Not quite 48 hours, but I told myself I’d post before bedtime. And since I’m going to bed very, very early tonight, now would be it. =) I’m still in the “every other day” mentality as far as a revised posting schedule goes…just give or take a few hours. Need my betas all caught up before I run out of chapters.
“Capris just don’t look good on me,” Buffy complained, tossing the khaki pants onto her bed with a huff. “I’m too short.”
Willow shrugged. “Well, look on the bright side…you can wear them as pants.”
Buffy pouted and kicked at the bed. As much as she loved her friend, there were just some things that fashion-challenged people didn’t know to appreciate. Willow was not cursed with a small stature. Rather, she had what a million girls would kill for; height, a full figure, and burgundy hair. She just didn’t know how to accentuate her assets, which explained why her favorite outfit was a sweater and a pair of overalls.
“Hey! That’s a good thing!” the redhead replied. “There aren’t many stores around here that carry petites.”
“Ugh. This is a nightmare.”
“You are just dressing up for patrol, right?”
Buffy made a face and held up a skirt to her waist, glaring at her reflection. Mirrors just really did not agree with her, as of late. She needed to beg her mother for access to her MasterCard again. “Patrol can be very fashion-challenging,” she replied defensively. “Ugh. What the hell was I thinking when I bought this?”
Willow arched a brow. “That you’re a knockout and you can wear sackcloth and still get men drooling over you?”
“This just does nothing for my hips.”
“It makes them less naked.”
She scowled at Willow through the mirror. “You’re not helping.”
The redhead paused and waved a little. “Ummm, hello? Remember me? I’m your fashion-impaired friend. The one that would wear flannel and fuzzy bunny slippers to prom if I could get away with it.”
“Ugh.”
“Yeah. If you want fashion advice, I am so not your girl.” Willow leaned over the side of the mattress to scoop up a magazine that had been collecting dust for God-knows-how-long. “Besides…” She glanced up coyly and grinned, “it is just patrol…right?”
“Of course,” Buffy replied, very intently ignoring the way her cheeks singed with heat. “Totally just patrol…with absolutely no sexy smoochies or naughty touching or anything that would…” A long sigh rolled off her shoulders. “I’m in such deep trouble.”
“Sounds like.”
“I honestly don’t know what to do. None of what I’m feeling makes sense to me.”
Willow shrugged. “Makes plenty of sense to me. You like Spike. You like smooching on Spike. You want Spike smoochies. Spike smoochies make Buffy a happy slayer.”
“That is entirely true except for the part where you’re incredibly wrong.”
“Huh?”
Buffy was quiet for a long second. “I don’t just want Spike smoochies, Will. Do you have any idea how easy it’d be if making out was the most I wanted from him? His lips are fantastic, I’ll grant you, but…they’re not all I want.”
“I’m still not seeing where I’m incredibly wrong. You’ve always seemed on the plus side of happy every time I’ve seen you post-nummy-Spike-encounter.”
“Yeah, well, that’s usually just the…erm…post-coital high.”
Willow flushed. “Ohhh. You mean that thing I have absolutely no way of knowing about?”
“No way? You have Oz.”
“In our incredible abstinent relationship, yes.”
Buffy frowned and stared at her. There was something in her friend’s voice that she’d never heard before. A sort of edge that only those who had experienced sexual frustration would know to identify. And for the first time in months, her eyes opened to the things that were happening outside her life—to things that were happening to her friends. Things that she should have noticed.
Willow had been a good sounding board recently, aside from her fantastic blunder of revealing the bogus pregnancy to the whole continent. And since then, she’d more than made up for her gaffe. She’d been all with the non-judgmental advice, and had even, at times, encouraged Buffy to pursue her feelings for Spike. All the while, Buffy had ignored her own duties in the best friend department. If Willow was having serious sex thoughts about Oz—serious cherry-popping thoughts—she wanted to be here to offer her sound advice.
Not that Buffy’s sound advice in the world of deflowering was all that great. Her first time hadn’t been one for the record books. But the second, third, fourth, and…okay, her skin was doing that blushy thing again. The thing was, Willow had to be sure that Oz deserved the privilege of being her first. Willow had to avoid making the mistakes that Buffy had made. She had to not wake up alone with a monster that wanted her dead.
Which meant that if Oz and Willow did get as far as doing the horizontal mambo, they should do it as far from a full moon as possible.
Buffy sighed and wandered back to her closet. What would the world have been like had she discovered this insane attraction for Spike prior to falling head over heels for Angel? What if Spike had been her first? Okay, so their first time together hadn’t been one to write home about, either, but it had beaten her time with Angel hands-down. Not only had Spike stayed with her until morning, he’d done the almost-sweet thing in…panicking that he’d forced himself on her.
God, that morning had been so confusing. It still was. But she couldn’t find it within herself to think ill of him for it. The more she grew to know Spike, the more she liked him, and the more she felt his horror at what he’d done. The Spike she knew now would never, ever force himself on a woman. There were times when she saw him gaze off thoughtfully; times when she felt him tense, and knew exactly what he was thinking. Even though she was more or less over the emotionally damaging part of that night, he still found himself mired in guilt.
He was more a man than Angel had ever been in all the time she’d known him. And he did it all without that soul that her ex found so handy.
Buffy blinked and shook her head. She’d gone from thinking about how bad a friend she’d been to Willow by focusing on her vampire-relationship problems, and had then proceeded to focus on her vampire-relationship problems.
“Will…are you thinking about…with Oz, are you two…?”
The redhead’s face flamed. “I…uhhh…I dunno. I mean, I think about it sometimes. Okay, a lot. All the time. But…but Oz wants to make sure I’m ready and I don’t think I am…just yet. I mean, I know it’ll be Oz when I am ready…but being ready is just not…” She fidgeted uncomfortably. “Do we really need to talk about this? I thought we had the pressing matter of your wardrobe to contend with tonight.”
“I just want to you to know that—”
“I can talk to you. Yes. How about stilettos?”
Buffy blinked. “You’re being avoid-o girl.”
“Yes. I’m not ready to discuss this. Really. Just the idea of me…and sex. Blah!” She made a face and shuddered. “I’d like to be the quivering virgin a while longer. Once I stop the quivering part, maybe we can focus on the…other part. But really! Stilettos?”
Buffy sighed and decided to let it go. If Willow didn’t want to talk about it, she wasn’t about to press the issue. “Stilettos?” she repeated. “For patrolling?”
Willow fidgeted again. “I actually don’t know what kind of shoes those are. Only that they’re shoes and they’re popular—and hey! At least I knew the term.”
“You did, at that.”
“So no stilettos?”
“Not for patrolling. Not unless I’m trying to attract demons in need of a good hooker.”
“Something tells me Spike wouldn’t like that.”
Guh. Willow had mentioned the S-word again. Buffy could in no way be to blame for the way her mind did the wandering thing while her heart flip-flopped. After all, she hadn’t mentioned the S-word.
Willow swung her legs over the edge of her bed and leaned forward intently. “You really like him, don’t you?”
“You’re just now picking this up?”
“No. But I am impressed that you acknowledged it rather than running headfirst into denial.”
“When have I ever done that?”
“Every single time I’ve mentioned Spike.”
Buffy shook her head. “I can’t believe you’ve been keeping track.”
Willow grinned and shrugged. “I don’t see the big, really. I mean, yes, I can see where Giles and Xander, to name two people, will freak to epic proportions. But really, Buff, you should see…you. I know it’s causing you a lot of grief, but I’ve honestly never seen your eyes do the light-up thing before. Not even in the pre-killing-of-us days with Angel. And as totally weird as this sounds…Spike seems to care for you.”
Her heart thundered. “He does?”
“Well, I mean, I’ve only seen him twice. Once at the Bronze and then…that other time at the Bronze. But both times—”
Buffy exhaled softly and her shoulders slumped. Oh. “Yeah, both of those times, we were in massive…something with each other. Call it what you want. His eyes do a glowy thing whenever we’re together again after being apart for so long. It’s the lust spell, or whatever has us under this thing. It doesn’t mean he cares about me.”
The redhead didn’t look convinced. “Ummm…”
“And even if he does…care…once the spell is lifted, he won’t anymore.”
“Ummm, I was under the impression that you don’t know you’re under a spell when you’re under a spell.” She waved a little. “Remember last year? I came at Xander with an axe—a totally deserved axe, by the way, that rat bastard—and it was because of a stupid love spell. I didn’t know I was under a spell at the time. Neither did any of the other three hundred girls that wanted him dead—rightfully so—then.”
“That doesn’t mean all spells follow a certain pattern, though. It might be that the spell Dru put us under has us very aware of what we’re doing, and that’s where the revenge part of her plan is coming in.” Buffy sighed again and worried a lip between her teeth. The problem with that theory was that everything that she was feeling right now was authentic. The circumstances might have been otherworldly, but she liked Spike because she liked Spike, and not because a spell was making her like Spike. And perhaps that was it—perhaps Dru’s plan was only to seek revenge on Spike. Perhaps Buffy had just fallen in the crossfire of a bitter breakup, and she was falling for him as an added bonus for the scorned lover.
Only, from the sound of things, Spike was the scorned lover, so that didn’t make sense.
She shuddered. If she started thinking about their situation like that, her mind just might succeed in convincing her that Spike did care. She so wanted to believe it. She wanted everything they had to be real. But she couldn’t take the leap of faith just yet. Not yet. Not until the spell was over. If the spell ended and Spike was still making moon eyes at her, if he still felt all the heat and passion that he felt now, she would fall all too readily into his arms.
Until the spell was over, she’d just have to wait it out.
“I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit, Buffy,” Willow said softly. “You haven’t seen the way he is with you.”
“I have so,” she protested weakly. Dammit, the last thing her Spike-lusting mind needed was prompting from Willow to get with the Spike-lusting program. “I admit…he’s…”
“Yes?”
She was quiet for a minute, weighing her words carefully before everything collapsed. “God, Willow, I can’t. I just can’t. Let’s just say that I do throw my rules and my plan out the window. Say Spike and I do a lot of naked aerobics and I fall head over heels for him and then poof! The spell’s over. And then he hates me. He hates me and wants to kill me and goes on about how Dru is better than I am in every way and God, I couldn’t take that. It’s gonna be hard enough already if it happens. I’ve already had the…the physical stuff with him. Now we’re getting into the other stuff, and if I throw in physical on top of other, there’s just now way…”
“But you don’t know that’s going to happen.”
“Yes, but I don’t know that it’s not going to happen, either. I just need the spell to be over so we can see where we stand. If he still wants me when it’s over…” Buffy shook her head and glanced back into her closet. “Oh, screw it. Jeans and a halter top.”
Willow smiled weakly. “He’ll drool all over you.”
“That’s so not the objective.”
“Okay.”
“It’s not. It’s…” She trailed off miserably and sniffed. “I’m totally screwed, aren’t I?”
“I think you are just a little.”
“Gee, thanks.” She sniffed again. “Where’s my stock best friend reassurance?”
Willow frowned. “Oh. That was one of those moments?”
“Yes.”
“I totally dropped the ball.”
“Yes.”
“Sorry.”
Buffy stared at her for a minute, then chuckled humorlessly and shook her head. “I need to start getting ready,” she said weakly. “Meeting Spike in a half hour.”
“Watch how he watches you.”
“Will—”
Her hands flew up defensively. “I’m just saying. The guy has it bad. I don’t see how you’re blaming that on a spell, but if it’s your prerogative, go right ahead.”
Buffy scowled and planted her hands on her hips. “So about the having sex with Oz?”
Willow’s eyes went wide. “Shutting up now,” she squeaked, and mimed zipping her lips.
“I’m wearing jeans and a halter.”
“But not stilettos.”
“Right. Because I’m not a hooker.”
“And because they’re not patrol shoes,” the redhead said, nodding.
“That’s right.” Buffy stared at her closet unblinkingly for a minute, then sighed dramatically. “I am so screwed.”
“Yeah. Looks like.” Willow quickly found herself on the receiving end of another glare. “I dropped the ball again, didn’t I?”
“Tossed it right into your court, and you dropped it.”
She nodded and practically sprinted for the door. “I’ll just be leaving now. Have fun on your not-a-date.”
“Have fun thinking of ways to have sex with Oz.”
“You know, right this minute, I don’t like you very much.”
“You can imagine how much of a problem that is for me right now.” Buffy didn’t move, didn’t even tear her eyes away from the closet. “Call you tomorrow?”
“Gossipy goodness,” Willow agreed perkily.
Thank God. As annoying as the redhead could be with her insightfulness—particularly with regard to all things Spike—Buffy depended on her right now for unloading of her Spike-related problems. She was the one person in the world guaranteed to not judge her, and if that meant tolerating her sense-making arguments on why she should be jumping headfirst into a relationship with her former worst enemy, then it was worth the price.
She could only hope that her heart agreed with her in the end.
It should be illegal for any man to look that good, particularly since Spike’s looks tended to bring out the side of her that was gravity challenged.
“Spike!” Buffy gasped. She would have fallen on her face had she not found herself in his arms the next second, her heart pounding furiously against his cool, still chest. “Ohhh. Guh.”
“Gotta say, Slayer,” he rumbled amusedly. “If you don’t stop falling at my feet every time I see you, I’m gonna develop a complex.”
“What are you doing here?”
“We’re patrolling, remember?”
Oh, she remembered. She’d just scribbled a note to her late-working mother about said patrolling. Sure, she was running a few minutes late after going through every outfit in her closet twice, but not late enough to require a search party.
Finding Spike on her doorstep was a surprise totally worthy of falling-on-her-face, humiliating as it was.
“Sorry,” she explained hurriedly. “I know we’re patrolling, but I thought we were meeting at Restfield. Am I running that late?”
Spike shook his head, his eyes roaming her body predatorily. “No. I’m early, actually. Jus’ wanted…fuck, you look amazing.”
She flushed. Seems jeans and a halter top had been the way to go, after all.
“Oh, this old thing,” she replied teasingly. “It’s just—”
“Amazing.” He smiled and reached for her hand. “Shall we?”
Oh God. We’ve been talking for thirty seconds, and I’m already melting.
“Ummm, yes.” She returned his smile weakly and nodded at the front door. “Just let me lock up and we’re all set.”
All set. Good God. He was here to pick her up. Like they were on a date.
And he was already reaching for her hand.
Buffy whimpered inwardly. Her heart was so doomed.
To be continued…