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Chapter Eight

Shame filled Buffy when she sat down across from Spike back at dinner. He'd gone ahead of her and told her to wait for a few minutes to gather herself and to make sure it didn't look odd them being gone so long.

Looking over at Anya, who smiled at her, Buffy wanted to die. She wanted to crawl under the table and die. What kind of person had she become? What was happening to her?

Looking discreetly at Spike, she studied him briefly. He was just a baby. Maybe six years wasn't a lot, but he was still just a baby. She'd been married, she'd had a whole other life. A life very different than the one she was currently leading with having make out sessions in the men's bathroom with her best friend's boyfriend. This was not her, this was someone else.

She was loyal, always had been. In her five years of marriage to Doyle she had never once looked at another man with the intent of doing anything with them. She'd never understood it, especially after her father had left when she was still a child to take up with his several years younger girlfriend. Her mother had been devastated, but had also thought that she had it coming to her. After all Joyce Summers had taken up with Hank Summers when Hank had already been married.

What was it her mother used to say when Buffy's father left? 'If they'll do it with you, they'll do it to you.'

Where are you going with this, Buffy? she thought. It's not like you're planning to be with Spike. You had two indiscretions with him that you need to put a stop to. No matter how good it felt, no matter if being in his company makes you feel lighter and happier than you have in months. He's Anya's boyfriend and you are not that type of woman!

Doyle would be disgusted with her.

Suddenly, she felt trapped. Trapped and alone and suffocated. She had to get out of there, and she had to get out now. Do not pass go; do not collect two hundred dollars. She didn't even care at this point about upsetting the people around her, she felt as if the walls were closing in on her and she could not, in good conscience, sit here knowing what she'd done behind Anya's back and pretend that she was okay with it.

And then the food came over. Oh God, I need to go, this man next to me, this stranger is buying me dinner and I'm sitting across from the man whose tongue I just had in my mouth while he sits next to the woman he fucks on a nightly basis. I need to go.

She stood on shaky legs and focused in on Anya, "Ahn, can I talk to you?"

Anya immediately sensed something was wrong and nodded quickly, following Buffy to the lobby.

"I can't do this," Buffy blurted out and tears started to roll down her cheeks. She was so close to the door, to escaping that she felt relief flood her and the tears came from relief. From almost being able to escape.

"Buffy, what--?"

"Just get my stuff, please, I don't want to cause a scene. I need to go," Buffy pleaded with her. "Please Anya. I don't ask for very much of you but I am asking you this. Please get my things and let me go."

"Buffy, how are you going to get home?"

"A cab. I'll call a cab."

"Nonsense, I can have Spike-"

"No!"

"Okay, okay honey, calm down. I'll get your stuff and make your excuses. Why don't you go to the desk and call a cab okay?"

Buffy nodded and walked, trembling, to the desk with a mixture of anxiety and relief coursing through her. The hostess smiled as she approached.

"Everything all right, miss?"

"Can I just use the phone, please?"

"Of course!"

Dialing information and then calling a cab, Buffy waited for Anya to return. Peering discreetly into the restaurant she spied Spike standing up, looking ready to bolt from the table. God no, Buffy pleaded, please do not come out here. He sat back down, due to what looked like Anya's intense demand, scowling. She let out a breath of relief and watched Anya march to her with purse in hand.

"Buffy-"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"But-"

"Not now, Anya."

"Can I come over later?"

"I just want to be alone, Ahn."

"Buffy!"

Embracing her friend, Buffy held her tight, "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Forgive me." And she ran out the door, needing escape desperately.

**************

Spike himself was running the gamut of emotions. He was worried about Buffy; that was number one. Then he felt guilt for having snogged her in the bathroom, for having forced her to snog him. He felt guilt over Anya and guilt over not respecting and realizing what Buffy must be going through. It was one thing to admit she had feelings for him too, but quite another to be okay with it concerning not only Anya, but Doyle as well. Of course she felt as if she were betraying him, of course she was afraid of moving on for that very reason! And how did he feel about that? Jealous. Jealous over someone he'd never meet, over someone who had died tragically, over someone who Buffy had met before him.

You stupid, fucking sod, he scolded himself. You selfish prat. Ignorant fool!

Then, then watching her, seeing the play of emotions on her beautiful face and knowing he couldn't do anything to soothe her, it killed him. And she'd left. He could see her guilt over Anya, over Doyle, and her fear of her feelings for him. He'd wanted to go to her, to talk it out, but she clearly needed to get away from him.

He felt useless, powerless and feeling that way made him angry. He was mad at Anya for having set up this little dinner; mad for meeting her first when he should have met Buffy first. For the first time since he'd been given a new heart, he wanted something more than just life itself. He wanted life to share with Buffy.

Oh God. He was falling with the speed of a plummeting plane.

He had to fix this, he just didn't know how. He'd do whatever Buffy told him to do. He only wanted to make her happy after all.

************

Buffy sat in her living room in the dark, sipping a glass of wine. The TV was on, but so low it might as well have been muted. She wasn't even looking at it for all the good it did to have it on. She just couldn't bring herself to turn it off. She felt by sitting in complete darkness it would be like submitting completely to the despair she felt.

The ringing of her doorbell startled her and she nearly dropped some of the red wine on herself. "Dammit," she hissed. Settling her glass down, she got up and peered through the window. She saw nothing as a tree blocked her view of the driveway. Damn tree. She was going to have that removed.

Going to the door, she called out "Who is it?"

"It's Spike."

"Go away."

"No, Buffy, I can't do that."

"Yes, actually, you can. You put one foot in front of the other and you walk to your car."

"Buffy, please, let me in."

"No. I'm not letting you in here ever again without Anya. Maybe not even then. I might tell her that I hate you."

"You don't mean that."

"Which part?"

"The part where you hate me."

She pursed her lips together and glared at the door.

"Buffy, I'm not going anywhere until you let me in. I'll stay out here all sodding night if I have to."

"Does Anya know you're here?"

"Yes."

"You're lying."

"Well, yeah. Buffy, let me in!"

"No!"

"If you don't let me in so we can sodding talking about this, I will . . . "

"Will what?" she challenged and narrowed her eyes at the door.

"I'll climb this tree out here and hop up on the landing and right into your bedroom. And don't think I won't-"

She flung the door open, glaring at him icily. And then, then she was in his arms.

"You make me so crazy? I’m so crazy about you, Buffy," he murmured, peppering her face with kisses. "Buffy, I was so worried about you and I came here to talk, just talk, and I see you and I can't help myself. I just want to hold you and protect you from all the bad things in the world. You fit in my arms like no other-"

She shoved him away from her. "You need to stop."

He hung his head, "I'm sorry."

"We don't have anything to talk about Spike. This," she gestured between them, "cannot happen. You're with Anya-"

"I'll break up with her."

She let out a bitter laugh. "So, what? We can date? No. That's horrible! She's my best friend. What am I supposed to say if you do that? 'Oh, yeah, I'm dating Spike now by the way Ahn, thanks so much for dating him first and bringing him by for me'! Are you crazy?"

"Probably."

"No. Forget it. You're staying with her, you understand me?"

"I don't love her, Buffy!"

"You're not in love with me either! You're fucking twenty two, you're just looking to . . . to stick your dick someplace!"

His jaw was clenching, and his eyes narrowed, "How dare you say that to me after everything we've talked about. About all the stuff I've told you that I've never told Anya."

“Why not tell the grieving widow? She’s gotta be hard up for sex, right?”

“Let me tell you something, sweetheart," he drawled, "The last person I'd choose is a hard up grieving widow. Especially if they're this hard to get in the sack."

Rage, pure unadulterated rage coursed through her and Buffy marched up to him, drew her hand back and slapped him loudly across the face. "Get out."

He straightened, glaring at her, "Gladly," and marched out.





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