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Buffy lit all of the candles she could find in her house before changing into dry clothes and blow-drying her hair. She looked at herself in the mirror and frowned before lifting the hem of her shirt and looking at the bruises that littered her abdomen. She heard the doorbell ring and carefully walked downstairs, opening the door to reveal Spike. She raised an eyebrow.

“What’re you doing?” she asked, letting him walk past her into the house. “I thought you went home.”

“I did,” he said, looking at her. “And realized it was a bad idea, so I came back.” She looked down. “Where’d you get those bruises from, Buffy?” She looked at him, tilting her head.

“Why do you care?” she asked neutrally.

“Because if someone is hurting you, I want to help,” he said, crossing his arms.

“I don’t want your help,” she replied, walking towards her kitchen. He followed her, becoming angrier every step. “I’m fine, Spike. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Right, that’s why your stomach looks like it was someone’s punching bag,” he said sharply. She grimaced at the thought. “Who did that to you?”

“Go home, Spike,” she said, turning around to face him. “I don’t want you here, and I especially don’t want you butting into my life or coming over to attack me about some bruises you saw on me. I bruise easily- let it go.”

“I’m not letting something like this go!” he said loudly, noticing that she flinched. “Tell me who hit you.”

“Since when do you care about anything that doesn’t involve you?” she asked, looking away. “It’s always been about you, Spike. What Spike wants, what Spike feels, what annoys Spike- you’ve never cared about anything but yourself.” He clenched his jaw.

“I care what happens to you,” he admitted. “I don’t know why, considering you’re a bloody bitch to me all of the time, but I care about you.” She looked at him. “So if someone is hurting you, I want to know who it is.”

“Sweet sentiments,” she said quietly, looking down. “But I meant it when I said that it’s nothing.”

“Why won’t you tell me?” he asked, looking at her.

“Why should I confide in someone who has never shown concern for me before?” she asked.

“Because I care now and want to help you,” he replied firmly. “Let me help you, Buffy.”

“Go home,” she said again, looking at him with fire in her eyes. “Please.” He hesitated before nodding and storming out of the house. She waited until the door slammed shut to let the tears that were forming in her eyes fall.

* * *

When she woke up the next morning, she was happy to find out that the electricity was back on. She hopped in the shower and exited the bathroom to hear the phone ringing. She picked it up and sat on her bed. “Hello?”

“Hi, Buffy,” her dad said, and she raised an eyebrow.

‘Didn’t he come home last night?’ she asked herself before making a face. ‘Eww, I totally don’t want to know.’

“How did last night go?” Hank asked. “I assume you came home after the power went out, right?”

“Yes, we left,” she answered. “Not too much to do when you can’t see anything.” He laughed.

“Good point,” he replied. “I’m going to come home pretty soon and was wondering if you wanted to come back to the gallery today to help me figure out some odds and ends.”

“Sure,” she said, realizing that she didn’t really have anything to do and hoping that Spike had the day off.

“Great,” he replied. “I’ll see you in less than a half an hour.” She hung up the phone and pulled clothes out of her closet before the phone rang again.

‘If it’s Dad saying he’s going to be a little late, I don’t want to hear it,’ she thought as she crossed her room to grab the phone. ‘I don’t need to know anything about his little trysts with Lilah.’

“Hello?” she asked, returning to her closet with the cordless phone in her hand.

“Hello, gorgeous,” Lindsey said, causing Buffy to tense up and stand straighter.

“What do you want?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound afraid. “I thought we agreed that it’s over between us.”

“Is that really what you want, baby?” he asked. “For us to be over?”

“Yes,” she answered sternly. “I don’t want to be your girlfriend anymore, Lindsey.”

“Weren’t we good together, Buffy?” he asked. “Didn’t I make you happy?” She clenched her jaw. “I treated you well, didn’t I?”

“I still have evidence from the last time you ‘treated me well’,” she replied, becoming angry.

“You know I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, and for a second, she almost believed him. “I told you how sorry I was for hitting you. I never intended to do that to you.”

“Why are you calling?” she asked, choosing to ignore what he had said to her.

“Because I want to see you again,” he replied. “I miss you, sweetheart. Come out tonight with me.”

“I’m working,” she said, grabbing jeans and a T-shirt. “And I don’t feel like getting punched around, thanks.”

“Buffy, you have to believe me- I didn’t mean to hit you,” he said sadly. “I really like you. You know that, right?”

“I have to go,” she said, disconnecting the call instantly and tossing the phone onto her bed. “Stupid bastard.” She pulled on her clothes and walked downstairs just as her father walked through the door.

“Ready for the long day ahead?” he asked cheerfully, and she took a deep breath before nodding. “Great! Between the three of us, we should get a lot accomplished.”

“‘The three of us’?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Who is joining us?”

“William,” he answered, walking outside again. She groaned in frustration before following him.

‘Could today get any worse?’ she asked herself as she shut the door behind her.





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