Chapter 3
Every instinct Spike had as a cop went into overdrive before he even attempted to open his front door. Early on he had honed his ability to pick up on subtle nuances that others didn’t hear or see. It was something that niggled just below the radar. Whether it was psychic or just plain vibes, he could feel it in the pit of his stomach. Concern for Buffy’s safety left alone in his apartment all day screamed its priority to him. He put his briefcase down and reached under his jacket to undo the clasp that held his gun in place.
Spike took a deep breath, left one hand hovering under the edge of his lapel and turned the door knob. It was locked. He reached for his keys as the sounds emanating from his place vanished.
“Buffy, it’s me,” Spike yelled through the door. “Open the door for me.”
The sound of someone pressing against the door made him want to shake some sense into her. Just let the guy with the gun know where to point it so that he didn’t miss when he shot at her.
“I can’t see you,” Buffy said.
“Bloody hell, woman,” Spike groused but he stepped back and opened his arms wide so she could see him.
The door was opened in a matter of moments with Buffy staring cautiously out at him. She moved back to allow him entrance when he stepped forward. Once the door was shut behind him, his gaze switched from her still half frightened face to the rest of his apartment. He relaxed. No wonder he was getting weird vibes. The apartment hadn’t been this clean since he moved in. The scent of cleaning products hung heavy in the air along with a more subtle aroma. Trying to appear inconspicuous Spike leaned closer to Buffy. It was her. He took a deeper whiff, letting the scent of some sort of exotic fruit invade his senses.
“I’m hungry,” Buffy said, turning to the door and locking it again.
“There should be leftovers in the fridge,” Spike said, putting the briefcase on the coffee table before heading for his bedroom. “Heat something up.” He closed the door behind him so he could have a few moments to clear his head.
There wasn’t any way he could be attracted to Buffy. She was still a child but there was something about her that drew him in. He sighed and opened his closet to get a clean shirt. His confusion switched to anger at seeing her things hanging by his. Then the precise order of them reminded him of why she was there. The hangers were exactly the same distance apart. The clothes arranged by blouses, t-shirts and pants then by color. He grabbed the shirt he wanted and firmly shut the door. It wouldn’t do any good to get upset, he told himself as he changed into jeans and a t-shirt. He had been the one to invite her so he may as well learn to live with it.
Once changed Spike headed for the bathroom but found her influence had reached there as well. He sighed as took in the neat appearance, the separation of their toiletries and the towels hung just so on the bar. Irritation scratched at him again as he washed his face. She hadn’t just unpacked her belongings but she had cleaned and made the apartment a little homier. Deliberately he threw the towel on the back of the toilet. After all it was his place, not hers.
“Buffy,” Spike said, coming out of the bathroom to find her standing in his kitchen. He faced her from the other side of the bar. “Look, I need you to understand something.”
“What?”
“This arrangement isn’t permanent. I have the next seven days to help you out but after that you’re gone. So, don’t try and start decorating or think that you’re my girlfriend or something.”
“You told me to make myself at home,” Buffy said, her face expressionless as she stared at him.
“I know but...”
“And the bathroom was filthy. I didn’t think you’d mind if I helped out while I’m here.”
“I don’t but…,” he gave up trying. Buffy kept giving him logical not emotional responses so maybe it was his defense mechanisms going into overdrive. Since Drusilla had left he hadn’t let any woman get too close to him much less given them a chance to take over his apartment. “I just wanted to make sure you understood that this situation is only temporary.”
“Okay,” Buffy said. She looked around a bit then turned back to him. “There’s nothing to eat in the fridge.”
“There was food in there this morning.”
Buffy looked a little chagrined and he followed her gaze to the garbage bag by the front door. It was beginning to look like there wasn’t anything she hadn’t gotten into while he was gone. He was beginning to be irritated because of the fact he had to keep trying not to be irritated.
“Order a pizza or something. Numbers are hanging up there,” Spike said pointing to the cluttered bulletin board hanging over the bar.
“I don’t want to live on pizza,” Buffy said petulantly. “Not if I’m going to be here for a week.”
It was the final straw. He didn’t know if he could take her invading his life, his personal space and his sanity. Helping her out was one thing but to have to baby-sit her, too, was something else altogether. He grabbed the remote, plopped on the couch and turned the television on.
“There’s a grocery store about a block west of here,” Spike said, flipping on the news. He tried to lose himself in watching the program but found himself keeping tabs on her from the corner of his eye instead. She stared at him for a moment before she came into the room to put her jacket and shoes on. There was one more look of inquiry before he assumed she gave up and headed for the door. She couldn’t get through it though. It pierced his heart to watch her as her hand rested on the knob and one foot would come up before she put it back down then repeat the entire procedure. No matter how badly she wanted to be independent, she wasn’t. And he was an ass for treating her like that. “Do you want me to go with you?”
Spike’s voice was the calming, neutral voice that he used on frightened children or animals that needed patience. She only nodded. Hurriedly he put his shoes, gun and jacket back on. Not once while he was getting ready did she look up at him. She had retreated from him. Gone was the honest, straight forward girl she had been a few moments ago. He missed her.
On the short ride to the store, Buffy sat on the passenger side of the car and stared intently out the window. Neither of them said anything. Spike was too lost in his own torn feelings to really pay attention. This was why he had ignored her for two days. He didn’t want to care about her. His life had been torn apart four years ago after their first encounter. Every arrogant, idealistic view of the world he once held had been taken from him in one afternoon. The day Spike found a little girl imprisoned in hell, he had lost the last of his boyish wonder. It had taken him months to rebuild a view of the world he could live and function in. This time he wasn’t sure he could handle the devastation that Buffy could bring to this carefully constructed new life.
“Come on, lamb,” Spike said, sliding out of the car and holding his door open for her.
Buffy slid across the seat, ignoring his proffered hand and waited silently beside the car while he locked up. They fell into step beside each other as they headed into the store. Spike noticed that the long braid of her hair was beneath her jacket. Without really thinking he reached up to pull it out when her hand wrapped around his wrist.
“Don’t.”
“Why not?” Spike asked, with a smile. “I just thought you’d want it out.”
“He grabbed me by my hair,” Buffy said, wrapping her arms around her middle and stepping closer to Spike.
For the first time since she had come blasting back into his life, Spike did an honest appraisal of her appearance. Her clothes were severe, a gray oversized t-shirt and loose blue jeans. On her small feet was a pair of work boots that he would bet everything had steel toes. His eyes moved back up her body to the braid and the pretty face that was devoid of any makeup. Everything about her screamed ‘don’t touch me’ until you looked into her eyes that were filled with longings made up of dreams.
Buffy was looking everywhere at once as they entered the huge store.
“Did you…have you been out…shopping since?” Spike stumbled out. He was unsure how to approach Buffy’s past few years without hurting her or bringing up memories better left alone.
“No,” Buffy said, approaching the produce section with a smile. “I went riding in the car a few times since I was released. I never went inside anywhere.”
“Wow, didn’t you miss shopping?” Spike asked, watching her while she picked out fruit.
“Online.”
“Oh, guess that works,” Spike said, shaking his head. He noticed she was filling a plastic bag with a large quantity of nectarines. “Uh, you’re only going to need stuff for a week. Not years,” he added hoping to lighten his words.
“Sorry,” Buffy said, emptying out the bag. She carefully refilled it with exactly seven of the ripe, sweet smelling fruit. “I haven’t…”
“It’s okay.”
The corners of her mouth lifted for a moment and for some reason it gave him encouragement. They wandered around the store with Buffy right by his side. If he walked away to look at something, she stayed where she was until he came back for her. Finally he just didn’t leave her. It was strange to him that she found the courage to go out in public with him but hadn’t in the year she’d been at home. Didn’t her parents even try to assimilate her back into the world?
Eventually Spike found himself adding things to the cart that he liked. He never kept a lot of food at home because he was hardly there. If he wanted a home cooked meal he’d go to Angel’s house for dinner. His cousin and his wife, Cordelia, always let him mooch off of them if he was hungry. But from the look of the rapidly filling cart he’d be eating at the apartment a lot during Buffy’s stay.
“Do you cook?” Spike asked, as she was looking over the choices of steaks.
“A little,” Buffy answered, picking up a New York strip and showing it to him. “I watch the food channel a lot. It doesn’t look hard.”
“It can be though,” Spike said, taking the steak from her and putting it back. He picked out two thick porterhouses and threw them in with the rest of their goodies.
“Do you?”
“I used to a lot when I was living with Dru…my ex-girlfriend, but since she’s been gone, I haven’t.”
“What happened?”
“Long story,” Spike said, trying to shift her toward the checkout. “Something I’m sure you don’t want to hear about.”
“Oh,” Buffy said, stopping until he came back to her then she turned toward the frozen foods.
“Pet, I know we’ve got to eat but I’m not sure how much you know about cop’s salaries.”
“I’m paying.”
“Oh,” Spike said, echoing her earlier word in his confusion. There was no way she was earning her own money but she had said that had gone shopping online. Maybe her parents had given her a credit card since she had been able to procure a hotel room. “You have a credit card?”
“Check card,” Buffy answered absently as she studied the ice cream.
It was the cop in him. He couldn’t let it drop without knowing. “You have a trust fund or something?”
“Settlement.”
“From?”
“Do you ever let go?”
“Nope, I’m like a bull dog,” Spike said, smiling. “And that’s why I’m good at what I do.”
Buffy threw her choice in the cart then pinned him with those eyes. “The guy…he had been in trouble before when he was a minor. His parent’s got the charges dropped with the agreement that he got psychiatric help. He didn’t. My parent’s sued his parents. Their money paid for my move to the hospital in Sunnydale and there’s still some for me to go to college on.”
“And living expenses?”
“Yeah,” Buffy said. “Let’s go.”
It hit Spike that he didn’t really know a whole lot about her or about what happened to her. He knew about the time that he had spent with her and what he had heard from the court case but nothing else. Of course, no one knew the exact details of her abduction and confinement because she had never been able to talk about it. It was the DNA from the body fluids found in and on her body that had convicted nineteen-year-old, Lance Peterson, of the crime. Plus, there had been a couple of witnesses that had placed him at her middle school and the area where she had been found.
Thankfully, her parents had pursued the legal actions to help give Buffy some security. Spike had to give them credit for that at least. Hopefully this week and the search would help her to get the resolution she needed so she could go on. She certainly had the determination to get through this and he vowed that he would help her anyway he could to be able to live again.
“Spike?”
With a start he realized Buffy was still waiting for him. Forcing himself from his thoughts he put his hand on her lower back, “Let’s go home.”
to be continued…
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