Chapter Twenty
“What the – how did—why -- What the hell are you doing?” Anya shrieked.
Buffy’s eyes widened and she looked up at William whose eyes were also wide. They were frozen, unable to move. Then, like chickens with their heads cut off, they scrambled to gather their clothes.
Anya stood there, gaping at them. “You—you—“ she pointed at them, her voice pitched high.
“Anya, would you stop? Only dogs can hear you right now,” Spike told her, reaching for and then tugging on his pants quickly, and snapping up.
“You—you have your shirt off – what is that?” she said pointing at his scar.
Quickly, he tugged on his shirt, ignoring her. Buffy, having dressed in record time, stood in front of him. “Anya, listen—“
“Listen? You want me to listen?” she laughed maniacally and glared at her icily. “You whore!” she slapped Buffy across the face, startling Buffy, who stood there, with her eyes wide and her hand on her cheek. Her cheek felt warm. That was going to leave a mark.
“Don’t you dare hit her!” Spike bellowed.
“Don’t you tell me what to do, you bastard,” Anya snarled, focusing her ire to Spike now. She pointed at him, “This why you broke up with me isn’t it? God! I should have known. The way you always wanted to spend time with her, come over here to see her. And here I thought you were just being nice to her for me. So, what was it? Needed some fresh blood? Figured the needy widow was the way to go?”
“She’s not needy!” Spike shouted, “And if she is, then she isn’t anymore needy than I am, Anya.”
“We didn’t plan on it, Anya. It just sort of happened,” Buffy said softly.
“How fucking trite is that? ‘It just sort of happened?’” Anya glared at her.
“Anya, I know you’re upset right now and I didn’t mean for you to find out this way—“ Buffy started to reach for her and Anya slapped her hand away.
“Don’t touch me! How could you do this to me? I’m supposed to be your best friend. I was there for you when your husband died – What would he say huh? What would Doyle say if he knew how you’re fucking my boyfriend!”
“I’m not your boyfriend, Anya,” Spike said deeply. “If you could just listen—“
“No. I don’t want to listen—“
“Anya please,” Buffy begged, her eyes welling up in tears. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you. I didn’t plan for this to happen.”
“But it didn’t stop you from doing it, did it? You just . . . what was it, Buffy?”
“We understand each other—“ Buffy started.
Anya laughed again. “Oh please!” Meeting her eyes, she said in a low tone, “The only thing he had to understand was how fucking pathetic you were. Are, actually. Poor little Buffy who can’t take care of herself. Poor little Buffy who cries all day and has no one to love her. Not anymore anyway. Look at you! Did you cry for him, Buffy? Did you sob your little eyes out so he’d feel sorry for you? Is that how you did it? Maybe I should try that in the future. I’ll just tell them I’m a grieving, helpless widow and turn on the water works. How could you do this Buffy? God, what would Doyle say? He’d say you were disgusting, that’s what he’d say.”
Buffy’s bottom lip trembled and her tears spilled over.
“That’s it, cry!” Anya shouted, her eyes wild with sick delight.
Spike stepped forward, “Stop it right now, Anya. I think it’d be best if you left.”
“Oh, and you’ve got him whipped too. How sweet.” She shook her head and let out an utterance of disgust. “You two deserve each other.” She started on her way out and then stopped and spun around. “I just need to know. When? When you came over here to do her ‘hedges’?”
“After we broke up, Anya,” Spike told her. “Now go.”
“I don’t believe you. And you don’t get to tell me what to do! Seeing as how I’m the one that was lied to –“
“Get out!” Spike shouted so loudly at her, that Buffy jumped from her stupor.
Without another word, Anya stomped out, slamming the door behind her so hard, the house shook.
“Buffy?” Spike whispered, “Buffy, look at me,” he demanded gently, standing in front of her.
She looked up at him, “I did a bad thing,” she murmured.
“Buffy,” he shook his head, “No, baby, you –“
“No, I did. I really did. I hurt her. I didn’t want to hurt her, but I did. I should have stopped. I should have . . . . I should have stopped. I should have tried to get you back with her instead of . . . instead of having sex with you on a car! Oh God!” She walked away from him, shaking her head. “She’s never going to forgive me now. Never.” She spun to him. “I told you, I told you this would happen!”
Spike stood there, staring at her, letting her rant and trying not to yell at her that they were happy before Anya walked in. That she had been happy for the past few days and to remember the connection they’d felt to each other – the connection that Anya had basically torn to shreds; the connection that Anya had single-handedly made seem tawdry and wrong. How could it be wrong? He was in love! How could that be wrong?
“What did Doyle say yesterday, Buffy?” he blurted out.
She paused in her ranting. “What?”
“What did he say when you told him about us?”
She swallowed, “He—he was happy for me.”
“You felt it then? That he felt happy for you—“
“I felt him give us his blessing” she murmured. “I know it sounds crazy—“
“It doesn’t sound crazy. I talk to my parents all the time.”
She looked at him, startled. “You do?”
He nodded, “I always feel better after I talk to them, too. It doesn’t sound crazy to think that our loved ones are still there in some capacity; that they pay attention to what we’re going through, and take the time to listen when we need them to listen, and give us advice when we need to the advice. I told them about you; told them before I showed you their picture.”
“You did?”
He nodded.
“What did – what did they say? What did you tell them?”
“That I met this amazing woman and I felt things for her that I had never felt before. Told them how you lost your husband and how you were Anya’s best friend. Told them how Anya was the girl I was dating, but that I couldn’t stop thinking about you and feeling things for you.”
“I –I told Doyle how you were Anya’s boyfriend when I met you.”
“What do you think he thinks, Buffy? Do you think he shares Anya’s opinions?”
“Which ones?”
“All of them.”
“No.”
“Do you believe them?”
“That you’re just using me because I’m a ‘sure thing’?”
He nodded.
“No,” she whispered.
“Do you know what my parents told me to do?”
She cocked her head to the side in question.
“They told me to break up with Anya.”
“Doyle wasn’t so forthcoming with the advice,” Buffy said dryly, looking away from him.
“We were happy before she came in,” he pointed out softly.
“But she came in.” She looked back at him, “You were right. I should have told her.”
“And she probably would have said the same ugly things.”
“Yes, that’s true. Though, walking in while we’re in the afterglow was probably not the best thing for her to see. “
“I agree, but – Buffy, you really need to lock that door.”
She started to giggle and he could tell she didn’t really want to, probably because she felt she had no right to, but she gave in and giggled anyway.
“She has a key.”
Taking a deep breath, he rubbed the back of his head, “Something tells me you’re gonna either have to get that key, or you might want to look into getting your locks changed. She’s got a volatile temper, in case you weren’t aware.”
“She’s been my best friend for years now, I’m aware of her temper. She once threatened Doyle with a kitchen knife after we had an argument once. She actually pointed it on him and told him to never make me cry again. He was duly frightened.”
“Not at all psychotic,” Spike said, monotone.
“Is it . . . is it wrong that I’m getting angry?” she asked, uncertain.
“As long as it’s not at me.”
“No, at what she said. About me.” A beat. “Do you think it’s possible to get your tear ducts removed?”
Now he couldn’t help it, Spike started to laugh out loud. “I don’t think so, pet.”
“I’m a crybaby,” she whispered, scowling at the floor.
“Why are you listening to her?” he asked on a sigh. “I thought we agreed to not believe what she said.”
“But I cry a lot!”
“Hello, have you been here the last couple days? Woman, you’ve made me cry too!”
“Because I cry so much, it was bound to rub off on you!”
“I disagree. There’s been a lot of emotional stuff going on in here—“
“Yeah, because the cry baby can’t handle anything!” she exclaimed, throwing up her arms. “You say ‘hi’ and I sob. Someone says ‘Doyle’ and I’m a mess. I literally do cry at the drop of a hat.” She pointed at him, “So don’t you dare say you cry just as much as I do. You don’t cry like I do.” She pointed at herself. “I should be dried up by now!”
They stared at each other, gasping for air from all the shouting, and then burst into laughter.
“Are we really arguing over crying?” she asked through her laughter.
He nodded, “I think we are.”
“Now I’m crying because I’m laughing so hard. I can’t win!”
Spike laughed harder. When they’d calmed, Spike looked up at her, “Buffy?”
“Mmmm?”
“You’re not going to dump me, are you?”
She met his eyes. “I’m not going to lie to you, Spike. I feel guilt. Lots of it. But . . . “ she shook her head helplessly, “I can’t stop wanting to be with you.”
“Can you come here then? Cause you haven’t been in my arms since—“ he never got to finish the sentence because Buffy had rushed into his arms, nearly knocking them both over with the force of her lunge.
He held her tightly. “She was wrong about many things, Buffy, but one in particular.”
She looked up at him, “Which one?” she asked, puzzled.
“She said you had no one to love you.”
Buffy smiled.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“Spike?”
“Mmmm?”
“I’m a little worried about Hurricane Anya.”
“Afraid of what she’ll do?”
“Yes,” she said against his chest. “Do you think in time she’d . . . forgive me?”
“I don’t know, Buffy, I just don’t know.”
“Maybe I’ll give it a few days and then try talking to her.”
“Can you make sure you’re away from sharp objects, please?”
“Maybe in public?”
“So she can publicly humiliate you? Why don’t you wait for a bit, eh? I’m sure she’s on the horn now to Jerry Springer—“
Buffy swatted him and laughed, “You’re evil!”
“The baddest baby,” he said and leered at her, tucking his tongue behind his front teeth.
“Well, I plan on talking to her. I’ve got to work it out somehow.”
“And if you can’t?”
She looked up at him sadly. “Then I lost my best friend.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
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