Chapter 52: Evasion
*hugs* and *squishes* to my wonderful reviewers, albies, dmf109, DauntlessGrace, magnus374, CrazyCatLady402, -Carrie-Ann-, Amayuscula, pfeifferpack, kimothyschma, and Special Squirrel. You guys rock! o/
This chapter is unbetaed. Hope you enjoy!
Apparently she could. Hide, that is.
For the duration of the meet Buffy did an excellent job of evading him. On pool deck she was constantly surrounded by the others. After showering at the end of the day she snuck out the side entrance, and doubled back via the pool to reach the elevators upstairs. By the time Spike had realised what she’d done she was already locked away in her room.
She didn’t come down for dinner. And when Beth returned to the room the girls shared Spike was held up talking to J.D., and couldn’t persuade the other girl to let him in. At the risk of being accused a stalker he’d returned to his own room and collapsed onto his bed.
He’d just have to try again tomorrow.
~*~*~
But he didn’t get a chance.
When he went downstairs for breakfast the following morning—after tossing and turning with memories of the previous night—he found the restaurant less a Buffy shaped person.
Beth, having caught his scanning, took pity on him, informing Spike of how Buffy’s dad had picked her up early that morning, and would be driving her home to Sunnydale himself.
“But what about her events today?”
“She’s withdrawn from them,” Beth said with a shrug. “She’s already qualified for nationals anyway, based on her individual performance.”
Spike frowned. “And Jonesy just let her dad drag her out of here?”
“Yep.” Beth shrugged again. “I don’t think she had much choice, he’d pulled some strings and Mr Summers was pretty insistent. Besides, Buffy said she wanted to go?”
Not for a second did Spike believe that Buffy left of her own free will. The girl practically vibrated with panic whenever the man was around, there’s no way she would willing choose to go with him.
Then something Beth said struck him. “Pulled some strings?”
“He went over Coach’s head to Principal Snyder.” Beth’s eyes widened as she continued her re-telling of the confrontation she’d seen in the lobby this morning on her way to breakfast—she so was not eavesdropping.
“And Coach was really pissed off. She told Mr Summers that if Buffy wanted to stay that it was her choice, and that she would be a part of this team for as long as she wanted, lotsa emphasis on the ‘she’ part.” Beth picked at her toast, far more interested in the conversation than food. “Weird huh, I’ve never seen Coach so mad before.”
Weird wasn’t the word Spike would use. And it brought more questions than answers. Buffy could be part of the team for as long as she wanted? What did that mean? Buffy couldn’t be dropping out, could she? No, that was ridiculous. Spike knew how much she loved to swim. It was a part of her. There was something else going on, something both he and Angel didn’t know about.
But he sure as hell was going to find out.
~*~*~
The end of the meet couldn’t come quick enough for Spike, and his distraction showed. Twice he nearly missed the call to marshal for his events, and once he even had to run back up to the stands to grab his goggles.
“Get it together, Spike,” he chastised himself as he fit them to his head.
The swimmers from the race before his, the final one of the program, exited the pool and Spike took his position behind the blocks. He adjusted his speedos, pulled on his cap and pushed his goggles on firmly—creating a suction seal, and then bounced up and down. Rotating his shoulders he flexed his arms, before shaking them out to loosen his body in preparation for the event.
The whistle sounded and Spike bounced a few more times to wake up his legs, cracked his neck from side to side, and stepped up on to the blocks. He swung his arms back and forth, waiting for the call.
“Take your marks.”
Spike moved into position, gripped the blocks and took a deep breath.
The gun fired and he was off, springing towards the water. Spike’s body sliced through it like a blade, his arms stretched forward in the torpedo position as he fly kicked under the surface. One, two, three more kicks and then he breached the top, his arms shearing through the water as a torrent of whitewash exploded behind him.
As always Spike swam with a goal in mind, a reason to touch first, something to fuel him on. Buffy was his reason. Touch the wall, end the race, get out and back to Sunnydale, to her, as quick as possible.
With that thought in mind Spike increased his pace, and the first turn was upon him. He threw his body into the tumble, his feet slamming against the wall. Running on pure get-there-first strength of will he launched his body off the wall and into the torpedo position again. He pushed himself further under water than ever, his lungs screaming for oxygen before he finally broke the surface and powered on, leaving the rest of the field in his wake.
Get to Buffy, get to Buffy, get to Buffy…
One, two, breathe!
One, two, breathe!
The wall approached and a look under his arm showed no competition for it. Victory was as good as his, so long as he kept up the pace. Second turn approached and he blitzed it faster than the first. One more turn to go and then the touch.
Spike hit the pain barrier right before the third and final turn, exhaustion sucking at his arms and legs, but he refused to give in. Never one to do things by halves Spike threw every last drop from the tank into the final stretch.
One, two, breathe!
Ten metres out, last breath, and Spike dropped his head and powered for the end. His hand crashed into the wall, followed by the wave caused by his efforts, and it was done.
Race over.
Spike ripped his goggles and his cap from his head as he greedily sucked in a much needed breath. The juxtaposition from the almost eerie quiet of just your breath, your heartbeat, and the splash from your movements underneath the water, to the sudden overwhelming sound of the shouts and screams of the crowd was something that still surprised him. The noise was thunderous, even more so than normal, and when he looked up at the time board he realised why.
He’d just smashed the course record.
Pride curled the edges of his exhaustion as he looked to the stands. The team was going ballistic, everyone was there—as was customary—to watch the final race.
Everyone that is, except for Buffy.
Spike placed his hands on the edge of the pool, waiting impatiently for the last swimmer to touch, and hauled himself out the second the whistle blew.
“Oh my god, Spike!” Beth squealed, bouncing up and down with enthusiasm. “Did you see that? You smashed the course record! You smashed your P.B.!! Two and a half seconds off your best, that’s insane!”
The excitement was contagious, and Spike found himself smiling despite the twinge of sadness he felt that Buffy wasn’t there. He thought she’d have been proud of him had she been here.
The stands began clearing out and the team gathered their things to head down to the change rooms. When Spike was stopped by one of the race officials holding a cup he rolled his eyes. He understood the reason, but couldn’t they let him enjoy his win for just a little bit longer?
Filling his sample a minute later for drug testing—which he knew would come back clean—Spike continued on his way to the change rooms.
He wanted to get out of here. Now.
~*~*~
Despite his intense desire to get showered and changed as quickly as possible it didn’t quite happen that way. That final race had taken more out of him than he thought, and he’d taken an extra long, extra hot shower to soothe his aching muscles. Once he was dressed he made his way upstairs to his room to pack, fighting the urge to collapse onto the bed for some much needed rest.
He was the last one to lobby at the designated meeting point, and once he joined them they moved as a team towards the valet zone and their waiting bus. Luggage was stowed and the bus boarded and not soon enough they were on the way home.
It would be a few hours before he got home, and Spike could definitely use the rest, but he had other ideas. Settling into his seat, and dumping a bag beside him to stop anyone joining him, Spike pulled his IPOD and his cell phone from his pocket. He might as well make use of the time, and begin gathering some information to see if he could explain Buffy’s sudden departure.
Sticking his earphones in and he started typing a text to Willow. Maybe she or Xander knew something that he didn’t.
The bus took off.
Spike didn’t have to wait long at all for a reply. Willow hadn’t heard from Buffy, and apparently neither had Xander. His message had worried her, but he didn’t have any answers to give. He hesitated for a moment before typing out another.
BUFFY’S IN TROUBLE. SHE WONT TALK 2 ME. U NO ANYTHIN?
Selecting Angel from his contacts list Spike hit send.
He didn’t have to wait long for a reply.
HER DAD. MEET U @ SCHOOL 2 XPLAIN.
Spike typed a quick ‘C U THERE’ response before slumping back against his seat.
He knew it, he bloody knew it. And instead of talking to him, she’d clammed up and run away. Well, with Angel’s help he was going to find out what the hell was going on, and do whatever he could to get her out of it.
With nothing to do but wait Spike closed his eyes, and within minutes was fast asleep.
~*~*~
Angel was in the parking lot, leaning up against Spike’s car, when the bus pulled in. Spike was the first one off, not even saying goodbye to the others as he snatched his bag and threw it over his shoulder, before he stalked over determinedly.
He was pissed, his anger written all over his face. Whether at him—which was possible, or at Buffy’s father—which was probable, Angel didn’t know. Hopefully Spike would let him speak instead of throwing punches this time. He also looked downright exhausted, and not just physically.
“What’s he holdin’ over her now?” Spike demanded, throwing his bag in the bag of his car.
Angel smiled poignantly. “You.”
~*~*~
“You.”
Spike blinked. “Me?”
Angel nodded. “Yeah, you. Apparently you made… an impression, on Mr Summers.”
“I’ll give him a bloody impression,” Spike muttered, fisting his hands by his sides. “Specifics. Spit em out, now.”
“He knows you two were together, that you dated. And he doesn’t like it, not one bit.”
That shouldn’t have surprised Spike, but it did. The man left his family. Why should he care who is daughter dated? “So, he put two and two together and made four, what of it?”
“Well, since you’ve asserted your claim on Buffy so plainly, to the point of standing up to the man,” Angel explained, “he sees you as a threat to his control. He figured you might be able to talk Buffy into disobeying him so you became what he held over her.”
“I’m not followin’.”
“He threatened to have you blackballed from college.”
Spike’s jaw dropped. “He what now?”
Angel’s first impression upon hearing the news had been none too dissimilar to Spike’s. “Apparently he knows some people in high places,” Angel supplied. “The meet this weekend, the reason the team was entered at such short notice…” When Spike nodded Angel continued. “His doing.”
“What? How?” Spike blinked again, trying to absorb what Angel was telling him. “What?”
“Let me start at the beginning.”
~~ Several hours earlier ~~
Angel reached into his vibrating pocket, pulling out his phone. A look at the display identified Buffy as the caller.
He’d kind of—but not really—been avoiding her. In the light of his confessed feelings the night of her accident he’d kept his distance. The things he’d said were not supposed to leave his mouth, and he’d fully intended to never say anything about how he regarded her. Angel knew she didn’t feel that way about him, and he didn’t want to force her into an awkward situation where she felt obligated to be nice to him. Cowardly? Maybe a little.
While he’d kept things brief when he’d run into her in the halls he hadn’t outright shunned her, and ignoring her call would be doing just that.
Answering the call he lifted the phone to his ear.
“Buffy, hey.”
A sniffle came down the line, and any pretence of playing it cool fled. “Buffy, what’s wrong?”
~*~*~
“She called you?” asked Spike, more than a little hurt she didn’t come to him.
“Don’t interrupt,” Angel ordered before he continued.
~*~*~
“Can we talk? I need to talk to someone, and I didn’t know who else to call.”
“Of course,” Angel replied. He waited for her to speak, not wanting to push her.
“I’m moving back to LA.”
He’d thought it might have something to do with her father, after the last conversation they’d had on the topic. Buffy had been certain the issue was going to be forced, and soon, and obviously she was right.
“He’s making you apply at UCLA?” he asked gently.
“No.”
“Well, that’s good,” he said. “Isn’t it?”
“No, not really.”
She went silent for a minute, and Angel thought she might have disappeared.
“Buffy, you still there?”
He heard her sniffle at the other end of the line before she spoke. “I’m here.”
“You can tell me, I’m listening.”
“I can’t,” she cried. “If I say it out loud then it’ll make it real.”
Angel understood, but letting her bottle it up when she’d called him to vent was not an option. “Buffy, you called to talk. So tell me.”
“I’m moving to LA,” she repeated.
“You said that part already.”
“Next week. I’m moving to LA next week.”