Chapter 29
She glanced at her wrist watch. It read 6 pm which meant it was time for a break.
Walking to the kitchenette she prepared herself yet another sandwich and plopped down on the couch.
‘Behold the master of sandwich making!’ She thought as she took a bite.
Bored, she stared at the TV screen; some mindless rerun was on. She hated reruns.
She jumped up when she heard a noise coming from the hall and soon Spike entered the living room without a word. He wore his traditional leather trench coat and his heavy army boots.
“Going out?” She risked.
“Yeah.” He barely uttered just as he picked up his keys from the kitchen counter and walked out.
He didn’t come back for another 2 hours, snapping Buffy out of her thoughts in her bedroom when she heard him come in.
She fought the urge to go into the living room, forcing her attention back on the computer screen.
“Have to work, have to work.” She whispered her mantra.
Somehow, she managed to remain seated, her gaze focused on the computer screen.
~+~
She woke up startled, inhaling sharply as she tried to adjust her eyes to the harsh light coming from the lamp at her side. After a few seconds, she realized she was sitting at her desk, her laptop open in front of her next to a cup of cold coffee. With a sigh she glanced at the clock at her nightstand. It read 4 am. She must have fallen asleep while writing the report.
Stretching her arms up over her head she got up, put on her slippers and dragged her feet into the hall. She wiggled her nose when she slowly became aware of the smell that came from behind Spike’s bedroom door.
“What is that?” She asked herself. “Paint?”
Yep, definitely. It smelled like fresh paint.
Before she could think about her actions she was knocking on the door and opening it.
“Spike?”
She gulped dryly when she saw him shirtless, a paintbrush in his left hand, painting a fresh coat of white paint over the last evidence of harsh pink. There were newspapers scattered across the floor and large white sheets covered the furniture. The walls were now a paler shade of the bright colour. It was obvious the room needed at least two more coats before it was back to the simple white it originally sported.
“Wha-” She cleared her throat when, for some reason, her voice failed. “What are you doing?”
He glanced at her and she gulped again at the growingly familiar butterflies that began flying around in her stomach.
“Kinda self-explanatory, luv.” He replied with a shrewd smirk.
‘He knows!’ Her mind screamed while her eyes followed him as he walked over to the paint bucket and started the second coat on the opposite wall. ‘Oh, don’t be stupid he can’t know he’s giving you floppy-stomach.’ She scolded herself.
“In the middle of the night, you just up and decided you desperately needed to paint the room?” She managed to ask nonchalantly.
“Couldn’t stand the colour anymore. It was either me or the hot pink. One of us had to go.”
“Guess hot pink lost, huh?”
He nodded.
“Sometimes life’s just not fair!” She bantered putting on an innocent smile and tilting her head sideways when he cocked an eyebrow at her.
“Can’t win ‘em all.” He replied after a few seconds, breaking eye contact to continue painting.
“And you had to do this now. At 4 am?” She continued walking into the room and stepping over the ragged newspaper sheets.
“Been busy.”
“What, you couldn’t squeeze in a little painting between regular sessions of couch-slouching?” She blurted.
“Did you see me on the couch all week?” He asked, glancing towards her as he bent over to wet the paint bush.
“No.” She mumbled. “But since that’s all you seemed to do while Harmony was here I just assumed you would stick to old habits. Apparently they are hard to break.”
“You assumed wrong, pet.”
“I’ve asked you not to call me that.” She growled.
“Sure… luv.”
“You just love ticking me off, don’t you?” She asked crossing her arms over her chest. “Tell me, do you get some kind of twisted pleasure out of annoying other people?”
“Just out of making you squirm.” He turned to face her and added with a lower tone, the playfulness gone from his voice: “But I guess we both knew that already, didn’t we, pet?”
Her eyes widened at the remark; images of that night on the couch flashed in her mind:
‘His body covering hers, the movement of their pelvises growing faster and more erratic until he thrust his thigh one last time against her core and sent her….’
Awkwardly shaking her head from side to side, her gaze bounced off the walls searching for safety while she stuttered her way out of the room:
“Well, I-I better go… um… to bed… um… sleep.”
“And off she goes.” He sighed.
His remark caused her to stop in her tracks and turn around.
He was back to painting the wall.
“What?”
He stopped, holding the paintbrush up against the wall, turned and knowingly narrowed his eyes at her.
“I’m going to bed. To sleep, as normal people usually do at 4 am.” She replied defensively.
Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the wall.
“Look, if you have something to say…” She dared as she turned around to leave.
“Don’t push me, Summers.” He threatened stopping and turning around to face her. “You want to ignore what’s happened between us? Fine.” Taking a few steps towards her and invading her personal space he added: “I really don’t care anymore. But don’t stand there, all holier-than-thou and pretend that I’m the one hiding.”
They stood face to face, both with their mouth set in a straight line, daring one another.
“Well, Summers…?” He pursed his lips together emphasizing the sharp lines of his cheekbones. She really wished he’d stop doing that.
She held his gaze for a couple more seconds, before uttering:
“I’m going to bed.”
He let out the breath he had been holding, his entire body relaxing in defeat as he watched her turn around and leave.
~+~
“Hey, Willow.” Buffy greeted with a half-smile, letting her best friend into the apartment.
“Hey.” The redhead replied meekly, walking into the living room and letting her purse rest on the couch. “What’s that smell? You’ve been painting?”
“No. Spike’s been redecorating his room.” Buffy replied from the kitchenette.
“Is he here?” Willow murmured leaning over the counter.
“There’s no need to whisper. He’s out.” She spoke as she prepared a couple of sandwiches. “When I woke up he was already gone.”
“So, what’s it like?” Willow asked; a hint of the old giddy high school girl showing in her voice.
Buffy frowned. What was she getting at?
“What do you mean? What’s it like? I’ve told you I’ve barely seen the guy. When he’s not out, he’s in his room.”
“No couch-slouching?”
How did she know about the couch-slouching? Had she told her about it?
‘Do I talk about him that much?’ She wondered.
“No. No couch-slouching.”
“I guess Spike turned out to be the perfect roommate, huh?”
Buffy stopped for a second to consider that.
“Well, compared to the Harmony days?” She passed Willow her sandwich. “Yep, it’s definitely a step up.”
“Then why do you sound so… non-peppy.” Willow questioned taking a bite out of her sandwich.
“I’m peppy.” Buffy countered.
“You don’t sound peppy.”
“Well, I might not be Harmony-peppy, but there is definitely a degree of peppiness.”
Willow didn’t seem convinced.
“I’m just…” Buffy struggled with the words. “I didn’t expect this.”
“What did you expect?” She added.
“I don’t know… just not this.”
“And ‘this’ is bad?” Willow questioned.
“No.”
“You thought he’d give you more of a hard time?”
Buffy’s eyes widened at the expression.
“No!” She denied vehemently. “No-no hard time! No h-hard… time!” Nervously she took a bite of her sandwich thinking to herself: ‘No hardness at all.’
“Buffy, are you ok?”
“I’m fine!” She shook herself out of her thoughts. “What about you? I haven’t heard from you in a while. How are you doing?” Buffy asked, relieved to be changing the subject.
“I’ve been… fine.”
‘Fine.’ Willow wondered why was it that every time they used that word it actually meant everything was upside down in their world.
“Oh. Good.”
There was an awkward silence as the two munched on their sandwiches, both dreading when they would finish. Not that the sandwiches were all that delicious, but simply because once they didn’t have the anything to occupy their mouths with, it would become painfully obvious that they – two best friends – had run out of topics to talk about.
“So… You-” Buffy was cut off by the sound of the front door opening.
The two girls turned to see Spike entering the apartment.
He stopped in mid-stride when he recognised Willow.
“Hey.” His greeting seemed to be directed exclusively toward Willow.
“Hey.” She replied shyly.
He stood there for a couple of seconds, as if studying the young redhead, before walking into the kitchenette. Buffy felt the muscles in her back tighten as he passed behind her and started taking the various groceries out of the paper bag he had.
‘More groceries? Didn’t he just do that yesterday?’ Buffy wondered.
The two girls remained silent, awkwardly exchanging glances for a few seconds before Buffy finally spoke:
“So, Willow, have you seen Xander?”
“N-no.” Willow replied immediately, relieved that the silence had been broken. “I think he called my cell phone the other day, but I was in class so I couldn’t answer.”
“Oh…” Buffy mumbled simply to fill in the void. “We should call him some time. Get the whole gang together for a night out. Maybe go to the Bronze?”
“That would be great!” Willow exclaimed with some enthusiasm.
A night at the old hangout – that was what they needed. ‘Just one night of normalcy and maybe everything will go back to the way it was before.’ Willow thought, but she knew she was lying to herself. There would always be this huge secret hanging around her, stopping her from acting… normal.
“How about next Friday?” Buffy suggested, still strongly aware of Spike’s closeness.
‘Stupid lump in my throat.’ Buffy’s mind grumbled as she swallowed hard. ‘Need to focus on Scooby-gang. Fix Scooby-gang!’ She told herself,
“Saturday?” Willow offered, hesitantly. “I kinda have this thing planned on Friday.”
There was a clear moment of discomfort before Buffy replied with false enthusiasm:
“Sure. Saturday’s fine by me. I’ll call Xander and see if he can make it.”
“That’ll be-” Willow was cut off by the sound of her cell phone ringing.
Spike looked over his shoulder catching the instant flush in the redhead cheeks as she looked at the small screen that was probably flashing a familiar number.
“E-Excuse me.” Willow said shyly, answering the call. “Hey.”
She paused, walking away from the counter while Buffy uncomfortably stood behind it, trying to look busy as she picked up Willow’s plate and brought it to the kitchen sink. She sent a quick look to her side, catching Spike’s gaze for a split second before focusing back on the dish washing.
“Sure… I-I’ll be there. Don’t worry, sweet-” Willow stopped herself, glancing nervously at the two people in the kitchenette, making sure none of them had noticed her slip-up.
Spike was busy making himself a sandwich, while Buffy was washing the dishes, she was pretty sure none of them was paying attention to her. She was wrong, even though Spike appeared to be absent-mindedly preparing his lunch, he had caught the endearing term.
“Don’t worry. I’m on my way over. Bye.”
Spike was sure she said something else just before she ended the call and turned her attentions back to Buffy.
“So you’ll call Xander?”
“What?” Buffy pretended not to have noticed that Willow was off the phone. “Oh, yeah. Sure.” She replied wiping her hands on her jeans.
“Ok, then. I’ll call you to know what time?”
Buffy nodded.
“Ok… Well, I better go. You have that report to…”
“Oh, yeah.” Buffy agreed even though she had finished the report just a few minutes before Willow had knocked on her door. But she just wanted to get this painfully embarrassing show over as soon as possible.
“I’ll see you on Saturday.” Willow said as Buffy walked her to the door. “Bye, Spike.”
“Bye, red.”
“Bye, Will.” Buffy said with a half-smiled as she closed the door.
She let her forehead rest on the wooden frame for a few seconds before turning around and leaning back on it. From the corner of her eye she noticed Spike giving her a cocky smirk.
“What?” She demanded.
“Nothing. Just admiring the honesty in real friendship.” He mocked making his way to the couch and plopping down on it.
“What are you talking about?” She insisted stomping her way across the room to tower over him, arms defiantly crossed over her chest.
“You two birds were just so chatty back there, my ears are still ringing.” He continued.
“We just haven’t seen each other in a while and it’s was kinda… awkward.” Buffy justified.
“Uh-huh…” He replied with sarcasm, crossing his arms behind his neck.
“And what does that mean?” She asked.
“You’re very keen on asking questions you already know the answers to, Summers.” He stated as his lips curled sideways for a smirk.
Buffy was about to respond when the ringing of the phone cut her off. She glanced over at Spike.
“Well?” She asked after a few seconds of intense staring.
He continued to look up at her from his sprawling position on the couch, not moving a muscle. Rolling her eyes and letting out a loud sigh, she dragged her feet in the direction of the phone.
“Hello?”
Spike watched as a frown furrowed her eyebrows and her gaze drifted towards him.
“Yeah. He’s right here.”
She put her hand over the phone and looked at him.
“It’s for you.”
“Me?” It was his turn to frown. Who had his number?
“Some girl named Fred.” She replied impatiently.
Almost instantly, he was up, jumping over the couch and grabbing the phone from her hand.
“Hey, pet. Everything ok?” He answered with a worried look on his face.
Buffy stepped aside still frowning. Some girl was calling him?
‘Probably another mindless Harmony type skank,’ She thought.
“You sure? So nothing’s wrong?” He insisted, his hand running from his forehead, through his bleached hair to finally settle on the back of his neck.
Buffy went into the kitchen pretending to dry the dishes as she listened in on the conversation.
“So, how’s LA treating you, luv?”
‘Is everyone in LA except me?’ Buffy wondered absentmindedly running the towel over a plate while her attention continued focused on Spike.
After he’d been reassured everything was fine, he seemed to adopt a more relaxed style.
‘Is that a smile?’ She wondered as she watched him. ‘Not a smirk, an actual smile?’
She observed him from a distance – there was no cockiness in his voice, none of his usual arrogance. It didn’t even look like Spike.
Buffy’s eyes quickly diverted from him when his gaze turned toward her for an instant. Awkwardly, she looked down at the already dry dish in her hands and went about drying it some more.
“Sure, luv. Anytime.” Spike on the other hand continued to chat on the phone.
After a couple of minutes, and realising she couldn’t stretch the dish drying task any longer, Buffy gave up and placed the dishes in the cabinet.
‘Why am I listening in on Spike’s phone calls?’ This was getting ridiculous.
With renewed resolve she marched out of the kitchenette on her way to her room.
She stayed there for about five minutes before going to the bathroom.
He was still on the phone.
‘And still smilling.’
She managed to keep herself entertained in the bathroom for a whole ten minutes before she decided to go back to her room. On her way she realised: ‘He’s still talking.’.
Closing the door behind her she went over to her desk and sat down. Her eyes scanned the room for a couple of seconds before her gaze fell on the book at her nightstand. Willow had given it to her for Christmas. That was another thing. Since when did Willow give crappy gifts like books for Christmas?
‘Willow used to be great gift-giver, what made her think I’d want a book?’ Buffy wondered in the back of her mind.
But the redhead had insisted she would love it. In her words, it was a fictional piece, but not really, because it had a lot of psychology in it. ‘Right cause everyone knows I’m psych-girl.’
She got up, with a sigh picked up the book, plopped down on the bed and began reading.
For the first five minutes her eyes still drifted toward the door but eventually she found herself completely engrossed by the book she held.