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Chapter Fifteen



All Buffy could do was stand there as Spike left. She stood there for at least a good five minutes before checking on Nate.



Did Spike just—?



No.



He just said–?



No.



Buffy touched her lips. He did. He kissed her and told her he was in love with her. She just didn’t know WHAT to make of it. She knew that her and Spike had always shared a special bond. A bond that no one, not even Anya could penetrate. Spike knew everything about her. The bad parts, the good parts and all the parts in between. And conversely, she knew all of that about Spike. She smiled as she remembered meeting the shy, quiet boy who was new and felt wildly out of place. Her heart had ached for him and she had made it her goal to make sure he felt as if he belonged.



Sure they’d gone their separate ways, but they had still remained best friends. They didn’t need to have lengthy conversations everyday to stay that way. Oftentimes all it took was a single look to check and see if the other was doing all right.



Spike had been there for her when others had failed. She was the Queen of Arms Length and pushed people away at the moments she needed them the most. She supposed she was partly masochistic in that way. If she was going to feel awful, then might as well make sure she did a bang up job of it.



Spike never let her do that though. No, he was steadfast and stubborn in making sure he was going to stay by her side and weather any and all storms with her. She supposed that was why she could be so hard on him and, she hated to admit, so difficult and mean. She knew he’d never leave her, that he’d always be there no matter what, so with him she felt she could let it all hang out. Spike always took it in stride. He never took her crap for long. No, he gave back what she dished out.



Did that mean she loved him?



Well, now, what about Angel?



She sat down on the couch as Nate played in front of her and would now and then stop and watch the TV that she kept on Nickelodean, and she thought. Hard.



On the one hand, Angel was a great doctor, had a wonderful and pleasant personality, he was good with Nate. . . but was he GOOD with Nate? Sure he could make him laugh and keep him healthy, but was he the long haul guy that Nate needed in his life?

Then there was her. Okay, so he was pleasant, but could he fight with her like Spike could? Could he hold his own with her sometimes demanding attitude? Could he put her in her place and in the next instant make her laugh? More importantly, could he argue AT ALL? For Christ’s sake, pleasant could be downright boring as hell.



Had any of Angel’s kisses made her feel even close to what Spike’s kisses had made her feel?



God no.



Her whole body had pulsed with Spike’s kisses. Electric currents had shot up and down her body. Angel’s kisses felt nice, but within minutes she had forgotten all about them. They never left her trembling and wanting more.



“Spike, Spike,” Nate was saying and pointing at a picture on the coffee table.



Buffy looked to see it was a picture of Spike. “What Nate the Great?”



“Spike,” he repeated.



Nate laughed, throwing his head back.



“You love your Uncle Spike don’t you?”



“Spike,” Nate said and lost himself in his trucks.



Buffy looked up at the clock. It was time to start getting ready for Angel.



'''''''''''



“What the hell are you doing?” Cordelia asked as Spike took his fifth shot of whiskey.



“Getting pissed.”



“That’s British for drunk, right?”



“How very,” burp, “cultural of you.”



“I take it, it didn’t go well?”



“She got mad at me.”



Cordy rolled her eyes. “She’s afraid, she’s confused. You spring this on her as she’s planning on having se–“

“Can you stop now please?” Spike slurred angrily. “I don’t want to hear anymore about that oversized...oversized....guy.”



“Pathetic.”



“Shut up.”



“So this is your answer. Getting ‘pissed’. Maybe if you had, oh, I don’t know, DONE something about this a long time ago like I TOLD you to, you wouldn’t be sitting here alone, grumpy and PISSED, you’d be the one she was ready to have sex with.”



Spike stared at her, his eyes welling up. He shook his head, trying to clear it, trying to clear images of Buffy and Angel doing the deed.

"I'll be in my office."



Cordy shook her head as she watched him stumble to his office. What in the world were the two bumbling idiots going to do now? Why did Buffy have to be so difficult when it was so blantantly obvious she loved Spike back? God, they were a stubborn pair. "Never a dull moment,' Cordy muttered.



"Is Spike okay?" Andrew asked, coming up to her.



"No, not really," Cordy sighed.



"What did you do to him? Did you break his poor, fragile heart?" Andrew sounded exasperated with her and near tears at the thought of Spike in pain.



Cordy blinked, "what? Break his heart?"



"I see you guys talking all the time, bickering back and forth. I'll be very upset with you Cordelia Chase if you shattered his heart!"



"I didn't--I'm not--we're not--" she stopped. Andrew thought they were together? Well, no wonder with all the freaking counseling sessions she gave him about Buffy. She looked towards his office, and bit her lip. A plan forming.



"Andrew, what time is Buffy in tomorrow?"



Andrew's eyes widened. "She'll scratch your eyes out for hurting Spike."



"Andrew, focus! What time?"



"Nine."



"My shift is over in about. . . thirty minutes. I'm going to take Spike home--to my house okay? Mend his broken heart."



"As well you should, you ungrateful woman!"



Cordy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, whatever. Are you in tomorrow?"



"I am!"



"Okay, just call my house if you need him okay? I'm sure he'll be nursing a hang over tomorrow."



"Will do," he spun around, then spun back. "Boxers or briefs?"



"Huh?"



"Spike. Boxers or briefs?"



"Oh! Uh. . . " She grinned, "nothing."



Andrew looked wistfully at her, "you're so lucky." And he walked away.



"Oh, I'm lucky all right. I'm the lucky one helping the next Dumb and Dumber get together. I swear to God if this doesn't work in waking up one Miss Buffy Summers, I don't know what will." She shook her head and then chuckled, "scratch my eyes out." Cordy shrugged and then nodded, "yeah, she probably would. But I scratch back."





********************



Dinner was ready. Nate was asleep. All she needed was Angel. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, she chugged it down. Letting out a mighty burp, she set it down and the doorbell rang.



With liquid courage, she swung the door open and put on the brightest smile she could muster. "Hi."



He smiled, almost shyly, "hi." He thrust the bottle of wine in his hand forward and extracted red roses from behind his back.



"You didn't have to do that, Angel."



"I wanted to."



"Come in, please," she held the door open and he walked through. She finally noticed how spruced he looked. Well, truth was, outside of work, he always dressed nicely. Always with pressed pants, a nice button down, sometimes a blazer to complete the ensemble. Each strand of hair perfectly placed. . . did he ever just roll out of bed and not care? Could he pull a Spike and just wear a pair of sweats? Could he not do his hair and be like Spike and let his hair run wild? Spike's hair had natural curl to it and when he didn't tame it, it just---Buffy took a deep breath and turned to Angel.



"You look beautiful," he told her.



She looked down at the simple black dress she wore. The same dress that Spike once told her she could stop traffic in. She placed her hand over her necklace and twirled it between her fingers.



"What's wrong?" He asked her.



"What?"



"You're frowning."



"Oh. I am?"



He nodded.



"Angel. I think we need to talk."





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