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by Bloodshedbaby
Chapter 5
a/n-This chapter is for Beanmommy and Kari Mouke, thanks for your plot help! Also, this chapter is un beta'd, so all mistakes are mine.
Buffy stomped into her first class in a majorally pissy mood, thanks to the confrontation with Giles first thing that morning. He hadn't even let her say anything, just started in with 'blah blah, evil, blah blah'. Of course her mind had taken a quick side trip immediately at the mention of the word 'evil', and she sadly missed the last half of his rant. Ok, maybe not much with the sadness, because well, he HAD mentioned... evil.

So after being told she was being irresponsible, stupid, rash, and any other term Giles felt like saddling her poor impressionable, sensitive self with, she was finally dismissed from the library and allowed to go to class. Not a moment too soon either, her thoughts were getting entirely too off topic. Giles had made loud inquiries as to why Spike had spared her life at the club, and why Spike had came to her mother's rescue. Buffy had spent much of the night rehearsing what she hoped to be a logical explanation to Giles. But in the end, she had floundered. All rational explanations flew out of her brain, and all she could reaffirm was, "I'm so not talking about this." Not the best thing to say to Giles, and she knew it wasn't the end of the subject. So not fair. It fell under the heading of her personal life, right? So why couldn't it just stay... personal?

Willow jumped a little when Buffy slammed her books down on the desk she occupied directly across from hers. "Hey... Buffy," Willow greeted hesitantly, taking note of the sour look on her friend's face.

Buffy threw herself into her seat petulantly. "Giles is so stupid."

"Yeah, that's what I've always thought too. What, with all his degrees and stuff," Willow agreed with a high level of insincerity. She took note of severe pout on Buffy's face. "What did he do?"

"Lectured me."

"And that's new... because?"

Buffy flashed her friend a ghost of a smile. "Because he kinda has a point this time."

"Oh." Willow tried to mask the shocked look on her face. For Buffy to voluntarily admit that Giles was right about something... well, it was almost like an apocalyptic event. "Wanna talk about it?"

"No," Buffy muttered, crossing her arms over her chest and slumping down in her chest. "Maybe."

"Ok, I'm sensing some major confusion here. What was Giles on you about?"

"Evil," Buffy announced. Ah yes, evil. A dreamy smile slid across her face.

"And that confusing because...?" Willow asked, finding Buffy's demeanor perplexing. "Is that good or bad?"

"Good." Realizing what she'd just admitted, Buffy rapidly back-pedaled. "I mean, bad. Major bad. Oh yes, very, very bad. Bad evil."

"Buffy, is this about what happened at Halloween?"

The deer in the headlights look that Buffy threw her way clued Willow that she was on the right track. "Halloween?" Buffy squeaked. "No way!"

Cordelia sat down at her seat behind Buffy, hearing the tail end of their conversation. "Please. You're so not fooling anyone. Like we're not supposed to notice you walking around all dreamy and secretive? That you won't even talk to Angel?" She tossed her long brown locks back dramatically, and snidely announced, "Poor thing, he's been so lonely. I've been forced to spend time with him at the Bronze. We've been getting to know each other, and wow. We just have so much in common."

Ok, now Willow found herself officially wigged because Buffy didn't even respond to Cordelia's un-veiled barbs. Before Halloween, Buffy was totally aboard the 'Oh Angel' train, now she was acting as if she didn't even care that Cordelia was trying to get her hooks into him. Something was totally up.

"Did you guys have a fight?" Willow found herself asking.

"No." Buffy opened her text book and pretended to look through it.

"Then what?"

"Don't want to talk about it."

"And gee, there she goes being little Miss Avoidy Girl. Color me surprised," Cordelia commented with a robust eye roll.

"I don't recall inviting you into this conversation, Miss Buttinski," Buffy tossed over her shoulder.

"Wow, that's soo original."

"Hey!" Willow called. "Come on! Cordy, Buffy's right. Private conversation here. As in, privileged information being shared."

"Fine," Cordelia commented, sitting back in her chair. "But just crown her Miss Evady-ness USA right now. I mean, it's like, major obvious she's got the hots for that bleached bloodsucking bonehead. Any moron can see that."

"Spike?" Willow cried, face echoing her horror. "No way! Tell her, Buffy."

But the look on Buffy's face was a clear indicator that Cordelia's observation was correct. "Buffy? Is it true?" Willow asked.

"Don't wanna talk it. Not gonna talk it."

"Yep, there's mature Buffy talking. " Cordelia pulled out a compact from her purse and inspected her make-up, then she looked up with a snide look. "Oh, here's your tiara, Buff. Thanks for freeing up Mr. Salty Goodness."

Buffy glared over her shoulder at the hand that was extended mockingly towards her, but was saved by the bell, literally. The teacher entered and all conversation was brought to a halt, bringing blessed silence. But the look Willow sent her clearly indicated it was just a brief reprieve, not a total avoidance of the matter.

Buffy spent most of the day dodging her friends and Watcher, something that she hated doing. But the truth was, she just didn't want to talk about it. Because, well, there was absolutely nothing to talk about. Nope. Nothing that included Spike or anything that happened at Halloween. Or afterwards. Well, nothing they needed to know about, because it was none of their business.

After school however, she got cornered and herded into the library, where she groaned the second she walked through those double doors. Willow and Xander practically had to pull her the rest of the way in, kicking and screaming. Yep, there they all were; even Angel, gathered around the research table. By the serious looks they all wore, Buffy knew she was in for a whole world of intervention. She couldn't look at Angel, he had that hurt puppy dog look on his face that she used to think was sweet. But now it just plain annoyed her. 'Get over yourself,' she wanted to scream at him, but she wisely kept her mouth shut. Ok, so maybe she HAD been ignoring Angel lately. What was the big? It's not like they were made for each other or anything.

"Ok, you guys. What part of 'not want to talk about it' does everybody NOT understand?"

Giles ripped off his glasses in frustration. "Buffy, surely you can see that this isn't something we can just simply ignore."

Xander grabbed a bag of chips from the table, opening them noisily. "Yeah, Buffsters. You just haven't been the same since that costume caper."

Buffy bit back a heavy sigh, knowing there was no way she could waffle through this. "Fine. Everyone wants to know why Spike didn't kill me? And why he saved my mom? Is that it? Is that why you are all here?" She looked around the room, seeing the expectant eyes and felt like growling with frustration. She so didn't want to do this. Why did everyone always butt their big asses into her business? It wasn't fair, just because she was the Slayer. "Fine, here's why. That costume caper, as you called it, left us not hating each other the way we used to. Ok? That's all it is. It's no big."

"That means... what, exactly?" Giles inquired.

Buffy gave a small cry of annoyance and got up to pace the room. "It means this, and only this. He looks at me, he doesn't see me as just the Slayer anymore. I look at him, I don't see him as just a vampire anymore. As a result, we don't have the urge to kill each other like we used to. Don't know why it is, but it's not hurting anyone, so can we PLEASE just drop it?"

When Xander opened his mouth to protest, Buffy felt her face harden with resolve. "I said drop it, Xander. I mean it, so not going to talk about it anymore." Buffy looked at each of her friends, steeling herself against the hurt in Angel's eyes, then looked at her Watcher pleadingly. "It's all right, Giles, really."

"I certainly hope so, Buffy." Giles voice was terse as he and Angel exchanged looks, and Buffy felt her temper flare.

"Why can't you just be grateful I have one less enemy trying to kill me? One enemy who very well could have gotten the job done? If we weren't feeling this way, you'd have one dead Slayer on your hands right now. Would that be better?" At Giles and Angel's shocked looks, Buffy continued her rant, "Then why does it always have to be turned into some sinister event? Why can't you just trust me to know what I'm doing for once?"

Some of the tension left Giles' face. "I suppose you're right, Buffy. I guess there is nothing else to do than... trust your judgment on this matter."

Buffy looked at Giles suspiciously. This was way too easy. "Ok, what gives?"

An unreadable look settled over Giles's usually reserved face, causing Xander to give a hoot of laughter. "Oh, did wittle Joycey Summers scare the big bad Watcher?" he asked in a mockery of baby talk.

"I do not wish to speak of it," Giles announced primly, confirming that it was indeed so, and Buffy smiled with delight. Way to go mom.

On their way out of the library, Buffy was invited to the Bronze that evening. With other more appealing plans afoot, Buffy wanted to say no. But at the slightly wary vibes she was picking up from her friends, she figured she'd better at least make an appearance, then cut out early. Because there was no way she was missing out on those other plans. Uh uh, no way.

After making arrangement, she watched Willow and Xander walk away, and felt her slayer sense fire. Buffy whipped around to see Angel exiting the library door. They stared at each other, pain and concern warring on his face. Buffy had to suppress a sudden attack of giggles when she remembered her mom's off handed comment of the night before, saying that with Angel's coarse facial bone structure, he could have played the starring role in Iceman.

"You can't trust Spike."

Buffy wasn't quick enough to suppress the reflexive eye roll, and she watched Angel's face blacken with anger. "I'm serious, Buffy. You don't know him like I do."

Putting her fisted hands on her hips, she faced the vampire who had previously evoked such an intense feeling in her, that she felt as if she would die if he didn't kiss her. Now, he just kinda... paled in comparison to her newer paler version. Taking a deep breath, knowing that of all of them, she owed him the most explanation, she tried to make sense of things. "Angel, i know it's kinda weird. Believe me, I KNOW. It's kind of hard to explain, but that spell kinda gave us a doggie bag to take home. I still feel a bit... lame."

Angel eyed her curiously, and Buffy noticed that Giles had edged his way into the explanation, and waited for her to continue. "So, that's what it is," she clarified. "I have lame leftovers, and Spike feels..."

"Protective." Angel finished for her in a harsh tone.

"Yeah."

Angel punched the locker in front of him, denting in the metal door like it was an aluminum can, causing Buffy to jump in alarm. When he stalked off down the corridor towards the basement, Buffy called after him in a warning tone, "Don't do anything, Angel. I mean it."

He kept walking, but Buffy knew he heard her. She just hoped he listened. Without looking at Giles, she stalked off in the other direction, leaving Giles to head to his office and his private stash of scotch in the locked bottom drawer of his office.

Buffy had been on pins and needles all afternoon. She hated feeling like this, this spastic sense of anticipation. It was... irritating. She hated the fact that she had spent hours agonizing over what to wear, because it wasn't like she and Spike had made any concrete plans the night before, or anything. She didn't even know WHEN she'd be seeing him.

Ok dammit, she admitted it. So, she was nervous. Yeah, maybe she had been trying to deny it while she had been primping. But her edginess kind of smacked her upside the head when she had spastically dropped almost every item of make up she owned, trying to get herself all pretty. God, not even her first encounters with Angel had made her feel like this, and she had thought those were pretty nerve wrecking events, those "what if" scenarios. Briefly, she wondered if Spike had thought about her at all today, then shrugged it off. Nah. This was most definitely one of those totally lame teenage crush thingies, not something vampires who were over a hundred years old went through. Spike had over a century of dealing with sex and relationships. Ok, probably just relationship. As in, the singular. Somehow, she had a feeling he hadn't been paralyzed with that whole wandering penis syndrome when it came to Drusilla.

Ugh. Drusilla. Buffy was glad she had left town after that whole Angel playground thing. Even though she was a crazy lunatic of a ho douche-bag, she still made Buffy feel... young and unsophisticated. The psychotic bitch.

Giving herself a wry shake of the head, she practically laughed aloud at herself. Here she was, a vampire's worst nightmare, worrying over whether or not she was sophisticated enough for a vampire. Especially a vampire who hadn't changed his look for a few decades. She was way beyond whacked, there was no denying it.

Looking at the clock by her bedside, she saw it was past time to leave for the Bronze. With her heart taking a bold leap into her stomach leaving a swirling world of heebie jeebies in its wake, Buffy took one last considering glance in the mirror. Grabbing a Kleenex, she wiped off the slut red lipstick she had carefully painted her lips with. 'No slut red for Buffy,' she decided, and grabbed the pink she usually wore.

It wasn't like she expected to see Spike until later anyway, so what was with this major freakage? Even if she did see him, it was no big, right? Trying to keep that thought firmly in place, she turned around and forced herself out the door. But her stupid legs would have none of that, and ran back for her 'I'm a Huge Slut Bag, Ask Me How' lipstick before they would finally move her ass out the door.

When Buffy got to the Bronze, she found Xander and Willow waiting at their usual table. She cringed when she noticed Cordelia, her carefully made up face settled into a barely tolerant grimace, sitting next to Willow.

"Hey guys!" she greeted brightly, pulling out the chair next to Willow and plopping herself down.

"Well, don't you just look nice and gothic trashy," Cordelia commented, eyeing Buffy's black silk halter top and black leather pants with utter distaste.

"Gee, Cordelia, it's really good to see you too. As in, not really."

Cordelia shrugged, one spaghetti strap of her filmy designer dress sliding provocatively down one shoulder. "I want to see Angel, and I figure hanging with you losers is the best way to accomplish that."

A flurry of panic gripped Buffy, and she turned wide eyes in Willow's direction. "Is Angel coming?"

"Shockingly, I think we will not be treated to Dead Boy's presence this evening," Xander answered, then eyed Cordelia with a look of aversion. "Yet someone refuses to accept that, subjecting us to her vile company."

"It's only fair that I spread myself around." Cordelia dug out her compact out of her purse, once again inspecting her already flawless make-up.

Willow leaned over to whisper in Buffy's ear. "Thank god you're here. They've been really cranky tonight."

Buffy offered her friend a smile, casually looking around. The Bronze was crowded, a typical occurrence for a weekend night in a town such as Sunnydale, that didn't offer much else in the way of youthful pursuits.

"So, Buffsters, what's with this residual thing from Halloween?" Xander's tone was friendly, but Buffy couldn't help but look at him with caution.

"Xander! Didn't you hear her say she didn't want to talk about it? I don't want her to go, don't make her do that thing where she goes!" Willow turned to Buffy. "Don't go, Xander didn't mean it." The redhead turned back to glare at her friend.

"Well, if he didn't, I'll just ask, because I want to know." Cordelia's face hadn't twitched from the bored mask she had assumed earlier.

Buffy bit back an annoyed sigh. Was this so surprising? Uh, not so much. Why? Because she was Buffy, therefore her life was an open book, and would always remain as such. That's all she was. A book. One to be opened at anytime. Her life sucked.

"Fine. I have a little residual stuff from Halloween. Don't you?"

Xander's eyes grew wide. "Me?"

"Yeah, hello, Mr. GI Joe Was There."

Xander pondered that thought for a second before he busted out with a wide grin. "Well, sweet fancy picante sauce, I guess I do! I hadn't really thought about it." He closed his eyes and mimed dismantling a rifle, his movements quickly assured and self-confident. "YES!!"

"Yippee." Cordelia's voice was flat and bored.

When Xander opened his mouth to respond, Willow cut him off by grabbing his arm. "Oooh! I love this song. Come on, Xander, let's go do the dancing thing."

Xander allowed himself to be hauled out of his seat and turned to follow Willow. "Come on, Buff-aroni."

"I think I'll sit this one out. I'm kinda parched, think I'll go get some liquid refreshment."

"Right! Because we are in a parch free zone, and everything," Willow commented.

Cordelia got to her feet. "Ugh, you losers are so lame. If you see Angel, tell him I'll be back in a little while."

"We'll be right on that, sure thing." Xander had a completely innocent look on his face, but his voice dripped with false insincerity.

Buffy watched her friends hit the dance floor, and Cordelia storm away, and she slumped down low into her chair. Then she got that tingle in the back of her neck, and her heart sped up with anticipation. Vampire. And she was pretty sure it was her vampire. No, not pretty sure, she was damn sure.

TBC...



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