Buffy was always really surprised that she didn’t get teased more about her friendship with Spike. When she was twelve it was a status thing, being friends with a “grown-up,” but the older she got, the more those admiring remarks turned into dirty jokes.
For the past year or so, though, most people had just ignored the unusual relationship—much to Buffy’s relief. She didn’t like admitting it, but there was a grain of truth in their accusations, and that made her feel beyond dirty.
It was wrong to lust after your 26-year-old best friend. She knew that. It was wrong and dirty and sick and a billion other adjectives usually applied to the freaky Mormons who married five women, but she couldn’t stop it.
Which was why, when the hazy cobwebs of sleep began to clear from her eyes and she heard Spike calling her name, she was positive she was just dreaming.
“Go ‘way,” she muttered, burrowing deeper into her pillow. “Bad dream. Bad bad dream.”
“Not a dream, pet.” A hand touched her shoulder hesitantly before gripping it harder and shaking. “C’mon, Buffy, wake up.”
“Not gonna,” Buffy muttered. Her dreams didn’t usually shake her like this…
“Buffy!” Wow. Dream-Spike sounded urgent…oh, well. Buffy snuggled closer to her pillow, willing her dream to change into something, anything that wasn’t her best friend.
She heard someone exhale, and then two arms gripped her shoulders and hauled her upright. Dream-Spike was strong…not that it surprised her, since real life Spike was strong, too. He had to be, with all those yummy muscles in his arms…
Nu-uh, Buffy. We’re not going there. Not even in a dream. Buffy shook her head firmly and caught a whiff of something. Frowning, she sniffed the air. She smelled the tiniest hint of cologne mixed with cigarettes…Spike to the tee.
Wait. Since when were her dreams in Smell-O-Vision?
Groaning, Buffy opened her eyes. She was sitting propped against her headboard, Spike supporting her, his blue eyes inches from her own. As soon as he realized she was awake, though, he backed away so quickly that Buffy almost fell over.
“Jeez, it’s not like I’m diseased,” she teased, straightening out her pajamas and glancing at the clock. 7:30—way to early to be up, even if she did have to work at the diner. “Why are you here, anyway?”
Spike rubbed his nose. “Anyone ever tell you you’re bloody difficult to get up?”
Buffy shrugged. “It’s a gift. You’re just lucky I didn’t hit you like I do to my alarm—oh.” She smiled guiltily, seeing a growing bruise just under his left eye. “Sorry.”
“’s alright, kitten, I shoulda known better than to try an’ wake you up so early.”
“Which begs the question I already asked. Why are you here?” As in, why are you standing in my room looking hotter than my now ex-boyfriend could ever possibly look? Buffy barely fought a grimace. It was thoughts like that that guaranteed she was going to Bad Girl Hell when she died.
Spike shifted uncomfortably. Buffy was instantly suspicious. “Spike? What did you do?”
“’s not so much what I did as what I said after I busted Angel’s face up…”
“Spike!”
“Okay. Was walkin’ past your house an’ I saw the ponce trying to climb the tree by your bedroom, so I yanked him off an’ busted him up a bit—“
“You do realize you could get arrested for that, right?” Buffy said in what she hoped was a cynically amused tone. The last thing she wanted was for Spike to notice that she was going all melt-ey over the ass-kicking of her ex.
“Well, yeah, ‘f the wanker ever decided to tell anyone—which he won’t b’cause he’s a stupid git.” Spike snorted derisively. “Anyway, he ran off after I told him something that I probably shouldn’t have.”
Uh-oh. Buffy’s heart sank—she could tell where this was going. “Spike? What did you say.”
Spike sighed and ran his hand through his hair, a typical sign on his frustration. “I was just trying to get him to leave off with the stalking, luv, but I told him to “ get the hell off my girl’s property.”
Shit. If her heart had been sinking before, it was sunk now. It was more than sunk. It was tunneling through the earth, headed straight for China.
Buffy banged the back of her head against the wooden headboard. “Oh, crap. Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap!”
“Yeah. I meant to tell ‘im to get the hell off m’ friend’s property, but it came out wrong.” His voice lowered. “You wanna whack me ‘round, I won’t argue.”
She stiffened at his tone. He sounded—well, more than sorry. He sounded like he did the time he’d made fun of Mr. Gordo and she cried for an hour straight. And—she sat up and looked at him closely. God, he looked depressed. “Spike.” His shoulders moved slightly at her voice, but he didn’t look up. Buffy’s lips pursed. Throwing back the covers, she got out of bed and walked till she was less than a foot away from him, arms crossed in front of her. “Spike. It’s OK.”
“No, ‘s not. I just completely fucked up your life, when you go into the diner there won’t be a teenager around who doesn’t know what I said—“
He stopped when she placed a hand on his shoulder. Fighting to ignore the tremors that raced through her, she said calmly, “I was a huge loser before you said that to Angel. Nothing much will change. I’ll just have to put up with a few dirty jokes, that’s all.”
Her friend shook his head stubbornly. “You don’t get it, Buffy. He damn near raced outta there, he was so eager to get home and spread the news.”
She forced herself to shrug nonchalantly. “When it comes to gossip, Angel’s worse than Harmony. He would’ve found something nasty to say anyway.”
He snorted. “You’re tryin’ to make it better, pet. ‘s not working.”
“I really can’t lie to you, can I?”
His answer was a raised brow.
She sighed. “Okay. So it’s going to be a pain in the ass dealing with nasty comments from everybody. That doesn’t mean the world’s ending. I can handle it, I promise.”
“You’re sure?”
God. He was so damn cute when he looked at her like that, all gentle and concerned….Buffy smiled at him. “I’m sure.”
“Good. ‘m still sorry, though.”
Her smile widened and she gave him a brief hug. “You wouldn’t be my friend if you weren’t,” she told him, stepping back.
He smiled back, but it looked forced. “Are you okay?” Buffy asked, concerned. “You look tense.”
“What?” He blinked, looking confused. “Yeah, ‘m fine.”
“Oh. Okay.” Buffy tried to meet his gaze, but she found herself looking away. In just a few seconds, the atmosphere in the room had gone from friendly to…strange.
“I’d better go,” Spike blurted out finally, breaking the awkward silence.
“Oh! Yeah, you should.” She watched as he opened the window and started to climb out. Funny how he was using the same method he’d hurt Angel for trying…”Spike?”
He froze. “Yeah, kitten?”
“I’ll see you at lunch?” Please don’t say no, she pled. If he refused, that would mean that something had changed between them, and that didn’t bear thinking about.
A long moment of silence. Then, to her relief, Spike nodded. “Yeah. See you then.”
He was gone before Buffy could say anything else.
~*~
She stood there, her hair all rumpled from sleep, her eyes and mouth smiling and warm, wearing nothing but some shorts and a loose t-shirt, and hugged him—and then asked him why he was so tense.
God protect the bloody innocent.
Spike sighed in frustration and fought to regain control of his body. He’d been at work for more than an hour now, and he was still…twitchy.
“That bad, huh?”
He jumped. His boss, Anya Jenkins, had snuck up behind him. Abso-fucking-lutely wonderful. Just what I need to make my day complete, he thought sarcastically. “What’s bad?”
The head of his department rolled her eyes sarcastically. “The last time you were this fidgety, it was right before you shared orgasms with that Drusilla girl.”
Spike stiffened at the mention of Dru. “That was eight years ago, Anya.” He felt no qualms about using her first name; technically, she was in charge of him, but he was her most competent worker and her friend.
“And you acted exactly the same as you are now,” Anya pointed out. “Although you were just a paper pusher back then, so you didn’t have a desk to fidget at.”
He sighed, exasperated. “How in hell did you get to be so good at selling people things when you’re so fucking blunt?”
“Why are you using so many bad words? Are you sexually deprived again?”
“Anya!” She was the only girl in the world, aside from Buffy, who could make him blush—and she’d just succeeded admirably.
She sighed. “Okay, fine, I’ll stop. And for your information, I’ve had such incredible success in my chosen career because my clients aren’t my friends. I don’t have to be annoyingly blunt with them to get answers.”
He knew that she was hinting—surprisingly delicately for her—that she wanted him to tell her what was on his mind, but he wasn’t biting. If he revealed even a fraction of what he was thinking, his normally open-minded friend would probably have him hauled off to prison. Not that I really blame her. He half felt like turning himself in.
“Spike! Would you stop brooding already?”
“Eh?” He blinked and Anya’s irritated face suddenly came into focus. “Right. Sorry.”
She sighed. “Even if you’re not going to tell me what’s wrong, this is still a business and there’s money to be made. So get to work!” And with those not-so-motivating words, she left his office.
As soon as the door closed behind her, Spike buried his head in his hands. Brooding. Dear God, his best friend had fucked him up so bad…
Then again, there was the distinct possibility that he’d already been fucked up. What kind of 26-year-old man was best friends with a sodding teenager? Anyone who was like that, as Buffy would put it, had serious issues.
But—she was so intelligent. More than that, really. Living with parents who didn’t exactly get along most of the time, working at that diner when she was just a little tot, enduring the persecution of her peers—all of that had made her seem far older than she really was. It was unnerving sometimes to remember that she was only sixteen.
That’s right, you wanker. She’s sixteen. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered. If the all holy Shepard of Nazarene could get him out of this mess, he just might have to become a religious man after all.
Anya poked her head into his office. “Brooding!” she said triumphantly.
Spike rolled his eyes, his rather large troubles momentarily forgotten in the light of how annoying his boss was, and got back to work.
~*~
“You little slut!”
She’d been hearing these words all morning, but the voice saying them had never been more welcome than the one coming from the person who plopped herself down on the bar stool. “Hello, Faith,” she said dryly, grabbing the empty fry basket from another customer.
“All this time, you’ve been humpin’ the hottest guy in this whole fucking town, and you never bothered to tell me?” Faith shook a finger at her mock-scoldingly. “You are one bad girl, B.”
“Hey, guys!” Willow said brightly, taking a seat next to Faith.
“Hey, Wills.” Buffy smiled at the redhead before saying to Faith, “I would be if I had been, which I wasn’t. And he isn’t, by the way.”
Willow blinked. “Um, did I miss something? Why are we talking in tongues?”
“Buffy finally got some brains and screwed Spike’s out.” Faith grinned with obvious pleasure.
“What? Oh my God!”
“Willow, calm down!” Buffy glared daggers at the now grinning brunette. “I didn’t screw anyone’s brains out, okay? Faith’s got it all wrong.”
“What’s with the denial?” Faith asked. “I’m all about older guys. You oughta know that.”
“Okay, first of all, nothing happened!” Buffy exclaimed. “Second of all, ew! Spike is my best friend!”
“Your incredibly hot best friend who just happens to have an ass that puts the all-mighty Angel to shame,” Faith reminded her. “So why don’t you wanna jump him? Because it’s wrong?” She punctuated her mocking question with a wicked grin.
Buffy pursed her lips primly. “Among other things, yes.”
“Well, that’s a hoot and a half. You want him, girl, and you know it.”
“Wait. I’m confused,” Willow said plaintively. “Buffy’s boinking Spike?”
“If you listen to Angel—who is such a dead man when I find him,” Buffy added darkly. “Spike’s tongue slipped—don’t you even start, Faith—and he called me his girl when he was talking to Angel.”
“Oh, Buffy, that’s so romantic!” Willow, as usual, was being Silver Lining Gal.
“Actually, I thought it was way more romantic when Harmony came into the diner and announced to the whole place that I was a hobag,” Buffy said sarcastically. “It was a mistake, Wills.”
“Are you sure?” All of a sudden, the usually-nerdy girl looked sly. “Or do you think it was more of a Freudian slip?”
“What she said, minus all the brains. The man is hot, B.”
“You already said that,” Buffy reminded her. “Spike is my friend, ok? I’m really getting tired of saying that!”
“Right,” Faith drawled, grinning, before she hopped off the stool. “I gotta run, there’s a principal at Sunnydale Elm who wants me bad.” She winked at the two other girls before exiting the diner, hips swaying.
Willow wrinkled her nose. “Isn’t Principal Wood—“
“Like, thirty? Yeah.” Buffy rolled her eyes as she poured a coffee. “Faith might be eighteen, but that’s still in the realm of the seriously gross. Hold on a sec.”
She took off her apron and hat, tossing them on the inside counter, before calling to her dad, “I’m on break!”
They exited the diner, arms linked. “I know you were kidding,” Buffy said. “It’s just, I’ve been dealing with Harmony and company all morning, so having my friends get on my case was seriously not of the good.”
“I know. Sorry.”
“It’s ok.” Buff smiled at her friend.
“So, what exactly happened?” Willow asked curiously. “The way Angel tells it, Spike was being creepy stalker guy and Angel was being the virtuous boyfriend.”
“Virtuous ex-boyfriend,” Buffy corrected.
Willow’s face lit up. “Buffy! You finally dumped him? That’s grea—I mean, that’s terrible.” She put on a not-so-convincing look of sympathy.
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Feel free to gloat. I am so over him it’s not even funny. I mean, Spike and I were just walking in the park and Angel went all wife-beater on me.”
Willow wisely kept her thoughts about Spike’s role in the debacle to herself. “So, you and Angel are officially over this time?”
“Remember the time I wore that orange wrap dress to the Spring Fling and had to spend an entire night listening to Cordelia telling me I looked like a rotten orange?” Willow nodded. “Well, I’m even more over Angel than I was over that dress.”
Given that she’d burned the dress after the dance, that was really saying something. Willow patted her friend’s back. “That’s great, Buffy. I’m proud of you.”
Buffy smiled—or at least tried to. To her surprise, she’d been feeling sort of bad about the breakup. “Thanks.”
Willow wasn’t her best girl friend for nothing. “Wanna go for ice cream?”
“Please,” Buffy said. The two of them walked toward the ice cream parlor, neither noticing that across the street, a platinum blonde was ducking into Hank’s Diner.
~*~
A/N: This chap was kind of long…hope you liked it! I swear I’m going to give this story an interesting plot sometime ;) Thanks a million times over for all the overwhelmingly incredible reviews I’ve been getting for this story. You guys are amazing *hugs* And of course I wouldn't say no to more *is about as subtle as an elephant...*
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