Chapter 11:

Spike was lying in bed, brooding.

It was something he tried not to make a habit of doing, and if some wanker had come up and told him he was brooding, he’d have smashed their faces in. But the fact remained that right then, he was brooding like there was no tomorrow.

He should have been upset about Red and Oz’s tiff, but he couldn’t be. Not when his own problems were kicking him in the gut.

He was trying to restrain his anger at Hank Summers. Problem was that the more time passed, the more he wanted to find the man and make him die in several truly creative ways. He hurt my Buffy, Spike thought, his face twisting and a low growl escaping. I ought to rip—him—apart!

“Are you growling? Shit, I feel sorry for Oz.” Faith walked into his room and plopped herself down on his bed.

Spike sighed. It was going to be damn near impossible to teach her how to knock. “’S not Oz I’m mad at.”

“You and Buffy rumble?”

“Where d’you pick up all the soddin’ street talk? No, we didn’t rumble. ‘S just...” Spike sighed. He’d sworn he wouldn’t tell anyone, but he needed to get a handle on his anger. “Someone hurt her back in LA,” he finally settled on saying. “An’ she asked me to just sit here an’ not do anything. I’m trying, but ‘s not easy when all I want to do is drive to LA and cut the guy up in so many pieces the police’ll never find him.”

“Someone hurt B and they’re still alive? Damn,” Faith whistled. “Didn’t figure she’d be the victim type.”

“Yeah, me neither. And she’s not, really. ‘F she turns this guy in to the cops, it’s over for her family. She says ‘s only her he’s hurt, so she’s not gonna make a big deal out of it.”

“Now that does sound like B. All that martyrdom crap.” Faith shook her head. “So, you’ve opened up to me; now what? You can’t just stay pissed till she decides to call the cops on the guy.”

“I know. That’s the problem.” Spike retreated back into himself, becoming taciturn once more. Faith’s reaction—stunned disbelief—was the same as his. She wasn’t going to be much help.

“So, it’s not Oz you’re mad at.”

Spike snorted. “Bugger that. Not that I don’t care about Red, but this stuff happens all the time in high school. ‘M way more worried about Buffy.”

Faiths shook her head and stood up. Spike kept his eyes on the ceiling. He’s figured she would leave. She’s told him before she didn’t do feelings. “Well, I gotta run,” his sister said. “Hope you figure out all the Buffy shit.”

He smiled slightly. It was as good a benediction as he was going to get from her. “Yeah, ‘ll try.”

“See ya.”

“Bye.”

He stared at the ceiling for a long time after she left.

*

“Wow. Sounds like Sunnydale sucks just as much as LA.”

Buffy closed her eyes, hoping her younger sister never discovered just how wrong she was. “Yeah, almost. So how’s school?”

“Boring as usual. I got an A on a math test.”

Buffy listened to her sister drone on about her grades, her mind only half on it. She loved Dawn, but right now, with Willow and Oz’s imminent breakup hanging over her, she was finding it difficult to think of anything else.

“Oh yeah, and I lost my virginity to a hobo in an alley.”

“WHAT!!???” Buffy couldn’t believe what she’d just heard.

Dawn was laughing on the other end. “Relax, Buffy, I was just kidding. I knew you weren’t paying attention. What’s wrong.”

Buffy sighed. She’d never been able to keep much from Dawn. The girl might be younger, but she was like a mind-reader or something when it came to her older sister. “Willow and Oz are gonna break up.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Buffy.” Dawn had talked to Buffy frequently for the past two weeks, and she knew how closely knit the group was. “That must make you feel...”

“Horrible? Awful? Almost suicidal? Yeah, it does.” Buffy sighed. “And the worst part is, I’m not so much sad for Willow and Oz as I am worried for me and Spike.”

“Ooh,” Dawn said softly. “You’re worried Spike and you’ll go on the rocks, too.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, it’s only been a few days since you guys made up, right? Don’t worry about it. Newness of the relationship and all, it’s way too soon for you guys to be, um, straying.”

“So you think one of us will?” Buffy hated that thought. She hated the idea that one day she might have to say goodbye to Spike. He was hers and she wanted it to stay that way.

She could hear Dawn hesitate on the other end of the line. “To be honest, Buffy, no. High school relationships never last.”

Buffy gasped slightly. She’d known what Dawn would say, but still, the truth hurt. “God, do you have to be so blunt?”

“I’m sorry, Buffy!” Dawn exclaimed. Buffy was only slightly gratified to heard the real remorse in her voice. “I didn’t mean to, I swear! It’s just, well, it’s the truth, isn’t it?”

“Dawn—“

“No, that’s okay, you don’t have to say anything. I was being stupid. I’ll talk to you later, ‘k?”

Before Buffy could say another word, her sister hung up.

“Damn!” Buffy threw the cordless phone back on the bed. The day just kept getting better and better. First Willow, now her sister...was it so hard to believe that she might have a real chance with Spike?

Well, she’s right, a little voice in her head whispered. It’s not like you love him or anything. You’ll have to break up sometime.

Buffy punched the pillow. It was true, she didn’t love Spike—yet. But the potential was there, and that was what scared her. What if she fell in love with him, and he didn’t love her back? What if he broke things off with her and left her alone, a crying mess, just like he’d found her.

It would hurt more than anything her father had ever done.

A knock sounded on her door. “Buffy?”

It was Anya. “Yeah?”

“It’s almost eleven. Are you going to go to sleep soon? Because, I’ve got quality orgasm time scheduled with Xander tomorrow, and if I don’t get to sleep soon, I’ll fall asleep while he’s getting me off.”

“Anya! Ew!” Buffy shrieked back at her friend, but Anya’s comments made her smile. Anya and Xander were happy. She could still cling to that, right? “I’ll turn in if you’ll stop detailing you and Xander’s sexcapades.”

“It’s a deal,” was the cheerful reply. “And don’t forget, damage control at Willow’s tomorrow after school.”

“You don’t think they’re going to make up?” Oh, well, it had probably been too much to hope for, right?”

“Are you kidding? Not with that slut Veruca hanging around Oz. ‘Night, Buffy.” Buffy heard Anya walking away.

“Night,” Buffy told the closed door. She sighed and lay down, closing her eyes. She had to get some sleep. Something told her that she’d need it.

~*~

Spike picked her up the next day; since they’d decided they were going out two days ago, he’d made chauffeuring her around a habit. Usually she thought it was sweet, but today it just made her more unsettled.

Her doubts about their relationship hadn’t diminished in the slightest. If anything, they grew when he drove her to school. He seemed annoyed about something.

They parked and Spike unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car. Usually, Buffy let him open the door for her, since it was a courtesy he seemed to enjoy performing, but today she didn’t want him doing it.

He raised an eyebrow when he saw her jump out of the car. “Problem, pet? You’re been aw’fly quiet.”

“No. No problem.” Buffy grabbed her bookbag, only to find his hand lifting it up. She sighed, aggravated. “Okay, yeah, there’s a problem. Why are you mad?”

“’M not mad!”

Buffy crossed her arms and just looked at him. He wasn’t the only one in that relationship with a piercing gaze.

“Okay, I am,” he admitted, wincing. “It’s just—sodding hell, Buffy! I can’t just sit here while I know that the bastard who hurt you is still walkin’ free!”

Buffy drew back, eyes wide. He was yelling, and waving his arms, and not only was everybody looking at him like he was seriously insane, but people seemed to think she was some kind of freak, too.

“Spike—“ she began, but he cut her off.

“No. I can’t do it, Buffy. I thought I could, but I can’t. ‘M not perfect, y’know, and right now I care about you too much to ignore the fact that there’s a child molester runnin’ around calling himself your Da!”

She stared at him, silently thanking God no one was close enough to hear what he’d just said. So this is it, she thought, trying to restrain the tears that threatened to spill over as she looked at her soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. I should have known we wouldn’t last. We both care too much.

“Willow was right,” she said softly.

“Damn ri—huh?” Spike shook his head. “What’d you say?”

“I said, Willow was right.” Buffy tried to restrain her tears, but they came anyway. “No happy endings. High school relationships never last.”

His mouth fell open and understanding flooded his eyes. “Is that what you think this is about? You think we’re breakin’ up?”

“What else would this be?” God, it hurt so much. Had she known it would hurt? Yes, she had. It had hurt with Riley because her pride had been damaged. It hurt with Spike because her heart was being trampled on.

She heard a muffled, “Ah, fuck.” Good. It was hurting him, too. Buffy sniffled and tried to walk toward the school—

But before she made it half a step, she found herself enveloped in an embrace tighter than any she’d ever felt before.

Spike was holding her, raining kisses down on her face—Buffy trembled. He seized her chin and looked into her eyes. God, his eyes were so beautiful. So clear and blue.

“Buffy, pet, listen to me,” he said. His voice was low and gravelly, and Buffy shivered. So sexy...

“We are not breaking up,” he told her. “’Ve got a bit of a problem with how you’re dealing with your Da, is all. I’m not gonna break up with you ‘cuz we have a little row.”

“I thought—I was afraid of you leaving me alone,” Buffy whispered, hating herself for her weakness.

But then his mouth came down on hers, his tongue dueled with hers. Warmth chased away the coldness of her tears, and soon her cheeks were dry. Spike eased back to say, “That’s never gonna happen, kitten. You got it?”

“Yeah.” Buffy sighed contentedly and leaned against his chest. He was so nice and muscle-y. So unlike Riley, who while large and, like Anya had said, meaty, wasn’t all that strong. Spike was powerful and protective and...”I’ve been an idiot, haven’t I?”

“Nah.” He kissed the top of her head before releasing her. Buffy pouted a little, but she understood why he did. There was so much heat between them right then that if he hadn’t let her go, they might have started making love right on the hood of the car in the Sunnydale High parking lot. Not the greatest spot for a couple’s first time.

“You just let your worries ‘bout Red and Oz get the better of you is all,” he continued. “’S not like I’m not worried, too. That tiff’s got us all on edge.”

“I wish it was over,” she admitted as they walked toward the school building.

“Don’t we all?”

The school day passed relatively normally at first. Willow’s eyes were noticeably red in Psych, but she seemed to be holding up all right. Buffy didn’t say anything to her after class, only touched her arm sympathetically. She knew what it was like to hurt.

It was at lunch that all hell broke really, truly loose.

It stared when Willow caught sight of Oz and Veruca sitting all lone at a table far from the windows, where the gang usually sat. She went stock still. Buffy, who was walking beside her, squeezed her arm again and said, “Be strong, Wills. Don’t let him see how much it’s getting to you.”

Beside her she could feel Spike tensing up. She knew he thought of Willow as a little sister. Really, really not wanting to be Oz right now, she thought as she threw her boyfriend a warning look.

“Spike.” Her voice was as threatening as she could make it.

“All right, I’ll play nice,” he sighed.

“You’d better.” They both looked over at Willow in surprise. She had crossed her arms and was glaring at Spike. “Oz is a jerk and we both know it, but you are not going to start a fight. He’s not worth that.”

She halted her tirade when she realized that both Spike and Buffy were staring at her with slight smiles on their faces. A nervous one grew on her own. “What?”

“Someone’s rallied quickly,” Buffy said, slinging an arm around her friend’s shoulder.

“Yeah, well...you know...I’m trying to just get over it...” Willow babbled. Her face was bright red.

“’S okay. Let’s go tell the gang what a little warrior we have here.” Spike and Buffy wore identical grins as they walked a now thoroughly embarrassed Willow over to the table.

“Wow, is Willow like pregnant or something?” Cordelia asked, eyeing her friend up and down. “Or are you embarrassed because Oz is practically dry-humping that slut over there?”

“Actually, Red’s—well, red—‘cuz she finally got the guts to stand up to someone about that wanker.” Spike nodded over in Oz’s direction.

“You dissed Oz? Great job, Willow!” Faith exclaimed.

“Yeah, I know you loved the guy and all, but he’s not worth it. Glad to see you’ve come around,” Xander said, patting her on the back as she took her seat beside him.

Buffy and Spike sat down, too. They held hands under the table, both smiling like goons. Anya saw them and grinned. “Well, at least one couple is still doing well,” she said, nodding to them. “So tell me, have you started trading orgasms yet?”

“Jesus Bloody Christ, Anya!” Spike exclaimed. “Say it a little louder, I don’t think they heard you over in China!”

Anya gave him a confused look. “I thought you were embarrassed. Why do you want me to say it louder?”

Xander burst into laughed. “That’s my girl,” he said, patting her hand.

“Sorry to interrupt,” a new voice said, “But can I talk to Willow?”

Everyone at the table looked up. Oz’s ‘new slut’, Veruca, stood above them. Better hope she doesn’t lean over anymore, Buffy thought wryly. She’s about to pop out of that shirt.

“What do you want to say?” Faith spoke up. She was watching the girl with a look on her face very much akin to Spike’s. They were both feeling very protective at that moment.

“Oh, how cute, Willow’s got a guard dog.” Veruca smiled snarkily. “Going gay, Willow? I heard you wouldn’t give it up to Oz.”

Buffy herself was now starting to see red. “I suggest you leave now,” she said in a low, dangerous voice.

Even Cordelia looked a bit annoyed. “What’s your damage?” she asked. “You got him, didn’t you? Why don’t you just go back to your little table and leave us alone?”

“I want to talk to Willow.” Veruca opened her eyes wide in a way that she probably thought made her look innocent, but which actually—in Buffy’s opinion, anyway—made her resemble a raccoon. A skanky raccoon.

“I just want to talk to Willow. Set a few things straight about Oz. I don’t want her coming back and crying at his feet every two seconds.”

“Hey! Watch it,” Xander snapped.

“It’s so nice to see you’re pro-lesbian.” Veruca smiled at him. “It’s cute.”

“Hey!” Xander stood up, ready to fight. Anya was gripping her knife so hard her knuckles were cracking, and Spike had let go of Buffy’s hand. Buffy watched in horror as Spike’s eyes connected with Faith’s. He gave a little nod.

Faith stood up. “Get the hell out of here, bitch.”

Veruca looked her up and down. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh, you don’t?” Faith walked around the table and stood in front of her. Veruca was short, so Faith towered over her. “Think again.”

“Willow, where’d you find the whore?”

“That’s it.” Spike stood up. Buffy stood too, both ready to fight, both on Willow and Faith’s behalf.

It turned out that they weren’t needed. Buffy watched, stunned, as Faith plowed her fist into Veruca’s face.

“There you go, bitch,” Faith yelled. “You wanted a fucking guard dog, you got one!” She kicked Veruca’s prone body before standing back. “C’mon, you man-stealing whore. Go ahead. Just try to kick my ass.”

Veruca lurched to her feet and stumbled toward Faith. “You—“

She didn’t get out anymore, as Faith again drew her arm back, this time hitting her nose. Veruca let out a howl as Faith bruised her eye.

“The mouth’s for Willow. The nose is for Willow, too. The eye? That’s ‘cuz you just pissed me off. Stay away from her, you ass-fucking, cock-sucking bitch. I’ll make it really hurt next time.”

Two male teachers finally rushed over. One helped Veruca to her feet, muttering about finding a nurse. The other laid a hand on Faith’s arm. “Too the Vice Principal’s office now, young lady.”

Faith slapped the man’s hand off. “Fuck off. I did what I wanted.” She followed him out of the cafeteria.

Buffy had watched the whole show in silence. Now her eyes took in the scene: Willow, with tears freely running down her cheeks; the floor, which had pools of blood from Veruca’s nose all over it; and the faces of her friends, all of which were stunned. Well, except Spike. He looked proud of his sister.

She broke the silence. “Wow,” she said to Spike. “Guess you guys are more alike than you thought.”

Spike smirked in pride. “Yeah,” he said. “Guess so.”

“So...” Xander said as they sat back down. “Once they let Faith out of detention, think we should hit the Bronze?”

“Detention?” Anya laughed. “Ten bucks says she gets suspended. Did you see Veruca’s face? I was quite proud. What about you, Willow?”

Willow’s face was ashen, and she was trying to stifle her tears. “Thanks,” she got out.

“Hey, we’re not the ones who got in a fight with Her Royal Bitchiness,” Cordelia pointed out.

“Yeah, but you would have. So thank you.”

“Don’t worry, Wills.” Buffy offered her a smile. “It’s all of the good. Knowing Faith, she’s sweet-talking her way out of it now.”

“God, I hope so,” Willow said fervently. “I didn’t mean for her to get in trouble like that...”

The conversation continued. Buffy smiled slightly. The fight had been kinda unsettling, what with the blood and guts and serious punches courtesy of Faith and all, but at the same time, it was reassuring. Like Willow had said, all of them had been perfectly willing to rip Veruca’s head off. It was really only a matter of who lost their temper first.

And for some reason, that was really comforting. Maybe she was just a violent person, but she knew that they’d all do the same for her, and that made her feel happy inside.

Spike touched her back. “Heavy thoughts on your mind, kitten?”

She smiled and leaned against him, savoring even that chaste contact. “If anyone ever hurt me like that...what would you do?”

Spike growled, and Buffy was reminded that someone had already hurt her. “Never mind,” she said, sitting bold upright and seizing her fork. “It’s—that was stupid. Sorry.”

“If you didn’t try to stop me, I’d rip them to pieces,” Spike told her quietly. “But only if it made you happy. That’s all I want, luv.”

She looked up at him, startled by his sudden intensity. He looked at her steadily, blue eyes smoldering. She began to sway toward him—

“Uh, Buffy?” Willow’s nervous voice broke into their exchange of seductive glances. “We’re still at lunch.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Buffy and Spike scooted apart.

Everyone at the table laughed, and Veruca was forgotten.

~*~

Buffy smiled sheepishly when Mr. Giles expressed his sorrow that she hadn’t been able to make it to English the day before, muttering something about being sick. She took her seat in between Willow and Cordelia, noting that Oz had elected to sit on the other side of the room. Good, she thought savagely. Faith took care of Veruca, but if that bastard comes anywhere near Willow, I’ll rip him apart.

The class was interesting as usual, and before Buffy knew it the bell was ringing. As she, Willow, and Cordy packed up, Giles approached her nervously. “Ah...Miss Summers?”

“Yeah?”

“I was just wondering...of course, you can probably organize it all on your own, but...are you going to have anyone help you arrange the reading?”

Shit! The poetry reading! She’d forgotten all about it! “Um, yeah, sure.” She smiled nervously at Giles, dreading what would happen when he asked her who was going to be helping her.

Thank God for good friends. “You’re hosting the poetry reading? That is so cool!” Cordelia smiled benignly at Giles. “I love poetry. Can I help, Buffy?”

“Uh...sure.” Funny, she could have sworn that Cordelia hadn’t read a single one of the assigned poems...oh, well. There was that whole thing about not biting hands and all that.

“Great! It’s settled, then.” Cordelia linked arms with Willow and Buffy. “Come on, let’s get to class.”

They left Giles in the English classroom, shaking his head in bewilderment.

They were walking past the office when Faith caught up with them. “Jesus, that bastard gave me detention for a month,” she fumed.

“What bastard?” Buffy asked. She actually hadn’t known the school had a vice principal. Seemed to her that Snyder would rather discipline kids all on his own little lonesome.

“VP Wood, who the hell else?” Faith rolled her eyes as she fell into step with the three girl. “It’s cool, though. I figured I’d get suspended.”

“We did, too. Veruca’s a mess—congrats.”

“Thanks, B.”

“Um—Faith?”

Faith glanced over at Willow. “Yeah?” she replied, completely emotionlessly.

“Thank you. That meant a lot to me.”

Faith’s guarded expression broke into a smile. “Don’t sweat it. I wanted to kick her ass anyway, you just gave me a good excuse.”

“Well, still, thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Buffy smiled as she went to her next class. Willow wasn’t with Oz anymore, true, but she and Spike were more than fine, and Veruca had been aptly dealt with by one of their own. Faith looked beyond smug, though she didn’t seem to much like the school’s vice principal.

Maybe, just maybe, things would turn out all right.

 

Chapter 12:

“Brad Pitt is way hotter than Johnny Depp,” Anya informed Cordelia. “Brad’s got a better physique. He has very yummy pectorals.”

“Yes, but Johnny’s got those eyes...” Cordelia trailed off and sighed. “Very easy to drown in,” she finished matter-of-factly.

They were waiting one the school steps for Faith to emerge from detention with the vice principal. Buffy was watching Xander squirm with a smile on her face. Obviously, being compared to Brad Pitt was a bit daunting for him.

Lucky me, I’ve got one hot high school guy all to myself, she thought happily.

“Feeling down on your manhood, Xander?” she asked, grinning wickedly.

“What? Nah,” Xander said instantly. “I’m secure enough in my manliness to not mind when my girlfriend is comparing me to a movie start who makes millions, mostly because of his very good...looks...”

Spike laughed. “You sound so sure of yourself, mate.”

“Oh, like you’re any better,” Xander retorted, grinning. “Bet Buffy’s over there having fantasies about Orlando Bloom right now.”

“That so, luv?” he inquired, cocking an eyebrow at her.

Her smile grew. She stood up silently and walked across the step to where he sat. His eyes were on her waist, her breasts...she smiled happily. It was so amazing that this one guy could make her so happy. “Actually,” she purred, sliding in next to him and wrapping her arms around his waist, “I’ve got my own personal fantasy.”

“Aww, that’s sweet,” Willow said, smiling sappily. Buffy cocked an eyebrow at her. “Well, it is,” Willow defended herself. “Just because I’m in the breakup blues doesn’t mean everyone else has to be.”

“Well, that’s very nice of you, especially since I’m having an orgasm high,” Anya informed her.

“Really?” Once again, Cordelia was the very picture of wide-eyed innocence. “How many orgasms?”

“Well, there was the one Xander gave me in the car—“

Spike grinned down at Buffy fondly. “We’ve got some crazy, friends, you know that?”

“Tell me about it. I’ve known Anya since we were toddlers, and even then she was like this.”

“That so?” He leaned down, brushing his lips ever so softly against hers. “’D like to see some ‘f your baby pictured...’s great blackmail material.”

“You would.” Buffy smiled and kissed him more firmly. His tongue darted out, asking for admittance. She granted it with a little moan. God, his tongue could do such amazing things in her mouth...

“Um, guys? Getting a little gross,” Willow said uncomfortably.

“No kidding. Enough with the tongue hockey, please,” Cordelia chimed in.

Buffy sighed. She really, really wanted to keep going, but it was unfair to torture her friends. “Sorry, guys.”

“That’s okay.” Willow smiled benignly at the two of them. “It’s nice to see some couples getting along. I just don’t want to have bad images in my head, and tonsil cleaning equals bad, bad images.”

“Jesus, are they going at it again? You guys are worse than bunnies.”

Faith grinned when everyone turned to look at her. “Free at last,” she announced, spreading her arms.

“Finally! We were starting to think the VP was Sunnydale’s own Darth Vader, or something,” Xander said.

“Nope, no Darth Vader. Wood’s pretty cool once school ends.” Faith’s grin turned downright dirty. “And hot, too.”

“You’re going to boink the vice principal? Faith, I knew you were a slut, but—“

“Relax, Anya. I got better guys to do.”

Buffy winced. Faith and Anya together, having a conversation, was way weirder than most people could stand, and this time, she was definitely one of the 'most people'.

“Wanna get out of here, pet?” Spike asked, dropping a kiss on her bare shoulder.

She hugged him. “Yes, please.” God, he was wonderful. Sweet and sensitive and tough and gorgeous—you the hit jackpot this time, Buffy.

She just hoped it would last.

~*~

After a thought like that, Buffy really, really should have known stuff was going to happen.

For awhile everything was fine. She and Spike were in new-couple heaven, ‘making with the smoochies’, as Willow called it, every chance they got. They hadn’t gone much further, but for now, that was okay with Buffy. After—thing—had happened in LA, she didn’t want to get too involved too fast.

Preparations for the poetry reading were also going well. At first Buffy thought it was a low-profile, no-name kind of thing, but Spike’s assessment aside, it was apparently a big deal for the Goths and punks of the school. She and Cordelia had thrown themselves into preparation—though of course Buffy was doing more work than Cordelia.

Two weeks passed, and for awhile, Buffy actually thought things were finally settling down. She was far enough removed from LA to be able to forget about it, except when Dawn called. Even then, though, they never talked about their father.

After everything that had happened, everything she’d been through, she really ought to have known better.

It was right after Halloween, and as much fall as California ever got had set in. Faith had served half her detention and talked about it almost constantly. Buffy could almost feel sorry for the VP, since some of the things Faith threatened to do to him sounded pretty scary.

Buffy was sitting in her room, bouncing a super-ball and waiting for Spike to call, when her phone rang. She snatched it up. “Hey, baby,” she said in what she hoped was a sexy voice.

“Um, Buffy? It’s Willow.”

Buffy sat bolt upright on her bed. Oh my God could she be any more spastic? What if her mother had called to tell her she was going to be late for work? “Sorry, Wills. I was expecting—“

“Spike?”

“No, actually, I’m having an affair with Snyder,” Buffy joked.

“Um. Ew.”

“Willow. Making with the funny.”

“Right, of course. Um, listen, can I ask you something?”

Buffy frowned. Willow was acting seriously bizarre. She wasn’t exactly the most self-assured person in Sunnydale, but she’d never stumbled over her words this much before. “Yeah, sure go ahead.”

“Well, see, I’ve been thinking. Oz and me have been broken up for two weeks now, and he’s obviously planning on staying with Veruca for awhile, so I figure—“

“Spit it out, Willow!”

“I’mgoingonadateandIneedhelppickingouttheoutfit,” Willow blurted out.

“WHAT!?” Buffy was practically screaming into the phone.

“Buffy? Are you having orgasms or did you hurt yourself?” Anya called up the stairs.

“I’m fine, Anya,” Buffy called back, before turning her attention to the phone.

Willow was babbling into it, apparently not realizing that Buffy had put it down for a moment. “I mean, I know it’s soon and all, but I figure, why should he be able to have all the fun? I like fun. I’m a very...fun-having person. And it’s only one date, it’s not like I have to marry the guy or anything, and—“

“Willow.”

“Yeah?” her friend squeaked.

“Sorry I wigged out on you. Of course you can go out on a date.” Buffy grinned. “I started dating Spike two minutes after breaking up with Riley.”

“Well, yeah. It’s not so much the date as it is the, um, date-ee.”

“Huh?”

“The guy I’m dating.”

Buffy sighed. She loved Willow to death, she really did, but only nerdy little Willow would agonize over whether or not Buffy would decapitate her over her choice of a date. “Who is he, Willow?”

“Connor Lawrence.”

This time, Buffy was silent. “Connor Lawrence? As in, best buddies with Parker Abrams and Angel Whatever-the-hell-his-last-name-is? Connor, the tyrannical jerk?”

“Buffy,” Willow began, but Buffy cut her off.

“Are you fucking insane?”

“Buffy. No! Pay attention for two seconds!” Willow actually sounded mad. “I like him, Buffy! He’s a nice guy. Not like Angel or that poophead Parker.”

“Willow, look, I respect you, but hey—if it looks like a dog, walks like a dog, barks like a dog—“

“It’s a dog. I know, Buffy. Okay? But when he approached me, he seemed very nice. And after Oz...I want nice.”

Buffy sighed. She really didn’t like the fact that Willow was dating someone who was so close to Parker, because she really hated Parker. But Willow sounded so gentle, so vulnerable, and Buffy knew that her disapproval would crush her friend. “Don’t worry about it, Wills. I’m just a little wiggey today it all. I’m sure Connor’s a nice guy. What’s the problem?”

“The date’s this Friday—I’ve got five days to find an outfit.”

Buffy raised an eyebrow, though she knew Willow couldn’t see it. Since when did Willow worry about her clothing? “And?”

“And all my clothes are geek clothes!”

Buffy thought of Willow’s long hair, Puritanistic outfits, and nervous demeanor. Well, she’s right, but I really can’t just tell her that. “Willow, your outfits are not—“

“Buffy, you’re a really bad liar.”

“Okay, you caught me,” she said. “But Connor asked you out for who you are now, right? Why would he want you to change?”

“He doesn’t I do. Buffy—“ A frustrated sigh came from the other line. “People see me as the nerd, the wallflower. Even Xander calls me nice, boring old Willow. I don’t want to be boring old Willow. I want to be fun, interesting Willow. Maybe if I had been, Oz wouldn’t have—“

“Whoa. Hold on. Oz leaving you is his problem, not yours!”

“I know that, Buffy. Please. I just want a change. This is for me, not Connor, not Oz.”

Buffy glanced at the clock. It was only half past twelve. “Okay. Are we talking total makeover or new outfit?”

Willow took a deep breath. “Total,” she said.

“Sounds good,” Buffy said, beginning to smile. This might actually be kinda fun...”Just let me call Spike, and then I’ll be on my way over.”

“Great! Thanks, Buffy! You’re the greatest!”

“Aren’t I?” Buffy replied. “See ya, Wills.”

“Bye!”

Buffy dialed Spike’s cell number. He picked up almost immediately. “’Lo, kitten.”

“Hey. Listen, I’ve gotta go over to Willow’s today. Sorry,” Buffy apologized. “It’s just, well, something kinda major came up, and Willow’s completely nutso about it, so—“

“I get it. ‘ll see you tonight, then? We’ve got a date, remember.”

“I know.” Buffy smiled happily. Her boyfriend was so wonderful. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“God, I hope so.” Spike’s voice dropped to the husky voice he used when they were kissing. “I can think of some ways ‘f you tell me what you’re wearin’...”

Buffy laughed. “Nice try, perv. Save it for dinner.” Her voice became more tender. “See you later, baby.”

“See ya, Goldilocks.”

They hung up. Buffy sighed wistfully; she would have really liked to talk a little while longer. That wasn’t the first time he’d tried to initiate phone sex, and she was starting to warm up to the idea...

But right now, she had a friend to attend to. She ran out of her room. “Anya! Get ready to go and grab your Visa.”

“What? Where are we going? I had sex time with Xander scheduled!”

“Well, call him and reschedule. Willow wants a total image overhaul, and we’re going to give it to her.”

Anya’s face lit up. “A makeover? Finally! I’ve been waiting for Willow to change that nerdy look of hers for years!”

“Yeah, so call and cancel,” Buffy ordered, before rushing back into her room to grab her stuff, grinning widely.

This is going to be so much fun...

~*~

“I don’t know, guys...”

“Oh, come on, Wills, it’s gonna look great.”

“But...Cordelia, do you even know how to cut hair?”

“Hello?” The brunette was insulted. “Future cosmetologist here! I can give you a totally adorable cut!”
“I hope so...” Willow said nervously.

“Well, look at it this way. If Cordelia completely messes it up, you’ll know that Connor definitely doesn’t like you just for your looks.”

“Oh, thanks, that’s comforting,” Willow said sarcastically. “Hey, where’s Faith? She’d back me up on this.”

Buffy shrugged. “Couldn’t get ahold of her. You know Faith, she could be anywhere.”

“Very true.”

“Finished!” Cordelia announced, backing away from Willow.

Anya and Buffy’s mouths fell open. Willow’s hair was much shorter, up to her shoulders, and cropped in such a way that framed her face perfectly. As they stared, she smiled nervously. “Uh, guys? A little feedback might be nice here.”

“Oh my God, you look hot!” Buffy exclaimed.

“Connor is going to pop out of his pants when he sees you,” Anya added, a satisfied look on her face.

When Willow tried to turn around to look in the mirror, Cordelia stopped her. “Not until we get some makeup on you, missy.”

Buffy and Anya then descended on her, powders, gloss, and eyebrow tweezers in hand.

Two hours later, the job was done. Good thing too, Buffy reflected wryly. Willow was not all that patient a person. She kept squirming like she thought a bomb was going to drop or something.

But finally they were done. Anya grinned at her. “Willow, meet the new you,” she said, and swung the chair around.

Willow gasped at her own reflection. “Wow,” she whispered.

Her hair made her look a lot less nerdy, and the makeup almost finished the look. She looked much older, much more confident—but her clothes left a lot to be desired. Even as Willow started thanking them profusely, Anya said, “It’s not over yet, Willow.” She held up her Visa Platinum.

“Let’s go take advantage of my parent’s ridiculous generosity, shall we?”

~*~

It was every girls’ dream come true. Willow wasn’t the only one to make use of that credit card. Anya, Buffy and Cordelia bought some things for themselves. When they were done, Willow was wearing clothes that were still conservative by Buffy’s standards, but definitely more interesting than Willow’s old wardrobe.

She stood there in a knee-length white shirt and close-cut top, strappy sandals on her feet. Anya pronounced the final verdict: “Willow, I now declare you to be hot.”

Willow laughed as they left the mall. “I don’t know how to thank you guys.”

“So don’t.” Buffy held up the red shoes she’d bought. If she could pair these with her black skirt, Anya’s prophecy about pants popping wasn’t going to come true just for Connor.

“So, Buffy, how are you and Spike doing?” Anya was, as always, completely nosy.

“It’s going well,” Buffy said, smiling happily. “I think I like him more than I ever liked Riley. He’s so sweet and caring, but he’s also really tough. And his body is so lickable.”

“So do you love him?” Anya asked bluntly.

Buffy stumbled. “Anya! That’s not—we don’t—“

“Oh, please,” Anya scoffed. “If you love him, just come out and say it.”

“Yeah, no kidding, Buffy,” Cordelia said. “I mean, it’s not like there’s this huge drama about it or anything. If you love him, then just say it.”

Buffy smiled weakly. Oh, no, just that he knows a secret about me that not even my family knows, and if you ever found out you’d like ostracize me or something. “Tell ya what,” she said, taking a stab at lightness. “When I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”

“You better, missy,” Willow said in a mock-stern voice. Then she giggled. “I’m cheerful! I’m not all mope-y!”

“Yeah, it’s definitely an improvement,” Anya agreed as they piled into her car. “Now come on, let’s get home. I can’t wait for the guys’ reaction tomorrow when they see you.”

*

Spike was standing with Buffy on the steps, as usual, when Willow appeared.

He almost fell over when he saw her. “Bloody hell, Red! What’d you do to yourself?”

Willow’s face fell. “You don’t like it?”

Buffy pinched him. He yelped, jumping, before trying to smile at her. “Was just surprised is all. You look wonderful.”

“And here I thought that line was reserved for me.” Buffy snuggled closer to him as Willow received compliments from the other members of the group.

Spike smiled down at her. His Buffy could get so possessive, it was adorable. ‘Course, she could have dressed in boys’ clothes and grown a mustache and he would have thought it was the cutest thing in the world. “Jealous, luv?”

“Uh-huh.” She ran a hand over her stomach. “Mine,” she purred possessively. “And you’d better remember it.”

“Not gettin’ any arguments from me.” Sodding hell. Her touch was having its usual affect on his groin. He couldn’t help but wish that she’d agree to...but no. He’d gone over this a million times in his head. Buffy had had a horrific experience in LA. There was no way in hell he was going to push her into doing...that...if she wasn’t ready. He respected her. He l—

Jesus fuckin’ Christ!

All coherent thought fled when she brushed her hand, ever so softly, against his erection. She smiled at his reaction. She’s tryin’ to kill me, he thought desperately. That’s the only proper explanation.

“I was thinking...you free this Friday?” she asked. “Anya’s going to Vegas to visit her dad. House all by myself equals boyfriend to help me stave off loneliness.” She smiled at him sweetly.

“Gah...” His brain was completely blank. Was she offering what he thought she was? Why couldn’t she stop stroking him like that? He couldn’t fucking think when she did that!

Sod it. Might as well see how this whole thing plays out, he decided. If she did want to sleep with him, he’d deal with it. If she was just looking for some cuddling, maybe some heavy snogging, then he was up for it. In more ways than one, his thoughts added.

Her hand suddenly moved back up to his stomach. He was still painfully hard, but at least he could think now. He smirked down at her and kissed her briefly, delving ever so slightly into her sweet, wet mouth. “I'd love to, pet.”

“Great!” The bell rang, and Buffy started to walk up the steps and into school. She glanced back at him. He didn’t know what she saw. His pants were bulging embarrassingly—thank God for his duster—and he had been staring fixedly at her hot little ass, encased in that gorgeous miniskirt, since she moved away from him.

Whatever she saw, she smiled slowly. A predatory smile.

Spike gulped. Sodding, bleeding, buggering fuck—that bint’s gonna kill me!

With a beleaguered sigh, he followed her into the school.

~*~

 

Chapter 13:

Friday came much more quickly than Spike would have liked. His head was spinning every time he thought about that hot, sultry look Buffy had given him...how nice her ass had looked in that skirt...how nice her ass might look if he was pounding into her from behind...

He groaned and hit his head with the palm of his hand. It was a few hours before their date, and he was going insane.

What was worse was the fact that he couldn’t talk to anyone about it. The only person he’d consider talking to about it was Faith, and his twin was out of the house pretty much constantly. Once or twice he hadn’t even heard her come home.

All in all, he was both mad and horny. Not a good combination.

But what the hell was he supposed to do about it? It wasn’t like he could close his eyes, wave a bloody magic wand and make Buffy forget all about wanting to have sex with him. Hell, he wanted her too. The problem was...

The problem was that he was afraid. Not of the sex, but of losing the amazing relationship that they had. It was wonderful. Yeah, he wanted more, but after the issues she’d had with her father, well, he didn’t want to do too much, too fast.

Part of him was half-detached from the whole situation, thinking to the rest, Are you insane, mate? You’re turnin’ down sex with Buffy! The hottest bird in Sunnydale! And in a way, that scared him more than the sex itself. Turning down sex because he cared too much about her to ruin their relationship meant that...well...

He was shaking in his boots that it might mean he was falling in love with her.

So, needless to say, he was more than a little antsy when he drove to Anya’s house. When he opened the door and walked into a living room that was lit with candles, both his heart and his pants almost burst. God, she had music playing, scent floated through the air...and she herself was more than the stuff of dreams. She was the stuff of fantasy.

She was his own personal goddess.

Buffy was sitting on the couch in a short black dress. When she saw his reaction she smiled slightly. “Hey, baby. Ready to have some fun?”

*

Buffy was scared out of her wits. There was Spike, standing there nonchalantly and looking sooooo sexy, and she was offering herself to him. She gulped. All of herself.

And yeah, she was scared. She was so scared that she was gripping the couch as tightly as she could. But she’d felt Spike that day...he needed this. Though a part of her thought she wasn’t ready, she had to be. For Spike.

For Spike. Remember, Buffy, this is for Spike.

He smiled sensuously and walked over to the couch. Buffy’s breathing increased as he leaned toward her. She could do this. She could.

Then his lips touched hers, and the world seemed to spin on its axis.

She moaned slightly and scooted forward till she was half sitting in his lap. Her hands came to rest on either side of his face, holding him, begging him to help her. His arms came round her back, acting as her only support. Her hands slid down, down, until they rested at his lower back. His hands slid up, up, until they fisted in her hair. Tongues dueled, breathing became heavy.

Slowly, slowly, the world melted away. Her thoughts, her fears, all left her, and she knew. She knew, beyond even the slightest shadow of a doubt, that she should be doing this.

It was Spike, and it was so, so right.

Then—her hands moved down further to cup his buttocks, and he pulled away. Only slightly, but enough so that their lips lost that precious contact, the contact that made her forget the weight of her past. And as she stared at him with confused eyes, he said in a low voice. “We can’t do this.”

What she heard was: I don’t want to do this. “You—you don’t want me?” Her voice quavered, like a child’s.

His face twisted into a grimace. “Bugger it all, Buffy, of course I want you. I want you as much as I want to breath. But we can’t do this. Your Da—“

“Has nothing to do with this,” she interrupted. Her voice was high and shrill with shock, but she didn’t care. What the hell was his deal? He was a red-blooded American—well, British—teenager, wasn’t he? He should want this! “Why don’t you want me?”

“Buffy, luv, I told you---“

“No.” She leapt up, hurt coursing through her, leaving scars in places she had thought were already dead. “No,” she repeated, and the tears emerged in her eyes. She’d been ready to give her body, her soul, to him, and all he could say was that they shouldn’t do this?

It hurt more than she’d thought anything could.

“Buffy.” Spike stood too. Damn it. Why couldn’t he be shorter than she was, like Oz and Willow had been. Oh God—Oz. Was this what it had been like for Willow? The pain, the rejection?

“Buffy, I want you. But I want you to want me—I want you to want this. I want—fucking hell,” he swore. “This isn’t even makin’ sense!”

“Well, you got one thing right.” Now her voice was low, indifferent. Dead. It didn’t matter. Suddenly, as suddenly as these feelings had started, they dissipated. How could her do this to her? Did he despise her that much?

“Buffy, please, just listen.” His eyes begged with her. She never had been able to resists those eyes. Even that first day, they drew her in.

“Fine.” She crossed her arms. “Talk.”

“I’m—“ He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Look, kitten, I’m hard as hell and I’d love t’ just say ‘sod it’ and make love t’ you. But it doesn’t work that way. After what you told me about your father—“

“Daddy? What are you doing?

He opened his robe, revealing the nothing underneath. “You need to be punished. Strip.”

Her eyes widened. Panic gnawed at the edges of her reason—but she’d talked him out of this before. Maybe she could again. “Daddy, no, please, you’re sick and—“

“I said, take your clothes off!” He leaned toward her, trapping her on her parent’s bed. Panicked thoughts ran through her head as he grabbed her shirt and yanked it off. She shouldn’t have agreed to come in here. She knew that. Oh God, what was he going to do to her? Was he going to—

“No, no, stop!” Somehow she gained enough strength to hit his arm. It didn’t hurt him, but he paused for a second, and in that second she rolled off the bed and fled to the other side of the room.

“Help! Help! Somebody help me-e-e,” she sobbed. He was coming closer, his robe open to reveal that thing she feared more than anything. No, no, no—

Buffy fell to her knees. Spike had disappeared. She was lost in a memory that wouldn’t stop. “No, please. Not now,” she whispered. But the memory had her firmly in its hold—

He walked toward her. She screamed, her only hope being that maybe he’d stop. The window was open—the neighbors would hear—her family would be ruined—please God let him stop—

As was only a few feet from her, his—no! don’t look at that—near her face. She cowered against the wall. He raised his hand—

And a neighbor poked his head out the window, looking around curiously. He froze, then abruptly dropped his hand and backed away.

She collapsed in relief. Once he stopped, he wouldn’t start again. She was safe. She was safe.

“I’m sorry, Buffy.” Now his voice was friendly, almost regretful. She knew what would happen now. He refastened his robe and backed away from her.

Tears formed in his eyes as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Slowly, ever so slowly, Buffy straightened and crept over to the bed, an animal fearful of being attacked. When he didn’t move, she snatched her shirt quickly as a snake biting and shoved it over her head.

Now that she had her clothes on, she felt marginally safer. She was safe now. Daddy was back, and the monster was again hidden.

Tears were freely running down his face. He his that face in his hands, because he knew that she feared to see it. She sat down next to him, curiously unafraid. The storm had passed. He would not hurt her.

“It’s okay, Daddy. It’s okay.”

“I’m—sorry,” he gasped in between sobs. "I’m—so—sorry.”

She knew he was. She didn’t know why, how he could go from almost-rapist to regretful father in only a few second, but she knew that his tears were genuine. Just as she knew that sometime soon, the next time Mom left them alone, he would hurt her again.

He sobbed for a long time, and she just sat there, too frightened to leave the room. Scared of what was on the outside more than what was in this room with her. On the inside, hate. A monster. Something she could fight.

You can’t fight the ones that love you. You can’t fight the glaring light of truth.

Now Buffy was rocking back and forth. She knew she was acting insane—she knew Spike was kneeling beside her, calling her name, scared and worried almost to tears—but she couldn’t leave this place where memories and childhood terror seized her mind and held it close.

She’d thought he had stopped. Nothing had happened for so long, almost a year. But then she noticed the cuts. Thin, shallow, almost undeserving to be called cuts, they marred her arm. But only when he was home. Never when he was away on a business trip. The new cuts always appeared when he was home to visit her in the night, without her knowledge.

She could handle the staring, the insinuations, the masturbation when he saw her in a bathing suit. None of that really affected her. As long as she could deny it, ignore it, she was safe. If he did not touch her, then her body was still her own, and no one could hurt her.

But the cuts made her more than scared and sick and half-insane. They made her angry.

Angry enough to want to lash out. Angry enough to consider taking the kitchen night and slitting first his throat, then her own.

But she couldn’t do that. Her mother, her sister, both bound her fast to this world. Both, unknowing, through their love for her, bound her to silence.

Still, she could fight back. Just as she had learned long ago that she could bury her emotions where no one could find them, so she had learned that she could wage a war in silence and darkness. And that was what she did.

She walked up to him, all sunshine and smiles, on a weekend where everyone was in the house. She showed him her arms—two thin red lines along the soft interior skin, and three white lines that had once been red. She grinned and said she had no idea where these cuts kept coming from. She looked at him and said that she’d better be more careful—someone might think she was suicidal.

Then—then she looked in his eyes. her gaze was hard, emotionless—the gaze of a warrior. Just for an instant, his own eyes narrowed, and the monster that never came out lingered in them.

Then he gave a curt nod and walked away.

Sometimes...sometimes she wished she could just draw the monster out. The monster was so much easier to deal with. It was all anger, hate, violence. It was something she could fight and not feel regret for killing it. But it was her father who looked at her after the touching, the threats—the father she loved. The father who would give his life for her or her sister.

The father who haunted her, every day of her life.

Now he was shaking her. “Buffy,” he cried, blatant fear in his voice. “Buffy, stop. I didn’t mean...come back, luv. Please. It’s okay. Your father’s not here. It’s just me.”

She looked up. Her face was tear-streaked and she realized that she had been crying. There was that face, the face that had become so dear, with its high cheekbones, full lips, and brilliant blue eyes.

Eyes that held concern—and denial. Betrayal. Rejection.

She gave a little cry and hurled herself back. He’s scared. He doesn’t want me. In a low voice she ordered, “Get the hell out of my house.”

“No. Not when you’re like this.”

His voice was firm. He thought he could fight it? “Spike. Get out.” Now her voice was panicky again.

“Buffy, you’re suffering from flashbacks, we need to get you to a hospital—“

“NO!” She was suddenly on her feet, screaming, throwing things at him. “LEAVE—ME—ALONE! LEAVE! LEAVE!”

A statue hit his head with a solid thunk. He swayed, almost passed out. For a second his eyes were closed. Then they looked at her, and shock was in them. She was a stranger, someone who didn’t belong there.

Cold. His eyes were so cold. “Right, then,” he said, and fury reverberated through his tone. “’Ll just leave you.”

And then he left.

Buffy sank to the floor, sobbing. She was acting like a headcase. She was a headcase. How could she explain to him the roiling emotions, the fear, that trapped her? How could she explain that his rejection hurt her more than anything?

She was dirty, and he didn’t want her. She knew that much. Cries of agony, animal keenings that were meant to come out of no human throat flew out of hers. Spike, the one person she loved—yes, loved—was gone. She had made him leave, and now there was no one. Only an empty shell of a house and her in the middle of it, sobbing what heart she had left out.

This was all there was. Only Buffy, alone again, among the ruins of what had once been love.

She had thought, just maybe, that he would understand. That he would trust her and let her give herself to him. Instead, he turned his back and left.

And the tears came down like rain, washing away everything—love, warmth, truth, lies—leaving cold, wet, barren ground behind.

*

Willow had been having a good time. Connor was everything she’d thought he was—charming, considerate, nice—and it helped that his jaw dropped when he saw her new look. She’d have to thank the girls for that.

Now she opened the door of Anya’s house. She wanted to talk to Anya, to tell her all about the date. Especially—Willow giggled—the last part. The best part.

I got kissed! First date and he kissed me and oh, it was so sweet—

“Anya,” she called. “Anya, c’mon, I know you’re in there. Juicy details, right here.”

No one answered. That was weird. Willow cocked her head and listened hard. She could hear a sound coming from the living room, a sort of strange wail. Was something wrong? She quickened her step—and felt her heart almost stop when she beheld the scene before her.

Dozens of candles blazed, illuminating the girl slumped on the floor. A statue lay on the ground, chipped, the wall behind it dented. Willow crept closer, warily, till she realized that the weeping wreck was Buffy. Then she ran forward. “Buffy, what happened? Are you okay?”

Buffy’s sobbing broke as she looked up and saw Willow. Willow immediately dropped to the ground and cradles her friend in her arms. “Tell me, Buffy. Are you okay?”

“He doesn’t want me,” she whispered. “He—I told him—and he doesn’t want me. Oh, God, Willow, it hurts. I’m away from it now. Why does it hurt? Why—he—“ She broke down again.

Wailing filled the room. Willow gently hugged her. She had no earthly idea what the blonde was talking about, but explanations could wait till morning. One thing was obvious: Spike was definitely involved. Had Spike dumped her? This looked like a seduction scene...oh no, had he rejected her? That hurt so bad...Willow rubbed her friend’s arms comfortingly. “It’s going to be okay, Buffy. Shh. It’s gonna be okay.”

*

But Buffy knew it wasn’t. Because sometimes things happen that can’t be taken back, that are impossible to erase. Sometimes the fallout happens and there’s nothing below you to slow your fall. Nothing to even fall onto, so you keep rushing, rushing in the darkness, waiting for death to take you.

Willow couldn’t understand, just like Spike. No one could. She was cold and empty...

And alone.

~*~

 

Chapter 14:

Spike was halfway down the street when he realized what a bloody pillock he’d just been.

He’d left a girl—his girl—crying all alone in a dark house. She was havin’ flashbacks about her dad and instead of helping her, he’d up and left.

And yeah, she’d thrown some stuff at him, and she had damn good aim, but he shouldn’t have left, and he knew it.

He was about to turn around when his cell phone rang. He groaned. “Fucking damn!”

He pushed the green button on his phone. “Yeah?”

“Spike? That you?”

He frowned. “Faith?” Bloody hell, did all the women in his life need him right now? It was downright irritating...

“Yep, it’s me. Listen, can you pick me up? I’m at the school.”

Wonderful. Just sodding wonderful. “Faith, what the fucking hell are you doing at the school?”

Unluckily for him, Faith had just as bad a mouth as he did. “I’ll explain when you get here, you rat-ass kissing bastard. I’m in distress, ya know.”

He chuckled slightly. She sounded beyond upset, but his twin still managed to retain her sense of humor.

He became more serious when he realized that Faith might really be in trouble. The bird could take care of herself, but there was such a thing as getting in over your head. “Faith, are you okay?”

There was a long pause. Then: “I’ll live. Just come and get me. I’m gonna die out here if you don’t.”

Why, why did she have to make that sound so threatening? “I’m on my way.”

“Good.”

As he drove, rain began to fall. It pounded against the windshield, drowning out the outside noise. Spike wished it could drown out his thoughts. His girlfriend was sobbing and he’d left her all alone, and now his twin was in God only knew what kind of trouble.

Funny how things were falling apart. ..

Buffy. When he pulled up to the school, his thoughts were still on her. Was she okay? God, he hoped someone had come to comfort her. His mind kept going back to the shock, the betrayal, the blatant sadness in her eyes. The image of her rocking back and forth, trying to fight away terrifying memories, seemed to float in front of his face.

You don’t want me?

He had wanted her. He’d wanted her so much that he was still aching for her. But those flashbacks she’d had, that was proof enough that she wasn’t ready. She would hate him now, and he knew it, but that was how it had to be.

He peered through the rain, squinting, shoving thoughts of Buffy aside for a moment so that he could concentrate on finding Faith. The parking lot was deserted. He really hoped she was waiting at the front of the school, otherwise it would take him forever to find her.

She was. He pulled up to the entrance with a squeal of his tires.

Faith opened the passenger-side front seat door and practically fell into the car. She was soaking wet and her clothes, black top and tight pants, were just about as skanky as they came. Spike eyed her disapprovingly but stayed silent until they reached their house.

He cut the engine and turned to her. “What the fucking hell were you doing at that school?”

Faith avoided eye contact. “Just, ya know, hangin’ out...”

“Faith. You gimme the truth or I’ll rip your bloody throat out. ‘M not in the mood for lies.”

“Fine. You know Principal Wood? I was fucking him. Only, he didn’t show up tonight. A security guard did.”

“WHAT!?” He couldn’t fucking believe it! His sister was shagging the Vice Principal? He was gonna kill her! No—wait, he was gonna kill Wood. Yeah, that was right. Slit his belly open, watch his guts spill out, cut his dick off and make him eat it piece by piece.

“What the fucking hell d’you think you were doing?” Spike demanded. “’M gonna kill that monkey-shit-eating bastard!”

“Hey!” A fist came out of nowhere and popped Spike in the nose. “You touch him, you answer to me, got that?” Faith slumped down in the seat. “Robin loves me.”

“Yeah. ‘M sure the thirty-year-old VP says that to every teenager he shags.”

She kicked him in the shins. Ignoring his cry of, “Bleeding hell!” she said, “Shut the hell up, Spike? What the fuck do you know about it, huh? You’ve been too busy makin’ time with B to notice. I’ve been home overnight a grand total of once this week, Bleach-Boy. Who I screw is my business. I like Robin.”

“So, you’re shaggin’ a thirty year old and you don’ even love him?”

“He’s not thirty. Jesus Christ, I’m not that big a slut! He’s twenty-seven.”

Spike snorted incredulously. First Buffy, now Faith. Both had real reasons to be in pain, and both were acting absolutely insane. “All of your birds have gone completely carrot-top. ‘S the only explanation.”

“Huh? What the hell did you say?”

He sighed. “Never mind. Get out. I gotta get back to Anya’s.”

“Um...yeah. Sorry I yanked you outta your date with B.”

All the feelings, the guilt, the pain, the fear, came crashing back. “Faith? I gotta go,” he said with sudden urgency.

Faith looked at him worriedly. “Spike? You alright?”

“I am. She isn’t,” he replied cryptically. “See ya.”

She got out of the car and shut the door. He pealed out of the driveway and she watched him go. The rain was still falling, but since she was already soaked, she didn’t care.

What had happened with him and B? Faith hoped they’d be okay. The mush couple was the only thing she could really depend on. She pretended to the a hard-ass kind of person, the kind who didn’t take shit from anybody, but she wasn’t.

Robin was breaking her heart. All older and sexy and knowing, and of course the best fuck she’d ever had, and he was gonna break her. She knew he wasn’t going to show up for their little sessions any more. And that hurt.

C’mon, Spike, get over there. Please don’t break up with her. I need you guys to be strong. She rummaged around in her pockets. Shit, she didn’t have a key.

Fuck it. She walked over to the side of her house, fisted her hand, and busted in one of the window panes in the side door. The blood on her hand mixed with the rain and streaked down her skin. She stared at it for a moment before entering her cold, empty house.

Be strong, ‘cuz I can’t be.

*

Buffy didn’t know how long she cried with Willow sitting next to her. When she was done, she didn’t exactly feel better. She felt like a soggy mess.

She also felt really, really stupid. She’d gone into her own head like a crazy person. Rocking back and forth, throwing things—she almost didn’t blame Spike for leaving her.

Her face hardened. Almost was the key word in that last sentence. She might have been acting seriously insane, but it had happened because he’d denied her. Rejected her. Told her no.

And it had crushed her.

She sniffled and smiled at Willow, who had been staring at her fixedly for the past hour, trying to comfort her. “Buffy? You wanna maybe talk about it?”

Buffy stared at Willow. Talk about it? How could she? The only person she’d ever told was Spike, and that was because she’d thought she could trust him.

But he’d left and she was all alone. She sighed. Maybe she could just tell Willow enough of the truth so that her friend would understand. “Willow, in LA...well, let’s just say I had some seriously bad experiences. And I tried to...you know...with Spike, except he said no, and then it was like I went insane or something. I started having all these flashbacks and I went completely wiggy on him. I threw the statue at him and told him to get out.”

By the end of Buffy’s hackneyed speech, Willow’s eyes were wide. There was silence for a few minutes before Willow said, “Um. Wow. Does Spike know all the details about this...thing?”

Buffy sighed heavily. “Yeah. He knows.”

“And he left? Even with all the flashback-ey-ness and stuff?”

Now she was really starting to feel miserable. “Um. Yeah. Yeah, he did.”

“Oh my God!” Willow enveloped Buffy in a suffocating hug. “I am sosorry!”

“Wills! I kinda have to breath,” she wheezed. When Willow backed off she added, “What are you sorry about?”

“You know...you and Spike.”

Buffy’s eyes widened when she realized what her friend was saying. “Oh my God, it’s over. We’re over.” Tears again began to run down her cheeks. “Willow...” she whimpered.

“It’s okay, Buffy.”

“No,” she whispered. The tears were running but her face was a stony mask. Cold. Unfeeling. Strong but in the worst way. “It’s not okay. It hurt so bad.”

“It gets better. I promise.” Willow watched with wide eyes as Buffy buried her face in a couch pillow and sobbed her heart out again.

Buffy heard the knock at the door but didn’t move. It was probably Anya. Just what she needed, a completely frank opinion.

Not.

But it wasn’t Anya who strode in a few seconds later.

“Red? Thank God you’re here. Where’s Buffy? Is she—“

Buffy turned her head. Spike was staring at her, completely shocked. She saw the love, the pain, in his eyes, and she didn’t care.

Fuck. She did care, that was the problem. She cared too much and she couldn’t handle it. “I thought I told you to leave,” she said quietly.

He smirked. “Didn’t know I was s’posed to follow your orders, luv.”

“Don’t call me that,” Buffy ordered him quietly. Her face was set. She was determined to be strong. If Spike couldn’t handle the fact that she had a past, well, she’d just have to end it with him. “It’s over, Spike.”

*

“WHAT!?” For the second—or was it the third?—time that night, Spike was incensed and screaming about it. “It damn well is not!”

Buffy stood up, swaying slightly, Her dress was wrinkled and her formerly perfectly made up face was streaked with tears, but he didn’t care. She was still absolutely gorgeous in his eyes.

And she was breaking up with him. “Spike. Yes, it is.”

And then he knew. He’d suspected it before, but now that it was too late, now that admitting it was like shooting his own bloody foot, he knew. He was in love with her.

“But...I love you, kitten.”

That had been a mistake, he realized as Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “You fucking bastard! You think I’ll forgive you for rejecting me, for leaving me, just because you say you love me? Jesus fucking Christ! I thought you were different! He said he loved me, too! Did you know that? Right before he tried to make me—“

She turned away from him. He stared at her, unable to move. His heart was breaking. He could feel it. He’d told her how she felt and still she was turning away from him. Why was she doing this? He could see it in her eyes. She didn’t hate him.

Why was she pushing him away, then?

The final blow came when Red stepped into his line of vision and said quietly, “Spike, I think you’d better go.”

“So that’s it? You’re turnin’ on me, too?” His voice cracked. His eyes burned and he knew that if he didn’t get out of the house he’d start blubberin’ like a baby. He looked at Buffy, who still had her back turned.

“You know you love me, Summers. I dunno why you’re closin’ me out like this, but this is the last time I’m gonna say it: I. Love. You.”

She flinched, then said in a low voice, “But I don’t love you. Get out, now”

He’d thought his heart was breaking? Fuck that. It was broken, into about a thousand different pieces.

“Right, then,” he said quietly, and left the house for the second time—expect this time, he didn’t expect to return any time soon.

*

If he had turned around, he would have seen Buffy fall to her knees. He would have heard her agonized cries when she realized that the one person who’d ever truly loved her was leaving her life forever.

Why do I do this? I always...God, I can’t be with him! He told me no. He doesn’t want me.

But she knew he did. It was in his voice, his face, his every gesture. He wanted her more than she wanted him even, but for some reason he wouldn’t take her. Why? She’d thought that if he loved her he’d accept her offer, and damn consequences. Was it possible to love someone so much that you denied yourself so that they would be okay?

No. She’d learned that with her father. No, it wasn’t.

Which meant that he didn’t really love her. Not in a real, deep down, forever kind of way. He’d get over it. He would.

Liar.

She ignored the voice and pasted a smile on her face—or what she thought might pass as a smile. It was more of a sickening grimace. “So, Willow, you never told me how your date went.”

Buffy knew that Willow knew that it was a diversionary tactic. Thank God she decided to play along. They spent the rest of the night rehashing Willow’s date. Buffy forced herself to smile, to laugh.

Hey, she’d done it before. Smile, laugh, nothing wrong here! Because in the end, it was all the same.

She was just pretending. Same as she’d done her whole life.

~*~

Another two weeks passed sluggishly. The gang found out about the huge fight between Spike and Buffy, though the details they got were even more vague than what Buffy had told Willow. Thank God for small mercies, though: Spike and Buffy forced themselves to be civil, so the gang didn’t split up like they had before.

But it was slowly killing them both.

For Spike it was complete, utter torture. Too see her every day and not be able to talk to her, touch her, help make the pain he could see in her eyes go away, if only for a moment...well, it hurt almost more than he could put up with.

And to make things worse, Red was dating that wanker Connor. He might not have had a problem with it, except that Oz’s betrayal was still fresh on his mind. If anyone hurt Red again, he’d bloody well have to kill them. That girl was the baby sister he’d never had, and no one got to crush her the way Oz had. If Buffy—God, Buffy!—hadn’t restrained him at the time, he’d have made Oz die in several new, exciting ways.

And to put the icing on the sodding cake, Faith was still snoggin’ and shaggin’ VP Wood every time his back was turned. He was convinced she was only gonna get hurt—Wood tried to break it off with her twice a week. He’d come home to her in tears more than once.

Pity Snyder would expel him if he laid a hand on the bastard.

The buzz in the Goth/punk world about the poetry contest was getting louder every day. Apparently his Buffy was really getting into it...

He exhaled a thick stream of smoke. Not your Buffy anymore, mate, he reminded himself.

And that was the problem, really. She was still his. She would always be his. Some part of him still refused to believe that their relationship was really over.

Because sometimes, at the Bronze or lunch or whatever, he caught her glancing at him wistfully. He knew that he looked at her that way sometimes, too. They both wanted the same thing: to be back together. Why the fucking hell couldn’t they be?

He knew the answer to that one, too: Buffy.

The thing with her Da had been really bad, he’d give her that. Heart-rendingly, soul-rippingly horrible. But why couldn’t she trust him? He wasn’t her father. He really loved her, with everything that was in him, and he’d never hurt her. Every day he spent so close to her only reaffirmed that.

In a way it had come upon him quickly, yet at the same time, it had crept up so slowly and quietly he hadn’t even known it was coming. Either way, he didn’t much care. She was his.

He could only wonder how long it would take the silly bint to figure it out.

“You’re brooding again.”

Spike scowled at Xander. “I am not brooding, you worthless sonofa—“

“Yeah you are. Come on, Spike, you’ve barely stopped since you and Buffy had that wicked bad fight.”

“You pillock!” Spike slammed his hand into the brick wall of Xander’s basement. Unsurprisingly, it hurt him bad and didn’t do a damn thing to the wall. “Don’t talk about that. You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!”

“I know that you love her and she loves you but for some stupid reason she’s denying it. That’s enough, isn’t it?”

Spike stopped pounding his head against the wall long enough to send his friend a sarcastic look. “You’ve got no idea how poorly that covers it.”

“Yeah, I do, because neither of you will talk about it. What if you guys’ deal? It’s not like there’s some big, dark secret she’s hiding that’s keeping you guys apart.”

Spike laughed at that. He had to. He didn’t really want to, but he had to. The whelp had no idea how incredibly right he was. “Bloody hell, Xander, you’re really quite good at hitting the nail on the head, aren’t you?”

“Huh?” Xander stared at him. The hackysack he’d been tossing around fell from his hand unnoticed. “What—there’s a dark secret?”

Spike became serious again almost instantly. “Yeah, but I promised her I wouldn’t tell.”

“Well, who else knows? Willow? Anya?”

“No one, and it’d better stay that way, got it?” Spike glared menacingly at Xander. Buffy would never forgive him if he spilled the beans about her Da. “You tell anyone—“

“And you’ll rip my head off, cut me into little bits, and dump me into the river. I got it,” the other boy said carelessly, rolling his eyes. “Sure you don’t want to tell?”

“Positive,” was the curt response.

He wasn’t exactly telling the truth, though. Part of him wanted to tell someone, if only because he didn’t want to be the only one lugging around this huge burden. Sometimes he thought that if he just spilled the beans, maybe things would be better for Buffy.

Thing was, it wasn’t his secret to tell. He wanted people to know, if only because then maybe Buffy would stop pushing him away if it wasn’t a ‘big, dark secret’ anymore—but he couldn’t tell anyone. He would never betray her that way.

Still, he would keep trying to get her back. She was his, had been since the second he laid eyes on her. Even if it took a thousand years—though he kind of hoped it’d be a shorter amount of time than that—he would get her back.

It was only, he tried to convince himself, a matter of time.

~*~

“So, I’m thinking we need to get a more diverse demographic to come to this thing instead of, you know, Goths.” Cordelia crossed her arms. Buffy was staring down at the ‘Poetry Reading To-Do List,’ and the brunette was pretty certain her every word had just been ignored. “Hello, Earth to Buffy!”

“What?” Buffy’s head snapped up. “Sorry, I was...thinking.”

“You mean you were brooding over how you broke up with Spike for no good reason,” Anya piped up from her place on the gym floor, where she was painting a poster for the upcoming event.

“Anya.” Willow’s voice was quiet, but it was incredibly firm.

Anya rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll shut up.”

“Good.” Buffy turned to Cordelia. “Anyway, what were you saying?”

“I was just thinking that maybe we should try to get some preps interested in the reading. To kind of add to the ambiance, you know?”

“No,” Buffy said, raising an eyebrow, I really don’t.”

Cordelia sighed, clearly frustrated. She was about to chew Buffy out when Anya said, “I’m out of black paint.”

“Go get more, then,” Cordelia shot back, her tone acid. Everyone was trying not to show it, but the Buffy/Spike breakup had everyone on edge.

“I’ll get it,” Buffy said hastily. She almost ran out of the room.

OK, they’re my friends and I love ‘em to death, but if I have to put up with anymore forced lightness and bickering, I’m totally gonna do a Sylvia Plath, she thought as she opened the supply closet door.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!”

Buffy blinked. There was only one person she knew who used that extremely dirty cuss phrase: Faith. Faith was making out in the supply closet with—

“Oh my God! VP Wood?” She was being traumatized! Faith’s top was halfway down and—oh God—his pants were unzipped! Buffy turned away, covering her eyes with her hands..

The couple frantically refastened buttons and rezipped zippers. After a moment Buffy heard Faith say in a highly amused voice, “We’re decent, B.”

Buffy slowly turned back around. Wood stepped forward immediately. “Buffy, I’m so sorry you had to—“

“Please.” She held up a hand. “Please, please, just go away and let me forget this before the images stick in my head and I become permanently blind.”

He cracked a smile at that. “Right. Come on, Faith. We’ll continue this in my office.”

Ew! Buffy thought frantically, So didn’t need to know that! She grimaced and stepped into the supply closet, searching the shelves for the paint she needed.

And just a few minutes ago Faith and the VP of the school had been thisclose to boinking in it...

Ew. Ew. Ew.

Actually, the thing that got her more than anything else was the fact that Faith was in relationship heaven, it seemed. Granted, weird-dysfunctional-guy-twice-her-age relationship heaven, but still, she had a guy.

Buffy wanted Spike, but she couldn’t ever have him.

And sometimes it hurt so much. She knew that if she said the word, he’d accept her back with open arms. She saw it in his eyes, the eyes that sometimes, when he thought she wasn’t looking, filled with such love. All for her.

And that was the thing. She couldn’t let him in when he loved her that much. She’d only end up hurting him. Someone with her past—shit, she’d gone more than a little insane that night. He shouldn’t and, if Buffy had anything to say about it, wouldn’t ever have to put up with that again.

Buffy sighed. No black paint. So, if it wasn’t in the school’s closet, where the heck would it be?

She’d ask Giles. He was a nice, responsible teacher-guy. He’d know where to find it.

Unfortunately, when she walked into the English room, Giles and Jenny Calendar were closer than Faith and Wood had been to having sex—on the desk.

“Sorry!” Buffy exclaimed, mortified, as she backed out of the room. Does everyone in Sunnydale High boink after hours? she wondered as she walked quickly down the hall.

She was so absorbed in exorcising the very bad images from her head that she bumped right into Spike.

She would have fallen if he hadn’t grabbed her arms with his own strong hands. She fought the urge to burst into tears as she looked up into his bright blue eyes. Yeah, he was definitely feeling this as much as she was.

“Hey, luv. What’s the rush?”

Did he have to call her that? It was downright cruel. “Um, your mom and Giles are getting it on—on his desk.”

Spike grimaced in much the same way she had. He released her—darn—and said, “Guess askin’ Mum for a Jackson ain’t the greatest idea right now.”

“Jackson?” God, his chest was so yummy...

“A twenty.”

“Oh.” Buffy tried for a small smile and failed utterly. “I get it.”

A very, very awkward silence took over in the hall. Buffy shifted uncomfortably. “So, um, do you know where they keep the black paint?”

“What d’you need it for?”

“Poster. Anya’s theory is that the black will attract more, in her words, ‘insane corpse-wannabes.’ Goths, in other words.”

“Ah. I see. Did you check the supply closet?”

Buffy’s cheeks were absolutely burning. “Um, yeah. No paint.”

“Try the art room, then,” he suggested.

“Oh, I didn’t think of that! Thanks.” She smiled up at him.

“No problem.” He smiled back, the first genuine smile she’d seen on his face since that awful night. For a second—just a second—they forgot everything that had happened. They started to sway toward one another—

Spike leaned back. “See ya ‘round?” he asked, shoving his hands in his jean pockets.

Buffy fought back the urge to slap him. Dammit, why wouldn’t he just—you broke up with him, Buffy. That nasty little voice that made her see the truth broke into her spiteful thoughts. He’s just trying to honor your wishes.

Her shoulders slumped in defeat. Sylvia Plath, indeed. This sure as hell felt like suicide. “Yeah. See you around.”

They turned their backs on each other, and walked away. Both were in pain, both hearts were screaming at their owners to turn around and return to the comfort of the others’ arms. To just succumb to what they both wanted.

Both stubbornly refused to give in.

~*~

Buffy was halfway back to the gym, black paint in hand, when her cell phone rang. Crap. She put the three cans on the floor and pulled the phone out of her pocket. The screen told her it was an unidentified caller.

“Hey, Buffy speaking.”

“Is this Buffy Summers?”

“Yeah. What’s up. Wait, who are you?”

“This is the LA Central Emergency Care Hospital. Are you the sister of Dawn Summers?”

Buffy felt her whole body go cold. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

A pause. Then: “I’m afraid there’s been an accident.”

~*~

 

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