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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks to dawnofme for the lovely and inspiring banner, thanks to spuffy_wonder for the challenge and big thanks to sanityfair for all her help beta-reading. *Hugs* As always, all mistakes are my own and I still do not own Whedon's characters and use them only for fun. The story is mine though and is completed! (Yeah, I'm excited to say that.) I will post a chapter each Saturday and Wednesday until I run out.Thank you to everyone who read chapter one and left me a nice word or two. *hugs*
Spike took another swig from the bottle of cheap vodka he’d charmed out of the cute red-haired bartender. She’d offered to cheer him up better than the booze would, but he’d politely declined. Spike was good at getting girls into bed. He considered himself even better at handling them once they were there. It was everything else about them he considered a mystery. Not, he had to admit, that he had tried to have much more than sex with many girls. He wasn’t a misogynist. Spike liked and respected woman. He enjoyed their company; he just hadn’t fallen for very many. He prided himself on playing fairly. Sure, his flings were short, but he never lied to them. He never made promises he wouldn’t keep, and he tried to stay away from the kind of girls that couldn’t handle keeping things casual. Buffy was that kind of girl, but he’d been more than willing to change his rules for her.

He remembered the first time he saw her like it had only been days instead of years. She had just arrived at Northwood, and as an R.A., he got to show her to her room. He’d been charmed well before they got there, but one look at her shy smile had told him she was firmly on the no-play list. When her boyfriend showed up for a visit two weeks later, he hadn’t been surprised. Spike had known that she was the kind of girl you married, not the kind you sweet-talked into visiting your dorm room after the Rugby match. He’d flirted with her anyway. He hadn’t been able to help himself. He’d felt lighter in her presence and found himself doing ridiculous things just to get her smile at him grudgingly. They’d had philosophy together. He’d used the opportunity, and the fact that she showed up for class early every day, to snatch things from her desk, and try to tease her into playing keep away. She never did. Buffy would just roll her eyes and wait for him to give it back. However, her lips would twitch and Spike knew she wanted to laugh. Once, he pushed all the other desks in the classroom around hers so that she couldn’t escape, then stood on the other side of the room watching her blush as the other students came in and pulled their desks back in to position. Outside of class, Buffy was quiet, but philosophy got her riled and he’d loved to hear her argue. Half the time he’d chosen the opposite side just to see her get all worked up while debating him, the rest of the time he’d disagreed with her anyway. Buffy was softhearted. Spike had figured he just knew more of the world. Occasionally, their arguments had continued in the hallway after class, and they’d both ended up flushed and out of breath. Those were the moments Spike found not kissing her the hardest.

Despite all, they’d been friendly. He’d helped when she’d reorganized the campus-recycling program, and she’d brought him her class notes when he had the flu. When he’d showed up at her dorm room with lame questions about homework, she’d let him in and they’d spend the afternoon laughing. Sometimes she’d made him leave the door open, but otherwise she’d rarely acknowledged his flirting. She’d never commented on the tension building between them either, though Spike was sure she’d felt it too. She’d been too innocent to hide all the signs. He’d watched her lick her lips when he’d moved closer. He’d seen her pupils dilate when he’d come up with friendly reasons to touch her. She’d rolled her eyes and laughed at his most obvious moves, but he’d been certain that the subtle one’s were making their mark. Not that he’d expected to act on them.

He’d told her things he’d never told anyone before or since.

Once she had asked him how many girls he had slept with and he’d told her the truth. “I don’t know exactly,” he’d said before explaining that he’d partied hard before coming to Northwood and had often woken up with a girl or two in his bed without really remembering the night before. He’d estimated there had been around fifty. She’d tried to keep the shock and disgust off her face, but he’d seen it. Spike figured that he’d lost a lot of ground that day, but was glad that he had told her the truth. He hadn’t been surprised when she admitted that her boyfriend was the only guy she’d been with. He’d tried not to rag on her boyfriend too much, but only because it seemed to make her uncomfortable. He’d figured his bashing on her boyfriend made it harder for her to pretend his flirting was casual, so he’d kept it to a minimum. He’d found that he liked having a girl he thought of as a friend, and since he’d never expected her to give him a chance to be anything more, he’d tried to make the best of it.

More than once, he’d gotten drunk and told random people that wanted to sleep with her. Only once, he’d gotten drunk and told a girl he was sleeping with at the time that he wanted to sleep with her. Spike knew that at least some of the time those stories had made it back to her, but Buffy had never said anything. He wondered how much she had heard. He wondered if she had any idea how much he’d wanted to be her man.

Buffy had heard the stories. Plenty of people thought it was too funny not to tell the girl they thought of as a bookworm that campus playboy, Spike, thought she would be fun between the sheets. Some of them thought the whole thing was a joke, that Spike was making fun of her. That was never her concern. She knew he was flirting; it might have been eight-year-old style, but it was still obvious. Buffy was never entirely sure how serious he was being, but she didn’t think he actually thought they might sleep together. They were friends. She had a boyfriend…until she broke up with him.

Buffy knew there were lots of reasons why she and Riley had broken up. They just weren’t right for each other. Still, even as it happened, even as she and Riley had cried and given each other a final hug, she’d known that she was opening the door for William.

She thought about the night of that break up as she washed her face and rubbed on night cream. William had found out within hours. She’d run into him in the dorm hallway while discussing the need for a night of wine and chick-flicks with a few friends. He had promptly volunteered to run by the liquor store for her, and being under-aged, she had gladly accepted and handed him some cash. He’d asked what she wanted and she’d replied, “Wine, cheap and plentiful.” She’d hoped that she was coming off cool.

When he’d returned a half hour later, he’d gotten a six-pack for himself as well, and he joined her and her friends for the movie night as though that happened all the time. She’d gotten a few funny looks from her friends, but no one had said anything. He’d stayed quiet, sat on the other side of the room and only made the occasional movie-related wise crack. Most of her friends had trickled out after the second movie, and the rest had left after the third. They’d all eyed him suspiciously before leaving. Spike’s reputation was well known. Blushing, Buffy had had to assure a couple that she’d be fine. Spike had waited until they were all gone before coming closer and asking in a deep and quiet voice, why they’d hugged her and told her it would be all right before leaving. “It’s nothing,” she’d said, barely hearing her own words over the pounding of her heart. He’d arched a brow at her skeptically, and she’d admitted, “Riley and I broke up”. Spike had absorbed the knowledge quietly and nodding, made her admit that she had done the dumping. She’d thought he might kiss her then, but the ringing phone had made them both turn away. Spike had smirked. “Best answer that.” Buffy had done so to find Xander on the other end calling to see if Spike had left her room yet, she’d assured him that everything was good while Spike watched. “Chaperone number one,” he’d said once she hung up, “making sure the bad man hasn’t eaten you up.” She’d had to laugh with him when the phone rang again a moment later. “And that would be chaperone number two,” he’d announced. She remembered that the drinking had made his British accent seem even stronger than it usually did and she’d been surprised since she’d always thought he played it up just to get girls and that it would all but disappear if he wasn’t playing games. He’d left pretty soon after that second call; although he’d joked that he might be too drunk to walk all the way back downstairs to his own room. Buffy had quipped that she hoped the hallway was comfortable and the tension that had built around them lightened up a touch.

He’d actually eased up a bit on the flirting for a few days after that and Buffy had wondered if he was done.

Putting on her pajamas and crawling into the tiny cabin’s bed, Buffy wondered if she would have been hurt as badly if he had been. She wondered if she would have gotten over the crush that she’d had and simply been friends with him. She liked the idea of that. She’d missed him. Even after everything else, it had taken her a couple of years to actually become angry with him.
However, he hadn’t stopped then, so Buffy supposed it didn’t matter.


Chapter End Notes:
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