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~*~

The next day, Buffy wasn’t sure who looked worse—her, Spike, or Tara.

Which, when you thought about it, was really sort of pathetic. Tara was on the verge of losing her grandmother. Buffy and Spike had just lost a relationship that, when you looked at it logically, hadn’t even been going on for very long.

Love sucks.

Buffy sighed.

“A-are you okay?” Willow asked her, concerned.

Buffy stopped tapping the work Giles had handed out to give her friend a sardonic look.

“Okay, stupid question,” Willow admitted. “It’s just…I’ve never seen you this sad before. I mean, I know I’ve only known you for a little while, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone this sad before, and it’s really—well, sad. Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?”

Buffy tried to smile; it didn’t work. “He’s only a few feet away,” Buffy said in a low voice, fighting to explain. She was sitting in the front with Willow, and Spike was in the back. “It’s only a few feet, but I feel like…he’s just so far away.” She hung her head.

Willow squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sorry it’s so tough for you.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” She fought to keep tears from dripping out of her eyes. Way to make with the whiny drama queen in the middle of class, B.

She frowned. Okay. When did my conscience start sounding like Faith?

Faith as a moral guide…she barely restrained her shudder. She so needed more sleep.

“Okay, class, put away your books and pass your answer sheet down to the end of the row,” Giles ordered.

Buffy gave her sheet a panicked look: it was almost completely blank. Crap! This was not going to help her pull up the big fat F that had been on her progress report!

Her hand shot up in the air almost before she could stop it. Giles smiled pleasantly. “Yes, Buffy?”

“I—erm—“ God, how was it that she could still practically feel Spike’s eyes on her? It was completely unfair—they were broken up! But she would’ve bet her life that while she stuttered in front of Giles, Spike was watching her every move.

“Can I go to the bathroom?” she blurted out, gritting her teeth as a blush rose to her face. Stupid Spike. There is absolutely nothing wrong with asking to go to the bathroom and he’s making me blush…

Giles smiled at her, a smile so knowing that she couldn’t help but wonder how much he knew about her not-so-wonderful nonrelationship with Spike. Crap. Was she really being that obvious?

“Of course you may, Buffy,” he said kindly.

She bolted out of the room, tossing a hurried “Thank you!” over her shoulder. God, she was glad to be able to get out of there—one more second in the same room as Spike and she was gonna end up—

“Hey, Goldilocks. Ever heard of a hall pass?”

Buffy whirled around, an angry retort on her tongue: “Hey, Spike, ever heard of leaving me the fuck alone?”

She’d wanted to hurt him. That was the whole point of the meanness—if she hurt him badly enough, maybe he’d leave her alone.

Or maybe not. He smirked. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Summers. Brit-boy sent me out here to give you this.” He handed her a hall pass, careful to avoid touching her hand.

Buffy narrowed her eyes at him. “Bet you’d love to see that.”

“What, your knickers?” If anything, the smirk got—well, smirkier. “Been there, done that, luv. But ‘f you wanna have another go…” He trailed off, leering at her suggestively.

She recoiled, half in disgust, half in hurt, and felt tears fill her eyes. Well, what did you expect? she scolded herself. You guys are broken up—he has every right to hate you!

But that didn’t change the fact that she wished he would just take her in his arms and hold her until she stopped crying, or the fact that she knew, damn good and well, that she was a pathetic, stupid idiot for even wishing he would. She’d broken up with him, for Pete’s sake!

You know, I don’t really know a guy named Pete…

Even that completely random thought couldn’t cheer her up. She slumped against the lockers, closing her eyes to shut out the sight of Spike standing there, staring at her in a manner that fully contradicted his flip, arrogant talk.

“Summers? I just insulted you, y’know.”

“Would you please just leave me alone?” No anger this time. Not even a fighting spirit. She just felt…empty.

And it scared her.

“Buffy…” Spike took a step forward.

“Just—no.” She turned around and began to walk away, determined to put a distance between herself and the one person in the world who had the power to hurt her beyond repair.

“You can’t just walk away!”

She almost stopped at that. His voice sounded ragged, desperate—broken, almost.

No. Remember Mom and Dad. Be strong. She stiffened her shoulders. “That’s what I’m doing,” she said, forcing her voice to be callous.

Silence for a long enough time that it started to feel sinister. Then: “So ‘s like that, is it? You’re just gonna ignore me?”

“Pretty much.”

“Right, then.”

She didn’t have time to register that he’d moved before he was right in front of her, gripping her arms and staring into her eyes with a look on his face that went beyond angry.

He was furious. Insanely so.

“Spike…” she whispered, twisting her arms. “Let me go!” Louder this time, but not loud enough to make any teacher come out of their classroom.

“No. That’s what you don’t get, Blondie. ‘m not lettin’ you go.”

“I’ll scream.”

He released her abruptly, but his intense gaze kept her rooted to the spot. “You ran away two nights ago,” he reminded her in a low voice. “An’ you’re runnin’ away again. But watch your step, Blondie. From now on, you get yourself alone for even a second, and ‘ll be there. An’ when that happens, there won’t be any power on this earth strong enough to make me let go again.”

She stood rooted to the spot long after he’d left her, stomping off in a way that made her doubt his words not the tiniest bit.

~*~

Spike didn’t, of course, go back to class.

He wasn’t worried about getting’ caught skipping. He knew damn good and well that it wasn’t coincidence that had Rupes choosing him out of all the other people in the room to go give Buffy that hall pass.

Buffy. Shit, just saying her name made him hurt. He took a deep drag on his fag, letting the smoke drift out of his nostrils lazily.

He hadn’t been joking when he’d made his threatening little speech. If he had to, he’d chain her up. Sooner or later, the bint was gonna listen to him.

“Shoulda known you’d be out here. You’re a dick, did anyone ever tell you?”

He rolled his eyes. “Faith, ‘m really not in the mood.”

“Tough luck. None of the rest of us were in the mood to deal with the shit you and B are makin’ us put up with.” Faith came to stand in front of him, her famed “Bring it on, bitch” stance in full evidence.

“Look, ‘f you’re gonna try to do that intervention crap again—“

“No, I’m not,” she cut in. “Actually, I came up here to tell you that I got detention again for kicking Veruca’s skanky ho-bag ass.”

He arched a sardonic brow. “Congratulations. Where should I send the flowers?”

“Very funny, you British asshole. I was in the office waiting for Snyder to bust my ass, and I went by the guidance office.”

“And?”

“Tara’s grandma.” Faith’s voice was flat. “She’s dead.”

~*~

A/N: Sorry for the embarrassing shortness of this chapter, but I’m trying to make the angst as quick and painless as possible =D Hope you liked it, and of course there’s more to come. Review pretty please?





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