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Chapter 15

Buffy was dreaming again. Disoriented. In pain.

The only thing she could see was darkness, the world hidden by William’s tightly closed eyelids although he wasn’t sleeping. He was sitting on a wooden chair, hiding his face in the palms of his hands, breathing shallowly through the pain throbbing in his ribs.

“I waited for you and you didn’t come.” The voice dripped with hurt, with accusation. “Are you angry with me?”

“I didn’t mean to keep you waiting,” he said, quietly, like a wounded animal. “Just got a bit… held back.”

Soft steps approached him. “What happened?”

He swallowed back the urge to tell her everything, but the pride he so desperately clung to wouldn’t let him. It was the only thing he had left. “Nothing. I’m okay.”

“I know you’re lying, William,” a girl said. “I can feel it in my heart.”

William finally opened his eyes. They were in a small room, the one where he’d had a bucket of water dumped on his head the year before. His room. It looked the same, sparse and functional, without a trace of affection. The lights were off and it took him a moment to focus on the girl concealed in the shadows.

“I’m sorry,” he said, a strand of unruly hair falling into his eyes when he ducked his head. The girl touched his cheek then and he looked up to see a sliver of hesitation in her haunting blue eyes.

“It was Ed, wasn’t it?”

Shame flared in his veins, hot and crushing. “I’d rather not say.”

She sighed, a heavy troubled sound that told Buffy that William’s unwillingness to talk was not unusual. “You have to tell someone. You can’t keep letting them—”

He leapt from the chair in his anger, unable to suppress a wince as the move jarred his bruised ribs. “Letting them? You think I enjoy getting shit beaten out of me on a daily basis? Yeah, I just love it. It’s a real nice treat for me, Dru.”

She recoiled, her thin arms falling to her sides.

William swallowed hard, wishing he could take the words back. She didn’t deserve his anger. Tentatively, he reached out to graze her shoulder with his fingertips. Sometimes she appeared to be so fragile he was afraid to touch her for fear she’d crumble. “I’m sorry. I’m a berk.”

Her eyes flickered to his, her voice taut with sudden desperation. “Something’s going to happen if we don’t leave. The walls… I can see the devil painting them red.”

Chills raced over his scalp. At times, Drusilla would say the strangest things. She’d get headaches and shake and he would hold her then because what else could he do? He couldn’t leave her to fend for herself. Not after she’d pulled him out of the darkness and forced him to eat when he was so determined to starve to death after he came here.

He caught her before she sank to the floor and sat her down on his bed and wrapped his arm around her. “We can’t run away, Dru. You’re safer here.” But even Buffy could hear the remorse swelling in his voice.

“You’re not listening to me. We will die if we stay.”

The conviction shone clear in her eyes and it made him falter. It made his heart ache because he knew her mind wasn’t all there after the things she’d been through.

“What about those nice folks that came by last week? They seemed to like you. You could still have a family. A life.”

She laughed and the sound of it was so heartbreaking that William fought the urge to apologise all over again. Even if it wasn’t his fault.

“I’m fifteen, sweet William. I’ve been in foster care since I was born, you know that. Daddies and mommies don’t want me. They want a small baby that they can coddle and coo at. One that isn’t dirty and damaged.” She gazed into the distance with empty eyes. “I feel like I’m a puppy in a pet store but nobody wants me because I’ve grown too big. Everybody just stares and stares but never chooses me.”

William tightened his embrace, rubbing her back. “You’re not damaged.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re not!” he said forcefully and stroked the black silk of her hair. “I… I’d always choose you.”

“I’ve got nobody but you. You’re my knight.” She gave him a wistful smile. “Will you protect me? Like I’m a princess trapped in a tower?”

William smiled sadly and kissed her on the temple. “Always.”

“Even against a dragon?”

He nodded. “Against a bloody troll too if it came to it.”

“But what if he owns the sun as well as the moon?”

William’s brows furrowed. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I’m tired.” She leaned into his side and closed her eyes. “Can I stay here tonight?”

“Of course.” They needed each other. It frightened him how much he’d come to depend on her to keep the loneliness at bay, to wake him up when the nightmares struck. He did the same for her.

The urge to protect her rose in his gut as she slipped under the covers to lie beside him. Her small hand covered his as she faced him.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“You shouldn’t.” She traced the length of his fingers, those shadows that never fully retreated dancing in her eyes. “Love hurts. It tears you apart, turns you inside out and leaves you to bleed. Like poppies blooming on the ground.”

He sucked in a breath and squeezed his eyes shut. He hated how broken she was. That there was nothing he could do to glue the pieces back together and give Dru her innocence back. But he couldn’t help but love her. She was everything he had. And he knew she’d never love him back.

*******

The next day, Buffy stood in the locker room, changing and ignoring the other girls who were too busy gossiping to notice her anyway. Well, everyone but Anya who dropped her stuff on the floor next to Buffy’s feet.

“Xander’s nice,” she said in a tone one would use to say they’d witnessed a murder.

“And that’s bad because…?”

Anya took her shirt off and wildly gesticulated. “I only wanted to have sex! He wasn’t supposed to be so… funny and sweet and so nicely shaped. What am I going to do?”

Buffy stared at her, brows furrowed. “Isn’t that kind of the point? I mean… plenty of girls would kill for a guy like that. One that’s not… secretive and moody and wears ugly big black boots.” Also, Anya was regarding her with a questioning look. “Never mind.”

“No crush, hm? If I meet him, I’ll give him piece of my mind. That’s what girl friends do, right?”

A thing to remember? Keep Anya away from Spike at all costs. “Yes, which is why you’re going to tell me why nice Xander is a bad thing.”

Yup, she was a master at diverting attention.

“It’s just… I don’t want to get attached. It could never work.” She sounded forlorn, but Buffy couldn’t understand what the problem was. Then again, she sucked at the whole relationships thingie.

Remembering she was supposed to be changing into something more exercise-y, she took her own shirt off, “But wh—”

“What’s that?” Anya’s eyes sharpened as they zeroed in on Buffy’s pendant. It was a strange, intense kind of stare.

“Umm… just my locket.”

“Where did you get it?” Anya never took her eyes off it and now her fingertips hovered above it as though she was afraid to touch.

Buffy laughed to diffuse the tension. It didn’t work. “In my basement. It belonged to my mother. Why?”

“I don’t know. It looks… familiar. I’m sure I’ve seen it somewhere before.”

“Well, I bet there are hundreds of them on sale somewhere, right?” Although it looked antique, Buffy didn’t believe it actually was. It was probably just really good costume jewelry.

Anya seemed to have shaken herself out of the stupor and gave her a confused smile. “I guess.”

Buffy filed it away as quirky Anya behaviour and forgot about it by the time they started doing laps around the gym.

*******

This was a bloody stupid idea.

Spike knew that even as he trudged up the front porch to a small modest house and knocked on the front door.

His eyes darted around. If he ran fast enough, maybe he’d make it without being seen.

Get a grip, mate. ‘S not like she’s going to rip your balls off. Well, probably not.

The door swung open to reveal a flushed Buffy with what looked like flour on her cheek. Her surprise quickly shifted to barely contained wariness.

“What are you doing here?”

He dropped his gaze and cleared his throat to get rid of the dryness. Fuck, his hands were shaking.

“That’s a bloody good question.”

She tapped her fingers on the door jamb. “Spill or I’m slamming this door in your face.”

And she’d do it too. He could see it in her eyes. “Look, can we talk? Preferably inside since I’m freezing my ass off here.”

Not really but she didn’t need to know that.

He expected a snarky reply but she stepped away with a weary sigh instead and opened the door wider. “Come in.”

The smell of something delicious wafted to his nose as soon as he entered the house and followed Buffy’s sashaying hips to the kitchen. “Are you cooking something?”

“Baking cookies,” she said over her shoulder and went straight to the oven.

The ones she took out were baked to perfection, steaming and smelling exactly like the ones his mother used to make. It smelled like home. Like happiness and safety and love. Like the things he no longer had. He rubbed his chest but the ache that had settled there wouldn’t leave.

“Are they chocolate chip?” he asked quietly, feeling like a right ponce for feeling emotional over something as trivial as cookies and hoping she wouldn’t notice.

She gave him a crooked grin. “Yeah. I’m kind of addicted to chocolate.” The corners of her mouth dropped then. Her hands fidgeted with the spatula before she started to place the treats on a plate. “If you’re here because of… I’d rather not talk about what happened.”

Buffy felt utterly humiliated. If she looked at him now she’d probably spontaneously combust. She actually wished she would. It was just her luck that the ground refused to open and gobble her up.

“I came to apologise,” he mumbled and she had to give him a glance to gauge his sincerity. Especially since that was the last thing she’d expected to hear.

“Why? I was the one that screwed up, not you.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t handle it very well, did I? My social skills are a bit rusty, I have to admit. As I said then, you just took me by surprise and I didn’t mean to come off as… fuck, this is hard. Look, I’m no good, yeah? Some might say I’m a right bastard and they wouldn’t be wrong. And you’re just so… I’m not your type, believe me.” He fell silent, his gaze falling to the table.

Not her type? What did that even mean? Was he a criminal or something? Oh god, maybe he liked men and she’d thrown herself at him like a clueless floozie!

“Are you gay?”

His eyes widened. “What? No!”

What she felt was definitely not relief. That wouldn’t even make any sense. He didn’t want her and she was fine with that. Better than fine. She was awesome!

He lifted his eyebrow suspiciously. “Are you telling me I look like one?”

“Well, no, not exactly. I mean, the hair is kind of… and the painted nails…”

“It’s called punk!”

She hid her grin behind a cookie. “Sorry.”

He glared and leaned back. “Gay,” he muttered. “I’ll give you gay.”

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to offend your male pride or whatever. Look, can you just forget the… stuff ever happened? I don’t even know why I did it.” Only, she did. He’d been so close and smelled so good and the look in his eyes had ensnared her, pulled her in. She was just human. “It had to be the hot chocolate! Too much sugar makes me act all wonky. So… there.”

Spike gave her a dubious glance but didn’t comment on the obvious excuse. “Right, it’s my fault then.”

“Now you get it.”

He rose to his feet and approached her with a swagger in his step. “If you feel too bad about it, you could offer me some… cookies.”

Oh, he pulled the seduction so well he could have honed the skill for centuries. But she caught the tremor in his voice, noticed the raw longing in his eyes as he looked at the cookies. A confused smile pushed at her lips but she held it back. There was something vulnerable about him, something so young that she couldn’t help but nod.

“Sure, I made lots of them. It’s the only thing I can manage without burning the house down.”

But Spike was no longer listening to her. Instead his eyes had slid closed as he took a bite. And he moaned! How was she supposed to control herself around him when he went and did things that spun her head around?

He pushed the remaining half of the cookie into his mouth, his cheeks pouched.

“You look like a hamster,” she said, watching him with amusement. She probably shouldn’t be so pleased that he liked them.

Spike’s hand already reached for another one as he finished chewing before he flicked her an embarrassed glance. “Umm… can I have more?”

Was he asking her? And here she thought he was the kind of a man who took what he wanted when he wanted it, but this shy version was… well, endearing.

“Yup.”

“Cheers, kitten,” he said and ate the next cookie as if someone would come any moment to snatch it out of his hand.

“If you eat like that, you’re going to choke,” Buffy said. “You look like you’ve never had cookies in your life.”

He swallowed and brushed stray crumbs away from his chest. “Of course I have, just… not in a long while.”

He looked so sad she wanted to reach out and touch him. “Well, take as many as you want. Dad is on a diet to become healthier, apparently. At least that’s what he told me yesterday. But between you and me, he’s just trying to impress our neighbour.” She was still grossed out by the mere idea that her father liked someone. It was icky.

“Was it the bird from the shop? They looked cozy,” Spike said as he sneaked an extra cookie into his coat pocket. Like she wouldn’t notice? Please. “Got to say your old man’s got good taste. The bird has nice,” he cupped his palms at the chest level, “eyes.”

“You’re disgusting.” Great, every guy had to like big boobs. She glanced at hers with dismay.

“It comes with the XY chromosome,” he said with a shrug.

“Well, go and marry her, why don’t you.” She cringed at the jealousy in her voice. Great, now he was smirking and giving her that look that made all kind of wicked thoughts race through her mind.

“I prefer women that can make cookies like these.”

“See? You’re always doing this! Getting all flirty innuendo guy. Would you please stop doing that? It’s driving me insane.” Insane and all kinds of angry. Did he tease her deliberately, cruelly? Was he that much of a jerk?

Spike could tell he’d somehow hurt her feelings. And here he thought he’d be paying her a compliment. “What did I do?”

“You know what? Forget it. Just… go. Dad should be here soon and I so don’t want to have to explain why you’re here.”

The barrier she pulled around herself to ward him off was icy enough to make the temperature of the kitchen drop a few degrees. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what I did to make you look at me like I killed your puppy.”

If she thought avoiding his gaze and busying herself with washing the dishes would make him leave, she was in for a big surprise.

“Please go.”

“No.” He leaned on the counter where she was washing the dishes and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Spike…”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me, so you might as well get it over with.”

She threw her soapy hands in the air in irritated. At least they were getting somewhere. Better to rile her up than have her in full control and cold as a winter’s storm. No, he’d prefer to be burned by her fire any day.

“Fine,” she said. “You always make fun of me and I’m sick of it! I’m sick of the taunting, and I know you’re thinking, ‘Oh look at that poor ugly girl. I think I’ll—”

“When have I ever said you were ugly? That’s a load of bollocks.” He gripped her shoulder and turned her to face him, almost crippled by the insecurity in her eyes. “I like you, all right? God knows why because you’re more trouble than anyone I’ve ever met. You’re stubborn and nosy, not to mention you kicked me in the balls, but you’re far from ugly.” He gazed at her without blinking, willing her to see his words for the truth they were as he cupped her face in his palms. “You’re bloody gorgeous.”

Hesitation tinged the green of her eyes, the thick lashes flickering to her cheeks as she ducked her gaze.

“And no, I’m not just saying it.”

Everything in him screamed to get closer, to sit her up on the counter and pull her legs around his hips so he’d be cradled by her warmth. He was too selfish to keep away. Too selfish and starved not to take what he wanted. Her breath tickled his chin and he licked his lips, feeling her hair tickle his hands, her breasts pressed against his chest in a way that made him curse the tightness of his jeans.

The need to kiss her, to possess her mouth flared up and consumed his every cell one by one. Their lips barely grazed when the front door opened and shut, followed by Hank’s voice.

“I’m home, pumpkin!”

TBC





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