also
with Buffy alone, on the phone or in the car on the way to sessions, he felt
really good. He made it through half the day of school and resisted the urge to
cut more easily than he had since his mother’s death.
He finally arrived in the cafeteria and looked at the chalkboard menu to see
what the special was cheeseburger and fries, not bad. He saddled up to the line
and waited, afterwards, parking himself in his usual seat. Today was good; he
made small talk with Finn and the boys, everything continued its pace of
goodness until he showed up.
Angel leered at him and it was thoroughly disconcerting. “Why William, you look
good!”
He didn’t want to take the bait, but wasn’t in the mood to play, he decided to
go along and make it as short as possible. “Thanks, Liam, you yourself are
keeping up that ultra-beefy physique!”
A few of the girls swooned, others giggled, “Yeah, right. I just wanted to let
everyone here that Mr. Big Shot here is a regular John Nash, aren’t ya?” All the
blood from Spike’s face drained immediately: he knew where Angel was going with
this. “Getting straight A’s, hiding out from all your friends, usually behind
trees in the courtyard, did any of you guys see that movie? Anyway, you know
what is the final nail in the coffin?” Panting from anger and fear, Spike, eyes
wide and body tensed, waited. “You’re fucking nuts!” Everyone giggled again, not
sure what to make of it. “Ooh! I should explain how I know that. Otherwise
people would just think it’s a meaningless accusation. Spike here goes to a
shrink. He needs help, apparently not just in the bedroom!”
Spike closed his eyes, this couldn’t be happening; it had been a good day, good
week, please, it couldn’t be happening. He opened them slowly, here was the
verdict, and he had to find out how people would deal. Finn, Graham, Forrest,
all those lackeys were laughing uproariously, Angel included, of course. Darla
was hysterical, along with Cordelia, which was a given. Wesley wasn’t, he looked
amused, but partially disturbed that he was feeling that way in the first place.
Faith wasn’t; she was sending icy glares around the table, he assumed she had
been in his place, he felt a little thankful that one person was on his side.
Harmony was the worst, she clung to Finn’s arm, evidently they were a thing now
(he’d missed that), weeping from the partially forced tears of laughter. He hung
his head for a second then realized how stupid this all was, he wasn’t these
people’s puppet anymore, screw them.
One glance across the rounded table let him see Faith mouth she was sorry, pity
did nothing for him right now. Another glance around told him that much of the
lunchroom had heard the news, a few scattered students were laughing greatly,
and others just smirked or struggled to contain the chuckles. Then he saw their
table, no one the least bit tickled; Buffy furious and sad, how that girl could
wear emotions on her sleeve was beyond him, but she sat there telling him it was
going to be okay with her eyes. He just realized that she was right.
He looked at his plate, still mostly uneaten burger and fries, he was hungry and
didn’t want to waste it, and his pocket now held his water bottle. He picked it
up stared at Liam in the eyes for a beat, he stopped laughing, instantly. They
had an entire conversation within their gaze, Angel’s mouth upturned into a
rueful smirk. Wanker thinks he’s won, Spike plastered a smirk on his face that
would tell everyone looking just the opposite.
With the whole room staring at him he was just waiting for someone to say
something, they continued to stare or laugh or look shamefully at those who were
doing either, he sighed.
Tilting his head to the side he shook it back and forth, “You are really the
stupidest person alive aren’t you? When will you understand that it’s not okay
to do this shit? My mother died and you are so messed up that you mock me trying
to get over it, you all do!” he glanced around the room for emphasis. “Well as
much as I hope you’re never in my position, you deserve to know how low it is
that you would take a insanely devastating event and sell it like a bleedin’
circus. I’ll tell you one thing, you used to be the ringmaster Liam, you were
everyone’s fucking leader! Now you are nothing but the disease-ridden monkey
that cowers in the back of the dirtiest cage licking its wounds and lashing out
at the only people who pity you enough to come close. I hope you’re happy with
loosing the last of your mates, if we ever were that. When I say fuck off, its
no longer a come back or an insult, this is me telling you to stay out of my
life and anyone else’s who doesn’t want to take your shit anymore! I know for a
fact that I can take you in a fight, maybe you’ll send a pack of your goons
after me, but I am finished being quiet, just another sheep in the herd. I am
telling you to fuck off for the last time because this will be the last time
that I will look at you and not kick your ass, understand?” Angel nodded numbly,
shocked to the core, “Good riddance.”
He got up and left the room, he could hear the cheering through the doors, he
went to the quad and began eating his meal, he felt so accomplished that having
to sit alone for the remainder of the year would be worth it. The sound of a
door shutting broke his victorious thoughts, he shut his eyes tight, Snyder! He
took a deep breath and prepared for the worst. He looked up and saw Buffy
smiling at him, definitely NOT the worst. “God I thought you were Snyder, thank
the Lord! I don’t feel like dealing with that troll.”
She just smiled brighter, “You’re amazing you know that? I think ‘hey, this guys
just a superficial jerk that happens to have a few things in common with you,
not necessarily of the good, which is why he talks to you’! It turns out you
have the most guts I’ve ever seen, standing up to Liam O’Connor, hell I’ve done
it before, but come on! In front of the entire cafeteria! You amaze me!”
“Thanks, luv, but it’s really not the biggest deal, sure it was huge leap of a
step, but I couldn’t just say I want to leave the group, I had to make a
dramatic exit, so I did,” he grinned back at her. She couldn’t contain it any
longer, she hugged him congratulations, and he was surprised that he was more
pleased than he was with most feminine hugs. The bell rang, he looked down at
his half eaten meal and cursed, “Best get going now, don’t wanna smudge that new
record of two weeks without cutting, although technically I just cut so…” he
trailed of and smiled.
“Right, walk me to class, Mr. Giles?” she offered an arm, he tossed the
Styrofoam tray and soggy meat into the bin by the door and latched arms with
her. They waltzed back in and parted ways when it was time to go to their
separate lockers, “See you next period,” she called out as she walked away.
“Yep, yep,” he repeated quietly. He was secretly glad that she had his back,
even more thrilled that she had offered to save a spot in her crowd, tomorrow at
lunch, he’d agreed.
Today was definitely good.
---
“Movie night!” Xander yelled excitedly at the two females in front of him. Anya
smiled and patted him on the arm, very much playing the expected role of
supportive and understanding girlfriend. Buffy on the other hand, simply
shrugged and offered the weakest possible smile. “Buffy—what’s wrong? You were
all with the perk this morning!”
“I dunno, sixth period officially became the Get Buffy In A Bad Mood For No
Reason period, who’d have thunk it?” she put on a fake smile then sighed when
she realized that one her best friends would see through it. “I guess I’m
worried for Spike, I admit it, you caught me!” she raised both hands in the air
to make it look like she was being arrested, Xander giggled then turned serious
once more.
“Look, Buffy, I know you dig this guy, you know think he’s a hep cat,” he made
air quotes and Buffy rolled her eyes at him. “Anyways, I think the guy is
sincere about being sad, his mom died, so you relate and help him out… I just
don’t want you to get hurt by this okay? He’s never really been mean to me, but
he was there when I got the hazing from Angel and Forrest freshmen year. Come to
think of it they were freshman too, so it wasn’t so much hazing as just teas—,”
Buffy began to drown him out, not so much because she didn’t appreciate his
concern, but she had heard this before with Willow after the first two sessions
and phone conversations.
Besides its not like she was interested in him, it was a friendly companionship
between two partially orphaned people; they’d be stupid not to buddy up. Its not
like she thought about what it would be like to… okay, only a few times, which
was normal because she’d done it with Xander before too. She spared a glance at
him to discover him to have stopped rambling after Anya cut him off with a kiss;
she didn’t exactly cringe but did everything but.
She definitely had thought of Xander like that therefore a few physical
attractions or even emotional attachments were natural with that type of male
and female friendships. He was good looking, it would be absurd not to
notice—she put the thoughts out of her head, the guy just lost his mother, she
knew what that is like. He was not open to a relationship or at least not one
that would be because he wanted a girl, it would be cold comfort.
She sighed and cleared her throat, the couple in front of her broke apart and
Xander offered an apologetic smile, she gave one back that told of her being
fine with it. Spike plus Buffy and relationship were unmixy things, it wasn’t
happening. Then why couldn’t she stop that nagging feeling in her gut that this
was a huge front for something deep, she chortled, yeah like she was going fall
in love with the school jock and soccer captain—nah couldn’t be! She picked at
her nails and pretended that this was so much clearer and uncomplicated.
---
Buffy hugged her books to her chest as she finally arrived at her locker,
something felt wrong, like she should have the obvious answer to some tiny
little question but she was forgetting it for a stupid reason. Willow came
barreling up to her side, bright smile in place, Buffy felt her mood get a
little brighter because of her friends enthusiasm, but the forgotten problem was
still peeving her.
“So, Harrison Ford, Richard Gere, or Keanu Reeves?” to say Buffy was dumbfounded
would be giving her too much credit, she stood there completely blank. Willow
dry washed her face in mock frustration, “Buffy, my dear, our movie night, which
do you want me and Oz to pick up? Or none of the above and we could go for that
crazy foreign flick with the dancing Indian woman, wow that made no sense!
Sorry, babble-off!” she imaginarily shut off a switch in the air, Buffy smirked.
“I’m feeling a bit Gere inspired tonight, what are we doing? Chicago, Pretty
Woman, American Gigolo or are we going more tame with the last one, maybe a
little Runaway Bride, that is if we were in a Julia mood.” Buffy answered back
brightly.
“Ooh, yeah, I wasn’t even there, I was thinking Autumn in New York and
Unfaithful! Pretty Woman, Runaway Bride, American Gigolo, here we come!” Buffy
hugged her friend but intercepted her before she ran off.
“Oh, my God! I figured it out,” Buffy declared victoriously. “Can Spike come
tonight? I’m sure Oz and Xand could use the male energy!” she practically begged
the red head.
Willow promptly threw her hands in the air, “No need to explain, just asking is
fine, he is more than welcome, might wanna run it by Xand, not that he is the
boss of you. Just attempt a little more of the forewarning that ninth grade
bully is going to be with us at your aunt’s house. Whatever, he is welcome, I am
the official speaker for Oz, he says yes too,” she winked and with that she was
off.
Buffy hugged herself, mentally screaming with joy that she figured out her
problem, now for the tough part. She made her way slowly over to Spike’s locker.
There he was pulling random books and surveying the contents of the metal box as
if deciding which he would throw away first, disgust filled his gaze, she hoped
it was for the books, no bad moods, no bad moods, no bad moods. She repeated her
mantra in her mind as she approached the black clad rebel.
She tapped his shoulder, he roared around and instantly deflated, she wondered
if she should be flattered or insulted by his reaction. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Nothing, just blank mind, it’s weird, I’d usually be over with the ‘buds’
chatting up what they were doing this weekend, now I’m clueless! But a good kind
of clueless, I hope.” He replied somewhat dejectedly.
“Yeah, that’s kind of why I’m here. You see our little group is all-big with the
movie night thing, we rent three movies by a certain oeuvre of actor or genre.
Tonight’s Richard Gere, I don’t know if your partial to the chick flick thing,
but you’re more than welcome to join us. In fact we want you there, so are you
going to grace us with your presence o-rebel-of-mine?”
“I’m yours?” he hadn’t meant that to sound so flirtatious, he was actually going
for mock anger, but wow, when it left his lips he felt the heat flare. “Sorry,
just me running my mouth—but yeah, maybe I’ll show, sounds like a good time, but
I know you not your friends. I don’t want to intrude on your group time, I am
your friend not theirs, I wouldn’t expect anything from them.”
“We’re friends?” she tried to mirror his cute flirtation but if flopped: big
time. She felt the mood dampen, damnit she really didn’t mean for it to sound
condescending or anything, but damn. “No, God, hello foot this is my mouth,
fuck, just of course we’re friends. It’s just I’m surprised that you want to be
my friend, that was meant to put myself down, not you,” she tried to recover and
saw his hurt puppy look dissolve softly, knowing that he understood; he was
really good with that.
“No I don’t understand why you think so little of yourself, how can you go and
save a wretch like me then come back and say you’re anything but beautiful and
terrific,” he looked upwards emphasizing his confusion.
“You think I’m—,” she closed her eyes and savored it, then opened them, “okay,
you’re official my to-good-to-be-true guy that every girl meets once in her
life. However, as much as I want to take all your really pretty words and
comfort you and maybe start something, I don’t want to do anything until you’re
a little more independent and healed. You know?”
“God yes,” he made a nasal sighing sound, Buffy noted how hot and cute at the
same time it sounded. “I really like you, but wow, not ready for courting, let
alone dating or whatever. Thank you! Okay, we may just be reading friendship
vibes wrong anyway, so we’ll give this a calmed down mark and see if we could
stir stuff up later. Sound good?” he wagged his eyebrows.
“Pig!” she playfully swatted his arm, “I have to go, my rides gonna be here in
like five minutes,” she checked her watch and thought back to what time Anya had
mentioned that she would pick her up, “I think, you have a car right?”
“Yeah,” he answered and cocked an eyebrow.
“Okay, just making sure you didn’t need a ride, I’ll talk to you at five, don’t
eat, we get pizzas, you have my address, it’s in the book, see ya then!” she
gave him a quick hug, and ran off.
“Women,” Spike muttered, looked back at his locker and chose two more books
literally threw them in his backpack and zipped it up, it was all bad until
tonight.
Tonight would make everything better because a million bottled blonde hairs, two
hazel eyes, and a smiling bronzed face all owned by a Miss Buffy Summers was
what could clear all his problems away instantly.
He idly wondered if that was a bad thing, like those addicts that can’t do
anything unless they are with their source of happiness and eventually die of
overdose. Right Spike, compare liking a girl to drug overdose, good one, he
thought another second, but what a way to go. He smiled and headed for his car,
a slight bounce in his step.