Chapter 19
“You’re doing really well,” Cordelia said, smiling around a butter cookie before she took a bite. “You only took two smoke breaks and I think I just heard you sigh the one time.”
“I can’t handle all this R&B pop shit they’re playing out there.”
She seemed amused by that, but didn’t venture to share why. “Angel has never come to one of her recitals.”
Spike smiled at the floor, chewed his hors d’oeuvres. “That right?”
“He watches her practice and once she did this thing for the school, but otherwise, he doesn’t really get into it.”
“If she were my girl, I’d be at every single one of her recitals. She’s bloody amazing to watch.”
Cordelia’s smile warmed and he began to feel very uncomfortable with her looking at him like that.
“Idiot,” she said quietly, a scowl marring her face out of nowhere.
That reminded him. “Yeah, you were going to tell me—”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with her,” she continued, talking right over him. “If she’d just listen to me, she’d be a lot happier. I’m always right.”
“What are you right about? You’re driving me fucking loony with this cryptic girly-girl talk. Just tell me what’s going on.”
“She’d kill me if I told you.”
“Then why’d you bring it up?”
“Because I—oh crap-crap-crap,” she said, her voice dropping incredibly low and her eyes drifting to somewhere behind him. As soon as he turned to look, she grabbed his arm and yanked him down the hallway towards the auditorium.
“What is with you women pulling me everywhere? Where’s the fire?”
He jerked his arm free and Cordelia stopped, whirling around frantically, and she tried to grab his hands. “Come on, we have to go.”
Stubborn as ever, he stepped back and folded his arms so she couldn’t pull them out of socket on her trek to tow him wherever she wanted. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what the fuck is going on!”
“Spike? Sweetie?” she said, batting her eyelashes and coming very close to him. “You’re a nice guy and all, but please shut the hell up and listen to me. We need to get into that auditorium before Angel sees you and goes all ‘80s movie on us.”
“Angel? What? Where?”
She grabbed him before he could turn around, and continued her tug-of-war match until he groaned and followed after her. “Not afraid of that git! And what’s he doing here?”
“I don’t know!” She pushed two red double doors open and the sounds of people chattering inside the auditorium muffled her voice. She was saying something over her shoulder to him as she walked quickly to their seats, but he couldn’t make it out.
“What?”
She tried again, but he still couldn’t make out all she said except for a few words: Angel, police, can’t believe, idiot. Though he didn’t hear the full phrase, he caught the implication. He might have growled in anger if he didn’t see Buffy standing by the stage at that precise moment. Just the sight of her had him stopping in his tracks and exhaling a lovesick breath.
Pink enameled fingers suddenly blocked his view and started to snap inches from his face.
“Loverboy, come on!” Cordelia said, and successfully pulled him down the aisle to their seats. His eyes remained on Buffy, watching her speak with two older gentlemen. She was wearing an all-nude leotard – which he added to his growing list of sexy visuals for when he was alone – smiling bright and gorgeous, but her knee was twitching. She was nervous.
“Those the recruiters?” he asked Cordy as he sat down beside her.
She searched the stage until her eyes landed on Buffy. “I think so, but I’m not sure.”
He leaned forward in his chair, watching her carefully. Angel had entered the auditorium at some point and now stood a good forty feet away from Buffy, but she hadn’t taken notice yet. Spike assumed that Angel was giving her some privacy to speak with the LACDC men first, but there was something off about him. Something wasn’t right. He looked…
“They broke up,” he said, leaning back in his chair and smiling. He knew the look on Angel’s face. He knew it well, because Spike was wearing the exact same one. It was a look of longing, of pleading desperation. It was a fitting look for Angel. Spike smiled in delight of his enemy’s pain.
“Not exactly,” Cordelia said.
Spike scowled. “What do you mean, ‘not exactly’? They either did or they didn’t.”
“This is the part where Buffy is an idiot. Crap, hang on.” Cordelia wiggled in her seat as she tried to pull out her vibrating cell phone from her tight jeans pocket. She read the text message on the display screen and Spike looked back at Buffy. The LACDC men were now gone and she was leaning against the stage, cell phone in hand.
Cordelia typed something frantically into her phone, carefully hiding it from Spike’s eyes.
He sighed. “This is getting ridiculous. Would someone just tell me what the hell is going on?”
“She’s nervous,” Cordelia said, pressing the send button. “Had to do the best friend thing and tell her to break a leg.”
“Oh.”
Spike wished he could run down there and kiss her nerves away. But Angel had garnered the courage to approach, and was now speaking to her. Though Buffy was far away from where Spike and Cordelia sat, he could see how much Angel’s presence was annoying her and that his pathetic shoulder slumping wasn’t quite working in the way he hoped.
Another moment passed before Cordelia’s phone vibrated again, and she giggled when she read whatever message was waiting for her. “Should I tell her you’re here?” Cordelia looked up at him, phone in hand, waiting to type a message to Buffy.
“Uh…well, I…” Would he make it better or worse for Buffy if she knew he was there? He still didn’t know what was going on with her and the hulking fucker. Err on the side of caution. “No. Don’t tell her.”
Cordelia stared at him for a long while. “You don’t want me to tell her?”
“No.” He shook his head and sat back in his chair. “I’ll talk to her after. And you have a story to tell me, don’t you?”
Cordelia smiled. “You don’t let anything go, do you?”
“Don’t ever forget it. Now talk or I’ll hold your phone ransom.” He plucked the phone from her hands and held it in the air, smiling in victory.
Cordelia checked her watch first and then turned to face him fully, giving him her undivided attention.
“They’re on a break.”
“A break.” He lowered the phone into his lap.
“Yeah. You know, just a pause so she can figure things out.”
“So it’s the cowardly way of breaking up with him.”
“Basically, but of course she doesn’t get it. I get it. You get it. The whole freaking world gets it. Buffy? Not so much with the obvious.”
“Why doesn’t she just leave him? Clearly, I am the better choice.”
“Clearly,” she said, smiling, succeeding in soothing his nerves a fraction. “Buffy is scared. She told him about you and—”
“Ho-ho! She did?” Spike started laughing. “Didn’t expect her to do that.”
“Well, she did. Everything. And that led to Angel somehow convincing her that she was going through a phase and to think about it before she made any rash decisions.”
“How could she listen to that bastard?”
“Because she loves him,” Cordelia said plainly. “She loves him and he used her guilt for cheating on him to his advantage so he wouldn’t lose her. Buffy’s too good, too afraid of hurting anyone to think clearly for herself right now.”
This was not helping. Buffy didn’t love that moron, she didn’t. No way she loved him if she was willing to do half the things she had with Spike. Hearing it still stung, still made his guts twist into knots. The very suggestion that she felt something more for Angel than she did for Spike made him wish he’d stayed home.
“She loves him,” he said softly. He felt Cordelia’s hand on his shoulder, but he didn’t care to look at her. This was just awful.
“Please talk to her after the show. Promise me you’ll do that.”
“Why?” he said, feeling helpless. “She was only slumming it with me for a bit of fun. He’s what she wants.”
“Spike, look at me.”
He did, but he wasn’t happy about it.
“Why do you think Angel came to the recital? This one and only time, in the three years they’ve been together? Why now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Because he knows there’s a chance he could lose her and he’s desperate. And why did you come?”
“Because it’s important to her and I want to support her.”
Cordelia smiled prettily and rubbed his shoulder. “She won’t see that unless you go and talk to her after the show.”
It was a while before Spike could say anything to that, but when the house lights dimmed and put an end to the intermission, he leaned towards her and said, “I like you, Cordelia.”
She shoved him playfully with her shoulder and smiled brightly. “Of course you do. How could you not?”
* * *
There was no doubt in his mind that she’d be sensational. No doubt that her performance would be the best of the lineup, and he wasn’t prejudiced in saying so. She had a standing ovation, one that seemed to take Buffy by surprise. He could see her beautiful blushing cheeks from all the way back where he and Cordelia sat. He tried to shout his praise louder than anyone else, but it seemed impossible to beat the raucous bravos and encouraging whistles in the large auditorium. He was proud of her, proud to see her beaming smile, heaving chest, and the realization sinking in that this was her element.
This was where she was meant to be.
He hoped she held onto that feeling, that she didn’t let it go to please some idiot who thought he knew what was best for her.
Cordelia wouldn’t let him out of her sight once the show was over. She had her nails in the crook of his arm and held on to him as they bobbed and weaved towards the exit. She was smart, because Spike was anxious to flee the minute he saw Angel booming around the crowds in search of Buffy.
“Don’t even think about it, bud.”
“What if he sees me? Won’t he call the police or something?”
“He won’t see you, because we’re going to her dressing room.”
He smiled brightly. “Aren’t you my lucky charm? You just get better and better, Cordelia.”
She sighed dreamily, her free hand flitting into the air like the Queen of England waving to her fans. “Please, do go on.”
They stopped short in the middle of the hallway when they spotted the recruiters. Spike could hear Buffy’s voice before they saw her.
“Really?” she was saying. “Wow, I’m…I don’t know what to say.”
Spike’s chest tightened, his anxiety increasing as they listened on, tucked away against the wall so she couldn’t see them.
“It’s not a guarantee, but if you show up early and dance the way you just did, there’s a good chance for a callback,” one man said.
“We’re looking for dancers with your particular brand of talent. Keep it up,” the other man said, “and you’ll make it. We’ll see you next week, Miss Summers.”
“Thank you, thank you so much,” Buffy said excitedly. Neither Cordy nor Spike could hide their smiles from one another.
The two men said their goodbyes and congratulations and walked past them towards the exit. Cordelia dashed forward, doing that high-pitched squeal thing all girls somehow know how to do, and her hands went up in the air in preparation to hug her best friend. Spike crept forward, unsure if he should make his presence known.
Buffy and Cordelia jumped up and down as they embraced, laughing. “Oh, my God, oh, my God!” Buffy said.
“I told you you’d get an audition! You were so good!”
“Did you hear what he said? I have a particular brand of talent,” Buffy said proudly, standing tall and smiling. She had yet to see Spike, but he was content simply watching her excitement for the time being. She was radiant.
“Does this mean you’re going to be practicing every day again and we’ll never get to hang out because you are a Nazi?”
“Probably,” she said with a half-shrug, still smiling.
“Damn you and your tenacity.”
“That’s how I conquered Poland. So, celebratory milkshakes are in order. I think we should—” She blinked, her mouth remained open, and he realized she was looking right at him.
He tried to smile but it came off weird, so he waved awkwardly instead. “Hello, Buffy.”
She swallowed and looked at Cordelia. Then at Spike. Then at Cordelia. “I…uh…”
“Buffy, this is Spike. You remember Spike, don’t you?” Cordelia said playfully, nudging her friend in the ribs with her elbow.
“H-hi.”
“Hello.”
Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Oh, good God. I’ll see you in a minute.” She walked away, taking the air with her. It was only Spike and Buffy now, both of them completely silent and unsure what to say.
They spoke at the same time.
“I can’t believe you came.” “You were great.”
They both laughed.
This was like a movie, the kind that usually starred Sandra Bullock or someone equally inoffensive. The kind Spike loathed. The type of movie Rupert secretly loved, and while channel surfing between history stations and the nature channel, he would often be caught lingering on an almost-kiss between serendipitous lovers on the screen before fumbling to switch it back to a WWII documentary when he’d hear his nephew snickering behind him.
“I was?”
“Of course I’d come—yeah. You were fantastic.”
She smiled and looked at the ground, fidgeting. “Got an audition.”
“Told you you would. I’m glad you did the modern number. Not that the ballet routine wasn’t great, it was. But this one really shows how talented you are.”
“You remembered my routine?” She tilted her head and her eyes were sparkling. Fuck, he was going to do something stupid like kiss her.
“Course I do. Don’t you remember me watching you?” He was good. She didn’t even notice that he’d moved almost a foot closer to her.
Scratch that.
She put her hand on his chest and pushed slightly to keep him from coming further. She was still smiling, though. “Thank you for coming. It really means a lot to me.”
“Wouldn’t miss it. Had to bribe Rupert in order to borrow the car.”
She laughed a bit, and the sound was making him feel very swoony. “How’d you find out?”
“Your mom told me.”
Buffy’s eyes widened and she stepped back, gasping. “My mom told you?”
He nodded. “Seems she thinks you’re old enough to make your own decisions. Didn’t like Hank putting a ban on my coming over.”
Buffy blinked rapidly, obviously in a state of disbelief. “I just…that’s…my mom? Was she on drugs?”
“No,” he said, laughing, unable to stop himself from brushing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. Her lashes lowered a bit, and that electric zinging feeling that seemed to plague his senses whenever he touched her started to buzz beneath his skin. She must have felt it, too, because she moved closer to him and made no protest when his fingertips grazed the side of her neck.
“Is it awful that I want to kiss you?” she said, sweet and gentle, her body a centimeter from his, still warm from her routine, heating him up deliciously. He continued to stroke her hair out of her face, his smile melting into a goofy grin.
“Not awful.”
“I shouldn’t, though. I’m still so confused.” She was so cute too, placing her hands flat on his chest and looking up at him that way.
“What’s there to be confused about? It’s simple. You either want to be with me or you don’t.” He slid his hands down her face, her neck, and down her back until he had his arms around her waist and his nose in her hair.
“I know that when you do things like that I want to jump your bones.”
He laughed silkily and pulled her closer. “It’s all I’ve got left.”
“Not all,” she said, smiling. Then she groaned and dropped her forehead onto his chest, her voice slightly muffled when she said, “Why do I suck at this?”
“At what?”
“Making decisions for myself. The right ones.” She looked back up at him again. “I like you, Spike, ok? I like you a lot, even. I like being with you and I want to learn more about you but…”
“But what?” He couldn’t resist kissing her forehead, trailing the tips of his fingers up her spine.
“Evil. You are evil.” She stepped away from his embrace, smiling pathetically and folding her arms. “You’re trying to distract me with your magic fingers again.”
“Not all that’s magical,” he said, unable to resist the setup, rolling his tongue behind his Cheshire cat grin.
She looked as if she might have whimpered, and that was enough to send a rush of blood straight to his crotch. If she’d just let him show her how much he loved her, she’d be his forever. But he couldn’t do that right this second, not when she seemed on the verge of a breakdown.
“What’s wrong?” he said, taking in her distressed appearance with sincere concern.
Her chin trembled and he suddenly felt like an ass for pressuring her. It was obvious she was still in a state of flux.
“I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t.”
“Someone is going to get hurt, love,” he said very seriously. “Someone already has been hurt, yeah? No matter what happens, one or all of us is going to be hurt. The longer you take to figure out what you want, though, the more it will hurt when you finally decide.”
She chewed on her thumb as her mind drifted elsewhere, her eyes focused on something on the floor.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said, so softly he barely heard her.
He exhaled heavily and leaned against the wall beside her, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Just tell me what to do, Buffy. You want me to wait for you to sort things out? Give you space? Fine. No problem. But if you want me to go, leave you alone forever, tell me now. If you already know, just tell me now.”
Her chin quivered again and she closed her eyes, dropping the back of her head on the wall. “What if you’re just temptation?”
“Come again?”
She looked at him briefly. “I know that I’m attracted to you. That the idea of being with someone so different, so completely and totally different than what I’m used to is very appealing right now. But what if that’s all this is? I don’t want to hurt you, Spike.”
Suddenly very angry, Spike inhaled sharply and blocked her in against the wall, in a way he had weeks ago that had her scared to death. This time, she only looked defeated.
“It’s more than that, and you know it! I wouldn’t feel the way I do if it were just passing the time. Who fed you that line of crap? Your mum? Angel?”
The second she started to cry, Spike kicked himself internally. Didn’t his uncle warn him that this would happen? He just couldn’t stop pushing.
“Fuck,” he said, taking a step back to give her room and to run his hands idly through his hair. “You had your big show and got the audition and I just made you cry. I’m a selfish ass.”
He couldn’t look at her, too guilty for ruining her evening because of his own impatience. But he knew that she felt something for him! He knew it in the way she kissed him, how she looked at him. The way he’d pushed her over the edge by confessing his darkest secrets to her, how desperate she’d been to kiss him then, to feel something real, she’d said. There was more there, she was just surrounded with people trying to make decisions for her.
In the way he’d just done himself.
Fuck.
He’d convinced himself that if she’d only, if she’d just…if she’d do what he wanted then everything would be fine. Being a hypocrite wasn’t an easy pill to swallow.
“Buffy, I’m sorry,” he said, finally looking her in the eyes, eyes that she was currently wiping with the heels of her hands. The sight pulled at his heart.
She exhaled a shaky breath, her nose red from emotion. “I just need to be alone. Away from Angel, from my parents. Away from you. Please. Just…I need to do this myself.”
He just figured that out on his own, but he nodded all the same. She seemed determined to drive this point home, and he’d already said more than enough.
Except that he couldn’t ever shut up. “Can you forgive me for being an impatient prick? I can’t help it. You’ve got a hold on me, Betty.”
The reminder of his old pet name had her smiling, albeit reluctantly, but those were some of his favorite kinds of smiles. He returned the gesture and sighed.
“Don’t like hurting you, either.”
“I know,” she said. Whether she meant it, whether it was a reflex or a natural impulse, he didn’t know, but her fingers made their way into one of his belt loops and began fidgeting with it absentmindedly. She stopped before he could get used to the sensation. Though, something about that very small thing gave him hope, warmed him up, had him smiling.
She seemed somewhere else then, drifting further away. Before he said something idiotic to lure her back to the present and make things worse, she looked up at him.
“You know why I was suspended? Why I broke into the principal’s office?”
“No,” he said, his eyes soft and open.
“Because I was tired of everyone thinking I was something I’m not.”
He tilted his head in silent question.
“I’m perfect, you know,” she said bitterly. “My life is perfect. My family is perfect. We’re loaded. I can have anything I want, when I want it. I’m dating the most popular guy in school. One day Miss Perfect will marry Angel, be a perfect little housewife with a four karat diamond and a perfect tan. But I hate it, Spike. I hate it. I hate fitting in and doing what everyone else does and living up to these expectations that no one could ever possibly live up to without going crazy.
“My teachers and my principal were going to write me letters of recommendation to get into Notre Dame, because of course I’d want to go to college with my boyfriend, right? What possible life would I have without living the dream? Not to mention the fact that Angel had all sorts of ideas of where I could go if Notre Dame wouldn’t accept me, only miles away from him. Naturally, Mom was all over that idea, because she’s a robot too.”
She rolled her eyes, and Spike could do nothing but listen. She needed to say it to someone, and he wondered if she ever had before.
“I was hoping for expulsion by breaking in so that my record would have a big, stupid black mark on it, so that I couldn’t get in. But of course I got off easy with a slap of the hand, even though I broke into the principal’s office, toilet-papered his desk and plastered Victoria’s Secret images all over the walls.”
She chewed on her lip and folded her arms, and that’s when he saw the creeping blush that started from her neck and crawled up to her cheeks. Spike could no longer contain his laughter, and it burst from his lips in a rather unflattering sputter that turned into a cackle.
“Be nice!” she said, unable to look at him when his laughter grew even louder and he accompanied it with clapping his hands loudly together. “Well I’m sorry I’m not very creative when it comes to vandalism! And I couldn’t get anyone to buy me Playboys so I just raided my magazines for pictures of girls in their underwear!”
When she started to laugh as well, Spike began to feel better about her emotional state.
“Oh, Buffy…that is the most hilarious thing I’ve ever heard. Are you twelve?”
“Shut up.” She tried to hide her smile, but she was giggling too hard to succeed.
“Did it give you a rush? Make you feel like a criminal? You bad, bad girl.”
“Kinda,” she said, embarrassed that it was true. “Hey, at least I didn’t set the place on fire!”
“Touché,” he said, smiling.
“My point, if you could be serious for a minute…”
“Yes, sorry,” he said, clearing his throat and standing straight.
“My point is that it was the coward’s way out. I couldn’t just tell Angel that I didn’t want to go to Notre Dame, so…I went to thatextreme to solve my problems.”
She’d reached right up into his cranium, pulled a switch and turned on the light. Nothing it illuminated was particularly humorous. “Oh.”
“I’m…kind of intense lately. You should see my bedroom,” she said, the last part low and miserable. “I don’t want you to be another principal’s office because I can’t deal with anything head-on.”
Well, when she put it that way…
“I’m only saying this because it needs to be said, and not because I want you to make up your mind right now.”
“What?” She looked at him sadly before she turned her eyes to the opposite wall.
“You know what you want out of life. You know right this instant what drives you, what your dreams are, where you belong. You also know how close you are to getting it. No one in the world is worth losing sight of what’s important to you. Not your dad, your mother, not Angel.”
“Not even you?”
He smiled for just a moment before he said, “The difference, Buffy, is that I’d never let you forget it.” He pulled back and started to walk away. “I’ll see you when I see you, I suppose,” he said, backing up down the hall.
She leaned her side against the wall and smiled at him. “Will you come to my audition?”
“Did you really have to ask?”
Her smile broadened and her cheeks turned red. He wished he could frame this image and hang it in his bedroom.
“Want me to beat up the competition? I’m sure there’s a tap dancer somewhere who’s askin’ for it.”
She laughed, raising her voice so he could hear her as he continued to walk backwards down the hall. “Nah, I’m afraid you’d get your ass kicked.”
His cheeks hurt from the smiling. “I’ll let that go on account of how fucking cute you are,” he shouted. Then he turned around before she could deny him, tossing a hand up in the air to wave goodbye.
No way in hell was he giving up on her now. He’d wait as long as she needed. He could do this thing called patience. He so could!