[Reviews - 39]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 1044 times

- Text Size +




Spike was still astounded the next day. From the moment he woke his heart rattled with the blaring echo of memory.

Memories which entailed a car, a conversation, and a whole lot of unearned luck.

They reverberated like a drum, lasting all through the afternoon. Turning another common winter day of mopping, wiping and scrubbing into something nearly unrecognizable. A familiar gray uniform stood as nothing but contrast to a very unfamiliar mindset. He lived every moment on the edge of losing his breath.

He was poised and ready to fall, to hit something like a solid sheet of icy reality, but all he seemed to be able to do was float. Buffy had asked him for a ride yesterday. A ride home. The day after she smiled at him. After she accepted his offer to retrieve her things from her office, the one she couldn't visit just yet.

He was wrapped in a blanket of surrealism from the first moment they spoke.

Now, here he stood, outside a familiar door which had unwittingly pained him every time he walked by. Ever since that terrible day almost two months in the past.

It pained him still, but not for the same reasons. He glanced at her nameplate. Cautiously twisting the doorknob, dark faded to dim as light snuck inside, shadows stroking the edges of every flat surface. He didn't feel right going in uninvited, but he knew the welcome was there. It had been freely given only yesterday.

She said not to rush with delivering her things, but Spike thought the longer it took the worse Buffy would feel about it. The more she would dwell. His girl wasn't changing her mind tomorrow, but the sooner she could fully distance herself from this job, the sooner she might miss it. The faster students would seek her out.

Spike didn't want to push, and he wouldn't risk sticking his nose in where it wasn't wanted; but he would help Buffy in any way he could. Just knowing she appreciated an offer as simple as this one, from him nonetheless, told of how unsettled she must feel.

Switching on the overhead, he found an unmemorable desk. A vase of flowers topped one corner. Striding closer, Spike set down the empty cardboard box he carried. His hand flattened beside lilies, roses, and something else feminine and delicate he didn't know the name for.

*Who's she getting flowers from?*

Spike's good hope deflated as if hit with a dart.

The man looked at his shoes, bit down and crumpled his questions and concerns into a metaphorical ball. Stubbornly kicking it away, he effectively cleaned out Buffy's office. Anything that looked remotely like hers found a temporary home in the cardboard box, from one package of colorful paperclips to a folder labeled "Nothin' Beats Sweets" coupons. He was finished in under fifteen minutes, his load stacked high.

Spike scowled at the flowers again.

Why would she keep flowers in here? There was always the chance Buffy bought them for herself, but the bouquet didn't look like something you'd get just to liven up an office. It was predominantly red and white, fragrant, likely arranged with a romantic gesture in mind. Perhaps it had been gifted to her, by someone special.

Spike ground his teeth again, resisting an urge to "accidentally" knock the vase right off the edge. Who could it be? He would have gotten her flowers, but she didn't want them from him, so who snuck in? Who was helping her forget about the idiot that broke her trust and made her feel threatened?

Spike shook his head harshly. No, Buffy wasn't scared of him anymore. She made that clear yesterday.

He thought there was more to it, though. He thought she meant to underline another important change by saying he didn't have to try so hard to stay away anymore. An admission behind her eyes; he saw something there. Saw something in the way she treated him once their drive ended. Buffy certainly didn't appear frightened. She acted friendly, relaxed, even sweet.

Then again, maybe that was all it was. Kindness. Forgiveness, of a sort, but nothing more.

Perhaps he'd been all wrong.

Spike swallowed thickly, fisting his hands as he fought the sensation of dwindling promise. He shouldn't be surprised. Really. This is what he'd earned.

Denouncing every ounce of pain and pride, he tucked the flowers into the crook of his elbow with a disgusted groan. "Sorry excuse for a bouquet," he muttered, and carried it out, leaving everything brown and drab behind.

Spike placed the box in the backseat of his car along with his uniform. The vase of wilting but vibrant roses found a spot between his knees so it wouldn't tip over. Oh, he wanted to throw it out the bloody window, but he also knew he had no right.

If this was punishment, unintentional though he knew, it was well deserved. Buffy probably forgot about the flowers with everything that had happened. It wasn't her fault he found them, wasn't her problem they dug deep like a spear under the skin. It was Spike's issue, from his jealousy to the painful evidence indicating Buffy might be moving on.

His foot pressed heavily on the gas pedal. He squeezed the steering wheel before utilizing his horn for the sake of the slow driver in front of him. Floral scents and stale water wafted up to tickle his nose, making him feel sick.

***

Buffy put her hand on the frosty hood of her Jeep. Larry dropped it off only hours ago, but she was exceedingly impatient to drive it home. The last few days had been stranger than most, all obvious reasons aside; the simplicity of having her own car back was a divine gift.

As had Anya been this past weekend. Buffy turned briefly and waved to her through the shop window before unlocking her driver's side door. She climbed in behind the wheel and started the engine.

After flipping on the heat, Buffy settled back for a moment. She was leaving work early again, like yesterday. Her excuse then had been she needed to speak with Robin Wood. A simple phone call Monday morning was adequate to inform him she wouldn't be coming in that day, but not nearly suitable enough to discuss her reasons for quitting. It was a decision that took all weekend to fully cement; the least she could do was show up and explain why the original plan to simply take time off had changed into something much more permanent.

Buffy cringed softly at the memory. Really, the only upside to Tuesday had been her run in with Spike, and no, she almost couldn't believe she was admitting that to herself either.

Things had changed. Vastly, since the beginning of the month. One too many secrets revealed, some stunning realizations, a phone call, and your heart flipped over like a turtle on its back. Not to mention the unanticipated chaos that was Thursday afternoon.

Anya had been around quite often following the incident. Friday, she took care of the store without probing for a true explanation, and drove Buffy to work Sunday morning under the condition she would learn what the hell had happened to her Jeep.

Tempting Anya away from the store proved impossible after that. Not that Buffy was complaining. She needed time off and Anya liked the extra money. Shocked by news of the attack, she was more irritated than upset on Buffy's behalf; it was just her way. Xander had been furious, of course, but despite their high running emotions the Harrises agreed to keep all garnered details to themselves.

Buffy knew word would get around shortly, but the more vague that word, the better. It was nothing less than a miracle the proverbial cat hadn't been let out of the bag five days ago. If such luck made zero sense in reality, well, she wasn't complaining.

It lasted longer than anticipated. Today, Buffy finally encountered her first batch of probing townsfolk. They dropped in at the store masquerading as customers, while their questions bounced off the walls like boomerangs. A couple of students came by later, much more sincere in their curiosities. Penny and Nick's concerns were genuine. The people Buffy called peers were just nosy.

She caught herself frowning at her lap. Pulling herself out of the slump, Buffy tossed her purse onto the passenger seat and put the car in reverse, grateful for the familiar shape of a steering wheel beneath her hands. Snow and ice made crunching sounds as she left the curb behind.

When Larry dropped in on Sunday, he had apologized repeatedly for not having replaced her tires yet. It was the same day he picked up his check from the recent sale, along with what remained of his late wife's antiquities.

Buffy remembered when she first told him they couldn't do business together anymore, thanks to Joe's tireless antagonism. The man hadn't argued. He was nothing like his oldest, and he acted differently around her now, even more subdued and courteous than usual.

She supposed that was to be expected, though. Larry was visibly ashamed of his family's behavior.

As a result, pity was hard to avoid. After all, he hadn't sent either of his sons to her door to cause trouble. Larry hadn't even known Shaun to be the bullying sort until he was under obligation to fix four ruined tires.

You could argue the man didn't pay enough attention, and Buffy would agree, but there was just some small part of her which insisted on caving to sympathy.

Then thoughts of Jack, or Penny, or even Shaun would enter her mind, and she was reminded all over again how easy it was to lose sight of the kids most in need of care and attention when adults dropped the ball. When families were so wrapped up in blissful ignorance or self satisfying desire that the children trying to grow up were actually the ones falling behind.

Buffy's fingers dug into the steering wheel. Feeling tremendously guilty she blinked back her frustration. She took on too much responsibility at times, a character flaw. Over the years she had learned letting go was occasionally necessary. It could garner better results than pushing yourself too hard, hard enough that others got hurt.

She just wanted a break. She had told Robin this, explained it even further to Spike, and Anya and Xander were completely on her side. Buffy wasn't certain they understood her reasoning, knew Robin didn't, and Spike tried, but the facts remained unchanged.

She needed time. She would never turn her back on a teenager with questions or fears that required facing. She would always be around, which was something else Buffy had learned in life; knowing there were people who would never leave your side was what mattered most. What ranked above all the rest of it.

She blinked heavily up at the sky. The sun was setting. Days were shorter than ever it seemed. Robin's egg blue faded to navy and black, with tinges of purple blurring the horizon's edge. Cold water dripped from bare tree branches onto her windshield.

Buffy turned the radio on before rounding a corner, spotting the time.

It was just after four, which meant school was out and Jack hadn't called yet. He had been checking up lately, and Buffy was thankful because she planned on doing the same. Knowing he actually wanted to speak to her was the heartwarming part. Her fears of becoming an overbearing mother hen were dwindling fast.

The boy had fully recovered from Thursday's episode. Shaun was expelled, Michael was facing juvie, and Jack had come away unscathed. Robin Wood was now inexcusably grateful to him, which supplied leniency for future use should Jack ever need it.

Buffy had a feeling he might gain some popularity once word spread around the school. Being a hero, after all, was something everyone wanted to be; and seemed that much more impressive when accomplished by those once considered outcasts.

Spike would make sure his head didn't grow too big, though. She was certain of that. He was another person that didn't leave, didn't abandon his friends, and Jack was definitely special to him. If the boy tried on the coat of a socialite, well... she smiled thinking of what might happen.

Jack was different from most of his classmates. When he was able to defend his tastes and opinions, he did it. Spike had given him the tools to protect himself, freeing the teenager of all hesitancy and fear. It was unlikely Jack would dispose of his individualism now.

She couldn't imagine that kid wearing high school paraphernalia with garish team logos, or attending the sporting events some claimed were imperative to maintaining a social status. If Spike saw him do either, he'd probably blow a gasket.

Buffy snickered, pulling into her driveway with familiar ease. It was wonderful being able to do that. She had been taking cabs and rides from Anya for days now, and sorely missed the convenience of her own car.

Hopping out and locking up, Buffy hurried to the porch. Shivering, she rushed through her front door and shucked off her hat and winter coat, shaking out the latter before hanging both on a hook. As she set her purse down, she realized there was a distinct sound missing from the foyer.

Buffy undid her scarf and hung it above hat and coat before calling out to Tabitha. That seldom heard silence returned. Frowning, she tried again, and again received nothing more than a hush.

She strolled into the kitchen and checked the food dish. Empty. Filling it with dry cat food, Buffy suspected the noise to deliver the message that dinner was served. Typically, it had the same effect on her cat as an old fashioned triangle bell on a group of ranch hands.

Still, no soft pawed approach. She must be curled up somewhere sleeping. It was the only explanation. Tabitha was a cat after all, and they had a tendency not to come when called, especially if they were in the middle of a nine hour nap session.

Buffy headed for the bedroom. She paused in the hallway again to wipe her boots when a knock came from her right. Without pause, she turned to open the front door, greeting the visitor on the other side.

When she met his eyes Buffy tried immediately to push the door closed again. Two insistent hands stopped her.

"Calm it, nut job, I just want to talk!"

Buffy shoved harder, to no avail. "We have nothing to talk about!"

Joe braced one leg between the porch and the entryway, lifting his left hand. "Will you try not to be such a bitch for once?!"

Buffy groaned and rolled her eyes, though her heart beat like hummingbird wings in her chest. "Your people skills could really use some work! Seriously!"

"I didn't come all the way out here to worry about being fucking polite!"

"That's reassuring- Get away from my door!"

"No!" He pressed harder until Buffy was forced to either abandon ship, or settle her entire weight against Joe's perseverance. She glanced at her purse, sitting unhelpfully on a table just feet away. If she tried to retrieve her cell phone he would have the chance to barge in, and Buffy felt much safer with something solid between them.

Or as between them as she could force the door to stick. Joe wouldn't move his leg, even though she kept shoving. He spoke through an opening just large enough to contain his shoulder.

"I came about my brother."

"Shaun?" Shaun, accomplice to her ruined tires, to the terrifying moment when Michael had held a weapon against her throat, threatening damage if not death.

"Of course Shaun! I never gave a fuck about that irritating moron he hung out with!"

Which would be Michael.

"He can rot in juvie for all I care," Joe hissed, "but Shaun shouldn't be expelled 'cause he's insane!"

Buffy had a mental freeze moment. All defensive shoving ceased. She leant her entire body against the door. It was obtrusively ironic hearing Joe call somebody else crazy, especially considering he was one of the people Michael always spent time with. "Well gee," Buffy chided, "wonder who taught him how to act like a psycho."

His voice bounced against the wooden blockade. "Look, my brother isn't crazy, and neither am I! I'm also not fucking stupid enough to try and kill somebody!" He sighed roughly, catching breath. "It doesn't matter how I feel about you or most everyone else in this town. What happened was all Michael."

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut. She might argue that probability if she wasn't so set on just getting him to leave. "What do you even want, Joe?"

"I want you to get Shaun back into school!"

*It's amazing,* she thought, *that he even cares.* "What do you think I-"

"You work there! You're the freaking guidance counselor, and you can talk to the principal."

"But I can't!"

"Yes you can! Tell him Shaun deserves a second chance!"

Buffy was suddenly unsure whether or not she was dreaming, and whether Joe's words could ever ring true. The boy Shaun was may or may not deserve a second chance. In time, after he'd matured, felt regret, maybe then he could be readmitted, but something had to change.

He hadn't been the one to pull the Harm card, this was true; even so, maybe getting out of that school was what was best for him. If she decided not, then yeah, she could talk to Robin. That didn't mean Buffy thought he would listen.

"I don't work at the school anymore," she said. "I quit."

"What?" Joe was momentarily stunned. "Why would you do that?!"

"Take a guess!"

"Fuck," he growled. He pressed his forehead to the door and Buffy shoved hard again, knocking him back an inch. The man swore. "You can still talk to Robin Wood, you know him!"

"You need to leave now, Joe."

"If you say that Shaun deserves another chance then he might let him back in! Tell the guy you've forgiven my brother, that it wasn't his fault!"

"Shaun needs more than just to be let back into school!" she yelled. Their gazes clashed. "He's lost a friend, his brother has taught him nothing but how to be cruel, and he tried hurting somebody that never did anything to him! That's not okay!"

"You're really great at deciding what other people need, even when you don't know them!"

"That's my job." Her blood was boiling. Glaring through a crack, she said, "You know what I think? I think you're finally feeling guilty about turning Shaun into a bully. And now that he's facing the consequences, you want a quick fix for what you've done!"

Joe stared daggers. "I never did anything to Shaun! I didn't!"

"Right," she scoffed. "Encouraging him to pick on his classmates and beat them up was just you teaching him how to be a man."

He sneered at her sarcasm. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"What I understand is that until you grow up or get a personality transplant, your brother will keep being led by crappy examples." She heaved another angry shove against the door, pushing Joe backward by a few steps. He rallied and fought quickly in again. Behind him, the sound of tires rolling across snow and salt echoed ever so softly. She didn't notice.

A small blur of brown and white suddenly rushed past Buffy's feet, virtually flying through the front door.
Her nerves went into overdrive. "Tabitha!" She hauled the door open wide and bolted, shoving Joe aside. The man was a statue of confusion left on her front porch.

Buffy barely noticed him scurrying down the steps after her. Barely noticed anything but the shrinking image of her runaway pet. "Tabitha, get back here!"

The cat paused momentarily, not looking back but instead at her paws as she came into contact with a mushy mound of snow. She sunk lower and lifted a fuzzy batch of claws to examine them. The ice was stubbornly licked away. Dark forest trees towered worryingly behind her, a backdrop of tempting exploration.

Buffy hurried closer but was pulled back by a harsh pair of hands, flung around to greet the implacable face of Joe Gregory once again. She fought immediately to be free.

"Let me go, I have to get her-"

"This is more important than a fucking cat! I'm not leaving until you agree to talk to Shaun's principal!"

She thought absently how he reminded her more of Michael in that moment than she would have ever thought possible. Before she could open her mouth to give the tepid promise needed in order to drop this fight and get Tabitha back, a rumbling cry splintered the air all around.

"Get your hands off of her!"

She turned. Spike was here, and he was livid.

Approaching at a deadly pace, he rounded the frozen pond between her house and the forest. A reflection of gratitude sprinting past the ice. She relaxed briefly before quickly looking at Tabitha again. The cat stood poised and alert. Joe shouted his frustration to the Heavens. "Son of a bitch!"

Tabitha took off running.

Buffy gasped. "No!" She struggled, but Joe's hold tightened on her shoulders. "Get off me, you piece of-"

"I want an answer!" he yelled. His time was running out. Panic slipped through the cracks.

An avalanching roar drowned that panic. Joe was forced to let her go just seconds before Spike tackled the other man to the ground.

They made a hard thud against the frozen land. Buffy took no time to listen to more. Spike was yelling at her: "Go! Go!"

So she did. She ran after the feline causing so much more trouble than what had already been caused, skidding over icy brown terrain as the sound of fighting dimmed behind her.

She saw Tabitha hurry into the forest with exuberant glee. The woman cursed, hopping over a tree stump.

Feet rustling in the leaves, her approach was anything but sneaky. Buffy tried to maintain view on her pet, breathing fast as she followed the spry little tabby deeper into darkness. Tabitha veered left, she made the same turn; the cat cut right, Buffy nearly ran into a tree.

She tripped on something, likely a branch, but she didn't take the time to check. Bare hands grappling with snow, she got up and turned in circles, her face a picture of helpless regret. Shadows grew all around, climbing the trees.

Buffy stared hard, searching for movements not made by the wind, swaying branches or tricks played by darkness. Her skin was growing numb, but she ignored it. "Tabitha! Here kitty, kitty, kitty..."

Silence. The sun fell lower despite Buffy's prayers for brighter, lasting light. She swallowed tears. "Damn it!"

***

His hands were around Joe's throat, fingers inching closer and closer together. The remnants of what damaged he'd done a week ago showed on his upper cheek, a weakening bruise, the color of a muddy peach.

Spike listened to the noises coming from a constricted airway, gurgling pleas asking for mercy, for breath. All the while the man in black straddled a twisting, turning body, rage poorly managed.

He couldn't kill him, but oh, how he wanted to.

Spike leaned down, snarling into the inches of space between them. "Too afraid to take me on yourself, eh, mate?" Joe's wide eyes were turning red, filling with water. "Threatened the wrong girl, though, didn't you? You go after what's mine, bad things happen."

The man gagged, lids fluttering. Spike suddenly let go of his throat. Fingers gone in a blink, sitting up, he listened to the desperate coughing for five seconds before cutting him across the face.

Joe's head hit the ground on impact. Spike punched him again. And again. Impatient breaths fell heavy, he stood and towered like a mountain. Another good week of healing had just been added to that shiner.

Sympathy was lost. "If I ever catch you near her again, I'll-"

"I wasn't going to hurt her," Joe gasped, voice pitchy. Full of urgency, of bravery for daring to interject. Spike paused. "I just wanted-" he had to stop short to hack up a lung. His whole torso slumped in the dirt. What energy he corralled was put entirely behind speaking. "I want her to get Shaun back in school."

Spike's blinked. Hands balled into tighter fists.

"I needed to get her to agree... I wasn't going to do anything."

Spike swung out with his leg, savagely kicking Gregory in the stomach. "You did something the second you came here."

Joe curled into the fetal position, gasping again. "Fuck, man..." he groaned, eyes clenched shut.

Spike reached out and hauled the bastard onto unsteady feet. Pale fingers bit into Joe's bulky mustard jacket. "You've got no bloody idea what I could do to you," he snarled softly, shaking the man. "Only reason m'refraining is 'cause you're not worth gettin' locked up. But that doesn't mean I won't take the chance if I have a mind to."

Fearful eyes stared back. Spike shoved Joe away and watched him stumble. Breathing in scratchy mouthfuls of air, his face was a mess of red and blue, yellow beneath the bruises adding width to their edges, making them appear darker.

Cautiously bent forward, he retreated, focus never shifting from Spike's threatening form. It remained that way until Joe climbed into his truck and started the engine, skidding out of the driveway and away from Buffy's home.

An easy coward.

Spike was grateful. He waited until the vehicle left his sight before hauling himself around, and making a run for the woods.

Buffy was searching for Tabitha somewhere in the pitch blackness quickly descending on the land, and he wasn't leaving until he caught them both.

_______________
END NOTES: Thanks for reading! Please review!





You must login (register) to review.