Buffy looked on in shock as Spike clicked off the phone and tossed it on the couch next to him. He picked up the remote and raised the volume slightly as he resumed watching the screen like nothing had happened—like he hadn't just been on the phone with his shifty ex-girlfriend. Once her breathing seemed to be mostly under control, Buffy began slowly backing out of the room. When she reached the hallway, she flipped around and sprinted into the bedroom. She just couldn't believe it. It had to be some sort of curse! Her father had checked out of her life a long time ago. Riley moved across the country and jumped into bed with the first warm bodies he found. And her mother—well, that wasn't voluntary, but her mother had left her too. And now him. She drew in a shaky breath. No time for tears, Buff. Dragging the t-shirt from her body, she opened one of the drawers designated as hers and pulled out a modest pair of panties. Opening the next drawer down, she pulled out a pair of blue jean cut-offs and an old green tank top. She dressed quickly, briefly getting tangled in her shorts and scraping herself with her zipper. Tossing her keys and wallet into a small purse and flinging it over her shoulder, she turned to leave the room, intent on making her escape. As she bolted through the bedroom door, she ran smack into a hard wall of Spike. He grabbed her shoulders to steady her.
"Whoa, pet! Who lit a fire under you?" he chuckled. She shrugged off his hands and stormed passed him towards the front door. He followed her and regarded her curiously as she slipped on her flip-flops. Tilting his head, "Luv? Are you going somewhere?"
Finally she looked up and scoffed, "Away from you." She picked up her suitcase, still sitting by the door from the night before.
Spike glanced at the bag in her hand then back at her face. Nervously, he inquired, "What's going on, pet?"
"Tell me, Spike, who were you on the phone with?" She stared at his face, wondering if he would lie. Suddenly, she saw understanding light his eyes...and then he had the nerve to smile.
"Luv, just calm down, it's not what you think."
Buffy put her free hand on her hip and gave him a sarcastic smile, "Oh, so you're not planning to meet up with your psycho ex who has made it her life's goal to get you back?"
He sighed, "Buffy—"
"Are you meeting Drusilla, Spike?"
"Well...yes...but it really isn't—"
She held her hand up. "That's all I need to hear. I'm outta here." She moved to open the door, but stopped when Spike forcefully jerked the suitcase out of her hand.
"You bloody well will listen to me!"
She crossed her arms, "Why? I already know everything I need to know. You've always been Drusilla's little brain-washed pet. Isn't that what you told me? Why should now be any different?"
Spike clenched his jaw. "I'm no one's pet," he muttered under his breath.
She flipped her hair over her shoulder belligerently, "Fine, a slave then...love's bitch."
Spike closed his eyes and breathed in deeply through his nose. He allowed his eyes to open and focus directly on Buffy's own hazel orbs. Speaking in measured tones, "You're upset, pet. That's more than understandable. You've been through a great deal in the last week. Why don't we just sit—"
"Of course, I'm upset! Everyone keeps leaving me!"
His eyes widened, "I'm not leaving you, pet. Why would you think that?" He shook his head. "I mean, my god, Buffy, I—"
"You're right. You're not leaving...because I'm going to leave before you get the chance. Goodbye, Spike." He was so shocked by her revelation that she managed to slip out the door, closing it softly behind her. He felt tears of frustration build as his mind warred with itself over the best course of action. Should I go after her or should I give her a little time? He glanced down at his hand still clasping the handle of her suitcase. After a moment, his decision was made. I'm not going to chase after her and drag her back up here kicking and screaming like some sort of Neanderthal, but I am going to let her know that this isn't over. He set the bag down and moved towards the couch. Retrieving the phone, he dialed Buffy's number. A moment later, he heard the strains of some cheesy love song being emitted from a little pink phone half-buried in the cushions of the couch. Fuck.
Buffy was a little surprised when Spike didn't come barreling out after her as she stepped out onto the sidewalk. He didn't even appear as she stood there contemplating where she should go. She thought it best to avoid her apartment, in case Spike did decide to come after her, but she realized she had forgotten to grab her cell phone. Finally, she decided to head in the direction of the pub. It would be open by the time she arrived, and even though she wasn't really friendly with any of the day staff, she would be able to use the phone to give Anya a call.
Even in her flip-flops, Buffy's racing mind caused her feet to do the same. She charged ahead and reached the pub in record time. When she entered, she noted Lindsey behind the bar directing some new girl on the ins and outs of good customer service. Buffy rolled her eyes, imagining him saying something to the effect of "stomach in, breasts out."
"Hey, Lindsey," She said as she reached the bar, "can I borrow the phone for a minute?"
He picked the phone up off it's base and regarded her suspiciously. "You are coming in tomorrow night, right?"
She rolled her eyes, "Yes, Lindsey. Now, can I please see the phone?" He handed it over, and she promptly dialed Anya's number.
"Anya's Sports Repair. We'll service your balls."
"Uh...Anya..."
"Buff! What's up?"
"I—can I come over?"
"Sure, Buff, is everything all right...I mean...I know everything isn't all right or anything but...I'm...uh...other than—"
"Anya, it's not just that." She fought against the tears at the back of her eyes. She wasn't ready for that yet. "I just...I can't talk about it here. I'm gonna catch a cab. I'll see you in a bit."
"Okay, see you then."
Buffy clicked the phone off and laid it on the counter. Yelling a thanks to Lindsey where he was now located at the other end of the bar, she headed for the exit to see if there was a cab readily available. Around this time, there were often cabs staking out the local businesses hoping to pick up customers on their lunch hour. As she stepped out of the pub, she was pleased to see a cab sitting across the street. So, head down, trying to think about anything but the earlier confrontation, Buffy stepped out into the street. Though she was preoccupied, her mind was not so far gone that she did not register the screeching tires to her right. She looked up, horrified to see a black sedan braking just in time to avoid hitting her. The car literally skidded to a stop about a foot from her legs. She was frozen in shock, breathing heavily, cold washed over her body. Vaguely, she heard a door open and a person step out. It seemed like no time at all had passed before someone was standing in front of her, rubbing her arms, and talking to her softly. "Buffy, are you all right? You just stepped right out in my path. Thank god, I have good brakes. I don't know what I would have done if—I'm just so glad you're all right."
As her breathing slowed, Buffy looked up into the worried eyes of a man she knew very well. "Riley."
He held her upper arms, softly rubbing his thumbs across her skin. "Are you okay, Buffy? What were you doing in the street?"
"Oh, yeah, I'm...all in one piece. I was gonna catch a cab, but it looks like I missed it."
"Well, I can take you wherever you need to go, Buff. It's the least I can do for almost running you over."
She hesitated, "I don't want you to go to any trouble, Riley..."
He gave her a big smile. "No trouble at all. Do you live out here?"
"Oh...yeah, but I was just coming from the pub," she gestured towards the building. "That's where I work. I'm on my way to my friend Anya's place. It's about 15 blocks away. I guess if you don't mind..."
"Not at all." He looked at the pub. "Looks like a nice place. You work tonight?"
"Uh, no, I'm off, though I think Anya might have plans to stalk one of our bartenders tonight, so I might get dragged along for that. Not that I mind, I could use a distraction." At Riley's questioning look, "just don't...don't ask."
"All right then, well, come along, my dear, your chariot awaits."
After Riley dropped her off at Anya's apartment, Buffy knew she was going to be in for an interrogation. And boy, was she right. Anya extracted details that even Buffy hadn't realized she had filed away in her memory. What surprised Buffy the most was that, despite Anya's tendency to be rather critical of the opposite sex, she seemed determined that Buffy should have heard Spike out. Apparently, his last minute rescue at the funeral had made quite the impression on her. As for Buffy, she still had not allowed herself to shed any tears. She was desperately trying to hold onto the anger, so she could keep the sadness at bay a little longer. If she thought that her head was mixed up before, well, that was nothing compared to the clusterfuck that was her brain since the moment she heard Spike say that bitch's name.
Hours later, Buffy found herself walking through the doors of the pub once again. Anya was indeed on the prowl for Xander-shaped prey tonight.
"Anya, I'm not really in the mood for this," Buffy complained.
"Come on, it's good for you. Besides, you work here. Free drinks! Enjoy it." She pulled Buffy over to a couple of stools at the bar. Once they were seated, she trained her eyes on Xander's form where he was mixing a martini for a member of the corporate crowd.
Buffy nodded at him. "You should just ask him out. You know he'd say yes."
"Which is exactly why he should ask me out." Anya turned back towards Xander but her mind had shifted elsewhere. Looking at Buffy out of the corner of her eye, "What's going on, Buff? Why aren't you all with the screaming and crying. Is it shock? I just would expect something more. I mean you lose your mother, then you walk out on the man you love—"
"He walked out on me, and I never said I loved him."
Anya snorted, "Yeah, well keep telling yourself that on both counts. It's just...the fact that you're bottling so much of this inside...scares me. Buff, I know this stuff is killing you, and it has to come out sometime. If you keep living in denial, when it comes time that you have to face it...it's...it's just not gonna be good."
Buffy gave her a reassuring smile, "I appreciate that you care so much, but really, I can handle it, I will handle it, I have to. I just—"
"Hey, Buff!"
Buffy whirled around on her stool, "Oh! Hi, Riley. You're...here."
"Yeah, just thought I'd check this place out. Seems pretty cool." He took the stool next to her. "Who's your friend?"
"Oh—Riley, Anya. Anya, Riley. Anya is one of the first friends I made in the city," turning towards Anya, "I mentioned Riley earlier, he gave me the ride to your place." Buffy had mentioned Riley much more than that over the year that she had known Anya.
"Nice to meet you, Riley. You look very well-formed. It's hard to believe you have such a tiny—" Much to Buffy's relief, Anya was cut off by her phone ringing right at that moment. "Oh! Gotta take this. It's probably Emilio!" Once again, Buffy wondered who the heck this Emilio was. Anya hopped off her stool and ran out the front door of the pub to take her call in peace before Buffy had a chance to inquire.
"So, Buff, visited Sunnydale lately? How are your parents?"
Buffy gulped, "Oh...um..my mother...she died, Riley..."
Riley's eyes were wide with shock, "Oh my god! When?!"
Deep breaths. "Last week."
"Oh my god, Buffy. Why didn't you let me know? I would've been there." He wrapped his arms around her. Not sure how she should react, she allowed him to squeeze her shoulders and press kisses to her temple. She had, afterall, been much more intimate with this man in the past.
"Whoa!" Anya appeared behind them, "What's with the lovefest? I don't think Faith and I are the best examples to follow, Buff, though he is kinda hot."
Buffy broke away from Riley, "It's not like that, Anya, I was just telling Riley about my mom."
"Oh," Anya looked contemplative for a moment, "Well, I just wanted to tell you that your man just went by in a cab."
Buffy snorted, "Yeah, well, I don't think he's my man anymore, probably off to rendezvous with his ex." Suddenly, she looked alarmed. "Riley! Are you still with Drusilla?"
"Dru? No, I guess not. I mean, we were never really together. We just went out a few times. I think she's still hung up on her ex or something."
"Or something," Buffy muttered. "Guys, I think it's mission time for Buffy. I'm going to rescue some of my stuff from Spike's flat while he's out."
"Ooooh," Anya squealed, "can I come! I've been wanting to check the place out!"
"Noooo, you cannot come. This is a one woman job."
Anya scowled, "Well, what if Riley drives us down there, and I wait in the car while you go up?" She turned to Riley, "Is that cool?"
"Um, yeah, I guess. What are we doing again?" He looked thoroughly puzzled.
Buffy sighed. "Just drive me down to a building a few blocks away. I'll go grab some of my things, then we can come back here and celebrate the successful retrieval of my crap. I really don't want to get into the why's. Is that okay?"
Riley shrugged, "Works for me."
About fifteen minutes later, Buffy was walking through the front door of the flat—Spike's flat. She would have been there even sooner had Anya not engaged her in another debate about her level of participation in the mission. Thankfully, Anya was still keeping Riley company in the car down on the street. Buffy fumbled for the light switch in the dark room. Finally, her fingers caught the tip and she flipped it upward. She had a very definite and immediate reaction to the room being bathed in light.
She screamed.