Staring down at the piece of paper, she studied the list she’d been making.
1. Ask Mom and Dad for a loan
2. Get an apartment
3. Get a job
4. Make friends
5. Stay away from men
6. Stay away from William
Buffy frowned. Okay, so it seemed a bit out of order. Number One shouldn’t even be there. She needed to get a job first before an apartment. But . . . she was afraid to see William. She was afraid to live with William.
However, she couldn’t very well spend any more time in this hotel. It’d been two days already and she knew if she wanted to not max out her card, she had to go. Buffy was hoping though that maybe if she asked for a loan to get an apartment then she could just move out all quiet and quick like.
She stared at her phone. It was dying and the adaptor was at William’s. Everything apparently was at William’s. Even her self-respect. Or did she have that still? Hiding out in a seedy hotel wasn’t exactly showcasing that she had any of that left. And, well, having sex with William against the wall hadn’t been exactly saying “I have self-respect!” either.
A knock on the door jarred her from her musings and she stared at it. “Yeah?”
“Towels.”
She wrinkled her nose. She wasn’t really welcoming seeing anyone, but best to just get it over with, right?
Getting up with a reluctant sigh, she opened the door and found not a member of the hotel staff, but William.
“Wh-what are—what are you doing here? How did you find me?” she asked, stunned.
“I have my ways.”
She stared at him, shell shocked at seeing him standing before her.
“Can I come in?” he prompted.
She snapped out of her daze and glared at him defiantly, “No.”
“Too bad,” he said simply, and pushed his way past her. “Sorry luv, you’re not calling the shots right now.”
“I think I am calling the shots--”
“Not when I haven’t heard from you in two days!” he shouted. “I get to call the shots now, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me that,” she said angrily stalking past him.
He grabbed her arm, hauling her to him. “We’re going to work this out, do you understand me?”
“No, we’re not going to work this out. You don’t tell me what to do..”
“I will when you’re being thick-headed and impossible!”
“Like you’re not ever--”
“Who’s the one that ran away, Buffy? Who’s the one in a hotel?”
She yanked her arm free, saying nothing.
Something caught his eye and his neck craned to the side. Strolling over to the table, he picked up her paper with the list and Buffy lunged to grab it.
“’Stay away from William’,” he read. He looked down at her, hurt and anger evident in his eyes. “That what you’ve been planning to do?”
“Isn’t that obvious? I am staying in a hotel after all,” she said sardonically. She sat down on the bed, pouting. Okay, so she was acting like a child. She didn’t care. She was mad that he’d found her. Mad that he forced his way in…Mad that she still wanted him.
She was pouting like a petulant child, Spike observed. He remembered all too well how Buffy had used that to her advantage before to get what she wanted. She’d had his father wrapped, and now it seemed she had him wrapped as well.
Strong, Giles, stay strong.
Looking down at her, he fought the urge to shake some sense into her. She really had no idea what she’d put him through had she?
“You really have no idea what you’ve put me through, have you?” he demanded, deciding to put voice to his frustration.
Her head jerked up at him, regarding him silently.
“I have been out of my mind with worry. Wondering where you are, if you’re all right, what you’re doing…Out of my mind, Buffy. I call and you don’t answer. Christ, you trying to put me in an early grave?”
Still, she said nothing.
“You don’t want to have the postmortem, then fine. We’ll sweep it under the rug all quiet-like and forget about it. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you shut me out though. I’ll be damned if you’re going to stay in this rat infested hotel, either.”
“Well, not so much rat infested as it is cockroach infested…” Buffy said softly.
His expression darkened. “Not helping.”
“Right.”
“You want to leave my place, fine. I get that. But you’re going to get a job and then you’re going to save for a place. You are not staying at a hotel. And you are not shutting me out, you get that? For one thing, that’s impossible and for another it’s just…ridiculous. You want to change your life? Then stop running.”
“I’m not!” she jumped up, glaring at him. Poking him in the chest, she addressed him indignantly. “I am not a child, William--”
“Hiding out in here, you’re certainly acting like one,” he countered. “Get your things, Buffy or I’ll get them for you.”
She was seething in anger as she packed up her things, but he didn’t care. Damn if it didn’t actually turn him on to see the fire flashing in her eyes. He of course was not going to tell her that. He’d done well restraining himself from gathering her up in his arms and smothering her in relived kisses when he saw her, hadn’t he? One small step…
She stomped out of the room, leaving him standing there, staring after her.
“You coming or not?” she demanded, a hand on her hip.
He fought the urge to grin at his little spitfire – no, not his. Hell, yeah she is. She is mine.
Buffy didn’t talk to him the whole way home, instead she stared sullenly out the window, her head turned from him the whole way.
That was fine, Spike wagered. She could do that. But at least she’d be doing it where he could keep an eye on her and know that she was all right.
When they arrived at his penthouse, Buffy stormed out of his car and went ahead of him to get inside. My but she was a stubborn bitch when she put her mind to it. He wanted to tell her that she was being a child, that he wasn’t so much sorry for what happened anymore, but instead sorry for how it happened, he wanted to tell her that he was working on getting past the ‘You’re my sister’ thoughts. It wasn’t exactly taboo. There was no blood between them. At least, that’s what he tried to tell himself when he felt guilt take over. For all intents and purposes, they were really strangers in a sense. The most time he’d spent with her was that summer before they went their separate ways. Course, it didn’t help when his father would call and ask how his sister was doing – as he had done while Buffy had decided to shack up away from him for a couple days. It also didn’t help that they both called their stepparents “Mom and Dad”, indicating that it was their biological parents. It was these little things that served to subconsciously enforce the fact that they were really related.
But, they weren’t. And logically, William knew that.
He decided he was going to give her some time to collect herself and her thoughts and then he’d talk to her about it. Tell her what it meant to him; find someway to tell her that he loved her. And of course tell her that what she deserved was not a romp in a dirty hallway, but to be loved in a bed. That, he thought, was what disturbed him at that point more than anything. How had taking her against a wall showed her that he loved her more than anything in the world? That had only told her she was only good for rutting animalistically against a dirty wall in a strange club. He could understand being adventurous later on, but only after they had a firm base first.
Entering his penthouse, Spike jumped when he heard Buffy’s door slam, effectively sending the message he was to leave her alone.
Going to her door, he rapped on it, and knowing she wasn’t going to answer, said through the wood, “Call Mom. She tried to get a hold of you and couldn’t. She thinks you’re avoiding her.”
No answer, no acknowledgement.
Spikesighed heavily. This was going to be a hell of a ride.