A laughing couple exited the doors of Stevenson Hall, unnoticed by Buffy and Spike. The former was currently struggling with the self-imposed boundaries on her heart, but the latter, unbeknownst to her, was facing the same battle.
It had all been so fast, William realized, his mind spinning with an awe at the strength of his feelings towards Buffy after such a short time. He’d long since stopped denying the attraction and connection between them, yet his reaction to Riley (what kind of a name was that, anyway?) was still a surprise. Everything had just been so fast!
And even more shocking than his little spree of violence, Spike noted, was what had spurred it on—that lithe blonde body he’d cradled in his hands had been none other than the one currently standing before him—and obviously struggling to find the words to say something, her gaze securely settled on the ground before her…
“Who was that?” Spike asked abruptly, Buffy letting out a sigh of relief at his segue into conversation. God, how was he going to explain to her that Captain Cardboard hadn’t been delusional in his accusations? Could he tell her?
“That charming example of America’s fraternity members was my ex, Riley.” Her shoulders heaved in a big sigh. “And also a testament to my bad taste in men.”
Hearing her take even a bit of responsibility for Riley’s behavior set Spike’s blood boiling. “Can’t really call it a taste in men when he’s no more’n a boy, pet.”
“I guess you could say that,” she answered, staring at the door. There were no lights on inside, so she gathered that Stevenson Hall was one of the dorms lacking power. At that thought, a loud group of obviously drunken students exited, the door remaining open—God, could this symbolism get any cornier?
“Listen, Buffy, about Captain Cardboard—”
“You don’t have to say anything,” she interrupted, managing a smile at his forlorn expression brightening at her words. “He was being a complete ass, and I probably would have done the… Captain Cardboard?”
“And she catches it five minutes later,” Spike said, deadpan, his eyes twinkling with mirth. Buffy stared at him incredulously for a second, then burst out laughing.
“I’m sorry you had to hear what he said,” she said after a few moments, smiling up at Spike and almost shocked at the clear affection in his eyes as he stared fondly down upon her. “I promise I don’t get drunk and get sexually harassed with all of my coworkers.” As soon as the words slipped from her lips, her eyes popped open wide and her hands immediately went to cover her mouth. “And that came out so not like I meant it too.”
“You’re forgiven.” God, he was just being so nice to her. And looked so sexy in that leather duster—how did she even know what a duster was? And he smelled so good, even from several feet away. And who could honestly say that a guy had punched out an ex for them?
There really was no decision to make, she realized. “Hey, Spike?”
“Yeah, pet?” She was looking up at him with a cute li’l innocent expression, and it was all he could handle not to push her against the wall and ravage her senseless.
“Do you think you could come inside and talk to me for a few minutes… in private?” The last words were added as another raucous group went inside the building.
She expects me to be able to verbally answer her? Spike thought, his jaw having dropped at her words and forgetting how to function in that tricky activity of speaking. “S-sure, kitten.”
“Alright,” Buffy answered, moving through the still open door and making her way through the mass of chattering students in the darkened hallway until she reached her door. Looking back, Spike was right behind her, looking more than a little flustered at the commotion. It was all she could manage to give him an encouraging smile—meant a little more for herself than him, as butterflies began to go crazy in her stomach with what she was about to say to him.
Buffy was more than a little jaded about things with love, especially when it came down to matters of strong feelings in short time capacities. The moment she’d seen Angel, she’d declared her life’s love for him and awkwardly watched him for months, until he finally noticed her and they’d started going out. But she hadn’t even known him when her feelings began, and this inconvenient detail had been vital in her own idealistic assessment of his character.
So these alarmingly strong feelings towards Spike, after such a short time, did just that—frightened her. Sure, she wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but it was the honest truth. Buffy had been so cynical about relationships and feelings for so long that when she actually felt something—something real—she was afraid to admit that it could be true. And because of this, it was with more than a little nervousness that Buffy opened the door to her room and led him into the darkened space.
“I’ll get some light in here in a second,” she said quickly, throwing her purse down on her bed before opening Willow’s closet door and pulling out the huge box of candles. “My roommate,” she answered, scrutinizing Spike’s raised eyebrow even in the darkness. Opening the box, she grabbed several thick tapers and set them on the various surfaces in the room, before rummaging through the box again—and dropping it on her bed with frustration.
“What’s the matter?” Spike asked, realizing the door to the hall was still open and shutting it softly.
Buffy let out an exasperated growl. “Can’t find any matches.”
Suddenly, a light flared from the darkness, following a soft clicking sound. Buffy looked towards the small flame and saw Spike’s face illuminated, a strange expression on his face as he lowered the lighter to the candles on Buffy’s desk. Her eyes were locked on his as each of the candles was lit, a soft glow in the room making her hair and skin completely effulgent.
The moment the word flitted into his mind, he was certain that she was the beautiful girl he’d danced with at the club, and thinking of all the life inside of her—the life he’d seen first hand the past few days, and that he wanted to take hold of and never let go. After Dru’s abandonment, he felt so cold and dark inside, but being with Buffy… he felt like she was slowly breathing life back inside of him.
The softly flickering light let her finally see Spike’s eyes clearly, and she was shocked with what beheld her. He wore his heart on his sleeve, she was sure of it—how else would she be able to read every emotion so clearly, see the depth of his awe and amazement at being with her? Because those feelings were so very clear to her, and as he crouched on the floor in front of her and looked at her with a questioning expression, the words suddenly dislodged themselves and she was speaking.
“I like you,” she said softly, her voice low and hushed in sharp contrast to the commotion outside of the room.
“I’d hope so,” he answered, a slight smile on his lips—but there was a nervousness in his eyes that lingered.
Taking his nerves as his misconception of her words, she explained. “I mean… Spike it’s only been a few days, but I really like you. And I think you might know what I mean…” Her voice trailed off and her chest tightened when his smile faded and he rose to his feet, anxiously pacing the room. Shit, Buffy thought, seeing Spike’s clear distress and realizing that she may have just pushed it too far. “I’m not saying that anything has to come of it—”
“Bloody hell, woman, don’t you see that it already has?” He stopped moving and stared at her across the room, as she rose to her feet and unconsciously crossed to be closer to him.
“What do you mean by that?” she asked urgently, grabbing his shoulders and forcing him to face her when he looked away. “Spike, what are you saying?”
His jaw ticked when he tensed, swallowing harshly—and when her hands slid down his leather-covered arms, she could feel his body shudder. “Are you here with me?” he asked suddenly, the vulnerability in his voice achingly raw at that moment.
“I just said I was,” she replied evenly. There was a pause.
“I’m afraid to say this,” Spike rasped, staring down at her fiercely before looking away once more. “God, I’m such a git sometimes.”
“What is it?” Buffy pushed, her hands slipping into his own and fingers linking with his.
There was another moment of silence, before Spike spoke. “I don’t want you to think I was lying to you, or deceiving you,” he started, “but I’ve only just realized this tonight. And it’s about what Riley said.”
The name was spoken with such distaste that it took a second for Buffy to realize what Spike said. “Riley?” she questioned. “What about it?”
“You waitress,” he said abruptly by means of reply. “At the Bronze, yeah?” Her nearly imperceptible nod was his answer. “What those idiots said, about seeing you with me—”
“What?” Buffy interrupted, not so much as a question as a catalyst to his revelation. But she was starting to realize what he was going to say, and there was a feeling in her gut that she didn’t like. He’s not going to say what you think he’s going to say, she tried to tell herself, but as the words continued to slip from his lips, all efforts at denial were futile. His hand slipped away from hers and the lack of his touch was almost painful.
“They weren’t lying.”
If there had been moments of silence in the room before, none compared to the deafening hush that echoed throughout the space. Buffy stared, her lips slightly parted as she drew in a breath of shock, but Spike couldn’t bring himself to look away, trying not to give her a reason to believe he felt responsible for a lie, and not a simple misunderstanding.
“I didn’t see your face,” Buffy said meekly, her voice tinier than he’d ever heard it before. “Did you like what you felt? Think you could just play it off and maybe get something again—”
“It wasn’t like that!” Spike roared, anger at the growing strength of her accusations overpowering his restraint. “I was drunk, pet, and didn’t even remember what you looked like until you said where you worked, and those gits—”
“So you were so drunk not to remember the girl you practically fucked on the dance floor, but not the name of the damn nightclub you got wasted in?!”
“As a matter of fact, yeah!”
“Well I don’t believe you!”
“Well you can just—”
Spike broke off mid-sentence as the lights in the room flared back on; both in the room looked up at the interruption, and before the irate Brit could finish his sentence, the door swung open to reveal a tall redhead bounding through the doorway.
“Hey Buffy, I just got back from Tara’s and you’re sitting in the dorm with a guy—THE guy, and wow, I probably should be getting out of here—”
“No, Willow,” Buffy said quickly, grabbing her roommate’s arm as she retreated and stopping her from her escape. “William was just going.”
“William?” Willow squeaked, eyeing the glowering man with the faintest trace of shock. “As in Pratt?”
“One and the same, love,” Spike replied, his voice cold even while his gaze burned into Buffy’s eyes. And without another word, he stalked out.
“Wow,” Willow said, when the door slammed as he exited. “Are you aware that he’s the mysterious dancer guy?”
“Yup,” Buffy said wearily, sinking down onto the bed. “And therein lies the problem.”
“What do you mean?” Willow asked, settling down beside her friend and looking at her with concern. “From what you’ve said, there was major sparkage with Spike—and since you know that the sexy dance was with him, it’s more than sparkage—it’s proven!”
“But he lied to me, Wills!” Only at that moment did the redhead see the hurt in Buffy’s eyes. “He said he didn’t remember, that he didn’t know it was me until Riley said—”
“Whoa, you two ran into Riley? Why? And why exactly was he… here?” She felt weird posing the question, but that was definitely required info from her friend. Wincing at the thought, Buffy quickly laid out the events of the day, turning her gaze away from her friend’s when she spoke of the drinking and involuntarily grinning at the memory of Spike clocking her ex in the face.
“Wow,” Willow said, when Buffy finished her recount of the fight. “Then what happened?”
“Well he practically dragged me over here and we stood outside for a minute, and then…” Her voice trailed off. “I wanted him to come in so I could tell him how I was starting to fall for him.”
Willow’s eyes bulged comically at Buffy’s words. “You? Admit feelings? For a guy?”
“You’re the one not driving stick anymore, Willow,” Buffy teased, but then nodded her acceptance of her friend’s meaning. “I was surprised too, when it came out,” she said, her heart pounding a little faster at remembering the intensity of her confession. “And he told me he was there with me, that he felt it too—but then he had to go ruin it all and say that Riley wasn’t being a lying jerk.”
Willow was quiet a moment, but her friend could tell she was merely gathering her words and thinking of what to say. “Buffy,” she said after a moment, “do you really think he would tell you that if he didn’t care?”
“Why would he have kept it from me if he did?” the blonde countered, her voice rising in indignance. “I don’t know why he said it, but it was the fact that he lied—”
“Did you ever give him enough credit to think that he was telling the truth?” The question was soft-spoken, but it hit Buffy like a ton of bricks. There it was, exactly what she’d never even thought of considering—that the smiling, considerate man that she’d quickly fallen for wasn’t deceiving her. That he was being honest. And, although Willow hadn’t gone as far to say it, that he was telling the truth because he didn’t want a lie to come between them later.
In the future.
“Oh my god,” Buffy murmured, Willow’s understanding face blurring before her as her eyes swam with unshed tears. “I think I just made a huge mistake.”
“Only one way to fix it,” Willow answered, putting her arm around Buffy’s shoulders in a supportive gesture.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Buffy said, an idea quickly forming in her mind as she stood and grabbed her purse off her bed. “Willow, do you think Tara’d be able to drive me somewhere?”
“I’ll tell her to meet us at the car,” Willow said, flicking off the lightswitch and following the determined blonde out the door as she set out to make things right. The candles in the room remained lit, their flickering flames burning as the room once again was swept into darkness.