It was exhausting just watching Willow talk.
“So the bowling date was a good?”
Her friend nodded enthusiastically. “So much a good. And thanks to my wacky witchy talents, all wayward Xander lust is officially of the dead.”
Buffy was only slightly put off that she hadn’t heard of this random Xander-lusting before now, but she could definitely see how it’d be easier to talk about something that was no longer a thing. “Well, that’s good,” she said. “But, for future reference, maybe wait until Giles is here to dabble in the dark arts? What if the entire science lab had gone kablooey?”
Willow frowned. “It didn’t.”
“I know, but you know how easy it is for these things to get out of control.”
“But it was controlled! It was so with the control. I-I even managed to not turn Xander into a newt.” She nodded proudly. “It’s fine, Buffy. I got everything taken care of. A-and aside from my random Xander-hateage, it went off without a hitch.”
“Huh? Xander-hateage?”
She nodded guiltily. “Yeah. Ever since the delusting spell, I’ve experienced these sharp pangs of absolute loathing. I think it’s because a delusting spell is designed for two people who aren’t best friends…not two people who are not only best friends, but best friends who see each other every day.”
Buffy sighed and arched a brow. She was so glad that they had decided to save the girl talk for their mall trip after school. Girl talks with Willow at school were prone to interruption from Willow’s very quiet but very present boyfriend. Plus, there was Xander and Cordelia—whenever they came up for air—and the occasional interjection from a panicked and oh-so-very-British librarian. It seemed that whenever Buffy had a chance to sit down and talk with her friend about non-slayery stuff, Giles felt the need to tell her that the world was ending.
Thankfully, Giles was still out of town on his little retreat. If the world was ending, it was off his radar.
“So,” Buffy said slowly. “Have you just been calling Xander names, or—”
“W-well, after the spell was done, I threw an eraser at his head. And then a jar of, umm, frog guts.” Willow flushed and glanced down. “And then called him something I don’t really want to repeat. But at least the lust part is over.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me all this before.”
She shrugged. “Well, you had the Angel stuff going on, and I didn’t want to bother you about my being torn between my best friend and this incredibly great guy who I don’t wanna hurt for all the A-pluses in the world. Plus, I was kinda weirded out.”
“Splainy?”
“I always thought I wanted Xander to want me…and when he did, it was just…it felt wrong.” Willow sighed. “Anyway, that’s in the past. Very much over and done with, and Oz and I totally creamed them at bowling the other night.”
“Oz a good bowler?”
“Not as much that as the fact that Xander and Cordy really, really suck.”
Buffy bit back a grin and glanced down, taking a sip of her mocha latte. She loved the coffee shop at the mall. It was homey and inviting without the corporation feel of a Starbucks. Having spent three months in Los Angeles of the very recent, she was incredibly glad for that. In fact, coming home to Sunnydale had been surprisingly liberating. Not once had Buffy thought it possible that she would miss a place as much as she’d missed the Hellmouth. She likened it to prisoners who were so accustomed to the prison walls that life on the outside was too much to bear. She was conditioned—institutionalized—and as much as she hated it here, there was no place like home.
“Anyway,” Willow said, leaning forward earnestly. “I’ve been dying to ask you…are you and Angel a thing again?”
It was almost funny the way Buffy nearly spat her iced coffee across the table. “What?!”
“I take that as a no?”
“An emphatic hell no. Why would you ever think that?”
Confusion replaced the anxiousness in Willow’s eyes. “I…ummm, I…don’t know. Do I? You left Sunnydale because you sent him to Hell…then you hid his being not-in-Hell, only to be discovered making with the liplocking. And then…the other night, Angel just comes by the bowling alley all worried and broody and says you never showed and now you’re acting like you never want to see Angel again?” She paused. “Buffy…is there something you’re not telling me?”
Buffy frowned and flattened a hand against her stomach. Honestly, she didn’t know why she reacted so severely every time someone mentioned Angel; hell, anytime she thought of Angel. True, he was pretty high on her Crap List for standing around the night before as Ghost Spike got her off, but he hadn’t been in good standing before that. In fact, it had taken everything she had to refrain from tossing him out the window.
Right now, it was much easier to focus on being angry with Angel than the weirdness that was Ghost Spike. Especially since Ghost Spike gave her happies—happies that came without fear and crying and kidnapping and being chained to a bed. Once she sorted out why the mention of Angel warranted hisses and claws, she could go back to avoiding her mixed-up Spike feelings.
Only, at the same time, she really needed to get it off her chest. And Willow was sitting right across from her, her eyes wide; looking the part of the best friend down to a tee. And with as much fun as suffering through her confusion on her own sounded, Buffy was so not prepared to do this alone.
“Yeah, Will. There’s something I’m not telling you. Something pretty big.”
Willow’s eyes went wide. “Are you okay?”
“I hardly know,” Buffy replied with a helpless shrug and a forced smile. “Ummm, see…the night you and Xander and everyone had the double-date bowling style, Spike came back.”
“What?!”
“Yeah.”
“As in…back?”
“That’s pretty much what the word means, yes.”
“What happened? Did you see him?”
Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “No, Will, my telepathy tipped me off. Of course I saw him!”
“Sorry, this is just a bit much,” she replied, glancing to the table, her cheeks reddening. “Was Drusilla with him?”
“No.”
“Huh?”
“Evidently, he and Dru broke up.” Buffy completely ignored the way her stomach tightened and her body tensed at the mention of Spike’s ex-girlfriend. It didn’t mean anything—the same way that her sudden allergic reaction to Angel didn’t mean anything. It was all melted together in a vat of means nothing. “And he was uber-pissed about it, so he came to town.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s my fault that he and Dru split.”
The confusion on Willow’s face was strangely liberating. “Okay…” she said slowly. “So what happened?”
“With what?”
“Spike! You know—that moderately humungous thing that you’re only telling me about now?” She arched a brow and rapped her nails against the table. “I’m waiting.”
Buffy swallowed hard and nodded. For whatever reason, it was difficult to remember that she hadn’t done anything wrong. “Oh, well. He kinda knocked me out in the library and took me to the factory.”
“He kidnapped you?”
“Just a little!”
“My God, Buffy!” Willow was shaking her head violently. “Please tell me he’s dust. I don’t think I can take vamps that kidnap you. I mean, getting eaten is bad enough, you know!”
It was perhaps the worst thing she could say. Buffy’s mind zapped back to Spike’s bed, his mouth feasting on her pussy, contented purrs rumbling through his throat. “Umm, yeah,” she said. I am one sick-sicko. “Very bad.”
“So he’s dust?”
“What? Oh, no.” She shook her head, avoiding Willow’s dumbfounded look. “No, it’s not that easy. See, he chained me up…ummm, to his bed.”
“He what?!”
“Oh God, Will, it’s not like that. It’s not like that at all.” She hung her head. “Only, yes. It’s exactly like that.”
“Buffy…”
“He chained me up and then left. When he came back, he was drunk. I mean, seriously, seriously drunk. And he…uhhhh…did things to me.” She squirmed uncomfortably and sucked intently on her straw. “And it…I never want to feel like that again. I was chained up and helpless, and what he was doing…God, I was terrified. But then it was…it…despite how horrible it was…it felt…good.” She hazarded Willow a glance, then sank dejectedly into her seat. “My God, I am disgusting.”
That seemed to snap the redhead out of it. Immediately, she leaned forward and patted Buffy’s shoulder reassuringly. “No, you’re not.”
“I so am. He…he used me, and I…he terrified me because it…God, I am so confused.” She blushed furiously and slid back again, wiping at her eyes. “It was just his…his mouth. You know…down there?”
Willow turned even redder. And Buffy felt even more disgusting.
“And then he bit me. On my thigh. And he said some stupid word and fell asleep with his head on my…vagina.”
Her friend shivered as though scandalized by the word.
Buffy inhaled sharply. She’d made it this far, and even as the story got worse, she found the words were coming easier. “After a while, after it really hit me what had happened, I started massively wigging. I mean seriously wigging. I was crying and struggling and trying to buck him off me. Spike woke up, but not really, and kinda just climbed on top of me and…once he was in, he fell asleep again.”
“Buffy…you realize what you’re saying, right? He raped you.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“Yeah, I think he kinda did.”
She shook her head furiously. “No, he didn’t. And the weird thing is, I felt better once he was in me. Oh, please don’t give me that look, Will, I can’t take it. I know it’s gross. I know it’s wrong. I know I’ve failed at life, but it’s the truth. I’m sitting here telling you that I was sexually assaulted, only I wasn’t really because I enjoyed it. I’m sick. I’m really sick. And he made me feel so much better when he was inside me. Like I could stop panicking and just…be okay for a while. And when he woke up, he had no idea what had happened.”
“Buffy…”
“No, he really didn’t. I mean, think about. I was chained to the bed. If he wanted me dead, I’d be dead. And you didn’t see him. His eyes…he really had no idea what he’d done.” Buffy’s eyes were glued to a mustard stain on the table. She didn’t know how mustard came to be in a café, but there it was. Must be a Hellmouth thing. “And he was so sorry. I didn’t think vamps could feel guilt like that, but he did. And he unchained me even though I told him I’d stake him. I didn’t. I told him to bolt and I went home. And please…don’t tell me how wrong it was. I know I should’ve killed him a thousand times for what he did, but…”
“I—”
“It wasn’t what I thought it was. It’d be so much easier if he’d been an ass. I could’ve staked him then. But he wasn’t. He was so…he was acting like…I dunno, but it wasn’t rape.” She shook her head. “It wasn’t that. And it has me so confused. I have no idea what I’m doing anymore. I lashed out at Angel last night and I thought of Spike…like that. That’s not normal, is it?”
Willow worried a lip between her teeth and said nothing.
And her friend’s silence was as loud a condemnation as Buffy could take. She shook her head and released a choked sob, her head falling into her arms. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she cried. “I’m sick. I’m completely sick.”
The next thing she knew, Willow had scooted over and taken her into a protective, supportive hug. “No, Buffy, you’re not.”
“I shouldn’t feel like this!”
“Maybe not, but you’re not sick. You’re not.”
The understanding in her friend’s voice—confused as it was—just made it harder.
And sick or not, twisted or not, none of it made Buffy crave Spike any less.
To be continued