Buffy’s nerves were so far past frazzled by Thursday at lunch, that the very appealing club sandwich she had ordered now looked disgusting; stomach churning, she pushed it away after only two measly bites. Across the table, a very worried mother stared at her sulking daughter, innocently she asked, “Not hungry, dear?”
“Huh? Oh…um, not really. Just wasn’t what I thought I wanted.” Buffy mumbled, mindlessly tearing her napkin into tiny bits.
“Uh-huh, are you talking about the sandwich or Riley?” Joyce commented, knowing she was pushing her luck in the advice column. When Buffy had shown up on her front porch the night before, offering her forgiveness after a rather long winded conversation, Joyce had made a mental promise not to meddle in her daughter’s personal life anymore. However, after spending most of the morning with Buffy, taking in her sallow complexion and weary eyes, something told her that making such a promise wasn’t going to be easy. “I was just asking, sweetie!” She exclaimed, holding her napkin up in mock surrender, when Buffy’s eyes blazed at her from across the table. “You just don’t seem to be yourself lately. I’m worried, that’s what mother’s do.”
“I’m just tired, Mom. School is seriously trying to kill me and Riley’s been hovering…not that I blame him, but with all that and the party tomorrow night…well, let’s just say that my sleep has been less than stellar.” Buffy explained, finally tossing the last scrap of shredded napkin to the growing pile on the table. Glancing back up at her mother, expecting to see disapproval written all over her face, she was astonished to find something else…compassion. After their very long talk the night before about her mother’s deceptions, Buffy had surprised herself by spilling the beans about her weekend affair with Spike. She was even more flabbergasted by the fact that her mother didn’t get upset, but seemed to understand why she had done such a thing. Sharing her sordid secret with her mom had lifted a tiny amount of pressure from her shoulders and they had spent the rest of the night huddled on the couch watching black and white movies while eating an ungodly amount of junk food. “What really sucks is that I am undoubtedly going to have to face Spike in class in like two hours since he wasn’t there on Tuesday. Really don’t want to have to do that.”
“I know this is going to be the last thing you’d ever expect to hear from me, but…why don’t you skip class today?” Joyce offered, smiling at Buffy shocked expression.
“Would really love to, but my paper is due today…so no ditching for me.” Buffy’s face crinkled with distaste at the thought of having to experience Spike’s wrath. While the guilt over cheating on Riley was still curdled in the pit of her stomach, and more than likely would be that way for a very long time, the thought of facing Spike for the first time since the incident at the Magic Box scared the hell out of her because the guilt from that experience was what plagued her sleep every night. The image of his face when she told him she loved Riley haunted her dreams, leaving dried trails of tears staining her cheeks in the morning. “Ugh...it’s just better if I get the whole thing over with, anyway. I mean, hiding from him and drawing it out’s just going to make everything worse in the end, right?”
“I imagine so, dear.” Joyce sat down her fork, picking up her wine glass and swirling the contents as a stall tactic before gathering up the courage to speak her mind. “Buffy, I need to say something and please don’t take it the wrong way, because I know that all the meddling I did in the past has not only hurt you, but what seems to be a very loving and caring young man.” Pausing to see if her daughter was going to stop her speech, Joyce took a calming breath and continued. “I know that you have made your decision to stay with Riley and I commend you on that. He’s a nice young man who obviously loves you a great deal…”
“But?” Buffy interjected when her mother paused, a look of uncertainty crossing her face. “What? You had butt-face!”
“But, I do hope that you made that decision because you are in love with him and truly want to spend the rest of your life with him. If you do, then I think that is wonderful! You two have been together a long time and have a strong relationship, but sometimes that isn’t enough. Just make sure that your decision is for the right reasons, sweetie. You both deserve to be with someone who is madly in love with you and couldn’t imagine life without you in it.” Joyce reached across the table and took her daughter’s hand in hers. “If that’s how you feel about Riley, then you two are destined to be with one another and you’re both lucky. Ok, that’s all...the end of any more motherly advice. I promise.”
“I’ve made my decision, Mom, but thanks for the advice.” Buffy slid her hand from Joyce’s and smiled, “Really, Riley’s what’s best for me. I love him, I really do. So, no worries, right?”
“No worries.” Joyce echoed, her doubts still screaming in her mind. One look into her daughter’s eyes told her that she had doubts about marrying Riley, but Joyce knew that pestering Buffy about it would only make her more determined to stick with her decision.
An hour later, Buffy reluctantly slunk into class, purposefully showing up just as Giles was shutting the door; his signal that the lecture was about to begin. Handing him her paper, she slid into her usual seat by Willow, who eyeballed her curiously as Buffy sank down into her seat in attempts to go unnoticed, and sighed out loud with relief at the realization that Spike wasn’t there, again. However, her good luck ran out quickly when the side door opened and he sauntered in, pausing to hold the door open for a svelte looking brunette dressed to perfection in a winter white slacks and a deep purple silk blouse. Not only did this cause Buffy to feel sick to her stomach with anxiety, but her cheeks reddened with jealously. In an instant, her hatred for the mystery woman mounted when his hand pressed against her lower back in an innately intimate gesture and led her across the room.
“Sorry for the delay, Rupes. Got caught up in a dreadfully boring meeting with that horrid Dean of yours.” Spike apologized, tossing his black leather satchel onto the desk and motioning to his lady friend to take a seat. When he didn’t introduce his guest to the class, Buffy seriously considered screaming.
“Not a problem, William. Only just got here myself.” Rupert insisted, taking a seat in the front row; peaking the curiosity of his students. “So…ready for your first class?”
Stepping up to the podium, Spike smiled that incredibly charming and sexy smile that certainly had the hearts of his female students swooning, and said, “Ah, the question should be are your students ready for me, Rupes, not the other way around.
“Afternoon, all…today I’ve decided to change things up a bit, throw Rupert’s stodgy old syllabus out the proverbial window and try something different. Now, I don’t want everyone to groan all at once, or at least have the bloody decency to do it quietly, but today’s class is all about poetry.” He paused, letting the collective sigh fill the room before continuing. Smirking, he looked directly at Buffy and said, “I want everyone to write a poem about loss and I don’t mean the last time your sodding car keys ended up crammed in your worn out couches. I want passion, desire, that overwhelming need to find that certain person and hold onto them tight so that they never leave again. It can be your lover, your bleeding sister or hell, a filthy dog, but it has to be done in thirty minutes…which will leave plenty of time for your presentations.” His pleased smile turned into an evil grin as he watched Buffy sink further into her seat. “Course; just to be fair…Rupes and I will be joining in.” Spike added, gaining a groan of protest from the professor.
Standing nervously at the podium, hands clenching the sides, Buffy’s knees actually shook as she prepared to face one of her biggest fears…public speaking. Licking her lips, she took a deep breath, avoided the intense glare from Spike and softly started to speak.
Miss you?
Sure, why not
You stole my heart and ran away
You gave me a note with nothing more to say
No more to say than 'I want out'
Denied the truth
I wanted to shout
Cried and cried is what I did do
Mourning this loss
The loss of you
Once finished, she grabbed the crumpled slip of paper and darted to her seat, the intensity of his stare boring a whole into her back the entire way. Flopping down in her seat, Buffy exhaled loudly, a breath she wasn’t aware of holding and stared at the back of the chair in front of her; mind wondering as she ignored the works of her fellow students.
‘Oh God, why did I have to make it about him? Couldn’t have just stuck with the death of Miss Kittyfantastico, could you? Nope, that’d just be too darned logical, huh? Stupid Buffy!’ She thought to herself as one by one her classmates ticked off their poems, never realizing that Giles had come and gone and Spike had taken his spot at the head of the class. The velvet smooth tone of his voice, deep and rich like decadent chocolate cake drew her out of her thoughts. Their eyes connected, his dark and fueled with a dangerous combination of desire and pain; hers wide and filled with sorrow.
The broken clock is a comfort, it helps me sleep tonight
Maybe it can stop tomorrow from stealing all my time
I am here still waiting though I still have my doubts
I am damaged at best, like you've already figured out
I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
With a broken heart that's still beating
In the pain, there is healing
In your name I find meaning
So I'm holding on
I'm barely holding on to you
The broken locks were a warning you got inside my head
I tried my best to be guarded, I'm an open book instead
I still see your reflection inside of my eyes
That are looking for a purpose, they're still looking for life
I'm hanging on another day
Just to see what you throw my way
And I'm hanging on to the words you say
You said that I will be OK
The broken lights on the freeway left me here alone
I may have lost my way now, haven't forgotten my way home
Buffy sat in a stunned silence as Spike crumpled up the piece of paper and tossed it into the waste basket, pausing momentarily with his back turned and rubbed his hands over his face. When he faced them again, his eyes never fell upon hers again as he praised the class on their creativeness and made a small insignificant speech about the wonder that was poetry. Finished, he bade the class farewell, gathered his things and motioned for his guest to follow in his hasty retreat.
It was a long time before Buffy left the classroom, now empty and darkened; a crumpled piece of paper clutched tightly in her fist, salvaged from the trash can.
Buffy’s poem found at poemhunter.com and was written by Dana Tyrell
Spike’s poem is actually bits and pieces of a song by Lifehouse “Broken”
Not mine in any way...so, please don't sue me for using them.
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