[Reviews - 39]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 1666 times

- Text Size +




The ambulance lights were giving her a headache.

A larger headache than the one already sustained, but they had nothing on that little beam of white light the nice paramedic insisted on pointing in her eyes.

Buffy blinked hard and ignored the urge to shake her head. Quick movements were so not of the good right now.

There was a harsh breeze in the air, kicking up dried leaves on the ground, spinning them around in circles. Her purse sat in her lap and her hands were clean, she was thankfully no longer dizzy while the man who stood as cause for the ambulance was no longer standing.

The determined thief, some guy named Martin, according to the sheriff, was handcuffed and sitting in the back of a police car. His face was a portrait of bruises and selected swelling. From what the officers and paramedics told her, he would be fine. The worst of his injuries were a broken nose and one loose tooth.

Apparently Martin was wanted just one county over for purse snatching and car theft, so there was little upset over his face. The sheriff was more than pleased to arrest him, despite being not so pleased with the circumstances.

Sheriff Howard, or Al- short for Albert -was well known in the community. He was your typical idea of what a small town sheriff should be; fair, honest, and just this side of lenient when it came to the citizens he protected. When this latest incident was called in with her name attached, it was only a matter of time before he showed up to handle the situation himself.

Buffy's attention landed on the two men in the distance as the paramedic began packing up equipment. Al Howard was a good man, a little tenacious, and always determined to get to the bottom of things. He dated Buffy's mother just over seven years ago, close to the time of her death.

It was a cold shock when Joyce died. Buffy knew Al suffered differently than the others. He was as quiet as he had ever been the day of the funeral. The only thing she remembered him saying was how he would always be around if she needed anything.

At the time, Buffy could barely think, and only knew the man as well as she knew the rest of the town. Al showed her unlimited kindness and respect when they saw each other, often reminding her that he was just a phone call away.

Al's devotion to Joyce Summers overflowed into responsibility for her daughter. Buffy never did ask him for help, but now, watching the sheriff interrogate William against the hood of his police car, Buffy realized she may have to.

The paramedic at her side zipped a big bag closed, mentioning something about headaches and not going to sleep. "I don't think it's a concussion, but if you should experience anymore dizziness definitely check in at Webster and they'll perform a CT scan."

Buffy was momentarily distracted from the image of William's bowed head. He was trying not to stare at his bruised hands and failing, while a deputy babysat the thug in the backseat. "CT scan?" she asked. "Why would I need a CT scan?"

"You probably don't, but if you feel dizzy or your headache gets any worse, I think it's best you see a doctor and go to the hospital." The paramedic- Julie, her name tag said -threw her bag over one shoulder and tossed her brown ponytailed hair with it. "And remember what I said, you shouldn't fall asleep for several hours. I know it's early, but even if you feel tired don't go to bed or lie down. Concussions have this nasty way of making sure you don't wake up again."

Buffy nodded immediately. "I won't." She looked over at the deputy again. Standing beside him was the other paramedic, a tall man with jet black hair and impatience written across his face.

Julie recognized her partner's edgy attitude as she followed Buffy's line of vision. "Well, judging by that expression, I'd say it's about time we head out." She strolled away, intending on collecting her coworker.

Buffy moved down from the edge of the ambulance. Walking slowly towards William, every step had her body growing tense, until her purse was wrinkling in her hands. The keys were tucked inside, her wallet safe and secure again.

She wished she could say the same for her mind. Concussion fears aside, this whole experience still had her rattled. Looking at William, straight-backed and meeting the eyes of his interrogator, Buffy was left with more questions and damaged assumptions than answers. All she knew for certain was there was no way she'd let him get into trouble for helping her.


Sheriff Howard brought his pen and paper to his waist, resting it against his belt buckle. He was quiet as she approached. William turned and Buffy smiled as reassuringly as she could.

There were no polite courtesies or announcements. No declarations or disappointed stares. No more questions except, "Can I talk to you for one more moment, Ms. Summers?"

*Ah. Professional Al. That's a change,* Buffy thought dully, then promptly shook it away. Her random brain wandering was going to screw her over one of these days.

She followed Al until they stood only a few feet away. Buffy's headache was seemingly fading, and she could feel William's gaze boring into her back. His knuckles were cleaned up, but he hadn't let the Julie woman bandage them. Buffy's were clean, too, and she sensed that Al was aware of every little detail.

They were side by side. He looked at her with patient paternal eyes. Buffy could barely discern what color they were in the fading sunlight, but his dishwater blonde hair was nearly golden, and his fit frame towered inches and inches above her. "You all right?" he asked.

Buffy nodded easily.

Al sighed, stuffing one large hand inside his front pocket. He threw a look over her shoulder to his deputy, and Buffy heard a car door shut on cue. "We're gonna take this guy in, and then-"

Her gaze widened. "What? No. No, you can't." She would make Al's ears bleed if he tried to arrest William. That was not about to happen. "He was just helping me, he didn't do anything wrong. The other guy- He-"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down. We're not takin' your friend in, Buffy." Al held his hands out in a placating gesture, and waited for the alarm to die down. She froze in the middle of a deep breath, and he continued. "I spoke with Will. He's a bit of a loner that one, but he's hardly the trouble startin' sort. I've met him before, you know. He works on the graveyard shift."

"So I've heard."

"He told me what happened and I listened. It's the same as you told it. This guy you faced off with is a criminal. I'm not going to charge Pratt with anything, so long as he doesn't let something like this happen again." He raised a finger and pointed behind her. "And I told him that. But he was defendin' you, and, well, that's good enough for me. I've never known much about the man, but I know you."

Buffy's whole body felt suddenly lighter, and she glanced anxiously between William and the sheriff. "So it's all okay? We can go?"

Al let out a sigh that required just about every bit of oxygen in his lungs. "Yeah. I've got the information I need for my report. This bastard doesn't need to go to the hospital, but we'll probably bring him to Webster anyway just to be safe. Your friend Pratt really did a number on him." A heavy inhale passed his lips, and Al met her eyes boldly. "Will did right by you today, but if he had gone much harder on Martin I would've been forced to do somethin' about it. The both of you need to be more careful, you hear me?"

She nodded. "Yes. We-We will. Thank you." Arms crossed over her chest, and Al patted Buffy's shoulder.

"I'm glad you're all right." He smiled softly, and she managed to return it. "Be thankful it's Half Price Movie Night, otherwise we'd have ourselves a crowd to deal with on top of all this unpleasantness."

Buffy's lips quirked as Al gave her one more gentle shoulder rub and walked away. She turned around when he strolled to Julie's side.

Almost immediately, William's eyes found Buffy's, then promptly fell away. She inhaled slowly as she made it to his side, all twitchy fingers and steel spine, but her arms lowered when they were only a foot apart. His pale, bruised fingers were stark against the color of black clothes. His gaze was a bright blue world carrying a hundred different needs, wants, and all of them shook Buffy to her foundations.

Before, they were flirting. Before, they were going to have dinner together. Before, it was one kiss. Now... Now, it was something more.

They didn't say anything for a long minute, until Buffy found herself asking him if his hands hurt. "No, just sting a bit," he replied. "Nothin' to complain about, though." The stutter was nowhere to be found.

"Good." It was all that would get by her teeth. "You should put ice on them." Why was her throat closing up? Why was it so chilly out here? Why was it hard to meet his eyes all of a sudden?

"Buffy?"

Her head jerked up. She watched William remove his long coat and step away from the police car. "You're shivering, pet." She felt smooth, warm leather drape around her shoulders and then he tucked the lapels together beneath her chin. Numbly, she grasped the ends so they wouldn't fall open again. "Thank you."

He didn't say it, but she looked up and felt more than welcome. The intensity there left her bare and open. Buffy cleared her throat when the slamming of another car door jarred the silence. "Do- Did you get grilled?"

Al poked his head out the driver's side window like he'd heard his name, and waved, saying goodbye to the both of them. William watched him drive away, something calm and resigned in the smirk on his face. "Just a bit. He mostly repeated the same questions over an' over again. Got to soundin' like a broken record by the end of it."

His countenance lightened suddenly and he smiled. "Bloke was more worried 'bout you than whatever happened. Worked out well, too. He wants a phone call once I get you home."

That startled her. "What?"

Awareness crept into those blue eyes again, like he remembered something vital that had almost slipped away due to carelessness. "That is- Um. I told him I'd take you home. I expect that headache f'yours is still botherin' you?"

Yes, a little, but did she tell him that? Shouldn't she be pushing him away now? Shouldn't that be the next step? After all, old habits were hard to break. "Isn't your car here?"

The fact he'd totally forgotten was obvious, but William merely shrugged and said, "I can pick it up later."

Buffy turned halfway around and they both stepped back so the ambulance could pull out. She nodded to his DeSoto, parked in front of the auto parts shop. She wanted to ask him how he would get home tonight. Would he walk from her house?

She realized the last thing she wanted was for him to do something like that. She didn't know if she wanted him escorting her home, though. Buffy was sure she could drive. She was also sure she didn't want him to leave yet.

Unbidden, words came out of her mouth before they met with any sort of filter. "You were going to fix my car tonight." Buffy inhaled shortly. "That's why you said you were here, right?"

William nodded. He looked like he might be trying to study her and Buffy would have been a little more wigged out by that if his coat wasn't so distracting. It was also chasing away residual numbness. Her head did hurt. Of course it did, and wasn't it so great that she had left a forgotten basket of food inside the grocery store?

It wasn't fair. Here everything started out innocent and exciting, racing time to make it home so she could change, freshen her makeup, and start dinner before William showed up.

Now, there was no dinner, no makeup freshened, and Buffy was a monosyllabic- minus the stutters -mess, questioning just how deeply she was getting herself into this. Which shouldn't happen yet, not before so much else that usually took place in the dating game.

It shouldn't blindside a person after some asshole steps in to hurt you and the guy you like saves the day. It shouldn't happen because so much anger and rage in the moment had made it impossible to mistake William's feelings. It just shouldn't happen like that.

His hands, the gentle ones, the ones that clutched her with painfully clear desperation when she kissed him, were bruised and bloodied. Because of her. William was looking at her with warmth and something unnamed, and it was all Buffy could do to remain standing.

There were so many questions now she could hear ringing in her own head. Then again, maybe that was the brick-to-skull contact thing.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, abruptly looking down. He spoke quietly. "I figure dinner's off the table, so to speak. If you want I can fix the car tomorrow, when we have better light." He threw a contemplative glance at the darkening sky. "Or I s'pose I could do it now, f'you have a proper light back at the house. I'd just have to get the part from the shop first."

Buffy wet her lips and started walking. She didn't say a word as he followed.

They approached her Jeep together. Buffy opened the driver's side door and it swung noiselessly through the air. "Is tomorrow okay?"

He frowned. "Yeah."

"Great." Buffy hopped into the car. When Spike thought she was about to scoot over and settle in the passenger's seat, to make room for him, she stuck her keys in the ignition and tossed her purse there instead.

The engine revved to life. Buffy began closing her door.

It took every ounce of self control to keep himself from grabbing it and stopping her. He remained still. "Buffy-"

The door silenced him. She mercifully rolled down her window as ice spilled through every vein. Spike's pulse quickened. She spoke without looking into his eyes. "I'm fine to drive, I promise. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

His jaw grew tight, and locked. "What time?" he managed.

"I'm home all day. I don't work Saturdays."

He knew that. Spike didn't say anything as he watched her roll the window back up and he didn't move away when she pulled out, self preservation at the very back of his mind. His throat constricted.

He was left standing, quiet and alone in the shadows, fingers going numb from the cold and other things.

That's when Spike realized she still had his coat.

***

Buffy made it home in one piece, despite the tension in her wrists as she drove, the jerky way she stepped on the brake pedal, worse than usual, and the sweat pouring down her neck.

Once cold, she started burning up the second she left. Driving away from William was something she hadn't known she would do until the moment came, and she could only keep going. Get farther and farther while dealing with emotional alarm, high speeds under her feet. Buffy's fingers tightened around the steering wheel and simultaneously felt like jelly.

You couldn't blame a girl for freaking out a little. Could you? Would anyone, if they saw her now? If they saw the way William, a guy who hardly knew her in reality, went ballistic on her behalf? She could have been anybody. There was a chance he would have reacted the same way had it been another woman. Another person. Except his eyes... She finally saw the depths there. She felt like she had just been brushing the surface before, but there was a glimpse tonight. A true glimpse of the man behind the stuttering speech. There someone who cared about her.

Someone who cared deeply.

And she ran out on him.

Buffy sighed, head shaking. She flipped the radio on in an effort to gain distance.

Unfortunately, the radio wasn't so sympathetic.

...I bet you got no idea you're going way too fast.
You're trying not to think about what went wrong, trying not to stop 'til you get where you goin'
You're trying to stay awake so I bet you turn on the radio, and the song goes...
I can't live without you, I can't live without you, baby
I can't live without you, I can't live without you, baby, baby

William looked at her like she was another person, like she was more than just one woman. He looked at her, and she felt a million indefinable things, things she hadn't felt since... she couldn't remember when. He looked at her, and it was a whisper saying he couldn't live without her.

How was that possible? Was she loony? How was it that one man's eyes could scare Buffy so much she up and left after he saved her from some asshole who could have caused some major hurt?

How could William care that much?

The highway won't hold you tonight
The highway don't know you're alive
The highway don't care if you're all alone
But I do, I do.

Better question, why was she running?

She knew, of course, but she wouldn't admit it to herself. Not yet.

Maybe when the song was over.

The highway won't dry your tears
The highway don't need you here
The highway don't care if you're coming home
But I do, I do...

***

Spike stormed out of Cranky Engines Auto Supply, radiator hose, new coolant, and a few large clamps in the plastic bags swinging at his side. He threw it all into the front seat of his car and then locked the door, making a swift turn in the direction of the grocery mart.

*Girl thinks she can shut me out, does she?*

Well, she couldn't. Not now. Not after what was made clear tonight. After what happened, seeing just how far her pride and strength would take her, and how possible it was for the world to take her away from him.

Like his own fears and compulsions fought to keep him distanced.

Spike ground his teeth together as he scavenged the grocery aisles. The paramedics both said Buffy didn't have a concussion, and he knew she was safe to drive by now, but she wouldn't get away that easily.

Not this time. The moment Spike had seen her lying against that brick wall, everything changed.

***

She remembered his soft, careful touches right after the fight.

A washcloth massaged droplets of cool water off her skin. Around her nape, Buffy rubbed and kneaded, trying desperately to forget a pair of blue, beseeching eyes.

He asked to drive her home, and she didn't even bother telling him no.

*God, what is wrong with me? The second anyone gets close I just...*

The moment she walked through the front door, Buffy had hung up his leather coat, half amazed and half terrified to realize she was still wearing it. Tearing off the rest of her clothes, she hopped in the shower and scrubbed the day from her overheated skin.

Now, she opened the door on her toasty bathroom layered with steam, exhausted but refreshed. Somehow, the shower hadn't made her feel any better.

She used to think there was an underlying reason no one ever quite fit into her heart just right, even if at the time she never noticed or acknowledged it. She didn't open up fully to men, not since Angel. Was that really because she was saving herself for a wish yet to come true? Or was it because she was afraid of getting crushed the same way Angel had crushed her so many years ago?

Was she a coward? Was what she thought lay in William's eyes scaring her because it was logically impossible for someone to care so much about her so quickly?

Was it because she didn't want to hurt him like she had hurt others? Or was it really just because she was afraid of getting hurt?

God, Buffy never believed she could be this cliché. So very closed off. Being afraid to love was the driving conflict in movies and books, not real life. Not her life at least. What was she doing to herself here? The worst possible fate she could think of would be emptiness; lack of love, loving another, and being loved. She believed in that connection. She felt it before.

Except that had been different. She was older now.

She wanted to be happy.

The question was, how did she stop pushing happiness away before it could prove itself?

Buffy fell onto her broken in couch, curling against one of the arms. Tabitha, who hadn't left her side since she first stormed in, hopped onto her lap. There was no purring, which was odd enough, but the way Tabitha licked her chin before settling down, no meowing or pawing for attention, told Buffy just who she was willing to trust.

*I really am on my way to becoming a crazy old cat lady.* The thought made her laugh sadly. Buffy stroked the feline's back and looked out the window.

Gazing into the darkness, she imagined the trees lining the road. William had parked his car beside them not very long ago. She thought about tomorrow, and how he might act when he came by to fix hers. She wondered briefly if he even would. Buffy wasn't convinced she hadn't scared him away by making herself out to be a total bitch.

Then, she thought of his eyes and realized with stark anxiety, that he would show. William wouldn't leave her hanging.

Suddenly, she spotted lights in the darkness. They pierced it like skewers. A familiar car sped up her driveway.

Buffy gasped and moved Tabitha off her lap. Running to the door, she opened it wide as a creaky slam of metal announced his exit.

Her porch light was as dim as a little candle, but she could see him clearly. His big boots climbed up her front steps, and he smirked with an unfamiliar, cocky air of self confidence.

It amazed her that she felt a shiver of attraction race down her spine. "William, what-"

William took another brave step forward, two plastic bags hanging from his fingers. "M'here to cook you dinner."

__________________________
The song referenced is "Highway Don't Care" by Tim McGraw
Thanks for reading! Please review!





You must login (register) to review.