Spike gritted his teeth when he saw Buffy strolling towards him on Monday morning, and he barely noticed the white camisole and green skirt she had put on, hoping to catch his eye.
He wanted to ignore her; to yell at her, but their plan; his plan would be much more satisfactory in the long run.
“Hey.” she said brightly when she reached him. “Get home alright on Friday?”
“Sure.” he said, unable to speak to her with his usual false-bravado. He was just too pissed at her today. “You?”
She flinched at his cold and indifferent tone, but quickly tried to pretend she hadn’t recognised it.
“Yeah- it was...” she glanced at him. He wasn’t even looking at her; just looking as if he’d rather be anywhere else in the world right now. “Spike, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” he said, still no emotion to his tone. “Just dandy.” he added, and she laughed nervously.
But his cold nature was making her feel sick; it reminded her of so many other occasions when she’d been led on, then dropped without warning. Yeah, sick was how she felt; sick of the heartache.
But still, she didn’t say anything; scared, for some reason, to lose the small slip of a friendship they had been forming over the past couple of days.
“I’ll... I’ll catch you later Spike.” she mumbled when he persisted in his silence. “Are you still good for giving me a lift over to the gallery after school today?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked, and she didn’t know whether the question was rhetorical or not.
“I...”
“Just meet me by my car after the bell.” he said, shaking his head and looking away from her as if she were the most idiotic creature on this earth.
“O...Okay.” she agreed, fumbling with something in her bag. She seemed to be considering something for a moment, before finally she said, “Spike, I... I got you this. As... Just as a thank you for, well you know, but I thought...”
He turned to her and glanced down at the book she was holding out to him.
‘Thomas Hardy. Poems 1912-1913.’
“It’s his... Uhh, his Emma collection.” she mumbled, suddenly wishing she had just left the book sitting in her bag, so she wouldn’t have to deal with the way he was staring at her now.
It was like he was trying to look right inside of her; like he was trying to read some hidden message written behind her eyes.
But she was very aware of the fact that she was still holding the book.
“Have I done something to piss you off?” she asked eventually; her eyebrows scrunching as she thought through everything they had said to each other the last time they had been together. She was sure they had parted on good terms.
Finally, Spike allowed a strange, unfamiliar smile onto his face, saying, “No, not at all kitten.”
He took the book, thanking her, then placing it into his bag with disinterest. Buffy was unbelievably confused by his reaction; she’d been so certain that he’d be over the moon with the book.
Maybe she didn’t know him so well after all.
“I’ll catch you later.” Spike said, walking away so he didn’t have to look at her face any longer.
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“She gave you a present, you naughty boy, what have you done?” cooed Drusilla as she swept in beside him. “You were only supposed to take her on one date, not make her fall in love with you.” she ran her finger tips up Spike’s arm, making him shiver deliciously, “Though I must admit, this will play much more favourably when it comes to humiliating her. My clever, naughty boy.”
Spike smirked at her, and she liked it.
“When do you plan on asking her out?” Drusilla persisted, “It must be soon; I’m growing rather impatient.”
“Tonight.” he said, with a confirming nod. “I’m giving her a lift after school, so I’ll ask her then, for Friday night.”
“Wonderful.” said Drusilla. “Take her out to the Bronze.” she instructed, rather than suggested. “So everyone can see when you tell her it was all a joke.” she clapped her hands together, “This is going to be so perfectly entertaining.”
Spike wanted to smirk again, but already felt the movement dying on his lips.
Was it only yesterday that Buffy had started looking more like a friend than an enemy?
“I’ll take her to the Bronze.” he confirmed. “So make sure you and the others are there, because I seriously only want to do this once.”
Drusilla grinned, “Finding her company more than a little unbearable?” she asked, giggling, “Oh, I can only imagine. That girl was such a horror to socialise with, back when she was still social. You will let me know as soon as she says yes?”
“Of course I will.”
She pressed her scarlet lips to his cheek.
“You had better.”
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“Hey!”
She was sitting next to his car, just as she had been last Friday, although this time she held a novel in her hands, rather than the poetry book.
“Another meeting with Snyder?”
Spike shrugged, unlocking the car and sliding in.
“Had some stuff to do.” he told her bluntly.
Buffy flinched. Whatever mood he had been in earlier, was certainly still in motion now.
“That’s okay.” she said, her voice faltering slightly as a desire to cry seeped in. God, what had happened to her these past few days? No one in the world had been able to hurt her, not since... But now, it was like she was that weak little girl all over again. “Spike, have I done something that’s upset you?”
He ignored her question as he turned to face her, and the weird smile was foreign and unnatural on his face again.
“Buffy-” he said, “I really like you.”
She froze. Was he really saying... No way!
She felt her heart leap into her chest as he continued to gaze at her with those eyes that were so very unreadable.
God, it had been so long since anyone had even looked in her direction.
But he had. He’d helped her, and been kind to her, and connected with her. Maybe he was the one who could help her to be happy, truly happy, once more.
“You... Like me?”
“A lot.” he confirmed. “I don’t know what happened. Everyone told me that you were... But you’re not. Your sweet and wonderful,” he wanted to vomit as he spoke the words, “And kind and beautiful.”
Buffy gasped, and he wanted nothing more than to shatter her happy bubble right now.
God knows she deserved it.
But he didn’t. He kept going.
“I wanted to know if you would let me take you out on Friday night. To the Bronze?”
Buffy stared at him in utter awe. Here he was; a seriously cute guy, with a seriously cute personality and... He was really asking her out?
“Are...” her head dipped in a moment of insecurity, “Are you sure?”
He didn’t allow himself to hesitate.
“Of course I’m sure.”
She looked up, and he was surprised to see the tears shinning in her pretty eyes.
“Yes.” she said. “I’d love to. I’d-” she choked up a little. “I’d really really love to Spike.”
Spike was almost alarmed by the intensity of her emotion. He’d known she’d be surprised, but he’d had no idea she would react so beautifully.
No, not beautifully.
Of course not. He had meant pitifully. Of course he had.
“Good.” he said; allowing himself to smile. “I’ll pick you up at eight o’clock sharp on Friday evening.” Then he started the car and drove her to work.
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“He asked me out!” Buffy squealed to Joyce, just as soon as Spike had left for home in his car once more. “I mean, really- I knew we were getting on well, but it’s been so long since a guy even showed the least bit of interest in me. This is so...”
“Fantastic!” Joyce supplied, addressing her own excitement. “Oh Buffy dear, I was so hoping he would realise feelings for you. And of course he would do- I mean, you’re a gorgeous girl.”
Buffy blushed, “Thank you.” she said in a timid voice, but Joyce didn’t miss the self-doubt in her expression.
“Buffy darling, you know that you’re a wonderful girl, don’t you?” she pushed, and when Buffy looked even more unsure, the woman added, “I’m sure all the guys who have let you slip by are kicking themselves today.”
“One guy.” she said. “And he’d probably rather kick me than himself.”
Joyce looked concerned at this comment, but she let it slip by without questioning the young girl.
Buffy obviously didn’t want to talk about the past. Besides, she was already gearing up for round two of the squeal-fest.
“I just can’t believe he really asked me out!” she cried, and Joyce was soon swept up in her gusto once more.
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“William, I’m proud of you.” Joyce said as she walked through the front door to be greeted by her son, holding a cup of cocoa out to her.
“Really?” he asked, “Because I thought the cocoa was just standard practice. I mean, I do make you a cup every day.”
“No no.” Joyce said, taking the hot drink from him and taking a sip with an appreciative sigh. “No, I mean Buffy. Asking her out. It’s obvious she’s been through some hard times at school recently, and I’m just proud that you were able to see past what the other’s have said about her, and even been there to help her. Like I said, I’m very proud of you Spike.”
Joyce didn’t like the way her son’s eyes suddenly clouded over, and his posture became increasingly uncomfortable.
“Oh...” he said, “Well, you know me Ma.”
She looked at him very closely, suddenly feeling a little sick.
Surly her son, her William, wouldn’t hurt the sweet young girl. He had asked her out because he truly liked her, hadn’t he?
“Spike...” she asked falteringly, “Is there something wrong?”
He looked to be considering it for a moment, but then he shook his head with conviction.
“No mum, everything’s fine.”
Joyce Abbot frowned. This was not the end to her evening that she had been hoping for.
She had wanted to be able to tell her son how happy she was with his choice of girlfriend, and then thank him personally for being so nice to a girl who was clearly far too used to receiving abuse from her peers.
“William, son...” she said, the concern evident in her voice, “I want you to promise me that you’re not going to hurt her.”
Spike looked at his mother, with her worried azure eyes.
He couldn’t lie to her. Surly not.
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Friday rolled around much more quickly than Spike had hoped, and when he saw Buffy that morning, he felt something in his chest seize up.
“Hey Spike,” she said as she headed toward him, “I’m really looking forward to tonight.”
Mixed emotions crossed the threshold of his mind, and he offered her a half smile as he said,
“Yeah, me too pet. So, I’ll pick you up at eight?”
She nodded; her smile bright. And from behind her back, Drusilla offered him a smug wink.
Spike felt sick.
“Ah, Mr Abbot.” came the voice of his hateful Principle as he turned to make his way to first period. “I’d like to see you in my office after school this afternoon for our final progress check. Just to ensure your transition from England to America hasn’t left you too bewildered.”
Spike wanted to protest; to say he’d had two such progress checks already. But he recognised it as a way out of driving Buffy to work, and he nodded as he said
“Sure thing Principle Snyder.”
Buffy didn’t mind walking to work; she said it would give her a chance to clear her mind, not to mention plan her outfit for tonight. And Spike told her whatever she wore, she’d look great.
He had to grit his teeth as he said the words.
God, was he ever angry with her.
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“Ah, Mr Abbot.” said the receptionist as Spike walked into the foyer. “Take a seat. The Principle won’t be long, he’s just had to call a hasty meeting with the parents of some juvenile delinquent.”
Spike smiled pleasantly, then sat down with a groan. He was an impatient guy and waiting was really not his thing.
Beside him sat a case of old yearbooks, and he sighed as he grabbed one and began to flick through.
The cover read 1997, and in it he found pictures of a much younger Buffy, not to mention Cordelia, Darla, Angel and Riley. It was fairly obvious she was the bees knees back then, with her -too blonde to be natural- hair and her –too big to be real- padded bra.
Besides that, her face adorned almost every page. That huge and plastic smile that was nothing like the smiles she’d graced him with.
As well as that, every time her name was written, there would be a small number of hearts surrounding it, as if she had requested her name be printed in a way that was better than everybody else’s.
She could only have been about twelve or thirteen, but even the prom photo at the back of the book made him feel slightly nauseated.
Buffy with a bright pink gown adorned with sequins and gem stones, not to mention the obnoxious tiara on the top of her yellow curls.
This was not the girl he had come to know, but, according to everybody he had met, this was the girl whom she really was.
“Buffy Summers, May Queen, 1997.’
Ten minutes, and three yearbooks later, he was staring down at the pictures from just over a year ago.
Buffy was still standing tall with that horribly plastic smile of hers and that luminous, bleached hair [though, he was one to talk!].
If anything, her pictures had become more irritating, since every single one now also included Angel, with a smarmy grin all of his own.
It made Spike shudder as an unknown feeling crawled around like a centipede in the pit of his stomach.
“Liam Angel and Buffy Summers, prom King and Queen, 2000.”
Buffy was wearing a long and beautiful dress of deep red. A dress he recognised.
Of course that’s why Buffy had reacted with such sadistic hatred; because Drusilla had worn the same dress as her.
Spike was practically scowling as he stared down at the image of Buffy Summer’s and her pretentious little smile.
But then he turned the page, and received the shock of his life.
The picture, the one he had found defaced by Buffy... It was also of Buffy.
As he stared down at the image; the picture of Buffy with her luminous blond hair spilling over her shoulders, in a dress cut so low that her clearly displayed cleavage made her look more like a piece of meat than a woman, everything seemed to fall into place.
And, for perhaps the millionth time since he had met her, Spike Abbot felt sick.
Buffy hadn’t wished Drusilla had never been born, or that Drusilla would die; heck, Drusilla wasn’t even a part of it. She had wished it upon herself.
She had wished that she would never be that girl again. The girl in the picture.
“Oh God...” Spike murmured as he looked down at the girl smiling obliviously back at him.
He thought about the thick black lines that Buffy had covered her with. He thought about the heart-broken words Buffy had scrawled around her. He thought about how wrong he’d been; how wrong he was.
But most of all, he thought about Buffy getting ready for their date tonight.
Putting on a dress like the one on the girl in the picture; painting her face to make herself feel pretty again; forcing that empty smile back onto her face.
He was doing this to her, and at the end of the night, he would be breaking her heart all over again.
She was going to retract back into her shell and become that broken girl of a year ago. The girl who had lost everything, for one reason or another, and had become an outcast amongst her own friends.
Spike, feeling like his eyes were open for the first time since they had looked upon the dark beauty of Drusilla, realised that he didn’t even know why her friends had ditched her.
Something had happened a year ago; something dark and terrible, but he had never been told what. Bloody Hell; he had never even asked.
Spike slammed the year book shut and leapt to his feet, ignoring the receptionist’s questions as he hurried from the school and towards his car.
He had a lot to think about.
_____________________________________________
At half past nine, Buffy was still sitting beside her front door, though tears were now slipping down her cheeks.
In her hands she held a small bag with the money she had scraped together for drinks.
She wore a short and beautiful blue satin dress that had cost her a weeks pay, but she had decided was worth it.
Her hair was it’s usual and natural dark honey blonde, though she had let it curl for once, and it sat in soft tendrils around her face.
Her make-up, which she had spent well over half and hour perfecting, was streaked down her face, ending in ugly black pools beneath her tired eyes.
Black tears dripped from her chin.
For the first time in over a year, she had allowed herself to hope. She had displayed her heart to someone. Was it any wonder she didn’t do this more often?
She’d been stood up.
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A/N: Thank you everybody for the awesome response on the last chapter. It was so very appreciated :]
Please review again, because you all made my day last time!!
Thank you again, love Dee xxx
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