“It’s always darkest just before the dawn.”
Proverb
As Will’s eyes started coming into focus, the first thing he noticed was the faintest of smiles gracing his lips. After several moments his gaze moved from this smile and flickered over his features. He noticed he looked less fatigued. Even with the lingering weariness, there was now a pleasant addition—contentment.
Although he’d been on an emotional roller coaster since late last night, Will’s smile remained as he stepped away from the mirror and leisurely walked toward the shower. It had been tremendously difficult for both his mind and soul while dredging up all these disconcerting memories. However, he knew you needed to remember the bad to appreciate the good even more.
While his mind started buzzing with anticipation in remembering more of the “good,” he stuck his hand in past the shower curtain and turned on the water. Instantly, the once silent room echoed with the hissing of running water rushing through the pipes and pouring through the showerhead.
Once he’d felt the water was hot enough, he pulled his hand out and took off his pajama bottoms. He drew back the curtain and stepped inside. After closing the curtain behind him, he moved under the steady flow of hot water and released a heavy sigh, as the cleansing stream drenched his hair and body. Little by little, the hard spray worked to loosen the tense muscles in his neck and shoulders.
The steady tempo of water began gradually pulling him back into his memories. With his mind on autopilot, he pulled a bar of soap from the tiled ledge and began forming a rich lather with his hands. While he worked the white foam leisurely over his body, he swore he could hear the soft tinkle of the diner’s bell as memories flooded again into his mind.
Seven Years Ago
Spike begrudgingly followed Doyle into the diner. Due to the horrible night he had at the DMP, all he wanted to do was head directly home and not out for a heart attack on a plate. However, Doyle had prattled on and on about this place, and Spike knew the only way to get the mick to shut his gob was to give in.
After entering, Spike quickly scanned the room before noticing the furthest booth from the door was unoccupied. Almost in sync, he and Doyle headed toward it, only passing a few patrons along the way. Once seated, Doyle pulled a laminated menu out from behind the napkin dispenser and opened it eagerly.
“Ah, what shall it be? Hmm…what to choose…what to choose. So many brilliant choices, but despite the sheer array of artery blocking delights, I think I have it narrowed down to a choice between the Stroke-burger with bacon, cheese, and their “secret sauce” and the Bi-pass Special of three fried eggs, bangers, and a ham steak. Anything catchin’ your fancy, Spike?”
Doyle continued eyeing the menu while Spike’s attention was elsewhere. Despite how hungry his companion seemed to be, he’d already decided on coffee only. As he waited with dwindling patience for his friend to make a decision, he noticed in the large window behind Doyle two waitresses waging some sort of non-verbal war with one another. The glass somewhat distorted their reflection, but the scowl on one of the waitress’ faces with unmistakable. It screamed, “Just get off your arse!”
The one facing away from him obviously had lost, since she begrudgingly stood from her seat and turned toward their booth. The moment he saw her face, he’d become instantly mesmerized.
She was an absolute vision. Despite the obnoxious bright yellow of her ugly polyester uniform, it was strangely flattering to her petite form as it accentuated the slight swell of her breasts and tiny waist. Her long, blond hair was swept into a messy bun held by two strategically placed pencils. Spike’s gaze remained unwavering while he watched her rummage briefly through her apron pockets and head toward them.
When she arrived at the table, Spike studied her more closely. He noticed instantly the mirror did not do her beauty justice. Her sun-kissed, flawless skin looked almost as smooth as silk. Her hair was a beautiful shade of honeyed-gold with lighter blonde tendrils scattered throughout. Her up-swept hair accentuated her slender neck and her pixie-like features of large eyes, a small upturned nose, and full lips currently drawn in a faux smile. Regardless of the smile's insincerity, it had him enthralled all the same.
Then she spoke. Her sweet-sounding voice instantly became his siren’s song, dragging him closer to the ever-dangerous rocks. Then, with her name, he crashed. Anne. She bore the same name of the only woman he’d ever loved. For the second time in his life, it seemed fate was making her presence known.
Spike watched with rapt interest while her gaze remained completely fixed on Doyle. She almost appeared lost at the mere sight of him and for some reason, despite how insane it was, since he didn’t even know her from Eve, this made him swell with seething jealously. It was as if on some primal level, he had already staked a claim to her, and her showing interest in anyone else beside himself, made his inner caveman beat his chest in a clear challenge to take on any other man who stood in his way.
Spike decided, after several more moments of watching her unrelenting gaze, that he had enough and couldn’t bear it any longer! He cleared his throat loudly, which almost sounded like an animalistic growl, to get her attention. Finally, this seemed to work.
Then her gaze moved from Doyle to him. He noticed immediately her eyes were a beautiful shade of green with tiny golden flecks throughout. Spike swore the minute their eyes locked that there was an unspoken and profound connection between them.
Where is this all coming from?
On the heels of his last thought, Spike immediately threw on his mental brakes as he tried to understand what exactly was happening. After briefly scrutinizing all his unguarded and heartfelt thoughts and feelings for this tiny waitress before him, he suddenly realized what was happening. Unwittingly, William had made his way to the surface, trying to have his say, and this scared him to the very core.
Since “Spike” came to be, William had been kept well hidden. Like a sacred and hidden treasure over which countries wage bloody war, William had remained well protected behind fortified walls with a fierce guardian. Rarely did others see this side; only a few people had been privy to this part of him, and those that had, gradually earned that privilege.
Never before had someone, especially a person about whom he knew nothing, gotten past Spike so effortlessly, gaining access to William. The fact that this mere slip of a woman had caused William to show himself without a second thought made Spike even more vigilant in keeping himself safe-guarded.
While her gaze appeared fixed, most likely openly scrutinizing him, Spike pushed William down. He’d ordered himself to stand behind the ramparts of blatant disrespect and callousness—Spike’s weapons of choice.
At first when he launched his attack, she claimed she didn’t hear him and asked him to repeat himself. The second time, with increasingly more venom dripping from his words, he made sure he got his point across. It seemed to work when he overhead her mumblings of displeasure under her breath, while she walked away.
Once she was gone, strangely and almost instantly, Spike felt a deep pang of regret swell inside himself. For the first time ever, William seemed to have his say about Spike taking charge, and by the way this regret continued gnawing at him, he feared he might have been too hasty in pushing William away.
Spike continued to watch her as she placed and filled their orders. Being too absorbed by his own warring thoughts, he only caught the tail end of Doyle’s attempt at a conversation.
“…and you know the camp blond always sittin’ at the end of the bar? He told me you agreed to dress up as Boba Fett. Now, I told him he was mistaken. You're more the Darth Vader type. Ya know, with the deep voice and your fondness for black.”
“Yeah, that’s…wait, what?” Spike began to agree with Doyle, until what he’d said finally sank in. His gaze snapped from the reflection and landed on his friend. Doyle smirked as he witnessed Spike’s eyes comically widening with alarm.
“Knew that would get your attention! I’ve been carrin’ on a conversation with myself for five minutes or so, and you know how I hate talkin’ to myself. Well, when there are other people around. Anyway, if you’re interested in the girlie, go and talk to her.”
“What, ‘m not interested in her. Pfffft! And, just for the record, m’ especially not interested in playin’ dress up with Andrew.”
“So usin’ the window behind me while ‘m tryin’ to have an enlightening conversation with you isn’t starin’ at her? Huh, I guess you’re not interested, since you were such an arse to her earlier.”
“I wasn’t—“ Spike tried to defend himself, but Doyle’s pointed look made him realize it was futile to not admit the truth. “Fine, I was a right bastard bein’ rude to her. But, in my defense, she caught me off guard.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know this is a new concept for you, Mr. I-flash-a-little-come-hither-look-and-all-the-women-swoon, but we mere mortals sometimes have to make the first move—“
“Well…” Doyle held up his hand to stifle his friend’s continued flow of words, since he knew they would only lead to some sort of story involving him and a hottie, which he didn’t want to hear—again.
“Ya better listen up, Spike, or ‘m not gonna impart my words of wisdom.”
Following a heavy melodramatic sigh with complementary eye roll, Spike leaned slightly forward, giving Doyle his undivided attention. “Fine, fine, oh great one. Please continue, Yoda.”
“Very well, young Skywalker, it’s simple. It’s the girls who aren’t practically throwin’ their panties at you the first time you meet them that are worth their weight in gold.”
“That’s it? Those are your words of wisdom?” Spike’s scarred brow rose as he skeptically eyed his friend.
“Hey, I know first hand ‘bout takin’ your time. Take the fair Cordelia, for instance. Been tryin’ to get her attention for almost a year now. Soon I’ll be makin’ my move.”
“So, all those new and painful places you’ve decided to manscape on a monthly basis, at that salon she works at, are all part of your grand plan to woo her?” Spike teased, knowing full well Doyle may talk a big game, but when it came to Cordelia, he was as tongue-tied as a schoolboy, just the same way Spike felt right now.
“These things take time. Anyway, this is not about the beautiful Cordelia. This is about your potential honey. Now, I may be wrong. She may fall for the pulling her pigtails and pushing her down in the schoolyard approach that you tried earlier. She might like that whole bad-boy thing. I seriously doubt it, but stranger things have happened.”
Just then, the woman they were discussing placed a cup of coffee in front of Spike and after telling him to “Enjoy,” walked away. Spike fiddled with the cup while Doyle watched her head back to the counter.
“Now, what was that? She was ‘ere and you just let her leave! Where’s the initiative, man?”
Completely frustrated, Spike ran his hand through his hair, far more annoyed by his own actions, or lack thereof, than by those of the man in front of him.
“Doyle, I don’t bleedin’ get it! I mean, I’ve had my share of lookers, but she’s different—I can feel it. I’ve never been nervous like this before. I feel like a right git! Ok, when she comes back with your nosh, ‘m goin’ talk to her.” Spike nodded firmly, confirming his words as he’d brought the cup to his lips. The hot liquid slid down his throat before his violated taste buds could relay to his mind the bitter foulness he had just consumed.
“Bloody ‘ell!”
Spike sputtered and cursed as he looked around wildly trying to figure out what he could do to dispel the assault of the horrid taste. Quickly, he spied and swiped Doyle’s glass of ice water. At first he tried a few mouthfuls, but after realizing it wasn’t helping, he chugged the remaining liquid. With the water gone, he trapped some shards of ice in his teeth and started chomping them into fine bits before they melted and slid down his throat. Despite all his attempts, the bitterness still thickly coated his tongue and throat.
He took several deep swallows, finally successfully stopping his gag reflex that was threatening to have the coffee make its reappearance. All the while, Doyle’s laughter filled the air in boisterous intervals. Before Spike could comment on his friend’s obviously sadistic enjoyment from this, the deliverer of said foulness placed Doyle’s meal down in front of him, and with complete, faux innocence asked Spike how he’d liked the coffee.
Now if it were Spike at the helm, he would’ve told her off. Maybe even for good measure, would’ve thrown the coffee in her face and asked her how she liked it. However, it wasn’t Spike, but rather William, in the forefront. Before he responded, Spike had swallowed once more to make sure the coffee was securely in his stomach.
“It’s fine.”
After he'd clearly lied, he watched as her meticulously manicured brows furrowing slightly in confusion, and her eyes take on a far away look briefly before she’d reined it in. Strangely, before she left, she gave him an unfounded but sweet smile.
Spike’s gaze moved and remained on the window, watching her retreat. After several moments, his eyes returned to his clearly amazed friend. If his wide open mouth and untouched food was any indication.
“What?” Spike whispered loudly through clenched teeth.
“Nothin’, nothin’ at all. ‘Ve just never seen the Big Bad back away from a little retribution when he’s been wrong, that’s all. Guess Nostradamus completely missed the mark, since the world seems to be endin’ today.”
Doyle’s snarky comment and broad smile annoyed Spike to no end. However, all too soon he felt compelled to return it with one of his own.
“Ha—bloody ha. You’re a bloody comedian, and here I thought it was only your choice in clothes that was the major punch line.”
“Hey, I’ll have you know these fine threads are classics! Sorry, not all of us can pull off the “creature of the night” look you’re sportin’.”
“No, you’re more like a bleedin’ 70’s reject with all that polyester and the hideous patterns.”
Spike smirked, and taking advantage of his distracted friend feigning insult from his words, used his fork and stole one of Doyle’s sausage links, stuffing the whole thing into his mouth.
“Get your own, ya bleedin’ leech!”
Doyle grabbed and brandished his butter knife, jabbing the cutlery forward and trying to thwart Spike’s wayward fork that was coming closer to his plate once again. After several unsuccessful attempts, Spike laid the fork down, and his gaze returned to the window. Once Doyle noted Spike’s surrender and subsequent retreat, he placed his first bite into his mouth while pondering his unusually quiet friend. After he slowly chewed and swallowed, he motioned toward the tiny waitress with a tilt of his head.
“Ya know you have to give the girl credit. She's stealthy—hiding behind her good looks and killer smile while she served you hemlock. Clearly, she’s got a lot more than air keepin’ her head afloat. I like her already.”
Spike continued to watch her carefully fill another saltshaker, before softly sighing, “Yeah, so do I.”
Doyle leaned forward to capture his friend’s gaze. When Spike’s eyes met his, the certainty and seriousness in the depths of Doyle’s eyes received Spike’s immediate and rapt attention.
“So, what are ya goin’ do about it?”
Present
Will was broken from his inner musings by the now cold water biting at his flesh. He didn’t know how long he’d been showering, but if the pruney-ness of his fingertips was any indication, it had been awhile. With a flick of his wrist, the water was shut off abruptly, and he stepped out of the shower.
He snatched a body-size, burgundy towel from its perch on the countertop and briskly ran it over his frigid and slightly shaking body. Once sufficiently dried and warmed, he wrapped the towel around his waist, and after brushing his teeth, applying deodorant, and hair gel, walked out of the room.
Will cast a quick glance down the hallway, only allowing his eyes to linger briefly on her door, before entering his own bedroom. After firmly closing the door behind him, Will headed over to his bureau and began to dress. He pulled out a pair of worn jeans and his favorite long-sleeved, black tee with a silver dragon design stretching across his chest and its tail wrapping around his left bicep.
After briskly drying his hair with the towel, he ran a comb through the unruly locks several times before heading downstairs. When Will descended the stairs, the heavenly aroma of coffee surrounded him. He was grateful that his coffee maker had an automatic timer, especially after the rough night he’d had. He pulled a large mug from an overhead cabinet, and poured himself a generous amount of the fragrant liquid. Gradually, he made his way to the French doors off the kitchen and overlooking the backyard.
He noticed the snow had stopped falling, and with the sun creeping over the horizon, the world appeared to be covered with millions of diamonds as its rays reflected off the snow-covered landscape. Will loved this hour—when the day met the night. This was when the world and his mind were at its most peaceful. He leisurely sipped his coffee while a quote by Edwin Way Teale crept into his mind.
” For the mind disturbed, the still beauty of dawn is nature's finest balm.”
After he recited this quote, his memories picked up where they left off.
Seven Years Ago
After Doyle finished his meal, they paid the bill and headed out into the early morning. Before Spike exited, he turned to face the tiny woman who had captivated him. Almost as if she knew he was looking at her, she raised her head from her task. Instantly, their eyes locked. In that brief moment, Spike tried to convey all that he’d felt: confusion, longing, hope—before he turned and left.
Later that day, Spike lay in bed staring at the ceiling as sleep refused to come. He knew he should forget the tiny waitress, but even though he tried to circumvent his thoughts, they always returned to her. Knowing it was no use, Spike decided it was inevitable; he needed to be with her.
Now, he was new to the whole idea of wooing a woman. When he was William, he was far too shy to approach one. When he first became Spike, it was only about Drusilla. Later, when he was at university, women pursued him. So, all of this was a brand new territory.
Plus, this woman didn’t seem like the type swayed with a smile and a leer. She had substance, and he knew he had to work to get in her good graces, especially since he already had one strike against him.
Later that night after his shift, he’d declined Doyle’s offer to head to another diner. With a big smile and a slap on the back, Doyle bid him, “Good luck, mate!” before they went their separate ways.
Spike headed back to her diner. He sat in the same booth he had the night before and watched as she served the other patrons before coming over to his table. Her face seemed to hold a hint of surprise due to his unexpected return, but she seemed to quickly push the look away before taking his order. Spike proceeded to daringly order another cup of coffee.
Just as it had the previous night, the swill left a foul taste on his tongue, and his stomach protested about his choice by lurching several times before it relented.
The entire time he was there, they never shared any words above basic pleasantries. Spike remained until the morning staff relieved her. He noticed she glanced his way before she slipped on her coat and headed out.
The following night he returned. She wasn’t there, but Spike still ordered another cup of coffee, which this time was gratefully decent, before heading home. Over the next few weeks, he’d become a regular at the diner. Each time he took his customary spot at the furthest booth, always facing the window. Several times, Doyle had joined him. However, as time wore on, he’d decided to leave Spike alone with his “Operation Woo-the-waitress.”
The conversations between Anne and himself rarely went beyond small talk, but he’d noticed as time went on, she lingered longer at his table, and her smiles became more frequent and genuine. Unfortunately, the coffee, which was the only item he ever ordered, still remained as nasty as it had the first night.
Finally, after almost a month, he’d worked up enough nerve to try to talk to her beyond ordering. That night started off the same: “'ello”—“Coffee, please.” It then moved on to briefly discussing the weather or something else equally mundane, her placing another cup of liquid poison in front of him, and him trying to stomach it. Then came, “Here’s your bill.” However, this time, when she slid her arms into her jacket and left, Spike waited for several moments before he headed out behind her.
He had been reciting what he was going to say to her at least a dozen times, but in the early morning light, he lost his nerve. So, he resorted to following her to the bus stop, maintaining a safe distance by staying in the shadows of nearby buildings. After the bus pulled to the stop and she boarded, Spike watched until the bus made its away around the corner and out of sight.
After that night, he added another thing to his agenda, following her to the bus stop. After a week of this borderline stalker-like behavior and despite his still not being ready to speak to her directly, he had no choice but to respond when she called him out one night.
“Stalk much?” She didn’t turn to face him as she continued walking toward the bus stop. She raised her voice loud enough so he could hear her words clearly as he stayed in the shadows.
Even though she obviously knew he was there, she appeared startled when he stepped out into her line of vision, materializing from the darkness. Although her words held a tone of bravado, and she had seen him at the diner quite regularly for the past month, neither seemed to lessen the apparent uneasiness his presence seemed to invoke.
All the proof he needed was witnessing her eyes briefly widening like a deer caught in headlights and her grip tightening around her key chain that held a small bottle of pepper spray. Spike, sensing her discomfort, stepped back in order to give her space and hopefully put her at ease.
“Not stalking, accompanying, totally different vibe.” He hoped his attempt at humor would put her at ease. He believed it seemed to work somewhat when the corners of her lips flickered upward in a small smile.
“Yeah, well the California stalking law seems to disagree with you. It clearly states that stalking is when someone repeatedly follows or willfully and maliciously harasses another. Am I or am I not being repeatedly followed?"
Spike was completely in awe at how casually she’d rattled off part of the statute. Beauty and brains, what a lovely combination.
“Well, kitten, I may have repeatedly followed you, but there’s no malice of any kind. I was merely assuring that you got on the bus safely. In addition, I’ve never threatened you or given you cause to fear for your safety.”
He could tell by the surprised look, her mouth falling slightly agape and her eyes widening once again, she hadn’t expected him to recite another part of the law. She seemed to get her mental balance back quickly, when she raised her chin up indignantly and her eyes flashed.
“That may be true, but the law clearly outlines when one seriously annoys another to serve no legitimate purpose it’s harassment. And you, bleach boy, are seriously annoying me.”
“Annoying possibly, but having no legitimate purpose, not at all. I have a purpose that is very legitimate.”
On the heels of his words, he witnessed her immediately take two steps back. She clutched her key chain tighter, now placing the pad of her finger to the trigger of the pepper spray.
He tried to dazzle her with his intelligence when he rattled off parts of the statute. However, it seemed to have an adverse effect. Now, instead of appearing smart, he just looked really dodgy. He knew he needed to put her misconceptions for him being there right. He took a deep breath and hoped his explanation would work.
“Look, there’re all sorts of nasties lingering around here, and 'm just here to make sure they stay far away.”
“So, I’ve earned one big nasty instead of several little ones?” She narrowed her eyes skeptically, her finger remaining on the trigger.
A soft chuckle escaped his lips in response to her boldness. Love her fire. Hardly know the girl, and she has me hook, line and sinker.
“Yeah, I guess you have. Well, unless you tell me to sod off, then all I can give you is this suggestion—forget the bus and take a taxi.”
“Well, telling you to sot off, if it means what I think it means it may not be the best choice, since it appears your radioactive hair has scared away the other monsters. So, against my better judgment, I guess I’ll keep you around.”
“It’s sod off, luv, and I guess it has. So, does that mean you want me to hang around till you get on the bus?”
She studied him, eyeing him from head to toe. Once her gaze met his, she seemed to relax a little, almost as if she caught a glimpse of something that helped her decide to let him stay.
“I guess that’s fine, but just keep standing over there. You’re still making my creepo detector go haywire.”
They stood in awkward silence, Spike leaning against the building he'd once relied on for cover, as she stood near the weathered bus bench, still clutching her pepper spray. Fortunately, she had moved her finger from the trigger.
Spike didn’t even know if he should try to talk to her or take the hint and get lost. After several moments, Spike’s mind started churning. He always had to be on the move; whether it was his body or his mind, something was in constant motion. Before he really thought it through, his mouth was moving.
“M’s Spike, ah, in case you were wonderin’.”
She stilled kept her eyes on bus watch, but after several beats she responded loud enough so he could clearly hear her.
“Spike? Like the bulldog from Looney Toons?” Her voice held a hint of humor, and he noticed a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.
“Yeah, somethin’ like that.”
Spike chuckled weakly before contemplating whether he should continue speaking or not. This only lasted a moment before his mouth decided and took over.
“If you don’t mind my asking, and may I add m’ colored all sorts of impressed, but how is it you know California stalking law almost verbatim?”
Her eyes, which he knew the entire time, had kept him within sight, shifted from the quiet streets back to him. She looked as though she was debating whether or not to respond. It almost looked like there were two people having a full discussion in her mind, and a shrug of her shoulders preceded her announcing their decision.
“Stalker ex-boyfriend, you?”
Spike was taken back at how casual her voice and mannerism belied the type of personal and sensitive information she’d just given him. Even though he knew this wasn’t the green light to come any closer, he felt that if she was willing to tell him something like this, at least she didn’t think he was some lunatic. Well, he hoped. Or, he could be completely wrong. Maybe, she was telling him she pegged him in the same category as her wanker ex, and she was letting him know that. Spike hoped it was the former and mirrored her casualness with a shrug of his own.
“Insomniac who likes to read.”
“Ah…”
Just as quickly as it started, their conversation ended. During the next awkward pause, each of them started shifting and fidgeting. Needing to keep busy, Spike patted his pockets down until he found what he was looking for. He pulled the crumpled pack from his pocket and brought it to his mouth. His teeth skillfully gripped a cigarette. After replacing the pack back into his pocket, he pulled out his beloved Zippo and ignited the flame. All the while her gaze ping-ponged between the street and her watch.
All her checking seemed to pay off as the bus rounded the corner and headed toward them. Spike snubbed his partially spent cigarette under his boot and took a tentative step forward. The bus stopped several feet away, and with a hiss, the door opened.
She climbed two steps and stopped. Turning slightly, she glanced his way and said softly, “Maybe I’ll see you around.” Then almost dramatically, the door closed behind her. Spike watched as she took a seat on the other side of the bus, before it pulled away from the sidewalk and headed down the street.
After watching the bus disappear around the corner, Spike headed home. He felt he made a little progress with trying to get to know Anne. He had hopes maybe sometime soon he’d have enough courage to ask her out on a real date, one of the non-stalking variety.
The next night, Spike entered the diner and was greeted with Anne’s soft smile. That night instead of him taking to the shadows and following her to the bus stop, she was well aware when he exited the diner behind her. She also appeared fine with him walking with her. Spike maintained a distance of several feet due to her uneasiness the night before. After a few moments, they started talking. Gratefully, it felt less awkward, and the conversation flowed fairly smoothly.
For the next two weeks, Spike continued walking her to the bus stop. Each night, with her silent permission, he moved a little closer. By the end of the two weeks, they were standing side by side, their shoulders occasionally brushing against one another.
To add to the small sparks that each brush of her body against him left, she had really opened up to him. She told him that her name was Buffy and not Anne and fully explained why she used her middle name.
At first when she spoke, she appeared apprehensive. He sensed she seemed almost worried that he would’ve been angry with her for not being honest. However, when Spike told her he understood completely, and that he felt names were merely labels and they didn’t truly define who you were, she appeared almost relieved.
She’d then asked what his real name was; he had no hesitation in telling her—Will. After she experimentally said his name several times, she gave him a beautiful and genuine smile that completely melted his heart.
When the bus stopped several feet away, without warning, Buffy placed the sweetest, chaste kiss upon his cheek before she climbed the stairs. She quickly took the window seat closest to him as he stood on the curb. When she sat, their gazes locked and remained so for as long as they could. Spike stood and watched until the bus was no longer in sight.
He knew right then and there, she was the one. He would do everything in his power to be with this woman. Fortunately, for him, she felt the same. After that night, they were inseparable, and they stayed that way until that devastating night several years later.
Side Notes:
Camp in this case means exaggerated effeminate mannerisms
If you’re interested, California Stalking Laws are found here: http://www.stalkingalert.com/stalkinglaws.htm
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Hello all! So sorry about the delay in posting. I've just been straight out. I kinda have a few things to say, so I hope you continue reading before heading to the chapter. First and foremost: For those that frequently visit this site, hopefully you're aware of the tragedy that has befallen Pari. If you're not, please go to the home page and read below "I'm going off-line." I feel that at this time, we should all be tremendously supportive of this woman who has kept Joss' world at our fingertips for so long. My thoughts are with her and all those that are going through this difficult time. Secondly, I like to give a huge thanks to my lovely betas Sanityfair and Diebirchen. Love you ladies. And lastly, I like to thank all of you that have been reading my story. Thank you.
Chapter End Notes:
I hope this was worth the wait! Who woulda thunk...dialog and humor!!! Let me know whatcha thought...please?