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Author's Chapter Notes:
Please don't hate me... Bad things happen for a reason. It'll get better. People learn from their mistakes. ((Thoughts in these)) *Journal in this*
Chapter 10:

*The apartment isn’t shabby.* Buffy wrote in her diary.

*I’m not saying it’s the Hilton, but it’s definitely better than what I was staying at before. It’s posh, and I’m not sure how William can afford it. Being the bigheaded, bothersome jerk he is, he wouldn’t let me pay a thing. Stupid Bastard. I didn’t even know he had money. I recon he stole it. Either that or his ‘friend’ got haggled into taking down the price, wholly. I wont question how, though. I wont look a gift horse in the mouth. Let’s talk about the apartment, ey? It has four rooms in it, just like my old one in Sunnydale. The kitchen is… small but viable. It’s fine, really, I won’t use it. Like I have said before on the other numerous pages in you: ‘It makes me feel human’. The living room is much larger than my last one. Instead of being overcrowded, my lumpy orange couch has some much needed breathing room. I have a lot of space left over and I’m considering putting a computer in that area. I’m not into modern technology, but I’ve heard some wonderful things about it from Willow. Oh, now to the bedroom. It’s lovely… but as I have said earlier there’s only one. Spike said that he’ll take the couch, but it feels wrong. He bought the apartment and he doesn’t deserve to sleep on that wicked torture devise.*

*I don’t know why I trust him. It could be that he saved my life from Angelus. Who knows what kind of pain I’d be in right now if hadn‘t have come to my rescue. I haven’t told you of my encounter with ole Angelus yet, huh? I ran from Spike and found myself getting an apartment at Wolfram and Hart. Turns out the bugger owns it. What my luck. He almost killed me. Then Spike came in and saved me. I suppose any woman would trust their knight in shining armor at that point. But that doesn’t make up for the life he’s led me to. I’m a Vampire Queen. All because he decided to take me home. Queen… It sounds awkward. I don’t act like a queen. I read about Vampire Queens and they’re supposed to be royal. They are suppose to order around minions and hate humans. But me? I don’t own a single minion and I idol humans. William’s - Spike’s confusing me. First I’m his victim, then I’m his vampiric sister, then I’m nothing… Now I’m his flat mate and friend? How can we be friends, huh? With our past and… I cant even look at him without remembering what he looked like nude this morning. Oh, I feel vile and immoral thinking those thoughts. That man lives to tease me. But something in me tells me that I might have feelings for him. That is another reason we cant be friends. I don’t trust myself around him. Especially with the dreams that I’ve had at least once a week ever since I became this horrid creature. William is always in the dream. He helps me cope with this disease. He’s always there to make me forget what I am… I think he may have crept his way into my heart... But I am tired right now so I think I’ll retire. I hope for that dream tonight.*

Buffy closed her journal and hid it underneath her pillow. She leaned back against her bed frame and stared at the door in front of her. With her vampire hearing she could hear the sound of someone crying on the TV. She craned her head towards the alarm clock and then back towards the door. It was almost eleven o’clock and she was no longer tired. She got off the bed and opened her bedroom door. Spike was sitting on the couch, his back was facing her. A salty smell filled the air and she couldn’t help but ask.

“Spike, are you crying?”

“No.” Spike answered quickly. To quickly, perhaps, to be sincere, "The show..." He tried to explain when he saw her unbelieving face. Buffy joined him on the couch. She tucked her feet underneath her and rested her head on her arm. Her arm was laying lazily on the arm of the couch. Spike couldn’t help but notice how her pajama shorts rode up her sculpted legs when she sat down and tucked her feet under her butt. Spike felt his jeans get uncomfortable and he had to refrain himself from cursing ’Damn little bugger’. Despite his mental demand to keep his eyes glued to the telly he watched her squirm around to get comfortable.

“I think we should invest in a better couch.” Spike said. Buffy took a glance at him, then at her couch, “One less bumpy and less orange.”

“No.” She simply said.

“No? Why the bloody hell not?” He asked, annoyed that she was being stubborn.

“I’ve had this since ‘64. It’s vintage.” Buffy smiled.

“Vintage?” Spike chuckled at her choice of words.

“Yeah.” She argued. Her eyes fell onto a funky lump on the middle cushion. She patted the cushion in a sorry attempt to flatten it out. When the lump didn’t go away, she looked back up at Spike, “Maybe vintage isn’t the right word.”

Within an hour Buffy was asleep on the couch, soft snores and mewls escaped her mouth every few minutes. Spike turned off the TV and then carefully picked up the sleeping vampire. He carried her into her new room and then laid her underneath her blue blanket. He started to walk away, but her grip on his shirt held him.

“Uhhhnnn.” He heard her whisper in her sleep. She tugged him closer and he didn’t resist. He slid her over a little and then joined her on the bed. Spike was nowhere tired so he just laid there staring into the darkness. Her head was on his chest with her arm draped over his stomach. After a while he started to yawn so he tried to get up to go to the couch. Her viselike grip stopped him once again. So Spike just cuddled back up on the bed. Something was poking him in the back and it was really uncomfortable. Her put his arm behind his back and grabbed the cause of his discomfort. It was a journal. Without thinking of her privacy he opened it to the last entry. He skimmed through and laughed at the part about him haggling over the price. She was right, Vinny had ended up giving Spike the apartment free. Spike continued reading.

((How can we be friends, huh? With our past and…))

Spike couldn’t read anymore. He shut it without continuing. She wasn’t going to forgive him. Just like the note said: “I don’t forgive you”. He felt he deserved her trust and friendship. Spike pulled her hand from his shirt and then left the room angrily.

Though Spike wouldn’t admit it, he had developed a soft spot for the girl. He had a strange affection towards her, it may be love or it may be something else. But she had unknowingly stumbled into his heart.

The next morning:

Buffy woke up and immediately started to freak out because she didn’t recognize the room she was in. It was much larger that her bedroom.

“Oh…” She whispered, remembering that she moved yesterday morning. Then she got confused again when she realized that she had fallen asleep on the couch last night: not her bed. She sniffed the air and realized that it smelt like Spike.

“He must had put me in here.” Buffy said, silently thankful that she wouldn’t be spending that day with agonizing back pain. She got out of the bed and stretched, pulling out a wedgie as she stepped out of her bedroom. Spike was asleep on her orange couch, and of course he was naked. She walked back into her room to retrieve a cover to cover him up. Once his skin was out sight she walked into the kitchen to get a glass of blood.

((Pig or cow…. Hmm. Pig. And I think we have some Burma weed somewhere… Here it is.))

She dropped a pinch of Burma weed into the pigs blood and she brought the mug to her face. Before she could drink some she heard the ‘creak’ of Spike getting off the bed. She turned to him and sighed in relief when he kept the blanket around his hips. His eyes looked different than they did earlier though, and Buffy noticed this. They seemed darker and sadder. Spike sniffed the air in disgust, then turned into the bathroom. Buffy head the door lock and then she shower turn on. She brought the mug back to her face and then she drank it down. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was. She hadn’t drank anything in two days. When every last drop was gone she rinsed the cup out in the sink. Then she strolled over to the couch.

((What’s wrong with William? He looked horrible this morning, and I’m sure that that wasn’t just because of the couch. Did I do something wrong? Oh, gosh I hope not. What did I say last night? I know we spoke about the couch. I said antique and… I don’t remember saying anything else. What if he decides to leave me? And I was just starting to feel a little better. No… He looked so angry. His eyes were so dark and sunken in. God he looked angry at me. What if… What if I said something in my sleep? It was ‘that’ dream. The one where I’m having sex with him and Angelus walks in and takes him from me… Surely if I said anything Spike wouldn’t hold it against me. I have no control what I say in my sleep. Oh, please don’t leave, Spike. Please. Just when I thought I was going to survive…))

Meanwhile:

Spike turned off the shower and stepped out of the steaming tub. He dried his feet on a towel and then wrapped another one around his waist. He opened the door and steam rushed out of the room. He saw Buffy on the couch facing away from him. He grabbed his clothes from the arm of the couch, the opposite side from Buffy. Then he disappeared back into the bathroom. He slid into his tight black pants, and then put on his black tee. He grabbed some of Buffy’s hair gel and slicked his hair back into the typical Spike fashion. He once again stepped out of the bathroom and then sat on the couch. He looked over at Buffy and realized that her eyes were watering and on the brink of crying.

“You okay, Pet?” Spike asked keeping his distance from her. She wiped her eyes and then nodded quickly.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” She tucked her feet under her and she looked away towards the kitchen. Spike nervously fiddled with his hands on his lap. He had been thinking when he was in the shower. That’s where he had always done his best thinking. He didn’t know what had possessed him to stay with her before.

((It had been rather sudden. Was it guilt? Was it love? I’d barely known her. I meet her and eight hours later I have her move to Los Angeles. She made me forget about why I had originally gone to Sunnydale for: the newest Slayer. Obviously Buffy doesn’t want me here. She has more than shown me how much she hates me. It’s settled then. Time to do in my third.))

“I need to say something.” Spike said. Buffy looked over at him. Her biggest fear slowly coming true before her eyes, “I’ve decided to go back to Sunnyhell and kill my third slayer.”

“What?” Buffy asked, “And me?”

“I figured that you didn’t want me here… and personally I don’t want to be here.” Spike lied. In a flash Buffy went confused to sad to angry. She stood up off the couch and pointed to the door.

“Then go.” She ordered. Spike hadn’t expected her to act like that, “Go, damnit, you want to so bad: Leave!” Spike got off the couch and walked to the door.

He turned to her “Buffy, listen Luv. I-”

“Don’t call me Luv.” Buffy said. She opened the door and motioned to it with her head.

“Buffy, I-” Spike started to say. But Buffy had already pushed him out of the front door. Before Spike could finish she had already closed the door. With shaky fingers she locked the door and then leaned against it. Her legs felt like they were jello so she slid down and sat on the ground. She waited until she didn’t sense him anymore, then she felt safe enough to cry. After she cried out all of her tears she looked back at the couch. His black leather coat was laying messily on the back of the couch. She slowly got up and grabbed it. Rolling into a ball on the floor beside the couch she breathed in the strong scent of Spike. Her eyes crept around the room and stopped on the door.

((What did I do?))





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