Chapter 16 – Defensive Much?
Buffy's head hurt. How could she concentrate on the confusing calculus when she couldn't even think? Halfway through the class, she gave up and let her mind drift.
It had been over a week since she'd dusted Riley. A week of waking up with nightmares, of swinging between tears and bursts of rage, of isolating herself from everyone to avoid their pity or their help. Even her mom had gone light on the lecturing when she'd seen how not well Buffy was dealing with everything.
Two serious boyfriends in her life and she'd killed them both.
"Miss Summers. Class has been dismissed."
Buffy started at her professor's voice. Embarrassed, she quickly gathered her things and hurried out the door, nearly running over Willow in her haste.
"Oh! Will! Hi."
"Hey, Buffy. I was waiting for you," Willow said. "How are you doing? With the whole—everything?"
"I've had better years," Buffy said with a weak smile.
"You look tired."
"Nightmares."
Willow nodded her understanding. "Espresso Pump for coffee?"
"That might be nice," Buffy said. She swung her book bag over her shoulder. "I could use a shot ofwakiness ."
"So, Buffy," Willow said as they crossed the common on the way to the coffee shop, "you haven't been returning anyone's calls—not even Giles's. We were getting worried."
"I know. Sorry. I needed some time. I still need some time."
"I'm so sorry about Riley."
Buffy sighed. "I found Graham yesterday—Riley's Initiative buddy? He promised to tell Riley's family." She wrapped her arms around herself. "You know? I don't even know what Riley's parents' first names are. He never told me. And I never asked. That's weird, don't you think? All the time we were together and I didn't even bother to find out his parents' names?"
"Buffy..." Willow touched her arm gently.
"I slept with the guy how many times? And I have no clue what his favorite food was. Or what kind of music he liked to listen to." She stopped walking and turned to face Willow. "What's Tara's favorite movie?"
"Casablanca. Why?"
"See? No hesitation. You just knew it. Ask me what Riley's favorite movie was."
"Buffy, you don't need to do this to yourself."
"Just ask me."
Willow frowned worriedly, but asked, "What was Riley's favorite movie?"
"I don't know." Buffy started walking again. Willow hurried to catch up with her. "I mean, my God," Buffy continued, fisting her hands, "I know more about Spike than I knew about Riley. I know what brand of cigarettes Spike smokes. I know his favorite TV show is Passions and that he likes to listen to the Sex Pistols. What does it say about me that I know more about my undead former enemy than I did about my own boyfriend?" Buffy stopped abruptly again and sat down in the grass next to the sidewalk. "I'm a horrible person, Will. This almost feels like Angel all over again. But so much worse because I don't think I ever really loved Riley."
"Buffy, get up," Willow said, holding out her hand. "You're not a horrible person. You didn't turn Riley. You didn't make him threaten your mom. Sleeping with Spike? Probably not the smartest thing you've ever done. But most boyfriends would rant or break up with you, not go find the nearest vamp whore to... And this isn't helping, is it?"
Buffy took her hand and allowed Willow to pull her up. "It was helping a little until the vamp whore part."
Willow grimaced. "Sorry."
"No, don't be. There is no right thing to say about all this." Buffy touched Willow's shoulder. "Actually, if you don't mind, I think I'll pass on the coffee after all. I should get back to my room and study a while before patrol tonight."
"Oh! Sure! I understand. But you'll call, right? I mean, if you're in a talky mood?"
"Sure," Buffy said as she reached out to hug Willow. "I'll call."
They separated. As Buffy walked away, she glanced over her shoulder to see Willow still standing where she'd left her, a concerned look on her face.
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Buffy silently plunged the stake into the vampire's heart. As his dust cleared, she saw Spike watching her from a dozen feet away.
"No quips tonight, love?" he asked.
"Not in a big quippy mood," she told him. "What are you doing on campus?"
"Same thing you are, I suspect. Patrolling for nasties."
"But why here?"
"It's a regular stop on the Spike's Demon Killing Tour," he said. "Lots of sweet young co-eds to protect." He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket and shook one out. "Honestly?" he said before putting it into his mouth and lighting it. "I was hoping to bump into you, Slayer."
"Why's that?"
He blew a cloud of smoke out of the corner of his mouth. "I hadn't seen you around, is all. Wanted to know if you were okay."
"Thanks for your concern," Buffy said dryly. "Now excuse me while I go do my job."
"Buffy." Spike cupped her elbow as she turned to leave. "I didn't think you'd want to see me, so I've stayed away."
"It's for the best, Spike. Nothing should have happened between us anyway."
"You're wrong," Spike said harshly. "What happened to Finn had nothing to do with us."
"How can you say that?" Buffy shook his hand off her arm. "It has everything to do with us—or at least with me. I'm disgusted with my behavior. And I can't trust myself anymore."
"Then trust me, Buffy. None of it was your fault."
"Have you ever taken responsibility for anything you've ever done, Spike? For any of the lives you've taken? For any of the people you've hurt?"
"I'm soulless, remember? You like to remind me of it often enough. Don't have to feel those things—remorse, responsibility. I'm evil, right?"
Buffy narrowed her eyes. "But have you? Because we both know you're not like other vampires. Have you ever felt sorry?"
Spike took a long drag on his cigarette before grinding it out beneath his boot. "Don't like hurting you. Not anymore. I feel sorry when I do." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "I've got regrets, Buffy. I know you won't believe it, but I do."
Buffy shook her head and looked away. "I don't know what's worse," she finally said. "You being what you are or me believing you."
"Obviously you still have no qualms about hurting me, though," Spike said. "And with that, I'll say my goodnights."
"Spike, wait." She grabbed the sleeve of his coat. "That was—uncalled for. I do believe you don't want to hurt me. And I know you're trying to help with all the patrolling you've been doing lately. I've heard the stories about you, Mr. Blond Avenger. And who made up a lame name like that, may I ask?"
"Better than the Bloody Avenger, don't you think?"
"Marginally." That got a slight smile from him. "Since we're both out, both with the same purpose, why don't we do it together—patrol, I mean."
"Patrol. Right," Spike said with a sigh. "Why the hell not?"
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They fell into an unspoken routine over the next several weeks. They'd often meet after dark near the clock tower on campus and hit the Sunnydale demon highlights. It felt—good. Working with Spike. They read each other well. And Buffy could concentrate on what she needed to do without having to worry about him getting hurt. He was fast, strong, resilient—much like herself . She was surprised to admit they made a good team.
After patrol, they'd usually sit on the Gunderson memorial and talk. Sometimes it was just Buffy complaining about her classes and professors. Sometimes it was Spike telling edited stories of his andDrusilla's past. But it was comfortable and easy being with Spike. Buffy looked forward to spending time with him.
Spike was walking Buffy back to her dorm after an early patrol on a Friday night when they bumped into the Scoobies.
"Buffy!" Xander said. "I haven't seen you since—well, since you smacked my face halfway across your room."
"Xander," Buffy said calmly. "I didn't know we were getting together tonight."
"It wasn't anything really planned," Willow said. "You've been so—avoidy lately." She shot a look at Spike. "We didn't think you'd want to come with."
Buffy raised an eyebrow. "So you didn't even bother to call and find out?"
"We're sorry, Buffy," Tara said. "We weren't trying to leave you out. Honest."
Anya was suspiciously quiet, looking anywhere but at Buffy.
"Besides," Xander said. "Looks like you've already got company."
"Harris," Spike said, his voice a low warning.
"Spike," Xander said with a matching tone.
"And the testosterone is flying all over the place!" Willow said, tugging on Xander's arm.
"Xander," Buffy said, "it's been over a month. Can't we move past this? We've been friends a long time. I'm not ready to just let that go. Are you?"
A flash of shame crossed Xander's face. "No, Buffy. I'm not ready to just let our friendship go. You and I really need to talk."
"We do." She looked at Spike quickly before asking Xander, "Do you have some time now? Or are you guys headed somewhere in particular?"
"Just the Bronze," Xander said. "Wanna come with? We could find a quiet—well, quiet-ish —place there to talk."
"Spike?" Buffy said. But he was no longer standing next to her. She looked around quickly to see him halfway across campus already. She got her disappointment under control before turning back to her friends. "Yeah. That sounds good."
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"So, Buff," Xander said after they'd gotten their drinks and found a somewhat private place to sit, "how are you coping?"
"Better now. I still feel somewhat responsible for Riley becoming a vamp, but I'm dealing."
"Is your mom okay?"
"She's remarkably bounce-backable . She gets exposed to a lot, being the mom of a Slayer. And she seems to handle it all really well. Either that or she's about to explode any day now and I'm just clueless. Which is possible. "
Xander laughed a little. Then it was time for the uncomfortable silence. Buffy turned her glass in her hand, staring at the liquid inside it.
"I'm sorry, Buffy," Xander finally said. "The things I said to you that day, they were really uncalled for."
"Thanks, Xander. And I'm sorry I slapped you. You hit a big old nerve."
"I know. And you were hurting over Riley. I know you were. I picked a horrible time to—"
"I've slept with Spike."
"—bring all that huhbalabuh?" Xander stuck a finger in his ear and jiggled it. "I'm sorry. I thought you said you slept with Spike." He laughed.
"I did say that," Buffy told him quietly but firmly.
"As in, 'I'm tired after a long night of slaying so let me crash on your sarcophagus' slept?"
Buffy gave him a look. "Xander, what do you think?"
"I'm thinking I'd like to use lye and a steel brush on my brain to erase the image you've just given me."
"I just knew you'd understand." Buffy looked away.
Xander touched her knee. "Sorry, Buff. Just give me time to adjust here. And to resist asking what the hell you're thinking. Except I just did. Ask that."
"He's changing."
"Into what exactly? You think if he didn't have that chip he wouldn't be out slaughtering all of Sunnydale?"
"No. I honestly don't think he'd be doing that. Despite what you might think, Xander, Spike's not stupid. If he wanted to kill and eat, he could easily get someone else to do the dirty work for him. But he's not. He's helping. And he's not just helping me. He's been patrolling on his own too and gaining quite the reputation on campus as a mysterious superhero-ish good guy, which is weird because it's Spike, but it's still true."
Xander leaned forward and took her hands in his. "Buffy, he still doesn't have a soul."
"Not in the traditional sense, no. But if you could see how hard he's trying..."
"Trying to get into your pants, that is," Xander broke in.
Buffy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She would not hit him again. Slowly she opened her eyes and focused on him. "I'm not saying he's perfect. He's still infuriating and lacking in the moral compass department and says and does stupid things and maybe he is doing all of this so I'll see him in a different light. But does the reason why he's doing what he's doing really matter? Doesn't it just matter that he is?"
"Obviously it doesn't matter to you." Xander let go of her hands and sat back in his chair. "I just don't trust it. That's all."
"Ethan Rayne has a soul. Gwendolyn Post had a soul. For God's sake, Faith has a soul."
"None of them devoured half of Europe."
"Why am I even trying to talk to you about this? Ever since Angel..."
"'Ever since Angel' is why I feel the way I do about this."
"Xander, I wanted to talk to you tonight to get past what's happened between us, but also so I could tell you what's been going on in my life. I've been keeping things from you because I was afraid you'd react just like this. But I need you to understand one thing: I am not asking for your permission." She put her glass down and stood up. "Thanks for the apology and for the drink. But maybe it's time you go home and think about how you can love Anya when she spent a thousand years as a demon. How many did she kill, Xander?"
She walked off, ignoring Xander's calls for her to stop. "Come on, Buff. Buffy! Wait! There's love now?!"
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Buffy doubted Spike would be in his crypt at this time of night, but she needed to check anyway. Since leaving the Bronze an hour ago, she'd been wandering, trying to figure out why she'd told Xander about her and Spike. She wasn't sleeping with Spike now. That was in the past. Now they were just—friends. Friend-like. Slaying buddies. And she was good with that.
Except for that small part of her that made her breath hitch and her pulse jump every time she saw him. No matter how hard she tried to ignore that part or will it away, it was still there.
"You're here," she said, stopping suddenly as she entered his crypt. Spike was sprawled in his chair in front of the TV, dressed only in a pair of jeans. He sat up quickly when she spoke.
"Buffy. Didn't expect to see you here." He leaned forward to snap the television off and looked at her over his shoulder. "Thought you were out with your mates."
"I was. Sort of. Xander and I, we talked a bit. And then I wandered. And now I'm here."
"Can see that. What's up? Come across some new big bad in the neighborhood?"
"No. That's not why I came by. I thought..." Buffy's voice died in her throat as Spike stood and strolled towards her. "Your chest..."
Spike looked down at himself. "Oh, right. I should grab a shirt." He turned to look for one, but Buffy's hand on his arm stopped him.
"No, I meant you're healed. Here." She touched him very lightly where Riley had plunged the plastic stake. "No scar."
Spike stilled under her hand. His voice was very deep when he spoke. "Amazing thing, supernatural healing. It's almost like nothing ever happened."
"But it did. It all happened, Spike. The kisses, the non-spell, you and me together. As much as I've tried to ignore it when I'm with you, I still think about it all when I'm not. And Riley..."
Spike gently touched her hair. "I'm sorry it had to end that way. I won't lie. I never liked him. Never thought he was right for you. But I'm sorry for what you had to do."
"Yeah, well. Relationships and me? Tend to end with someone dying. More."
"Should I take that as a warning or a challenge?" He let his hand drift down her arm, creating ripples of the good chills. Buffy's scalp prickled. He was so close.
"How do you want to take it?" she asked. Her voice sounded strange. Constricted. Nervous.
"Me? I never turn down a challenge, love. You should know that by now."
"Is that all I'll be to you, though? A challenge?"
Spike dropped his hand and stepped back to really look at her. "What are we saying here, Buffy?"
"If we—try this. If we really do whatever it is we're doing, I need to know why. Why you'd want to." Buffy suddenly found something really fascinating to stare at on her left thumbnail.
"Fine. Fuck with me. Very funny, Slayer." Spike backed away from her, hands in the air. "So now your Scoobies will pop out and say, 'Look at Spike. He's so bloody pathetic, thinking he's in love with Buffy. Thinking she could ever return even a smidge of that feeling.' Well, I'm not falling for it. Go find another sucker."
"What? Spike, no. I'm not messing with you. Honestly, I don't know what I'm doing—what we're doing, if anything. I definitely know it's not what I'm supposed to be doing as the Slayer. But it might be what I need as Buffy—and did you just say you're in love with me?"
"Is it hot in here?" Spike asked suddenly. "Because I'm thinking it's hot in here. Water. I could drink some water." He moved to the refrigerator in the far corner of the crypt. "Want some water, Slayer?"
Buffy went to him as he rummaged around inside the fridge. She put her hand on the hollow in his back where his ribs ended. How come she'd never noticed what a beautiful back he had? "Spike. Stop. I don't need water."
Spike straightened and slammed the door. He turned to her, his expression stormy. "Then what the bloody hell do you want?"
"Thing is? What I want?" Buffy stared at him hard. "I think it might be—you."