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CHAPTER 23 -- Moondance

Author’s Note: Thank you again for all the reviews and for voting for “Comedown” on Spuffy Archives! This is a shorter chapter (the Author’s Notes probably being longer than the story) but I’ve got some great ideas coming up in the future based on some recent experiences I had. I’m very excited for the direction this story is going in and am not going to be stopping anytime soon.

Author’s Note: Ok many, if not all of you, are questioning my use of Ben and not Riley as the other guy. It comes down to this: I refuse to put Riley in a story in which he does not die violently and that just wasn’t where this story is going. And I needed you to like Ben, and his character doesn’t come with all the emotional reader baggage that Riley does. I needed room to work and create my own character a little for the good of the story and I’d be stuck with Riley’s Iowa corn boy image. I hate that image. So sit back, enjoy, and happy reading!

Approaching her front door she saw him. He was on the steps, illuminated only by the porch light and the moon. His eyes were bloodshot and he had his head cradled in his hands. He must have been sitting there all the hours she was gone.

He heard her heels clicking against the pavement in front of him but couldn’t bring himself to look up, afraid of some tale-tell sign on her face he didn’t want to see. She came to a halt in front of his hunched over form. He couldn’t bear to know, but at the same time couldn’t bear not to. The did she/didn’t she had been torturing his every thought for the past three hours, forty-two minutes, and twenty, no, twenty one seconds. “Did you sleep with him?” He asked quietly.

Buffy closed her eyes for a minute, trying to compose her thoughts, preparing what she would say to him. She wasn’t good with words, not like him. He said whatever was on his mind -- eloquently and with no concern to the ramifications. He just let his ideas fall off his lips and let everyone else deal with their meaning. She smoothed the back of her dress and sat down next to him, hands on her knees. “No, I didn’t sleep with him.” She answered just as quiet.

His hands slid to the back of his neck. He met her eyes for the first time, his usually immaculate features wreaked with hurt, slight confusion, and maybe a glimmer of hope, “Why not?”

After Buffy and Ben’s kiss, it had taken half the ride to her house for her revenge mode to cool off and Ben’s chivalry to prevail. He had renounced his earlier motives and refused to continue a relationship with a girl so obviously caught up in someone else. In the end it had all been so very anticlimactic and awkward. “Because he’s convinced I’m love with you,” she answered dully, so very tired of the whirlwind her life had taken in the past couple weeks. She’d have to think about simplifying in the future.

Spike’s body straightened in response.

Buffy rolled her eyes, her mood lightened, “Hold on their, cowboy. Just because someone fancies themselves perceptive doesn’t mean jack for you right now.”

He gave her a smile, “Well, you can’t blame a bloke for holding on to some hope.”

She turned to him, “Why don’t you . . .” He cut her off with his lips. It was demanding, chaste, soft, and promising. Everything a kiss should be.

He pulled away slowly and she sighed at the rightness, her eyes still closed and her lips slightly puckered.

Spike smirked at her state, running a hand into her hair, bringing her back to earth, “Remember to breath, sweetheart.”

Buffy opened her eyes and scowled, annoyed that he had so effortlessly reduced her to a sappy puddle of goo and knew it. “Doesn’t mean I love you,” she said.

“No,” he agreed, a slow smile spreading on his face, “But you will.”

TBC





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