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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you everyone who reviewed. It's your awesomeness that gives me inspiration. It also makes me want to flirt with you. Hope you don't mind.

Lovely beta: All4Spike
Chapter 11

She was so tired.

No.

Tired wasn’t a strong enough word for the bone rattling exhaustion that weighed down her entire body. Her eyelids kept fluttering shut, her arms were too heavy and she stubbed her toe on the door sill of her room when she stumbled in half-blind, heading straight towards the bed.

This is the stuff.

The mattress, the comforter, the pillows were all soft and comfy, tempting her brain to shut off as her every muscle relaxed. She was worn out from wandering around town all day to avoid talking to her father because she was still mad at him for running interference. But they had still talked and talked and talked with no end in sight and now it was way past midnight.

Buffy let out a whoosh of breath and snuggled into her pillow. She should probably change into pajamas. And wash her face. But God, she was so tired she didn’t even have enough energy to yawn.

It wasn’t long before she dropped off to sleep.

*******

Rain rattled against the window, the fat heavy drops the only source of sound in an otherwise silent room. William lay unmoving on the twin bed pushed against the wall and drew his knees up to his chest.

His wrists still bore marks of the cord that had cut into his flesh, though the scabs were now chipping off and the only thing left would be scars. The other kids in the foster home thought he’d done it to himself and he didn’t care enough to correct their assumptions. Nobody needed to know the wounds were the sign of his failure.

He hated it here.

Hated the foreign smell of cheap detergent on his equally cheap comforter and pillow that was too flat. Hated all the noise the other kids created just by existing. Hated that it would always be this way from now on. His life stretched ahead, a bleak empty road heading nowhere. Then they would throw him out once he reached eighteen, with no prospects and no money, left to fend for himself.

He wasn’t strong enough to survive.

Maybe it was better if he just lay here, staying passive aggressive with his refusal to eat or move even though his stomach was cramping with hunger.

Someone outside his room shouted and laughed, feet stomping like those of an enraged elephant right before the door to the room was flung open and a heavy-boned, dark haired boy about William’s age lumbered in.

“Mate, he still hasn’t moved. This must be a new record,” the boy said to someone outside in the corridor.

“Are we sure he isn’t dead?” the other boy replied.

“Hmm… let’s try.”

William didn’t even flinch as the boy ventured forward and bent over to pinch him on the arm hard enough to leave a bruise. He’d learned it was easier if he ignored those that took it upon themselves to beat him and take advantage of his unwillingness to talk. If he failed to react, they would eventually grow bored and leave. He just didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up before something inside him broke, and all that rage, all that anger and uncertainty would boil over to burn someone’s skin clear off.

“You know, Willy, I bet you’d like to go outside right now, right?” The boy guffawed as though amused by his own cleverness right before something wet trickled on William’s face. “Just makes you want to feel all that rain, doesn’t it?”

William squeezed his eyes shut as what seemed like gallons of water were dumped on his head, soaking into his pillow and mattress. At least this time it wasn’t piss. He could still feel the stench of it even after they had replaced the mattress.

“Come on, Ed, that’s enough,” called the other voice. “We’ll get in trouble.”

Ed pushed at William’s shoulder with a sneer. “It’s not like he’s gonna say anything.”

After a few insults and pushes, William was left alone. He stomped down the urge to cry as he sat up and ran a hand through his soaked hair. Tears were a sign of weakness and that was something he couldn’t afford. Day after day he felt his skin thicken, laid another brick in the wall protecting his heart.

He couldn’t survive here—he knew that—which was why he was going to run.

Soon, William thought and straightened his spine. Soon, he would escape.

*******

Buffy rolled over with a groan, waking up to the feeling that something was off.

Her head felt weird, all warm and cold at the same time, her hair sticking to the sweaty back of her neck.

Blearily, she sat up and blinked a few times to adjust to the rays of sun streaming into her room and flowing across the floor. Her hand tangled in her hair.

What the…

Her hair was damp.

Buffy’s eyes shot wide open as her fingers tunneled through drying wet strands. Even knowing Dad would never prank her by dumping a bucket of cold water over her head, she still scanned the room in an effort to find a rational explanation.

There was nobody there but her.

Okay, okay, calm down and stop freaking out.

Had she been sleepwalking? Oh God, she hadn’t dunked her head in the toilet, had she? How gross would that be? Except, if she’d sleepwalked, wouldn’t she have woken up someplace weird? Certainly not in the same position she’d fallen asleep in last night. This didn’t feel like sleepwalking at all, the truth of it reverberated through her gut. She didn’t know how it worked exactly, but she just knew.

Something was very wrong here.

*******

It was nearing sundown when Buffy made her way down her newly reclaimed tree with her sketchbook rolled up and precariously tucked in the back pocket of her jeans. As per usual, she’d lost track of the time and now the sun had dimmed enough to make the path through the woods difficult for her to follow.

She hadn’t caught a glimpse of Spike all day. As she made her way towards the patch of trees, she wondered whether he was at the house at all. Probably out and about doing his weird lurky thing.

Sure enough, a dark figure emerged from the woods nearby, shrouded in twilight shadows and she almost jumped out of her skin.

The girly yell she let out? So not proud of that. But hey, a girl was allowed to be startled, wasn’t she?

The shadows shimmered away to reveal a very grumpy Spike who faltered in his purposeful stride and glanced towards the source of the sound in surprise. The way his thick eyebrows shot up and almost met his hairline was kind of funny.

“Buffy? What are you doing here? And why the hell are you scaring all the squirrels away with that holler of yours?” He sauntered close towards her and it was then that she noticed the tips of his hair looked kind of singed and that he sported a dark smudge on his face.

“There are no squirrels in Sunnydale,” she said and squinted at his countenance. “Were you experimenting with home-made bombs?”

“What?”

“Your…” She pointed to her own cheek with a smile. “You’ve got a little… dirt right here.”

He rubbed at his cheek with vigour that didn’t help at all. The smudge was on the other cheek.

Doofus.

With a roll of her eyes, Buffy closed the distance and touched the dirty spot on his face. Just a gentle graze of her fingertips, yet it made her quiver. “Here.”

His skin was warm despite the cool autumn air. The contact seemed to have startled him almost as much as his sudden appearance had her. He just blinked, rousing her from her own fascination and she let her hand fall.

“Thanks,” he said and rubbed at the place she’d touched with a strange expression on his face. She wished she knew what he was thinking right now, whether he was silently berating her for touching him or didn’t find it worth thinking about at all.

“No problem.” The scuffed toes of his boots were so much more interesting, she told herself when she dropped her gaze. Maybe now that she wasn’t looking him in the eye, her silly heart would stop pounding as if she’d run a mile.

“So, you came here to do a bit of artsy stuff then?” he asked and she remembered that yes, he was still there and apparently still talking to her.

“Uh huh.” She went to wave her sketchbook in his face but realised it was in her back pocket. It took her about five awkward seconds to find out which pocket it was in and by the time she finally closed her fingers around it and showed it to him, his eyes were sparkling with mirth.

“So I see,” he drawled and even despite his dirty face, he somehow managed to pull off the seductive-makes-you-blush-embarrassingly effect.

The bastard.

She hated it when he made her feel so… girly.

“Yeah, but… what about you? What’s with the fire fighter look?”

He tilted his head to the side and sucked in his cheeks. “Was saving kiddies from a burning building. And puppies. Can’t forget those furry bastards.”

“Shyeah. As if.”

“What? I could have.” He smiled with a bitter edge and said with a healthy dose of self-depreciation, “I’m all heroic-like, aren’t I?”

“It’s not like I’d know, actually,” she said with a shrug, gauging his responses carefully. “I don’t really know you, do I?”

He straightened up and tore his gaze away to look into distance instead. “No, I don’t suppose you do.”

Oh, she hadn’t forgotten about the hands thingy. And there was obviously something he wasn’t telling her. He’d just have to find out the hard way how stubborn and insistent she could be.

“So, me drawing you was just a… a fluke. Some incredibly weird, not to mention accurate, coincidence.”

He kicked at the ground absentmindedly, his hands sliding into his pockets. “I don’t know what’s happening here, honest. I’m as curious as you are.”

“But you know something. Something you’re not telling me.” Her jaw hurt from grinding her teeth together in sheer frustration.

He closed the few inches of distance and stared her down with a dangerous glimmer in his eyes.

“I’m not obligated to spill my every secret to you. Even if I knew what in the bloody hell was going on here, why I would I tell you?”

Despite the I’m-going-to-bite your-head-off vibes, Buffy stood her ground. Pulled up the courage from somewhere deep in her gut. “Your intimidating crap isn’t going to work on me.”

“Oh, is that right, Buffy?” His nostrils flared as they faced off, neither willing to back down. Her skin felt too tight and she felt that if a pin dropped, it would set her off to do something…. She wasn’t sure what. All she knew was that this mounting tension made her pulse thunder, her mouth run dry.

“That’s right,” she whispered with steel in her voice, licking her lips to chase off the dryness.

Spike caught the small movement with narrowed eyes, his pupils dilating so wide they almost swallowed up the ocean blue. She wasn’t sure why, but seeing that look in his eyes made her heart clench.

But then he stepped back, the muscles in his cheeks ticking before he let out a harsh exhale.

“It’s getting dark,” he said and she could hear the rasp in his voice telling her he had felt it too. That strange… whatever it was.

“So?”

“So, it’s the time for all little girls to be going home right about now.” He looked pointedly at her. “Come on now, I’ll walk you home.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t need you to walk me home. I’m capable of doing that myself, thank you very much.”

With a roll of his eyes, Spike slid one hand out of the pocket to put it between her shoulder blades, putting a gentle pressure to get her moving. The heat of his warmth seeped into her flesh even through the fabric of her shirt.

“Please, cut the girl power crap and let’s go.”

“I’m not a little girl,” she muttered.

The feel of his hand disappeared and he whispered, “No, no you’re not.”

“Then why does everybody keep calling me that? It’s starting to get really old.”

Spike slanted her a glance. She had to be so bloody cute, didn’t she? Make it even more difficult for him to keep his mitts off. Although if she licked her lips like that one more time, all bets would be off.

“Everybody?” he asked, watching her sullen expression.

“You. Dad.”

“That’s not everybody, that’s just two people,” he couldn’t help but tease as they trudged through the woods.

Oh, she was aggravated now. This should be fun.

“Nobody likes a smartass.”

Hadn’t he told her the very same thing nine years ago? And why did he even remember that? Balls. “How old are you anyway?”

“Seventeen,” she said then hurried to add, “But I’ll be eighteen in a couple of months. Why are you asking?”

Good, so he wouldn’t exactly be cradle robbing if he... Which he would not. “No reason. Curious, is all.”

“So, how old are you?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Huh.”

He frowned. “What? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” She ducked her head but he still caught the smile she tried to hide. “Just, you’re really not much older than me.”

“Yeah? So?” Their hands brushed and he trembled like he was a fifteen-year-old girl on her first date. Disgrace, that’s what he was. A bloody disgrace to all things male.

“Just an observation. No need to get all prickly.”

He wasn’t being prickly, just nervous as hell. When they made it out of the woods and started to walk down the pavement, he exhaled a sigh of relief. The sooner he’d be rid of her, the sooner he could start chain smoking and working off the unwanted tension. She’d wheedled herself under his skin but good.

“Have you moved in here for good?” she asked suddenly.

“Why? Will you miss me when I’m gone?”

She evaded answering and asked, “So you are going away then? You’re not staying here.”

“Not forever, no. Just until I get what I came here for.”

“And that would be?”

Without thinking about it, he looped his arm around her waist and leaned in to whisper in her ear, “Stuff.”

“What stuff?” Her voice was threadbare and coming apart all because of him. Because he was touching her and the animal in him scented the weakness, the attraction, like a shark scented blood. Yeah, he wanted to hunt down this prey. He wanted to pounce. Bury his hands in her hair and mold her body to his, sup from her sweet, heart-shaped lips.

“What stuff?” she repeated and turned her head to face him. It would take minimal effort to lean and take what he wanted.

He put distance between them again and said teasingly, “I collect stamps. SunnyD has the best of them.”

“You’re a sucky liar.” Her voice was steadier now but he could still see the rosy tint in her cheeks. He’d never been more unworthy of someone and he suspected it was one of the reasons he couldn’t help but want her.

“And you’re a nosy cow.”

“Hey!”

He chuckled. Unable to keep from touching her when she was so close, he wrapped a strand of her hair around his fingers. It slipped through like water spilling down a fall.

“Don’t think I won’t get it out of you eventually,” she said.

“Oh, I wager you will.” Despite berating himself endlessly, reminding himself of the implications her knowing him could have, he couldn’t bloody stay away. This was hopeless. He was hopeless. “But I won’t go down without a fight.”

“I like a good fight.”

Bloody hell, could she be any more perfect?

TBC


Chapter End Notes:
Would you please spare a minute to let me know what you think? It would make my sucky day so much better.



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