Chapter Nine
Cordelia slammed into her room, letting her parents know just what she thought of their little display at the country club. She hadn’t said a word to them when she walked through the door. They had been sitting in the parlor waiting for her, calling her name as she walked past, nose in the air. Stripping off her clothes, she left the expensive dress laying in the middle of the floor, tossing her shoes on top. Pulling the clip from her hair, she dragged her brush through it, and went in search of some clothes. She had just finished pulling on a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt, when they knocked on the door.
“I’m going to bed,” she called, glaring at her father when he walked through the door. “Invasion of privacy,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest, and rolling her eyes. Her father regarded her, standing in the middle of her room, surrounded by all the things a girl of her stature should have, and wondered where his little girl had gone. She was almost a woman now, old enough to make her own decisions, and he was terrified.
“Cordelia, we need to talk,” he started, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.
“You want to apologize for the way you acted at dinner?” she asked him, pointedly, one delicate brow arching. Jefferson sighed, seeing that this wasn’t going to be easy.
“No. I felt like I needed to say those things, just so he knew where I stood,” he answered.
“Then, I have nothing to say. What you did was just so wrong, Daddy. He’s good, and kind, and he treats me like I’m everything.”
“Of course he would. You’re Cordelia Chase.” He sounded so sure of it, she nearly smiled.
“It’s not because of my name. He sees ME. Not all this stuff,” she said with disgust, waving an arm to indicate her belongings.
“Honey,” Jefferson started, voice soothing. Cordy immediately set on the defensive. He used that tone when dealing with an upset client. “He’s not our sort of people. He’ll never amount to much, and you’re too young to saddle yourself with the sort of problems he carries with him.”
“You know, I thought that for a long time. That he wasn’t good enough for me. But, you know what? I think it’s ME that’s not good enough for HIM,” she spat, blinking back tears. Jefferson reared back, as if she had struck him.
“How could you say that? You’re my daughter.”
“Who I’m related to doesn’t measure my worth. Money doesn’t make me who I am. And no matter what problems he has at home, and trust me, I know a lot more about them than you do, that doesn’t make him who he is. If he’s strong enough to rise above it, why can’t you be strong enough to see him for who he is. Instead of just a janitor’s son?” she implored, her hands flying in front of her to punctuate her point. Whatever response he would have given was cut off by the shrill ringing of the phone. Cordelia stomped over to it and snatched it up.
“Hello? Oh, hi Will,” she said, glaring at her father, who hadn’t moved. She listened as the redhead talked, eyes widening and her face blanching with each word. “Where is he?” Cordy started to move while Willow answered, pulling on shoes and grabbing the same purse she had taken to the restaurant, the tiny square of red looking ridiculous with her casual attire. “I’m on my way.” She hung up and walked past her father, not saying a word.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded, moving to block her path. His eyes narrowed at the ice that was in her glare.
“He needs me,” was all she said, before shoving past him again and walking out the door, leaving her father to stand alone in her room.
~*~*~
Xander sat on the couch in the Giles’ living room, surrounded by his friends. Joyce had immediately set to patching him up, while Spike went to go hunt down something for him to wear. The anger rolling off the blonde was electric, and Buffy followed him into his bedroom, watching as he flung clothes around the room.
“Shoulda told Dad,” he muttered, feeling the need to punch something. He jumped when he felt her hand touch his arm, and he turned angry, guilt ravaged blue eyes on her. He saw his own feelings mirrored back at him, and he sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said, his head dropping to his chest.
“It’s not your fault. Xander’s dad is a bastard. We all knew. But, Xan wouldn’t let us do anything to help,” she said, taking a chance and pulling him into her arms. He was shaking in her grasp, and she ran soothing hands down his back. He crushed her to him, closing his eyes tight against the tears. He had failed his friend, and they were lucky it hadn’t killed him. When he had first seen the damage done to Xander, he turned, prepared to go find Mr. Harris and exact some retribution. His father had seen the bloodlust flare in his son’s eyes, and had stopped him. Telling him to stay, take care of Xander. Then, Rupert had given him a look that would freeze lava and went out the door himself. He hadn’t returned yet, and he could only pray that his father came back unscathed.
Slowly, he pulled himself together, his grip loosening on the tiny woman in his arms. She pulled back to look at him, taking another chance and leaning up to kiss him softly. His eyes drifted shut as the tears threatened again, and he angled the kiss to deepen it. She allowed him to, kissing him back with equal fury, taking their anger and hopelessness out in the kiss. When they pulled back, they were both panting heavily. He leaned his forehead against hers, and took comfort from the feel of her. They hadn’t discussed anything about the kiss in the bar, or what they were now, but it was enough to take consolation in each other for the moment. Now definitely wasn’t the time for a heart to heart.
“You call Cordelia?” he asked, his voice rough.
“No. Willow’s going to.” She had called the redhead almost immediately, knowing Xander would want her there. He had just been sitting on the couch when they got there, shell shocked. It hadn’t occurred to any of them that Xander might not want everyone around him. When one was hurt, they all felt it, and pulled together to band around the injured. Spike nodded, struggling to calm down. “Come on, let’s find him something to wear, then we can be the strong and supportive friends that we are. Okay?” He nodded again, and looked down at her, sighing.
“Let’s go,” he said, releasing her, and grabbing a pair of sweats and a shirt before exiting the room, Buffy right behind him.
~*~*~
Cordy took one look at the battered face of her boyfriend and immediately went to him. Joyce discreetly moved away, allowing the couple to embrace. Cordy cupped his face, running gentle thumbs over his bruised cheeks, struggling with the emotions rolling through her. He just sat there, not responding to her touch, save for the tears that still leaked from his eyes.
“Xander?” she whispered softly, begging him to look at her. He avoided her eyes, his fingers coming up to pull her hands away.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his soft words shocking all in the room.
“Why?” was all she could gasp.
“Because. Your father was right. This is all I am.”
“What? A punching bag?” she snapped, confusion and anger making her words sharp. Everybody present was suddenly wishing desperately to be somewhere else when they felt the air change. Joyce tapped Dawn and motioned for them to leave, sending Buffy a pointed look as well. The blonde nodded and started out, casting one last glance towards Spike, then over to the pair on the couch. Spike gave her a tight smile, and laid the clothes on the couch, before turning to go back to his room. Willow tentatively ran a hand over Xander’s back and squeezed Cordy’s arm before following the Summers women out. Since Giles hadn’t returned yet, that left them alone in the room. They had been steadily staring at each other while the others quietly made their exits, tension thick around them.
“Well?” she asked, expectantly, crossing her arms over her chest. Xander shoved a hand through his hair, and heaved a deep breath.
“No. Yes. Everything,” he stammered, looking at her with such misery, her heart nearly broke.
“Xander, don’t you realize, I don’t care where you come from, or where you’ve been. I love you. That’s all that matters to me.”
“I have nothing to offer you,” he insisted, looking away from her. She gripped his chin, and turned his face back to hers. He nearly smiled at the look of steely determination in her eyes.
“You have everything to offer me,” she told him, brushing her mouth across his split lip. His eyes drifted closed at the contact, and hot tears slid down his cheeks to mingle in the kiss. “Don’t push me away,” she pleaded, bringing her hands up to cup his face again. When she found herself hauled against him, she held onto him, fingers lacing through his hair, soft words flowing from her mouth to soothe him.
~*~*~
“Hey, man,” Spike said, sitting next to Xander on the couch after he and his father returned from the Harris residence, His father had come home the night before, not saying a word about where he had been. The only thing he said, was that Xander was staying with them now, and that he and Spike would go pick up his things in the morning. Jessica Harris had met them at the door, looking tired and defeated, but Spike couldn’t muster up much sympathy for her. He and Giles had made quick work of packing Xander’s things, amazed at how little he actually had. A radio, some cd’s, a collection of car magazines, and his clothes were it.
“Hey,” Xander replied, glancing at Spike. He was currently watching the race, not really paying attention to it.
“You alright?” They didn’t look at each other, uncomfortable.
“Yeah. Thanks, by the way,” he said, rubbing a hand over his thigh.
“For what?” Spike turned to look at him, tilting his head to the side while he waited for him to answer. Anger flared through him anew as he looked at the bruised face of his friend.
“For, you know. . .” Xander struggled for words, not feeling comfortable with the display of emotion. It was one thing to do this in front of Buffy or Willow. They were girls, the emotional stuff was easy for them. Spike recognized his dilemma, and shared it.
“Yeah. I know. It’s cool.” He settled back on the cushions, and suddenly finding himself enraptured in the race.
“Cool,” Xander said, sitting back himself, happy for being let off the hook.
~*~*~
“So, you ready for Friday?” Buffy asked, scraping her spoon through the ice cream in her hand. The phone was balanced on her shoulder as she danced around the kitchen to the radio, gold hair bouncing around her shoulders.
“No. You going to come over and help me get ready? I so don’t think I could manage it on my own,” Willow said, feeling panic starting to set in.
“Course. I’ll bring Cordy and her trusty curling iron.” She chuckled when Willow groaned.
“This is why I don’t date. Too many accoutrements are needed,” she complained.
“You’ll be fine. Have you talked to Xander?”
“Yeah. He sounds good. I can still tell he’s upset. It wasn’t even that bad when he was a kid. But, being at Spike’s seems to be helping. He gets to be a part of a family that works.” Buffy huffed in agreement.
“Will. Why didn’t your parents ever do anything?” Willow sighed, her own home situation settling heavily on her.
“They barely notice me half the time,” was all she said, and Buffy felt a stab of guilt for her question.
“I’m sorry. That was thoughtless.”
“It’s okay. Nothing you can do about it. Just is. And they don’t IGNORE me. They just aren’t involved so much.” Buffy thought it was amazing how she and Spike had such NORMAL home lives, and they were being raised by single parents, while their friends had both parents, but they were either unnoticed or abused.
“I’m sorry, anyway.”
“So, anything new with Spike?” Willow asked, changing the subject.
“Not yet. Too much going on to do much thinking or talking.”
“Yeah, I guess so. Have you. . .decided anything?” the redhead prodded. Buffy giggled at her friend’s single mindedness.
“What did I just say?”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. It’s just, I don’t know, you seem to click.” Buffy thought about the two kisses they had shared, and the ease they felt in each other’s company, and silently agreed.
“I don’t know, Will. I’m still supposed to go to LA next week. Not so good to start a relationship before ditching out of town for three months.”
“Well, that’s a neat excuse.” Buffy frowned, shoving a spoonful of chocolate-chocolate chip in her mouth.
“Aren’t you supposed to be my best friend? You know, the one that’s supposed to let me live in self denial.” She huffed, dropping the spoon in the sink, and shoving the empty container in the trash.
“Is that in writing somewhere?” She could practically hear the smile in the redhead’s voice.
“Yeah, ‘The Best Friend’s Guidebook to the Galaxy’.” Buffy replied, rolling her eyes.
“I didn’t get a copy,” Willow deadpanned.
“Pfht!” she spat when Willow burst out into a fit of giggles.
“What’s scaring you so much, Buffy?” she asked, turning serious. Buffy sank down onto one of the stools, resting her forehead in her hand.
“I don’t know, really. I mean, he’s sweet, funny. . .”
“A total hottie,” Willow offered.
“Yeah, that too. I dunno. Guess I don’t want to see underneath the polish and realize he’s just a regular guy.”
“Spike is far from polished.”
“You know what I mean. I told you, I’ll make a decision when I get back. If I still want to go out with him, then I will. This could all just be repressed sexual tension.”
“Riiigghhht. And the Nile ain’t just a river.”
“I really need to get you that handbook,” Buffy said with a disgusted snort. Willow chuckled at her friend’s discomfort.
“Listen, I gotta go. Big test tomorrow. Why they wait until the last couple of weeks of school for finals is beyond me.”
“Well, I think that’s kind of why they call them FINALS Will. Wouldn’t make sense if they were, I dunno, in April.”
“Yeah, I suppose so,” Willow said with a sigh. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Alright. Later, Will.”
“Hi honey,” Joyce said, walking into the kitchen.
“Hi Mom,” Buffy said, looking thoughtfully at the table.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing’s the matter. Why?”
“Well, you’ve got the same expression on your face that you get when you’re trying to decide what to wear. Although, this time I don’t think it’s a fashion emergency.” Joyce sat across from her daughter, and waited. Buffy played with the phone in her hand, not looking up at her mother when she started to speak.
“What do you think of Spike?” Her mother managed to bite back her grin, and seriously thought about the question.
“I like him,” she said simply. “He’s a good kid on the brink of becoming a good man. He’s had some crappy things happen, with his mother dying and all. But, he seems to be working them out. Why do you ask?” Buffy looked up then, a blush creeping across her features.
“He kissed me, Friday,” she mumbled.
“What?”
“He kissed me,” she said louder, smiling a little.
“He kissed you, or you kissed him, or both?”
“Well, it started that he kissed me, but I was soon a willing participant.” Buffy’s cheeks were really flaming now, and not just from embarrassment. The way he had kissed her, made her skin tingle and her stomach flutter.
“Okay. I can tell by the look on your face that it was a pleasant experience. What does it mean?”
“I don’t know. I mean, when it happened, I was still with Angel. And now I’m not. Should I just jump back into another relationship so soon?” Buffy turned confused hazel eyes on her mother, brows drawn together.
“Honey, I can tell you, you weren’t in a relationship with Angel. He left you the day he went to college. Maybe even before. He just wasn’t man enough to let you go, for whatever reason. But, you are the only one who can answer your question. Do you like him?” Joyce asked, leaning on her elbows on the table.
“Yeah. Maybe.” Her mother could tell that was a huge YES.
“Well, then, do what your heart tells you to.” Joyce smiled at the annoyed look she got. “You’re a little old for me to make decisions for, Buffy.”
“I know,” she said miserably. Why was this so hard? She knew she liked him, knew she liked kissing him. Easy, right? Not so much.
“You’ll be happier once you decide,” the older Summers said, getting up to walk over to Buffy. Placing a kiss on her head, she smoothed down her hair and smiled. “Don’t think. Just feel.” Just then, the phone rang.
“Hello?” Buffy said, answering it. “Oh, hi Dad.”
~*~*~
Spike walked up to the Summers’ door, intent on talking to Buffy. The mid-afternoon sun beat down on his shoulders and head, making him feel like he was baking. He loved it. He didn’t understand why everybody didn’t live in California. He had just raised his hand to knock, when a sound carried on the wind caught his attention. It was a sound so full of hurt it nearly broke his heart.
Following the sound, he found himself in the backyard of the house, staring at Buffy’s tiny form, huddled on the top step of the porch. Her head was buried in the arms across her knees, golden hair glinting in the light.
“Pet?” he started, slowly walking towards her. She jerked up, hand instantly going to her cheeks to wipe the wetness away.
“Spike. Hi. What are you doing here?” she asked, forcing a bright smile.
“Came to talk to you,” he answered, sitting down next to her. Their bare arms brushed, causing a shiver to run through them. Ignoring it for now, he turned to look at her, his blue orbs full of concern.
“What about?” She feigned ignorance. She knew exactly what he wanted to talk about, and she wasn’t in the mood.
“What’s wrong?” he asked as if he hadn’t heard her.
“Nothing, why?” He sighed and rolled his eyes.
“Cause you’re crying, that’s why.” Spike’s tone had a touch more edge to it than he had meant, but she didn’t seem to notice. Sighing, she looked out across the backyard, eyes getting a distant look.
“My father just called,” she admitted, glancing at him. “We can’t come for the summer. He has to go to Japan, or something.”
“That’s too bad,” he said, resting his arms on his knees, never taking his eyes off her face.
“No, it’s typical. Sorry Buff, can’t see you on your birthday, I’ve got a business meeting. Gee honey, tell Dawn I’m sorry. My schedule is just swamped,” she said bitterly, feeling the tears start anew. Sympathy welled up inside of Spike, but he didn’t know what to do. They had kissed a couple of times, but that didn’t mean he was free to go with his urge to gather her up in his arms and let her cry her misery out on him. He didn’t want her to go looking for her frying pan again.
“I’m sorry, Buffy,” he said, the words sounding lame to his own ears. Buffy shrugged a shoulder, looking down at the hands clasped in front of her.
“I should be used to it by now,” she mumbled. “I guess we’ll be around for the summer, now.” She didn’t sound too excited. Fighting another wave of tears, she leaned her head against his shoulder. Spike decided to try looping his arm lightly around her shoulders, heartened when she didn’t stiffen.
“Is there anything I can do?” he asked, not thinking there was.
“Can we just sit here for awhile?” Hope filled her words, making him smile.
“For as long as you like, pet.” Forever if you want.