Chapter Twenty-Three
Xander leaned against his car, staring at the brick front of his house. Cordy had been busy the past couple of weeks, planting flowers underneath the windows and along the walk. She always liked color. She must’ve cut the grass herself, he thought guiltily. He hadn’t been here to help her, like he should have been. Sighing heavily, he pushed away from the car and started up the walk, his heavy work boots clumping on the pavement. The door swung open when he was within a foot of it, and a pink clad flurry of curls streaked down the walk towards him.
“Daddy!” Jazz shrieked, launching into her father’s arms. He scooped her up in one fluid motion, gathering her close and holding her tight. “I missed you Daddy.”
“I missed you, too, baby.” He closed his eyes and buried his face in her neck, breathing deep the comforting little girl smell that he had been missing. Her tiny arms wrapped tight around his neck, as she attempted to squeeze the breath out of him.
“Dinner’s ready. If you want to eat.” Cordy’s voice drifted to him, and he opened his eyes, hungrily drinking in her slim form. She leaned against the jamb, dressed in her usual home attire of frayed jean shorts and one of his old t-shirts. Her sleek hair was pulled back in a short pony tail, and she was barefoot.
His eyes never left her as he put Jazz back down and let her pull him up the walk. Cordy studied him as he advanced, resisting the urge to run to him, and never let him go. He had to make the first move. When they stopped in front of her, she glanced down at the little girl who was looking up at her father with adoring eyes.
“Honey, go wash up for dinner,” she told Jazz, smiling indulgently at the pout.
“You still be here when I gets back?” she asked her father, worry marring her tiny brow. Xander’s heart clenched at the look on her innocent young face, and he nodded, vowing silently to never allow that look to cross her face again.
“Yeah, princess. I will.” Her smile was brilliant at that.
“Okay.” She let go of his hand and took off past her mother to the bathroom. Cordy chuckled at her daughter’s antics then looked back at her husband. He was staring at her with a combination of want, fear and regret.
“Cordy, I’m sorry,” he told her, stepping closer. Their bodies were brushing, and she felt a familiar ache start in the pit of her stomach. She remained stubbornly leaning against the door jamb, arms crossed over her chest.
“You should be,” she told him, leaning her head to the side. “You hurt us both, badly.” He dropped his eyes to the ground, guilt tearing him up.
“I know. What can I do, to get you to forgive me?” She contemplated him for a minute, thinking about her answer.
“Tell me you love me, everyday. A thousand kisses a day, as well as some groveling. I think you need to join one of those support groups, for children of abusers. And finally…” She took a deep breath, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Just don’t leave, ever again. Because next time, I’m going to hunt you down and cut off your protruding parts.” Xander had the decency to flinch at this, even as a smile crept across his face. He closed the remaining inch between them, and slid his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him. They both sighed at the contact, having gone without it too long.
“I promise. Now, let me get started with those first two provisions. I love you.” Her hands glided up his arms to link behind his neck, as his head dipped. “One,” he whispered before he closed his mouth over hers. What was meant to be a gentle kiss quickly turned ravenous. Dual moans filled the air as they both opened for the other. Tongues battled fiercely as hands skimmed over any exposed flesh they could find. Neither cared what kind of show they were putting on for the neighbors, both just happy to be home again. It wasn’t until Cordy felt the gentle tugging on the hem of her shirt that she broke the kiss, her breath coming in heaving gasps, to look down at the upturned face of their daughter.
“Mommy, I’m all wassed,” she said, smiling up at them. Cordy licked her lips and joined Xander in his chuckle. She rested her temple against his chin, her eyes drifting closed while she relished the feeling of being back in his arms again.
“Okay, baby. Let’s go set the table, shall we?” Jazz nodded and darted back into the house.
“Come on, Mr. Harris. Dinner awaits.” She pulled out of his arms and took his hand, pulling him through the open door.
“Right behind you, Mrs. Harris,” he answered, swinging the door shut behind the tiny family.
~*~*~
Dawn lay sprawled across her bed, listening to the sound of her sister move around her room. She didn’t know how long they had sat in front of the door, Buffy crying in her arms. Her heart had broken for her sister, not even knowing the full story of what had happened. She figured it had something to do with Spike. She had seen him coming up the walk, carrying a big bouquet of flowers.
Dawn had snuck down the stairs, prepared to see a fight, and instead had seen a very devastated Riley looking out the living room window at the couple on the porch. He hadn’t seen her when he walked back across the foyer, turning when the door opened. Buffy had looked up when Riley had asked her if that was Spike, guilt written all over her face. Dawn, at the time, had still been mad enough at her sister to delight in the possible blow up that was sure to happen. Then, they had walked into the kitchen, taking their discussion there. The seventeen year old had huffed, and started back up the stairs, only to whirl around again at the sound of Buffy’s voice calling for Riley. She’d spun around, nearly losing her balance and falling down the stairs to watch as the engagement imploded right before her eyes.
What Riley had said about Buffy never being confused about Spike had struck a chord in her. She realized the truth of it, and felt her heart break once more. Even though she had vowed to get over Spike after her mortification of the night before, it still hurt to know that, no matter what, he would have never been hers. That had brought on another surge of anger, and she was prepared to hate her sister for eternity now. Until she saw Riley take his ring from her fingers, his look of longing nearly taking her breath away. Then, he had walked out, leaving Buffy to crumple. Dawn’s anger had drained out of her at the sight of her sister so upset, and she had called her name, immediately going to her when she saw the misery on the blonde’s face.
Buffy had never meant to hurt Riley, Dawn knew that. She even thought that Riley probably knew that. It didn’t make it any easier to deal with, but it was truth.
After Buffy had calmed, she had managed a sad smile, asking Dawn if she could handle getting something to eat. Once the teenager had said sure, Buffy disappeared upstairs to the sanctuary of her room. Dawn had gone into the kitchen, squelching the flare of jealousy she had at the sight of the flowers sitting in their mother’s favorite crystal vase. Instead, she went over to them, and finished arranging them, making sure the water level was right before taking it out to set it on the table by the door. Satisfied, she had gone back into the kitchen and threw together a sandwich and something to drink, then had gone up to her own room.
Now that she was done eating, she was left to stare up at her ceiling, thinking about everything. She couldn’t use the phone since she had gotten suspended, and as much as she hated it, homework would have at least been a diversion. She couldn’t watch tv. Buffy had come in right before Riley came over to take out her stereo. The only things she had were her books and art supplies. She didn’t exactly feel inspired, and since the night before, the thought of reading a romance didn’t settle well either. So, here she was, clutching a pillow to her stomach, bored out of her mind, and dwelling on problems that weren’t hers. Life sucked.
She had gotten so used to the quiet, that when the soft tapping at her window started, she nearly jumped out of her skin, a squeal of surprise bursting from her lips. She shot up into a sitting position, head cocked to the side as she listened. When it happened again, she slid off the bed, pausing to pull on a pair of shorts over her plain, cotton panties. She moved slowly, eyes scanning the room for a weapon. She spotted a small trophy that she had won in an art contest two years before, and snatched it up, testing it’s weight in her hand. Satisfied that it would at least leave a nice dent in Jack the Ripper’s head, she continued towards the window, reaching it just as the tap came again, this time more insistent.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she reached out to pull back the curtain, letting out the breath she had been holding with a whoosh when she saw Connor.
Rolling her eyes, she put the trophy down with a crack, and unlocked the window.
“You scared the shit out of me,” she hissed, leaning out the window to make sure her sister’s was closed. She then swung her legs out the window, and slid outside to sit next to him on the roof.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, pulling out a cigarette. She found herself staring at him when he flicked the lighter, appreciating the smooth plains of his face. She’d noticed herself doing this more and more. Actually seeing him as a guy, instead of her best friend. That was becoming a little disturbing.
The fact they had become friends was almost funny. They had met the first day of high school, since they had the same homeroom. She had disliked him on principle, since he was the younger brother of the guy that had cheated on her sister. However, they had been paired together on a project, and that had made sure that they’d had to work together for a month. By the end of the month, she had come to realize that Connor was nothing like Angel, in fact, Connor actually hated his older brother more than Buffy did. He was always the one who did everything right in his parents’ eyes, while Connor always felt like the odd man out. It was no wonder that Angel was the spoiled brat he was, while his younger brother was more concerned with what went on around him.
“S’ok.” She pulled her knees up to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them, resting her cheek against them. “What’re you doing here?” He looked over at her, his expression lost to her in the darkness.
“Didn’t want to be at home anymore. Mom and Dad are going at it pretty good,” he told her, his voice rusty from lack of use. She knew, by the time he left, it would be smooth and deep. She was the only person he talked to, choosing to stay mostly silent with other people.
“They’re still wigging about today?” He nodded, his face illuminated by the orange glow of the cigarette. He turned his head away to expel the smoke, not wanting to blow it in her face. Her brow furrowed when he did it, she had the memory of Spike doing the same thing around Buffy. She wondered if she was seeing too much in the small action, not sure whether she wanted to or not.
“Mom’s been shrieking since we got home. I just tune her out,” he said casually. She knew he wasn’t as unconcerned about it as he liked to put off. His mother barely tolerated him most of the time, only really paying attention to him when he got into trouble, which wasn’t very often. James didn’t quite know what to think of his quiet, younger child, but he at least made more of an effort than Darla did. “Buffy freak too bad?” Dawn shrugged a shoulder.
“Pretty much. Even threatened to call the social worker if I got into trouble again. She told me my grades have to improve or no Prom.”
“That’s actually fair,” he said, chuckling when she huffed.
“What about you?”
“I dunno. Can’t see me getting too much. Mom just likes to freak for awhile. Figure by the time I get home, she’ll have forgotten all about it.” His voice was bitter, and she felt her heart squeeze for him. She had only ever known her mother’s love, never her spite.
“Sorry.” It was his turn to shrug, as he flicked his cigarette away. He turned towards her again, the moon coming out from behind the clouds to cast his face in shadow. For some reason, Dawn suddenly found herself nervous in the presence of her best friend, and her heart started to thud against her chest. It seemed to her that they were suddenly closer than they had been a minute ago, and she was lost as to how it had happened. Her breath caught in her throat at the intense feel of his eyes on her.
She wondered vaguely where all this was coming from. This was Connor. He knew all her secrets, all her fears. He’d listened for hours while she gushed about Spike, never once teasing her for her puppy love. He was a constant fixture at her house on weekends and holidays. He was the only she would talk to when her mother dies. What the hell was going on?
“Dawn.” Her name drifted over to her on the rusty lilt of his voice. For the first time ever, the sound sent shivers down her spine.
“Yeah?” she croaked, horrified at how she sounded. She cleared her throat and tired again. “Yeah.” His eyes never left hers as he seemed to move even closer to her.
“I know it’s still a few months away, and you still have to get your grades up. But, will you go to the prom with me?” The fact that he asked stunned her almost as much as the fact that he asked her. He didn’t get into that sort of school activity. She stared dumbly at him for a long minute, her brain spinning in a thousand different directions at once. He just watched her, a slight smile curling his lip at her dumbfounded expression.
“Wh. . .What?” she stammered, when she finally remembered to speak. He grinned. That stunned her again. He never grinned. She was starting to wonder just who this guy was, and what he did with Connor McKenna.
“I asked you if you wanted to go to the Prom,” he repeated, leaning back on his hand, angling himself even closer to her.
“Like a date?” she squeaked.
“No.” She didn’t understand the disappointment that stabbed through her. She didn’t want to go on a date with Connor. Did she? “I plan on us having many dates before that.” Her eyes nearly popped out of her head at that.
“What?!” Her voice was high pitched, and sharp.
“I’ve been waiting a long time for you to get over your infatuation with Spike. I think he pretty much crushed it last night. Now’s the time for me to make my move.” Connor’s eyes burned into her in the darkness, waiting for her answer. He hadn’t been shot down yet, so he figured he was doing alright. Dawn, in the meantime, was having a hard time putting a coherent thought together.
“I-I-I don’t understand. You WANT to go out with me?”
“Come on, Dawn. Despite what your grades say, I know you have a brain up there. Yeah. I WANT to go out with you. I’ve wanted to go out with you since we had to work on that stupid ecology project in ninth grade. But, all you’ve ever talked about is Spike. Kinda gives a guy a complex”
“Uh. . .” She didn’t know what to say. She’d never thought about Connor like that. Then again, she’d never thought about ANYBODY like that. All she’d ever thought about was Spike. But, Connor was right, that little fantasy had to be put to rest now. She lifted her head from her knees, finding their faces even closer. She wondered again how they had managed to get so close together. “I never. . .” she started, only to be cut off by the bold pressing of his lips over hers. Her eyes widened almost painfully before they drifted closed. Her mind completely blanked out as he gently coaxed her mouth into a kiss, her first. Well, her first where there were two active participants that is. The kiss she gave Spike didn’t count, since he was too busy panicking to even think about kissing her back.
She felt the light touch of his fingers against her cheek, in the same instant his tongue tentatively tickled her lip. Instinct kicked in and she parted her lips, gasping when he pushed inside. A new, tingly sensation took over her senses when this happened, and she felt a strange twittering start in her stomach. She vaguely wondered how he learned to kiss, when she could count the dates he had been on in the last four years with two fingers. Then again, she had never kissed anyone before, so for all she knew, he could suck at it. However, the feelings he was drawing out of her certainly told her that he was doing just fine.
Her eyes stayed closed when he pulled away, half expecting him to come back for more.
“Well, Dawnie. Will you?” Connor’s voice was thick with emotion, the graveliness of it making goose flesh pop out on her arms.
“Huh?” She opened her eyes to look at him, the new light she was seeing him in making him beautiful.
“To the prom. Will you go?”
“Uh huh,” she breathed. His grin split the darkness around him as he swooped in again. Dawn’s fingers came up to tangle in his hair, and she eagerly kissed him back.
“I’ll come by tomorrow,” he promised when he pulled away again. She nodded, forgetting that he probably couldn’t see her.
“Okay,” she managed, watching him as he jumped into the tree across from them and shimmied down to the ground. When his feet hit the grass, he turned and waved, before starting off at a trot down the street. Dawn’s eyes never left his retreating back until he turned at the corner, out of sight. Then, smiling to herself, she climbed back inside, never noticing the curtain drop in her sister’s room.
~*~*~
“Thank you for dinner, Rupert. It was wonderful,” Anya said as they walked from his car towards her door. They had gone to a small restaurant in town that served the best chicken parmigiana she had ever tasted. Not to mention the soft ambiance of the candle lit dining room, and the elegant place settings. He may not’ve set out to impress her, but he certainly had.
“You’re quite welcome, Anya. We should do it again sometime,” he told her as they came to a stop in front of her townhouse. The porch light shone down on them, glinting off her light hair and giving the illusion of a halo around her head.
“I’d like that,” she agreed, smiling brightly up at him. Giles pulled his glasses off and started to rub them, his nerves jumping like they were attached to a power cord. He had the distinct feeling that she wanted him to kiss her, and he didn’t know if that was such a good idea. Anya just stood and watched him, wondering if he would rub a whole in the lens before he made his mind up.
“Well, then. I’ll bid you good night.” He returned his glasses to his nose, and smiled down at her. The blonde barely managed not to roll her eyes, deciding it was time to take matters into her own hands. Just as he was about to turn away and start back to his car, she laid a hand on his arm, stilling him. She saw the look of confusion drift through his eyes before the panic flashed once he realized what she had planned. “Anya, I. . .” he never got to finish. His eyes widened in surprise when her mouth touched his. Her arms snaked around his neck, and she persistently nibbled on his mouth, trying to get him to respond. She moaned when he finally snapped out of it, and did just that. His hands came up to her hips, pulling her flush against him, angling his head to deepen the kiss.
They were both gasping for air when they pulled back, their faces flushed. A slow, feminine smile spread over Anya’s wide mouth, making him want to drag her inside and do things he hadn’t thought about in years.
“Goodnight, Rupert,” she practically purred, extracting herself from his arms, and turning to let herself inside. He stood, staring at the door for what seemed like an eternity, before shoving his hands in his pockets and striding back to his car, a lightness to his step that hadn’t been there in a long time.
~*~*~
Buffy sighed as she let the curtain fall back into place, knowing she should be angry with Dawn and Connor, but not really being able to find the energy. She smiled as she remembered being seventeen, and the only thing that had meant anything to her had been Spike. Granted, that had been before the accident, and before the offer that had taken him away from her.
She let memories of that summer wash over her, reliving everything that had been exciting and new. Yes, she knew just how Dawn felt right now, and she didn’t have the will to scold her. So, she decided to let Dawn have her little rooftop soirees, as long as they didn’t go further than kissing. And Buffy would be making sure that they didn’t.
Sighing again, she sat on the stool of her vanity, picking up her brush and pulling it through her hair. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, taking in the red rimmed eyes and the puffy cheeks and lips. After she had gone upstairs, she had thrown herself on her bed and shed some more tears. Even though she was partly relieved that Riley had been the one to break things off, it didn’t help the guilt she felt over hurting him. She should have known, a long time ago, that she wasn’t ready to make that sort of commitment with anybody. She had been nowhere near over Spike. And when Riley had come into her life, she had still been reeling from his second departure. She couldn’t believe that she had been that selfish.
Buffy put the brush down, and rubbed her hands over her eyes, the picture of his angry, hurt face swimming towards the forefront again. He didn’t deserve this. He deserved to be loved, and needed. The only one in someone life. She had no right leading him on for this long.
And, in truth, it really had nothing to do with Spike’s return. His presence had just forced her to face the inevitable. They never would have gotten married, because Buffy was still holding onto something she had thought she had let go. They would have continued on, as they were, until he had either pressed the issue, or she had finally woken up. Who knew how much time would have been wasted by then?
Buffy stood and stretched, her brain as tired as her body. Even without Riley in the picture, she still had tons to think about. Spike may be who she wanted, but he still wanted to race. She didn’t need him to tell her that for her to know. She could see it in the blue of his damaged eyes. If the opportunity ever came up, he would jump behind the wheel quicker than you could say NASCAR.
She knew, in her heart, that Willow was right. Her eyes drifted over the thick notebooks that had been flung in her face just that morning. Lord, had it only been that long? With everything that had happened, it seemed like a lifetime ago. Walking over to the shelf, she pulled one out, laying across her bed to flip through the glossy print ads. Within seconds, she was at her favorite one, the one that she would sit up late at night and look at, when the missing of him got to be too much.
He was leaning against the side of his car, his body positioned so the 29 and the sponsor logo could be seen clearly. He had on his black, form fitting fire suit, and a pair of sunglasses. It was an add for Monte Carlo, and an animated Taz was perched on the hood next to him. He looked so happy in the picture, that she had convinced herself that letting him go had been the right choice. Willow had been right though. She hadn’t let him go. Ever.
She wondered, often, what might have happened if she hadn’t freaked in that hospital room. Where would they be now? Would it have mattered if she had been there?
She knew, somehow, that it would have. Even though the accident still would have happened, she didn’t think he would have been as bad afterwards. She would have been a wreck, but he would probably have been able to deal with it better.
So many years, so much wasted time, and she had been denying the truth. She would forever be in love with Spike. Maybe it was time that she stopped running away, and took hold of what she wanted. Even if he did race again, she could handle it. She had a feeling that if she allowed him to walk away again, she wouldn’t be able to survive.
Closing the book and pushing it away, Buffy rolled over onto her back, closing her eyes against the images of the crash that replayed over and over in her head. Why did she keep fighting it? She had still seen the race, she had still felt everything she would have felt if she had been at the track. There was nothing except her own fear holding her back. But, it was that fear that had separated them in the first place.
Buffy wished she knew what to do. Was her fear of racing more important to her than Spike? She guessed that was what she really needed to decide.
Deciding that sleep was what she needed, she got up and put the book away, turning off her light and stripping to her skin. With a sigh, she slid between the sheets, snuggling deep into the bed. Sleep took a long time coming, images of Spike’s lean, nude frame intermingling with the one that they pulled out of that car, broken and bloody. The first rays of dawn were starting to shine through her curtains by the time her brain had shut down enough to allow her to rest.