Chapter 28
She stood still for a second, staring blankly at his smug expression, before she let out a fake laugh.
“You’re funny.” She finally said walking around him and over to the couch.
“I know.” He replied as a frowned settled over his eyebrows, his gaze following her.
“Yeah, you almost got me there. Funny! Ha ha!” She spoke as she picked up his duster, walked back and handed it to him. Tilting her head sideways and forcing a smile on her lips she added: “Please leave.”
“Um…” He pretended to ponder the option for a second, taking the duster from her and throwing it back onto the couch before saying simply: “No.” and plopping down on the sofa next to his discarded coat.
“You don’t understand. I am never going to let you move in here.” She explained setting her hands on her hips.
“There is nothing you can do.” He said nonchalantly, reaching for the remote, but before he could grab it she snatched it from the coffee table.
“And why’s that?” She tried to remain calm, but the way she tapped the small device against her hip revealed her discomfort.
Before she knew it the remote was out of her hand and in his. He pressed a button, sprawled back on the couch and stared at the screen as he replied:
“It’s a done deal.”
“No it’s not!” She said childlike.
For a moment his eyes left the TV and he looked up at her:
“Yes it is, luv.”
She closed her eyes and let out a small growl.
“Don’t call me that.”
He remained silent. She sighed. A couple of minutes ticked away before she spoke again:
“You can’t move in.”
“I already did.” He raised a scarred eyebrow and pointed to the bedroom with the aid of the remote.
Buffy frowned and walked over to the hallway. The door to Harmony’s bedroom was open and in the middle of the pink space were two large duffle bags.
“That’s it. I’m calling Mr. Thomas.” She grumbled stomping her way to the fall.
Spike didn’t react to the threat, remaining spread out on the couch.
Picking up the phone she quickly dialled the number and waited.
“Hello? Hi, this is Buffy from… Oh, hi Mrs. Thomas. Is Mr.- Oh, he’s out, is he? No it’s just that-” Buffy stopped in mid sentence when the woman on the other side of the line interrupted her for the third time. Her eyes widened at what she heard: “Spike? H-he is here. Yes, but… h-how do you know-?” She stood in silent shock as the woman gingerly talked her ear off. Her gaze drifted from the man on the couch to the telephone. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She was going to kill Harmony. “No, I didn’t know that. Yes… I’m sure she did.” Shrinking in her place she turned her back to the living room, staring down at the phone while nervously twirling the cord between her fingers. “Oh, no, I understand. I-I… No, everything’s fine here.”
“Make sure you give Ginny my best.”
Buffy jumped at the closeness of his voice, realising he was now standing right behind her. Her hand instinctively abandoned the cord to cover her neck, protecting it from his warm breath while he moved to lean his shoulder up against the wall in front of her.
“Yes, okay, Mrs. Thomas. I-I’ll tell him that. Okay. Bye.” It took all of her strength not slam the phone down.
She stared at him coldly, her mouth set in a straight line.
He tilted his head sideways and a smirk tugged at the left corner of his mouth.
“I guess we are stuck together.”
She inhaled sharply and spat out:
“You don’t go anywhere near my stuff. You don’t eat my food, or use my dishes and you better clean up after yourself cause I’m not doing it.”
She started to walk away when she suddenly stopped and turned around to add:
“Oh and just so you know? I’m locking my door at night.”
And with that she stormed into her room.
~+~
She walked around in circles, fuming. She had tried to call Willow but, much like it had happened all through out the last few weeks there was no reply.
Finally, she let herself fall onto her bed, her eyes closing tightly shut when her head hit the mattress. Her hand rested on her forehead as she let out a sigh. She was going to have to live with Spike in the same apartment.
“God, I can’t believe this.” She muttered opening her eyes and staring up at the ceiling. “So much for the long warm bath.”
~+ ~
The week went by uneventfully. She had managed to avoid seeing him everyday. He would sleep in late and since she had classes early in the morning it was fairly easy. The evenings however were tricky. She would come home at 6, rush into her room lock herself in and only come out to get something for dinner. It was a successful technique; she had only seen him twice. Both times he was sprawled on the sofa, staring at the television set while she walked past him to get some food from the kitchenette. They exchanged polite greetings – hello, goodbye – and that was it.
Now came the dreaded weekend. She had wanted to go home, but Professor Walsh had put a damper on that plan. She had a report to write. A very, very long report due on Monday. Sure she could check out the books from the library and go home, but she would lose too much time commuting.
“Plus I’m sick of hiding. I was here first.” She mumbled as she walked briskly toward her apartment building.
She was going to have to deal with him sooner or later.
With a sigh she entered the building and waited for the elevator. Five minutes later she was opening her front door. She peeked in. All the lights were out and there was no sound coming from Harmony’s…
‘Correction – his bedroom.’ She thought, dropping her bag on the counter as she reached for one of the cupboards and took out a glass filling it with water from the fridge.
A sound from the end of the hall caught her attention as she was taking a sip. She walked down the corridor and noticed the light coming from under the bathroom door. For some strange reason her heart skipped a beat.
‘It’s just because I’ve been hiding from him all week.’ She told herself as she tried to will the thumping in her chest to slow down.
As she drew closer she recognized the sound of running water and her heart skipped another beat.
Behind the familiar thud of water rushing out of a showerhead there was a second sound… a deeper one. Without realising it she had her ear resting against the door, straining to identify the noise. She half smiled when she realised he was humming.
Suddenly, the water stopped. She jumped up and clumsily backtracked into her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her.
She stayed in her room for a few minutes, trying to disregard the sounds that came from the corridor and told her that he had finished showering and was now in his room. She scolded her senses for being so aware of his movements and ignored her mind when it questioned the reason for such attention.
~+~
His hands halted as he reached for the towel when he heard a door slam. A smile spread over his lips. It was her bedroom door, she was home. So she chose not to go home for the weekend. He wondered what intricate scheme she would devise to avoid him for 48 hours.
Stepping out of the shower, he used the towel to brush the drops of water from his chest, arms and quickly swept it across his hair before wrapping it around his hips.
Barefoot, he crossed the hall and entered his room.
~+~
“Why am I pacing?” She asked herself out loud stopping in mid stride; a frown over her eyebrows, her arms crossed over her chest.
She let out a frustrated growl. She couldn’t believe she was letting him mess up her daily routine.
“I’m afraid to leave my own room. This is ridiculous. It’s my apartment; I should feel free to just walk in and out of my room whenever I want.” She reasoned opening the door, walking past his bedroom door and into the living room.
She scanned the space. It was actually very tidy. Especially if she compared it to the way it looked back in the “Harmony days”. There were no cups on the coffee table, no bras or any kind of underwear on the couch or on the floor and – behold! – no dirty dishes in the sink she noted when she entered the kitchenette.
Dragging her feet, she walked around gathering what she needed to make herself a cheese sandwich and then ambled back to the couch. Taking a bite, she reached for the TV remote and settled back.
She stayed that way for a solid half an hour and every 5 minutes, for some reason, her gaze would drift from the screen to the corridor. Shaking her head she forced her stare back to the TV when the sound of his bedroom door opening caused her to jump up.
She swallowed hard, set her mouth in a straight line and kept her eyes on the screen, intent on ignoring him.
“Hey.” He greeted.
From the corner of her eyes she could see he was standing to her right, wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and a white t-shirt.
“Hey.” She replied nonchalantly, not bothering to look at him.
There was an uncomfortable silence as he stood there, his gaze focused on her, her heart pounding. After a couple of minutes he moved around the couch and she couldn’t see him anymore.
Her eyes remained alert and told her he was now in the kitchenette.
“So, you’re not going home for the weekend?” She heard him ask.
“Um…What?” She pretended to be too immersed in the show she was watching to listen.
“I asked…” The sound of a beer can popping open was followed by footsteps coming in her direction. “…if you’re not going home for the weekend.” He repeated plopping down on the couch next to her.
She looked at him, trying hard to look bored but using the opportunity to really see him. He lay sprawled on the sofa, his hair was wet and dishevelled, his t-shirt, which initially seemed plain white, actually had some faded wording printed on it and he was barefoot.
“No. I have a report due on Monday and I don’t want to waste time commuting.” She replied looking back to the TV.
He took a sip from his beer but kept his eyes on her.
They sat that way for a couple of minutes before she met his gaze; an annoyed look on her face:
“What?”
“Nothing.” He responded with half a smirk on his face.
“Why are you staring at me?” She asked plainly.
“Not staring.”
“Yes, you are.” She insisted.
He pressed his lips together, the movement accentuating his sharp features. Then he simply took one last sip of his beer, stood up and went back to his room. She didn’t see him for the rest of the night.
~+~
The next morning she woke up early. He was probably still asleep, as usual, so she walked to the kitchenette, made her cornflakes and sat in front of the TV to have her breakfast.
She was chewing a spoonful of cereals when the front door opened. Turning around she saw him walking into the apartment.
He threw his keys onto the kitchen counter and placed the paper bag he was carrying on the flat surface.
“Morning.” He greeted.
“Good morning.” She replied with a frown. What was he doing up so early. It was 10 am.
She watched while he put the groceries in the fridge and the cupboards.
“You went shopping.” The plan for the weekend was to ignore him and avoid any conversation possible but the idea of Spike waking up early on a Saturday and going grocery shopping was too intriguing.
“Yeah.” He replied bunching up the paper bag and throwing it in the garbage.
He crossed the living room as he took his pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his duster.
“You’re not smoking in here.” She warned him.
“Yes, mum.” He said mockingly with the cigarette dangling from his lips while he turned on his heels and entered his room.
Buffy pondered for a few seconds if she should say something in protest, but then settled against it, after all it was his room.
~+~
She sat at her desk, absentmindedly tapping her pencil against the wooden surface as she read the textbook in front of her. God, she hated this assignment. She hated psychology.
With a sigh, she settled back on the chair, stretching her arms over her head. Her attention drifted to the wall that separated her room from Spike’s.
He had been awfully quiet throughout the day. She had sensed him leaving the apartment in the middle of the afternoon. He had come back about an hour ago. He went straight for his bedroom and hadn’t left since.
“What’s he up to?” She wondered.
~+~
Buffy walked down the corridor, passing in front of his bedroom door for the third time that day; a frown marred her eyebrows. So focused was she on the noises or, more accurately, the lack of noises coming from behind the closed door, that she was startled by the sound of her cell phone ringing. Jumping up straight she headed for her bedroom and answered.
“Hey, Wills!” She exclaimed surprised once she recognized the voice on the other side of the line. “I haven’t heard from you since Christmas.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I-I’ve just been so… um… busy… with school stuff and all.” Willow replied hesitantly.
“In the beginning of the semester?” Buffy questioned as she closed her bedroom door behind her.
“Yeah…” She answered not very convincingly. “Anyway, I was just calling to…”
Willow’s voice drifted into the background when Buffy identified the clear sound of a door opening.
“Finally!” She said impulsively.
“O-oh! I-I’m sorry, Buffy but-“
“Oh, no, I wasn’t talking to you. It was Spike.”
“Spike’s there?” Willow asked.
“Yep, and Harmony isn’t.”
“I guess he practically lives there now, huh?”
“Actually, he does.” Buffy semi-grunted.
“He moved in?!” Willow questioned shocked.
“Worse. Harmony moved out and sublet the apartment to him.”
“You’re joking!”
“Not joking. It’s my worst nightmare come true.” Buffy muttered walking over to her door and resting her hear against the wooden frame.
“So he’s living with you. When did this happen?”
“About a week ago.” She strained to hear something coming from the hall.
“How is it?”
“Living with him?” Buffy straightened up and, after a moment, answered: “Not bad actually. I haven’t seen him all week and today he’s been locked up in his bedroom doing God knows what.” Her eyes focused of the door handle as she pondered whether to go into the hall or not.
“That’s great. You can actually sleep now.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, at least until he finds a new girlfriend.”
Buffy felt a knot instantly form in her throat at the thought.
“Y-yeah.” She mumbled.
“It must be so weird.”
“Huh?” Buffy muttered; her mind still caught up in the idea of Spike bringing a woman over.
“Having to share an apartment with Spike.” Willow explained. “What about the bathroom?”
“What about the bathroom?” Buffy frowned.
“You know… taking showers and such.”
“I’m not taking a shower with him!” Buffy blurted in shock.
“I know that. But you can’t feel very comfortable taking a shower with him in the apartment.”
O-oh! She hadn’t thought of that particular aspect of living with a Spike as a roommate. She had made sure to only take showers when he wasn’t there. She guessed she was just going to keep doing that.
“As long as he doesn’t use up all the hot water, I’m fine.” She was pleasantly surprised by her nonchalant reply.
“I guess…”
There was a moment of silence before Willow continued.
“Anyway, I was calling to know if you want to go get a cup of coffee or something.”
“This weekend?” Buffy questioned.
“Yep.”
“Kinda complicated, Will. I have this major report due on Monday.”
“Oh.”
Willow’s disappointment was evident.
“But you can come over. That way I won’t stray from the nerd path for too long.” Buffy offered.
“A-are you sure?”
“Sure, I’m sure.”
“And Spike won’t mind?”
“Who cares about him?” Buffy’s gaze drifted back to the hall when she heard his bedroom door opening and closing again.
“Ok, then. How about tomorrow afternoon, around four-ish?”
“Fourish it is!”
“See you then.”
“Bye, Will.”
She hung up the phone and immediately headed for the hall. As she suspected he was in his room, again. Letting out a sigh she went back to her desk and buried herself in a stack of books she had piled up.
“I hate Miss Walsh.” She grumbled staring at the empty word document that, in 48 hours should be a 40 page long dissertation on Erikson’s theory of personality development.