Last Night - Buffy Summers' Residence
She rarely edited the website, and as far as she knew, her customers checked it nearly as seldom. Buffy mainly kept it up for tourists searching out antique shops in the area, and to let anyone who couldn't see the posting beside her front door, know the hours of operation.
She took a deep breath, and stared at the tiny mouse icon. Quickly, she adjusted merely one thing with a few resonating clicks.
Open: Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays - Closed: Mondays, Thursdays, and Saturdays
An odd schedule, sure, but there was nothing for it until Buffy could find someone to run the store without her on the premises. She had been given an opportunity she didn't even know that she wanted until it was thrown her way. A chance to help kids with the problems that were never so superficial as studying or picking out the best college to attend, though Buffy was certain she would be asked those types of questions, too; she was expecting everything from the trivial to the heartbreaking.
If she could just manage to calm down enough to get some sleep, that would be fantastic.
Buffy was over-prepared. She had literally spent hours contemplating everything that might happen tomorrow, from the sorts of people she would meet, to the worst and best case scenarios regarding their questions, and the answers she could give.
Being a guidance counselor often required intent listening, while the replying part was technically optional. Except Buffy knew teenagers, and she knew they would want her opinion if they sought her out. She was afraid she was a little too willing to give it.
She rested her chin in the palm of her hand, and idly stroked Tabitha's back while they both remained glued to the desk which housed her computer. There was a difference between wanting to be heard, and wanting to help. She was scared her devoted intent to do just that might backfire, and while the chance was always present when kids came to see Buffy at her store, if she was at the school for the very purpose of giving answers, all bets were off.
She was supposed to know the answers, the right things. She wouldn't be allowed the slip up of saying something unsuitable, nor could she apologize and call it a day if things went wrong under her direction. She felt a new weight on her shoulders that had never quite manifested when kids searched for answers in a shopkeeper's advice; now, that same advice would belong to a Guidance Counselor.
Groaning, she startled Tabitha into a wide-eyed head jolt. Buffy said, "Sorry," and rose from her seat. She walked into the bedroom and flopped unceremoniously down on the mattress before pulling the blankets high enough to cover her shoulders. She peered at the clock in the darkness.
It was three in the morning. If she didn't get to sleep, her first day at the school was going to be a lot worse than even she could imagine. "Who decided mornings were a good idea anyway?" Buffy grumbled, then rolled on her side.
It wasn't as if she was dreading this whole having a second job thing. Rather, the concept was exciting, and she knew that given the right dose of courage and faith, she could help a lot of kids. She was just so nervous, so terrified of saying or doing the wrong thing, that it was beginning to wear her confidence down.
When she'd told Robin she would take the job, Buffy hadn't expected to start right away, but he asked if Mondays and Thursdays would be all right, and somehow she'd forgotten that tomorrow was Monday. She wasn't sure if it was her own enthusiasm or his auctioneer way of speaking that distracted so well, but it hardly mattered now.
Buffy sighed and rolled over again. Nine AM. She had to be at the school at nine AM. Which wouldn't have been quite so daunting if she could fall asleep. As it was, her mind wouldn't shut off, and sleep seemed far less interesting than all the open possibilities for disaster.
"Ugh!" Buffy wretched her pillow out from under her head and muffled her own complaint. She needed to think of something else before the sun rose, or stop thinking completely. Either was a healthful option.
Unbidden, the image of a man entered beside chaotic thoughts, and she froze in a flat position on her bed. Dark coat, white blonde hair, tall, big boots. Bigger smile. Blue eyes. Strong jaw, trembling hands. She blew out a breath.
Well, certainly better than counting sheep. The fact she may never see him in real life again did have the power to cause a fizzle in her heart, but there were upsides to daydreaming. It couldn't possibly hurt, right?
The more vivid the picture became, and the further into her imagination she delved, Buffy remembered how wonderful allowing this kind of thinking, this kind of dreaming, felt.
Of course, the deeper you wove the fantasy, the deeper you were entrenched, and soon enough your mind was no longer your own. Buffy's heart rate calmed, her belly full of butterflies settled, and sleep just snuck right in, as if merely running late rather than threatening to never show.
Her neck fell slack against the crisp white sheet.
What a lovely distraction indeed.
***
Later that morning, Buffy found herself dragged through the halls of the only high school she'd ever known, utterly out of her comfort zone even with familiarity lying around every corner.
She passed the cafeteria, hoping their food had improved over the years, and the water fountains that never seemed to be operational. The gym's big orange doors. A myriad of different things Buffy saw seemed new and old at once. The feeling was the same; she was just glad it came with memories rather than the terrifying concept of being a student here.
It was only half past nine, and Robin Wood had already given her the grand tour of a building she remembered all too well. She received the keys to an office equipped with everything one might need, and a stack of papers thicker than a college chemistry book.
There were things she had to learn, apparently, and most of them related to the students at the school and all their past transgressions. "Permanent record" wasn't being used, in this case, but there were files weighing down her arms as Buffy and Robin walked through the vacant halls.
She also held sheets and pamphlets on what not to say, and information she might learn which would always constitute a phone call to parents. There were many, many things the students could report to their guidance counselor, but some would effectively break all confidentiality clauses. She dreaded the day that ever happened.
It was one thing to help, and another, completely different thing to dictate what secrets she shouldn't keep for the greater good of a person.
A baseball sized lump of nerves, leftover from the night before, crawled into Buffy's throat. She forced a breath, rubbing at the circles hiding beneath her eyes and under concealer.
Robin was talking as he led the way back to their offices. Hers was right next to his, and it felt as if he'd gone over nearly everything there was to go over. From the hours he wanted her in school, to the power she had when it came to writing students notes so they were allowed to miss class.
It might have been daunting, but trivial rules and other little things seemed so insignificant compared to making sure she did right by anyone who came to talk to her.
Buffy felt her shoulders pulled downward. Robin was still speaking. "... and like I said, you know a few of the kids that go here, so it's only logical they'll have an easier time relating to a local. And someone who's closer in age, but still an adult to them." He flashed a smile. "Before you, I was the closest. Gotta say, it didn't make me feel any younger."
"Well, it feels like forever since I went to high school." Buffy smiled halfheartedly. "So this should definitely be interesting."
Robin lifted a hand and placed it carefully on her shoulder, his voice lowering. "You're going to do fine, Buffy."
She sighed, glancing to the papers in her arms. His hand dropped. "I hope so."
"Believe me, I'm a pretty good judge of character, and if I didn't think you were right for the job then I wouldn't have hired you." Robin leaned to her side and opened the door. "Now why don't you settle in, get comfortable, and start learning about a few of your potential clients." He nodded at the folders and sheets in her hands. "I wouldn't be surprised if you have a couple kids visit you later on."
Buffy stared at the gold letters on the door, reading Guidance Counselor. "They know I'm here? Already?" she asked.
He must have noted the panic in her voice, because Robin smiled as disarmingly as she'd ever seen someone smile before, and said, "I made the announcement when the doors first opened. They all know we have a new guidance counselor on staff, they know your schedule, and who you are."
"Gee, FBI sounding much?"
He chuckled. "Just making sure they're prepared. Believe me Buffy, as hard as this is going to be for you, it's twice as hard for any teenager to willingly take a chance on someone. You'll get used to everything soon enough. The kids?" Robin sighed very shortly. "It's going to be a challenge, just knowing someone's here they can talk to, and convincing themselves that seeking you out is okay."
A spark of light flickered behind those words, allowing her nervousness to fade. Buffy was here so she could help, and she wanted to do that so badly, that the fear of messing up was what nearly made her forget about the opportunity she'd been given.
She could make kids' lives easier, and be the listener they might not otherwise have gotten. Suddenly, the very idea that she could have let this possibility run from her made Buffy shudder. She drew her shoulders up with a sense of purpose. "I understand."
"Good." Robin walked backward toward his own office. "Remember, if you need anything I'm right next door, so don't hesitate to ask."
A nod, a quick wave, and Buffy slipped through the door to her new office just before the school bell rang. It made her jump, but she shook it off and set the pile of folders and papers down for the first time since she'd gotten them. The room was sparsely furnished, but spacious. A brown roller chair sat behind the brown wooden desk, and a painting of a landscape hung on the beige walls in a gilded brown frame. The was a pot without a plant or dirt sitting in the corner next to a brown waste basket. Oh yeah, the carpet was brown, too.
"Welcome home," Buffy muttered, dropping her purse beside a white corded phone on the desk. At least it was clean, and a blank canvas meant it'd be that much easier to furnish it to her liking. She just never expected to get an office until Robin told her she would, and then the idea formed in her head that it would look very official, yet welcoming, because hello, guidance counselor.
She hadn't expected it to look like Giles' always stuffy study, minus several imposing book shelves. Robin told her it would have everything she needed, though, so Buffy elected to give him the benefit of the doubt and check the drawers of the very lonely desk.
Fortunately, her new boss was not a kidder, and all seven compartments were soon found to be stashed with office supplies, the only splash of color she'd discovered inside this entire room. There were a conglomerate of Sharpie markers and file folders, Post-it notes, pens, a cup to put things in, and even a label maker.
Buffy glanced around the room for a clock. She spotted one, black and white and plain, hanging above the door. It was quarter to ten, so with a gusty sigh of preparation, Buffy set about livening up the surface of her new desk. She would get to the foreboding pile of papers once she was done.
***
Somehow the concept of lunch didn't even enter her mind. The concept of time, really, suffered a blow altogether, and before Buffy knew it, she glanced up at the boring clock in her now only somewhat boring office, and found it was ten after one.
She blinked, dropping the folder she held in her lap. The hours somehow passed within the space of what felt like minutes, and now she was astonished. Astonished at her own lack of awareness, and her extreme success in going through what had to amount to a dissertation on generic student behavior and teenage moodiness. Honestly, some of those informative pamphlets Robin Wood suggested she read were as stiff as a good drink
It wasn't those which grabbed her interest so thoroughly, of course. Rather, it was the individualized folders filled with different names and faces. Some were thick and some were thin. Some were simple and innocent, others complex and damaging. She'd lost herself in learning each one's story, and trying her hardest to memorize what she could.
Buffy rubbed her forehead and looked at the clock again. She really should go and get something to eat, because an apple and two cups of coffee hardly added up to a breakfast, but she just couldn't find the will to move. It was true her heavy reading had been interrupted by absolutely no one except for the principal, who upon realizing she'd not been visited by any students seemed considerably disappointed. The better part of her secluded morning went by in paces, however, and now Buffy couldn't convince herself to leave the chair.
She sighed, restacking the pile of wrinkly papers. She put the folders away in a bottom drawer, the rest in the lowest shelf of the plastic file sorter. Watching the clock tick away, her elbows flattened and her right temple found an adequate pillow in the flesh of her forearm. Buffy didn't even notice when her eyes fell closed. All she could think about, in a dreary, foggy sort of way, was how much sleep she had lost the night before.
***
Robin Wood wasn't an easily excitable man, but he was as far away as heaven was from hell to keeping calm when family emergencies were involved.
Everyone knew his wife was pregnant, including Robin, but when Faith called to tell her husband that the time was now, Principal Wood hightailed it out of the office so quickly he forgot everything but his car keys. No briefcase, no jacket, and the only reason he had his wallet was due to the fact he always kept it in his back pocket.
He left in such a hurry, that he completely disregarded saying goodbye to anyone he did not pass on the run out. Which meant he did not go into the newest employee's office, and let her know he was leaving.
He had no idea she was sleeping as peacefully as a kitten on a desk, not even the school bells loud enough to wake her.
***
The halls were finally empty, and Spike released a thick sigh of relief. He yanked the zipper down on his gray uniform and pulled his arms free, tying the sleeves around his waist. Different chemicals tinted the air, invisible but potent on tiled restroom walls. In a second, he added the scent of cigarette smoke to the fumes.
Spike cast one last look around at his handiwork before he started pushing the mop cart towards the door. All he had left to clean were the offices. There was another guy on staff here, and between the two of them, the entire place was spotless within a few hours. They hardly talked, and kept mainly to themselves, which was more efficient.
Spike preferred it. Silence was better than annoying chitchat from a bloke he barely knew, even if it did provide ample time for his mind to run itself into the ground.
Honestly, he was used to thinking in circles, even incessantly. *Go and see her. But what if she catches me? I can lie. But not to her, and even if I can it wouldn't be done very well. She wouldn't believe me anyway. Can't risk it. Gotta see her, though. Miss her. God, I want to talk to her again. I should try and... Stupid git, who am I kidding? Not good enough to do that. Can barely meet her eyes. Those beautiful eyes... Fuck. Get done and go to the cemetery, don't think about her.* A spritz of glass cleaner, swipe of a cloth. *Wonder if she had a good day at the store. Wonder if she's thought about me, even for a second... Like hell she has. Christ, I want to see her. I feel like I'm dyin' here.*
He couldn't seem to get last night's conversation out of his head either. Advice from strangers in a bar wasn't usually sound, but at one point he remembered understanding it, agreeing with it, had seen potential to move forward. Now those same liberating feelings were millions of miles away; all he knew were the obstacles.
Spike emptied the mop cart at a slop sink and left it in the closet. He finished his stroll to the offices hand in hand with a janitor's cart and vacuum. The silence didn't do much for mental wars, but it was peaceful. He wouldn't mind some music if his thoughts didn't seem so bloody important. As it was, the lack of footsteps, the dead quiet of an empty school, chatty kids and even the most dedicated teachers now gone home, was as present as the acidic smell of bleach on his hands. It took a full hour at least for this kind of silence to settle in; the clock on the wall read four o'clock. Two hours today, then.
Spike flicked cigarette ash into an ashtray sitting on the cart. He returned it to his pursed lips, inhaling one last time before irritably stubbing the cancer stick out for good.
Christ, not even nicotine helped calm him down anymore. All that could was seeing his girl, laying eyes on her from a distance. Whether or not he caught little more than a glimpse of a shoulder, or her profile as she flitted about her home, didn't matter. It was like without knowing Buffy was alive and well, doing things she normally did, even if logic argued that she had to be, he couldn't feel adequately satisfied. He couldn't sleep well, couldn't watch television without picturing her face every other second. He just... Spike just needed to know she was still with him, in this town, on this Earth. He loved her, and that was all he understood.
Buffy was his world, and the rest of this planet could fall into oblivion for all he cared, so long as she was happy, and he had proof of it.
"Sorry sod," he muttered to himself. Always love's bitch. First for Drusilla, then for the idea of love in general, the concept of having someone to cherish, someone to hold. Until finally, Buffy Summers. A girl who could call him her own, but he would never be able to call his, no matter how badly he wished, or how he felt.
Spike spent the next ten minutes cleaning the teacher's lounge, before walking the added five feet to the principal's office. He glanced inside and noted with relief and alacrity that it was neat as pin, as usual. Robin Wood was an organized person by nature, Spike figured, because it never took more than a swift vacuuming to leave his business quarters polished and perfect. This time, Spike actually got to toss away a forgotten banana peel, and that was heavy cleaning for Wood's office.
He started wheeling the cart back towards the janitor's closet when his eye caught on a door. It was a plain brown door, just like all the others in this place, that he had seen many times before, also like all the others. Except something was different now. The black tape which had previously been covering the words "Guidance Counselor" was gone.
Spike frowned, pausing outside the door. He knew the school was in need of a new staff member, knew the Principal was searching every day for a counselor, but Spike hadn't known one got hired. Of course, the removal of the tape didn't mean that, but it probably meant the office would be in use soon. Unless some kid simply took it, and no one had noticed yet.
Wood probably found someone to tackle the position, and either they started work today and the office needed to be cleaned, or they started soon and Spike could leave the dusting and garbage dumping for another day.
Determining the circumstances meant he put his hand on the doorknob and twisted, finding it unlocked for the first time in weeks.
Spike nudged the door wider and realized the light was on.
Then, all general workings of a human heart flew out the window. Spike blinked once, twice, before a loud gasp flew past his lips and broke the silence like a hammer. There she was, lying across a desk. That familiar mane of golden hair carpeting her makeshift bed, slender arms, and half of Buffy's fair face.
She was asleep, and Spike moved closer unbidden. His heart decided to start beating again with that first shaky step, and it felt like an electric jolt traveled his veins. A thick swallow, a cautious hand reaching out that knew it would never touch, and then he was close enough to see her eyes. He watched Buffy's lashes flutter, and rise.
He stumbled backward. Thankfully nothing hid behind his feet. Buffy lifted her head and yawned, frowning at her unfamiliar surroundings. Then, frowning at him. Spike couldn't move.
It took her a minute to remember lying her head down. The school, the ringing bells, exhaustion setting in... She was still in her office, and now, so was the man she'd been dreaming about only last night.
Buffy was fairly certain she had never seen a person look so close to horrified in her life. Her whole body jerked in reaction. Her nervous system was finally waking up, and she hastily rubbed her bleary vision away with shaking fingers.
Buffy made an attempt to explain, while her brain revved up and her heart pumped all the blood it was capable of pumping through a stiff, whining body. "I- I- must've fell asleep- I-" She rolled her neck and stood up, brushing absently at her black skirt. "Hi- Uh... How- Why are you here?"
He didn't answer but to widen those pretty blue eyes. She regretted her own carelessness. Somehow, her sluggish brain managed to put the pieces together once she noticed his attire. "You work here." He swallowed hard and nodded. She could see his Adam's apple bob under his skin. "I- I-" Damn, with the stuttering. She shook her head and looked at the wall, at her shoes, the desk. Anywhere but him.
Pink still spread across her cheeks, and it wasn't the blood returning to her brain. Of all the ways she could run into William again, this had not been anywhere on her list of acknowledged possibilities. The whole situation reeked of tension waiting to break. "Well, it's official," she sighed dramatically. "You know my secret now. Total narcoleptic."
Her attempt at making a joke fell flat. The urge to say something else came and went like a gust of wind. She noticed William take a deep breath to rival her own, and Buffy waited, hoping he would speak just so she could convince herself this wasn't one of the most embarrassing things to ever happen in her life.
"I- I- I-" There it was. The start of his sentence, with a stutter to boot. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry- Didn't- I didn't know you were in here. I'm-" He looked down, a flash of pain crossing his face as he saw the folded arms of his uniform about his waist. "I'm s'posed to clean..." he mumbled, "...to clean all f'the offices. M'sorry."
Buffy frowned, pure guilt bombarding her nerves. "I'm sorry! I- I should have been out of here-" She glanced at the clock above the door. "Oh my God! I should have left at two! Two thirty at the latest- You were just doing your job, I so didn't mean to freak you out or- or anything. I'm-" She took a breath when he looked up and appeared worried. "You have no reason to apologize to me. Okay?"
Nodding, William ducked his head shyly for the second time. She couldn't tell that his stomach was tied in knots, but Buffy did guess something wasn't right when he said, "You should be gettin' home now, right?"
"Oh." She found her purse, lying haphazardly on the floor. She must have shoved it down there at some point during her nap. "Yeah, I should. Um..." Buffy grabbed her bag and looked absently around the room for things she might have to take with her. "I just- I think I'm missing my keys."
Spike glanced around the room quickly, spotting them on her desk. He pointed.
Buffy sighed, wanting a second chance at that one. Laughed tightly, she shoved the keys into her purse. "What's that saying? If it'd been a snake... it would've bitten me?"
He nodded jerkily. "Right." Spike made the first move he had since she awoke, and it was a step backward. Every thought, every promise made to stay away for as long as he could, shattered cleanly. He'd known it would happen, but that was supposed to be on his terms, and they weren't supposed to talk again. He was amazed he could speak at all right now, though the attempts were entirely pathetic.
The possibility of Buffy showing up here... It never occurred to him. Not once. Never in a million years would he suspect this, or that one of the very things he refused to tell her could be so easily unmasked by sheer happenstance. His job, as undignified and as insignificant as it was, remained a source of shame. He couldn't give a toss for anyone else, but Buffy's opinion had the power to break a man. Now she knew, and all Spike could do was try to remember how to lock his knees so he might remain standing.
The second time they spoke, and it was like this. The third time she was seeing him, and he wore a janitor's uniform. Spike found Buffy sleeping in her office, and the moment could not get any darker.
Then, a light bulb flickered on, and he frowned at the walls around them. "You- You're the new guidance counselor."
Buffy walked out from behind the desk, and met his eyes with a reassuring smile. "Yeah. I'll only be here Mondays and Thursdays, but... yeah." He moved backward again.
Spike knew the next polite thing to do would probably entail asking her how she got the job, or congratulations, but he couldn't get his lips to open. She was going to be here, two days out of the week. At his work. Her work. She'd be helping kids, and he knew she must be so thrilled to get the chance, for he realized how deeply Buffy cared. It was one of the many reasons why he loved her.
Warmth seeped into his eyes, softness he couldn't control, and some of the cold dread stilled, melted away like ice in the sun. Just a little, but it was enough. "Congratulations, love."
Buffy smiled, a glowing, beaming smile that stopped his heart for a second. "Thanks." She shuffled closer.
Then closer. Until finally, before Spike realized it, she was inches away. There was no table between them, no door, no street or moving cars and window panes. She was warm and looking at him with every ounce of it, enough to heat a home, and closer he'd never gotten.
Breathing made her chest rise and fall. The sweet swell of her breasts edged the neckline of a fine linen blouse, white and proper, while her black skirt fell to the knees. Fabric flowing, her hair a floppy bun that she reached back to undo, and then golden waves were draping around her shoulders . He fisted the urge to rake his fingers through it, and clenched his jaw so painfully tight that it cracked.
She didn't seem to notice, but a soft frown was now marring her forehead, pinching it. She opened her pretty lips to say, "I really didn't- I wasn't sure I would see you again."
That wasn't disappointment he heard in her voice. It couldn't be surprise alone, either. The soft, almost breathy tone of something else caught his attention. Hopeful, happy, timid... Relief?
Couldn't possibly be that...
Buffy smiled again, trying to ease his obvious tension. "I'm glad that I did."
It was that.
He almost choked, but the jaw lock broke and instead his chin nearly met with his chest. Spike didn't say a word until his silence birthed nervousness in her eyes, and something within snapped. "So am I," he said. Discomfort and anxiety came second to her pain. Always. Everything came second to her.
The next thing she did shocked all doubt away. Buffy couldn't really care if he was around, nor could she possibly give a damn if he wanted to see her again or not. But when she paused, tilting her head in a sudden way, and asked, "Would you mind walking me to my car?" all possible arguments were as good as dead.
Beaten, bruised, and buried. His highest, loudest insecurities fell to whispers, and he could hear nothing but her uncharacteristic appeal ringing like bells in his ears.
Buffy didn't need him to walk her anywhere. Not to her car, not even out of the school. She was an independent soul, strong, fearless in her stride. Buffy thoroughly hated asking people for assistance or playing a damsel. He knew that. He knew her, and the last thing in the world she would do is request help she didn't need.
Which meant only one thing.
That light in her eyes was for him, and it was feminine, almost determined. Flirtatious.
Reality was never this sweet, and Spike's throat tightened. With a balloon lodged there, beside his heart waiting to burst, he nodded. "'Course."
Buffy smiled yet again, and led the way from the office. When she spotted the cart in the hall it was because she had collided with it. Grunting briefly, Buffy yelled, "Ow!" and hopped on her un-stubbed toes as Spike barreled out. Deducing what happened, he grabbed the rolling cart, panic in his eyes. "Fuck, m'so sorry!" he cried. "I left it out here- I'm sorry. Oh, Buffy-"
She waved a hand, smiling slightly as her face heated ten different shades of red. The hopping ceased. "Don't worry, it's not your fault! It's not your fault. I have eyes, just sometimes I forget to use them."
Her shy laughter turned into giggles as she righted herself, and without force, the terror subsided. The embarrassment practically disappeared, and his self hatred minimized to little more than two or three mental curses. Buffy glanced at the yellow cart and asked, "Gotta put that away soon?"
She watched as something darker, a gray emotion, crossed William's face. His blue eyes dulled and before she knew it, he'd clammed up as tightly as a lock box. He jerked his head towards her office door before closing it. "After- Have to clean-"
Realization dawned. "Oh." Buffy thought quickly and said, "Wait. No you don't." He stared at her. "Don't bother. It's not dirty in there, and I spent a long time getting that desk in order."
He frowned, glancing fast to the letters pronouncing her title on the door. "But I-" He stopped, let go of the doorknob and looked to her for something.
Her mouth lifted on one side. "Leave it for another day."
She couldn't know his heart felt as heavy as a church bell right then, or how her kind indifference to the quality of his job made Spike want to bottle his own surprise and pleasure, just so he could relive it later. Look at it and remember the woman of his dreams hadn't balked at what he did. Remember that she walked with him as he pushed the janitor's cart to the nearest closet, and left it there, before following her.
She let him stay by her side, and didn't comment when he tucked his hands into the low pockets of his dirty uniform. She didn't complain about the smell of bleach and chemicals, didn't do anything but smile and start to talk. All at once, the shame Spike had felt so many times before, dimmed like a porch light.
She asked him how long he had worked at the school, and he hesitated. "Um, 'bout- 'bout fourteen... years." After college ended, which he attended for two years under his mother's urgings, was when Spike got this job to accompany his second. It was hardly a fact about himself he wanted to tell her, so when Buffy looked Spike straight in the eyes and said, "Wow. Long time. You probably know this place better than I do," all sweet and open, he couldn't help but swallow an exhausted sigh.
Relief, when accompanied by shock, was a jarring kind of peace. Spike felt muscles unwind in his back, and then his shoulders, until a smile spread across his face.
Buffy noticed that smile, and it drew forth her next question with minimal anxiety. "Did you go to school here?"
He ducked his head, looking around at the walls and floors like they'd changed colors, suddenly new. "Yeh. Seems like forever ago."
"I know what you mean." They turned a corner. Walking to the parking lot was a journey led by neither, because they both knew the way too well to forget. "Can't say I miss going to school here, but I'm happy with the new job." As they neared the double doors, she stopped, and wanted to ask if he thought they'd be seeing more of each other now that they both worked at the same place.
The hasty pause he lent his feet made her rethink that idea. William was still nervous, and her rush to know certain things might seem pushy; not to mention desperate, on a total Dating 101 No-Nos scale.
*Whoa, hold up. Dating? Is that what I'm trying to do?* She resisted shaking her head. Since when had she decided that. No. Un uh. Not yet. It was too soon. She barely knew this guy, and just because he was charming and hot and had a way of looking at her that made her knees threaten to give, didn't mean much of anything...
Except when he threw a glance at the double doors waiting for her exit, then turned back quick, slightly panicked and asked, "How- How'd you get the new- the job?"
Buffy felt her heart melting.
He didn't want her to leave. It was so beautifully obvious that words died behind her lips and she could only smile.
Spike waited, and when there was no forthcoming reply, but she grinned as bright as a star, he lost track of his thoughts. Anxious nerves dwindled into nothing, as do wispy clouds in the sky. A smirk broke out, shy and soft, starting out crooked until it widened, matching her expression. Buffy's eyes were open and warm and curious, like she was learning about a stranger without them speaking at all, and his heart beat double time.
Finally, remembering herself, Buffy shook her head so gently Spike wouldn't have seen it without that total fascination he kept for every move she made. "I um... Robin- er, principal Wood asked me to be the new counselor. Yesterday."
Spike's enraptured focus slipped, and he frowned very softly, like wrinkles in satin. "He did?"
"Yeah." She shrugged carelessly. "There were some kids fighting outside my store, and I- I sorta helped break it up." Buffy looked down. "He said he thinks that I might be someone the students feel they can talk to."
The frown got deeper. Spike tried to ignore the gnawing inhabiting his chest, rather like a claw scraping at senseless things like jealousy, but he was unable to control his mouth at the same time. "Bloke's married."
She met his eyes, first surprised, then confused. "I know." Robin Wood had married Faith Lehane over five years ago. Buffy remembered clearly; she sold about half their wedding gifts to the attendees. "And that has to do with me getting hired... how?"
*Bleeding. Hell.* Spike swallowed, busying his hands by shoving them deeper into his pockets. Thankfully, he was able to think quickly in the face of disaster. "His wife's pr- pregnant. Heard she was havin' the kid today," Spike mumbled. "Prolly why- why Wood skipped out early."
Understanding fixed in place. "Oh. That's probably why he never woke me up." Buffy laughed quietly and tilted her head as William broke eye contact once again. She wished she could convince him to look at her for longer than a minute. "You did, though."
Her words noticeably startled him. "S-Sorry. I intruded, before." William scratched the back of his head. "I know I should've- should have knocked or-"
"Hey, no I didn't mean that." She rose a hand, quickly breaking his apology in half. "My fault, remember? I'm glad you were here to find me, if you hadn't I could have gotten locked in this place overnight. Can you say 'creepy?'"
Spike's breathing halted, and deeming that he wasn't responding quickly enough, Buffy went on to tell him, "I mean, it was bad having to come here five days in a row every week for four years. I so don't want to spend the night curled up in an office chair. I'm surprised I was actually tired enough to fall asleep on my desk like that."
Her self amused sparkle eased his nerves, which was a first. Somehow, the novelty was beginning to wear a little bit, and he could feel the floor beneath his boots. Could smell the stale school air again, and Buffy's countenance became more than just real. Spike was inches from her body, hearing her voice cascade over his nerves like a lake, and the ripples were finally calming rather than suffocating. Enough, at least, so he could speak without the stutter. "Wouldn't wanna be locked in here m'self."
A sigh of relief trickled down her shoulders. "All these books and classrooms..." She mock shuddered. "Gives me flashbacks to pop quizzes."
He chuckled. She smiled. The tension grew light again, almost nonexistent. Buffy glanced furtively at the exit, wishing for something else to say, anything that might prolong the moment.
Secretly, she was overjoyed to know he worked here, how now she might see William on occasion, often even. Then, of course, there was the fact he also worked at the graveyard, and that led her to believe he wasn't exactly the social type. If all she'd learned didn't already back that theory up, William's second source of income certainly could. He wouldn't like her knowing about it, though, would he? He seemed so private a person, and shyer than a school boy getting called on by his teacher when he didn't know the answer.
She opted for caution and stayed quiet, eyeing the doors again. He spoke up, which urged Buffy to turn her head. "M'sure you'll- you'll enjoy it here, the second time 'round."
She blinked, looking as lost as a kitten until Spike added, "Doin' somethin' different. Bein' a counselor-"
"Oh! Yeah." She shook her head, cheeks going pink. *Damn, Buffy, way to hold a conversation.* A nervous titter left her throat. "I- I'm sure I'll love it. Just hope everyone likes me."
"They'll love you," he said.
She blinked in surprise. His voice, thick, devoted, certain. Buffy never received that sort of faith from a practical stranger before, and she didn't know how William sourced it but nonetheless, she heard it. "Thank you."
His gaze lost its heated attention and he stepped away, but for once, Buffy wasn't afraid he would bolt. No, he looked glued to the floor, even if his whole body shivered with nervous energy. She took a chance and moved towards the double doors at the end of the hall; sure enough, he followed.
They walked outside, across the lot and all the way to her red jeep in absolute silence. Nothing but the cool wind and mossy scents whirled through their fingers, burning their lungs with fresh country air as good as a match.
Spike watched Buffy's hair jump and dance as the wind had its fun, and when they reached her car, the heart in his chest steadied itself to a dull tapping. He felt sluggish, wanted to lean against the driver's door so she wouldn't get in and leave, wanted to stay with her no matter the fear.
For once, his excessive pain was gone. The pain of missing her, of wanting to speak with her, the dreaded conviction that he would never get this close, broken into a hundred pieces. Broken in ways he'd never believed it could be. The moment whispered about how love wasn't so bad after all, now was it? Not when she was near. Not when his tongue did not threaten to choke him and he had fewer reasons to believe Buffy would run from him than he'd ever had before.
Her voice rose from below the hood of the car as she opened the door and got in. He stepped backward, but only by an inch. "Thanks for walking with me," she said. Then, a long pause. Her eyes found his. She appeared as hopeful as an angel, and he wanted to kiss her more than almost all the times before. "Can I-" Buffy cleared her throat delicately. "I hope I'll see you again, William."
"You will."
Her bright smile was a beacon in the night, and he didn't realize his words, his voice, had revealed a wish meant to remain unspoken. Spike stumbled towards the school and Buffy pulled slowly out of the lot, waving goodbye as she just barely avoided a solid yellow parking stop.
Spike lifted a hand to his neck, frowning, rubbing his skin harshly beneath fingers smelling of bleach and glass cleaner. He rewound the moment in his head, the cold Wisconsin wind brushing his face, and a heartbeat speeding.
The air in Spike's lungs left him. All that remained was icy realization, and an afterthought of panic.
***
Buffy drove home with her eyes trained carefully on the road, but her heart between her lips, spread and wide like the moon in the sky. Through her windshield she glanced up, switching the radio on. A song played through the gaps, between girlish half giggles and finger tapping along the steering wheel.
On the days I can't see your eyes, I don't even want to open mine
On the days I can't see your smile, well I'd rather sit, wait the while
For the days I know you'll be near
'Cause a day without you, it just isn't fair
See the days I can hear your voice, I'm left without a choice...
She hadn't felt this way since she was a girl. Since before her threshold birthday when she turned eighteen, before her mother got sick and a boy named Angel entered her life, ready to twist it upside down. Since before her hopes began learning how to rebuild.
Now, there was no twisting, no gut drenched in cold or silence to deafen a lonely heartbeat; there was only flying.
Her car's headlights lit up the short strip of highway, and she made a practiced turn onto her own little gravel road. Heading home, the windows down, with giddiness in her chest.
Plus I get weak in the knees, fall head over heels, baby, and every other cheesy cliché.
Yes, I'm swept off my feet, oh my heart skips a beat
But there's really only one thing to say...
Growing up, Buffy decided, was a double sided card. On one end you found the joker, but the other side beheld a king. A royal face, rich in decadence. You got the good, and you got the bad. Today, Buffy found something she'd thought missing for years.
God damn, you're beautiful to me
You're everything, yeah, that's beautiful
Yes, to me, oh...
Excitement. Butterflies in her tummy. Youthful, and genuine delight, bottled up for her to drink, all because of one man. A man who told her she'd be seeing him again. Maturity did not prevent these things from developing, sadness did. Getting stuck was what drowned sparks in the water.
Yeah you're beautiful, yeah you're beautiful
God damn you're beautiful to me... to me...
Buffy had struck a new match, and the flame could not be any brighter.
__________________________________
END NOTES: Thanks for reading! The song used at the end of this chapter is "God Damn You're Beautiful" by Chester Lee
Please review :)
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