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CHAPTER 24 -- Resistance

She found it taped to the front door a week and a half later when she arrived to open Fairytale for the day:

“Bard Apartments. Room 512. Four o’clock,” the paper read. It was written in Spike’s distinct handwriting -- hurried but with a hint of the elegance of the proper cursive his father had distilled in him when he was young.

Buffy knew exactly where the address was. It was an apartment complex on the outskirt of the Sunnydale University campus. It housed students lucky enough to score a place outside of the dorms. And she knew exactly where Room 512 was -- it was Spike and Xander’s apartment for their four years in school. Buffy had roomed in the dorms with Willow for the first two years, but both got an apartment with Anya for their last two.

Buffy pulled the note off the door and folded it, sliding it into the back pocket of her jeans, and headed for the pile of boxes of new merchandise that sat in the corner. The balk of her day had gone on a little distractedly, Spike’s note pinned in the forefront of her mind. The last time she had seen him was the night on her porch when he had kissed her, insisted that one day she’d love him, and left town for L.A. Just what exactly was he up to?

And of course, he had left her to deal with the whole Spike-loves-Buffy debauchery on her own. Buffy couldn’t even count the number of Willow’s chocolate chip cookies she had to eat to ease her best friend’s pain. The redhead that insisted that the whole thing was all her fault and she shouldn’t have stuck her nose in any of it. Yet, Buffy couldn’t help but notice the distinct look of satisfaction on her friend’s face when Buffy had verbally rehashed the altercations with Spike -- both in the kitchen before her date and on the porch afterwards -- all of which had ended with the blonde couple kissing.

Although as open as she had been with Willow, Buffy kept the cryptic message to herself. Even when the bubbly girl arrived at the shop two hours later. Buffy feared she might seem a little distant, never catching what Willow had said the first time around and constantly asking her to repeat herself. But Willow was still guilt tripping over the fallout with Ben and the apparent addition of Spike to take much notice of Buffy’s behavior.

Nor did Willow act suspicious when Buffy left the shop hours before she normally did, having to make the twenty minute trek to campus. Buffy had simply made the excuse that she had to run some miscellaneous errands for her mother and planned on returning in a couple of hours.

Now, Buffy stood in front of a very familiar door. Taking a deep breath she rapped on it. When there was no answer, she slowly turned the doorknob. Pushing open the door, she was transplanted back to six years prior.

It was Spike and Xander’s old apartment all right, but not only in address. It was exactly the same as they had left it all those years ago. Buffy even thought she could still see the wine stain on the far wall from the time when she had chucked a glass of the deep purple beverage at Spike’s head and he had expertly ducked out of the way.

The furniture, complete with the cheap futon (which boys had picked up off of someone’s lawn) that sat opposite the twenty-five thousand dollar entertainment center, was all in it’s right place. Although she did find the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit calendar mysteriously missing from it’s usual spot as the living room centerpiece.

“Spike?” she called out, slowly wandering around the flashback before her.

She heard footsteps and whipped around to face the hallway. He walked out of the back bedroom wearing an outfit Buffy hadn’t seen him wear since college -- his black ensemble. She didn’t even know that he still had any of that stuff. The snug black jeans, the black t-shirt turned inside out that hid writing that only he knew what it read, the scuffed up boots, and of course his black leather trench coat that had been so ever-present in their college days. Even his hair was neatly slicked back, unlike the more messy spikes he sported in recent years.

Buffy ran her eyes over the scene, “What are you doing?” she asked confused, wonder laced through her voice.

“Starting over,” he replied taking a few steps toward her. “This, if you remember, is the first place we met. It was the first week of freshman year and Xander had invited you and Willow over to meet his stunningly handsome new roommate.”

Buffy didn’t remember the “stunningly handsome” part, but so far the story was true.

“And within, I believe, five minutes, you were already threatening to kill me.”

“You told me I had stupid hair!” she defended.

“Besides the point,” he continued his story, ignoring his part in their first conflict. “Our relationship only went downhill from there, ending with me leaving after graduation. When I came back it was only to get the big project.” His voice quieted, more introspective but at the same time revealing, “And it’s true . . . I didn’t care how it would affect you. But God help me Buffy, somewhere in the middle of all of it I fell in love with you.” Spike smiled, lifting his arms to bring attention to the room, “So I’m starting over.”

Buffy’s brows furrowed, then her eyes widened, “You’re living in Bard?”

Spike laughed, “No, I gave the frat boys living here fifty dollars in drinking cash and told them to get lost for the night. I got a place across town.”

“Oh,” she replied but continued to be lost just seconds later, “Wait, across town? You’re living in Sunnydale? What about your job?”

He bit his lip for a second, unsure how Ms. Responsible would react, “I quit,” he replied.

She didn’t disappoint him. Buffy’s green orbs grew even larger, “You what!? Why!?” she screeched.

“Because if I’m not near you I don’t feel right. Because this is home. Because if I’m really going to make this work with you -- which I know I am -- I have to be here, not three hours away. God help me if some prat gets some bright idea to come after you while I’m gone.”

“Oh, God, Spike, when I told you that this would always be home that night I didn’t mean to give up everything you’ve worked for all your life! Oh God, you don’t have any source of income. You’ll be living in a cardboard box and it’ll be all my fault! That was so irresponsible of you, Spike!” While Buffy continued to rave and work herself up into a frenzy, Spike looked anything but unsure about his decision. “I know you have some sort of idea about us, but what if it doesn’t work out? Then you’ll resent me for ruining your life!” He smiled at her nervous ramblings and stalk slowly towards her. In response she unconsciously back up as she continued her rant.

“Did you give them any notice or did you just up and walk out? They won’t give you any kind of recommendation if you left under bad terms!”

They continued the cat and mouse movement until Buffy was pressed against the door. He had one hand on either side of her, effectively caging her in.

Buffy was scared and he could tell, and not just by her incessant talking. Buffy didn’t like her world to be so abruptly shaken and Spike had effectively turned it on it’s head. He had given up his entire life in L.A. -- one that had taken him six years to build -- and that showed her just how serious he was about her. Now he was here full time. That meant she didn’t get any convenient breaks from him when things got too heavy.

Spike could see she was still mad at him. Her jaw was locked in place and her hands were curled up into tight balls, just begging to sock him in the nose. He gently lifted one of her clenched fists and kissed her knuckles tenderly. “I hate you,” she told him.

“I know,” he continued to worship her hand.

Each placement of his lips on her hand loosened her tight fist. He pressed kisses all over her hand until it was pliable. He intertwined his fingers in hers, “But you love me,” he stated.

Buffy huffed, “Good luck getting me to admit it,” she said doubtfully.

Spike smirked, “Baby, that’s going to be half the fun.”

TBC

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews and the votes on Spuffy Archives! Next chapter: Anya's wedding shower





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