Chapter Seven
Buffy opened her front door the next morning, and found herself faced with the expectant faces of one Willow Rosenberg, and one Cordelia Chase.
“What?” she asked, glowering. The two at the door shared a look before they pushed past her. “Come in,” Buffy said sarcastically, closing the door. She was cranky, guilt over kissing Spike, and liking it, warred with her desire to do it again, and feel that mouth on other random parts of her body, made it impossible to sleep. She so didn’t want to think about it anymore, but looking at the red and dark haired girls, Buffy knew that it would be a long time before THAT happened.
“Why did you run out on Spike last night?” Cordelia asked, arching a brow. Buffy’s eyes widened at the bluntness of the question.
“Hello?! Boyfriend. Not so good to be kissing other guys in plain view of all the people from school. As it is, I have to worry about his friends who were there calling him with the news,” she groused, flopping on the couch.
“I wouldn’t worry if I were you. No loyalty among that group,” Cordelia said, speaking from experience.
“That’s really not the point,” Buffy told her.
“What’s the point, then? You kissed him, and you obviously liked it,” Willow shot in. Buffy’s brows shot up.
“What part of ‘boyfriend’ don’t you understand?” She threw up her hands in frustration.
“Oh, the word we understand. It’s your choice of one that we don’t.” Anger flared between the two friends, and Cordy watched in fascination.
“Alright!” the brunette said, raising her hands to stop the argument. “Let’s look at this another way.” She sighed, and pinned Buffy with her eyes. “Have you EVER kissed Angel the way you kissed Spike last night?” Buffy sat back on the couch, scowling darkly.
“No,” she grumbled, looking away. She didn’t see the smug look that passed between her friends.
“So, why are you staying with him?” Buffy opened her mouth to answer, and found herself with nothing to say. Encouraged, Willow moved to sit next to her, green eyes searching hazel.
“Buffy, you’re seventeen. Why stick with a guy that doesn’t make you happy? That hasn’t made you happy in a LONG time? You’re too young to think you HAVE to stay with him.” Buffy worried her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes darting around the room while she thought. Why was she staying with him? He never came home on the weekends anymore. When they talked on the phone, he was continually making references to other girls, or her lack of wanting to have sex. He wasn’t coming home for the summer. What did she want? Her skin heated as she remembered the kiss from the night before, and she had her answer. But still, she was afraid.
“I just need to think. I’ll be going to LA in two weeks. I’ll see Angel, decide then,” she stalled. Now all she had to do was avoid Spike for fourteen days. Not a problem. Right. Willow and Cordelia were at least glad that they got her to even do that.
“Well, thinking is good,” Willow said, trying not to stand up and do the Snoopy dance. She was mentally kissing Angel goodbye, her smile struggling to break free.
“Yeah.” A smile bloomed across Buffy’s face, as she realized her opportunity to get her mind off one bleached blonde wonder. “So, what happened with the guitar player?” Willow’s face flamed and she looked away.
“She so hit it off with him. His name is Mark Lynch, and he is originally from Arizona. He’s twenty and has been playing guitar since he was ten. He’s part Navajo Indian, and his grandmother still lives on the reservation. He moved here with the band, because it was close to L.A., and it’s cheaper than living there. He lives over on Kensington, in the apartments behind the mall, and he asked her out for after the show next Friday,” Cordelia answered for the flustered redhead. Buffy frowned at Cordy knowing and not her. “You ran off, and I was there,” the brunette said, shrugging a shoulder. Buffy felt a stab of guilt.
“Sorry, Will,” she mumbled.
“S’ok. You were kind of occupied at the time.” Willow smirked, smiling at her friend’s discomfort.
“Did he. . .say anything after I left?” she heard herself ask, cursing inwardly.
“Not a word. Not even goodbye. But, I already talked to Xander this morning, who already talked to Spike, and. . .” Cordy gave a dramatic pause. “He said it was life altering.” Buffy’s cheeks stained pink at the description, one that she couldn’t argue with.
“So, was it?” Willow asked with anticipation. She had seen part of it, when she had turned nervously away from Mark to scan the crowd. She only hoped that Mark would kiss her like that. The blonde flushed deeper, and plucked at a stray thread on her shorts.
“Maybe.”
“MAYBE!” Cordy snorted with disgust. “I wasn’t even involved with it, and I could tell that it was. Geez.”
“How would you know?” Buffy spat.
“Because that’s the way Xander kisses me.” The brunette answered simply, casting her eyes downward.
“Oh,” the other two girls breathed.
“Buffy?” Joyce called, walking into the living room, putting on her coat. “Oh, hi girls,” she said when she saw the other two.
“Yeah, Mom?”
“I’m going to the gallery for a couple of hours. You’re not going anywhere today, are you?”
“No. Why?”
“Dawn,” her mother reminded her. “Just wanted to make sure that I didn’t have to take her with me.” Joyce picked her purse up off the table by the door.
“No, go ahead. I’m just going to rip into that tub of Ben and Jerry’s in the fridge and watch t.v.” Buffy told her. Joyce could tell something was bothering her, but they weren’t alone, so she would talk to her later about it.
“Alright. If I’m not home by five order dinner. Okay? I left money on my dresser.”
“Alright Mom. Bye.”
“Bye honey,” Joyce called as she closed the door.
“Well, I hate to cut this short, but I have a family thing to do tonight. Willow, you want a ride?”
“Yeah. Call me later, okay? We’ll talk?” Willow asked, hopefully. Buffy smiled, and patted her knee.
“Yeah.” With one last look, Willow got up and followed the prom queen out. Buffy sighed, and leaned her head on the couch, not moving when she heard Dawn come downstairs. When the eleven year old didn’t say anything, Buffy looked at her, staggered by the anger simmering in the blue orbs of the girl.
“What’s the matter, Dawnie?” she asked, concern marring her brow.
“You kissed him,” she accused, her tiny form shaking with hurt. *Just what I need,* Buffy thought, groaning inwardly.
“Yes. I did.” No use in denying it, Dawn had obviously been eavesdropping.
“How could you? You’re going out with Angel.” The older girl knew this had nothing to do with Angel. It had everything to do with the way her sister felt about the blonde.
“Dawn, it’s not that simple. Angel and I. . .aren’t really happy anymore, and. . .”
“And you thought that you would just move in on Spike.”
“Well, he sort of moved in on me, if you really need to know the truth,” Buffy said, temper making her words clipped.
“You didn’t stop him,” Dawn accused. “You knew I liked him, and you didn’t stop him.” Tears coursed down her young face, misery written across her expression.
“Honey, you’re eleven. He’s eighteen. What did you think was going to happen?” she asked gently. Dawn looked away, hating that her dream was being shattered.
“I’m not going to be eleven forever.” She sniffed, crossing her arms over her Tweety Bird t-shirt. Buffy smiled, and looked at her sister who was wishing so desperately for womanhood.
“No, you’re not. And when you get older, there were be other guys.”
“They won’t be Spike,” Dawn insisted. Buffy sighed, and stood to walk to her sister.
“No. They won’t be Spike. But, they will be your age. And you never know, there might be one out there like him,” she offered, hopefully. The younger girl looked down at the ground, her chestnut colored hair hiding her features.
“If I was four years older…” she started.
“If you were four years older, Spike never would have seen me,” Buffy assured her, rubbing her hands over Dawn’s arms. A small smile formed on the girl’s face, sadness still touching her eyes.
“I guess, if he has to date anybody, it might as well be you,” she acquiesced, glancing up at Buffy.
“Thanks. But, I don’t know if we will be dating. I’m still with Angel.” Dawn’s eyes widened comically at that.
“So, dump him. He’s such a jerk. And you know what? Amber told me that he had sex with her older sister Jennifer before he left this last time.” If Dawn could have pulled the words back, she would have. Amber had told her just last night, on the phone, and she had meant to talk to Joyce first, but, now it was too late. The look that crossed her sister’s face made her sick. Buffy’s face had gone pale, and her eyes had clouded with pain. Her hands were trembling as they dropped from Dawn’s arms.
“Are you sure?”
“Well, she could have been lying,” Dawn offered hopefully. She didn’t want to hurt her sister. She was trying to make her see that Angel wasn’t worth holding onto. Even at eleven years old, when she was supposedly not old enough to understand adult relationships, she knew that what Angel was doing was bad. Things started to fall into place in Buffy’s mind, and she suddenly found herself feeling dizzy. “Buffy? I think you need to sit down.” The older girl nodded numbly, as she allowed her sister to move her to the couch. The way he never came home on the weekends. The allusions to the other girls when they were on the phone. The way he was late that night at the Bronze the last time he was home. This all suddenly made sense, and Buffy could have slapped herself for being so stupid. It never even occurred to her that Dawn might be lying. Suddenly, a blinding anger overtook her, and she shot up from the couch, eliciting a surprised squeak from Dawn. She marched straight to the phone, and stabbed at the numbers as she dialed.
“What are you doing?” Dawn asked, watching her sister with wary eyes. Buffy just shook her head as she waited for the phone to be picked up. Finally, on the eighth ring, a sleepy voice came over the line.
“‘lo.”
“I want to talk to Angel,” she said without preamble. Why beat around the bush?
“S’not here,” came the reply. *Yeah, right.*
“Well then, you tell him this. This is his GIRLFRIEND. You know, the one he has a tendency to forget about? You better tell him that if I don’t hear from him by twelve o’clock, he had better just forget my number.” Without waiting for an answer, she slammed down the phone with a force that should have shattered it. She stayed, standing by it, waiting. Sure enough, not five minutes later, the shrill ring exploded through the tense silence in the room.
“Hello,” she growled into the phone.
“What the fuck is your problem?” Angel’s sleep thickened voice shouted into the phone.
“I’d say it’s who YOU’RE fucking that’s my problem, Angel.” A stunned silence permeated across the miles the second before the storm hit.
“What the FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. Did you think I wouldn’t find out? In a town this size? You have a problem keeping your zipper up, buddy.”
“You’re crazy,” was all Angel could come up with, as his tired, alcohol laden mind tried to figure out how she could have found out, and just how he was going to smooth it over.
“Yeah, well, you’re right. I am crazy. Crazy for even considering that you were worth giving my virginity to. Well, guess what? You can kiss that little treat goodbye, because you had better not EVER come near me again. Do you understand? You see me on the street, you walk the other way, because I will not be held accountable for my actions.”
“Buffy, wait. You have it all wrong. Those girls, they mean nothing to me. You’re my girl.” The word ‘girls’ sent Buffy into another spiral of shock, and she took the phone away from her ear to look at it as if she could see Angel inside of it.
“Girls?” *Oh shit,* Angel thought, realizing his mistake. “GIRLS?!! How long exactly have you been screwing around on me, Angel?”
“They don’t matter,” he insisted. “You’re the only. . .”
“Oh, shut up. Don’t give me those lines. ‘You’re the only one for me’, or ‘a man has needs,'” she mimicked into the phone, disgust dripping off every word. “You make me sick. Stay away from me, Angel. I don’t ever want to see you again.” Then, she hung up the phone while he was still sputtering, picking it up and slamming it down again for good measure. Satisfied, she turned towards Dawn, and smiled at the stunned pre-teen.
“So, up for some sisterly bonding time?” she asked, ignoring the phone as it began to ring again. *Let the answering machine get it,* she thought, turning the ringer off, and lowering the volume enough on the answering machine that she couldn’t hear the words, but she could recognize the voices, then turned away from it and went into the living room with Dawn.
~*~*~
Spike walked through the hot, California night, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, scowl firmly in place on his sharp features. He had managed NOT to storm over to Buffy’s and demand to know why she ran out on him after the most amazing kiss he had ever had. He’d also managed not to call her the hundred times he had picked up the phone. Thankfully, Xander had been around most of the day, listening and agreeing with every word he said about the girl. The only reason Xander didn’t get pissed off when the insults started flying was because he knew that Spike was just hurt and angry, and he would actually never say some of the more creative barbs that flowed from his mouth.
Unfortunately, Xander had to leave, since Cordy was presenting him to her family tonight. Spike felt sorry for the bloke, since the Chases were the most important people in town, as well as the richest. He had spent the day, when not bitching about Buffy, watching Xander’s face go from a sickly pale to a worrisome green.
He didn’t want to go to the track tonight by himself, and his father was at the gallery helping Joyce rearrange some things, so he had been left alone. After about an hour of having the same recurring fantasy about the kiss, Spike had decided he needed to get out of the house. He didn’t know where he was going. He just needed to walk. At least that’s what he told himself, as he turned onto Revello Drive. His scowl darkened even further, and he crushed his fag out under his boot. As her house came into view, he slowed some, trying to decide what he was going to do. He was never one to back down from a problem, but he didn’t like beating his head against a brick wall either. Then, his decision was made for him, when a sleek, red 280Z pulled up out front. He recognized the dark figure that emerged immediately, and noticed the angry edge to his gait. Walking a little quicker, Spike made it to the stoop just as the front door swung open.
“What the hell do you want?” Buffy spat, glaring daggers at the man in front of her. Spike’s brows rose in surprise at her tone.
“Dammit, Buffy. You need to listen to me,” Angel said, trying to enter the house. She just shifted her body so he couldn’t and crossed her arms over her chest.
“I thought I made it clear on the phone that we have nothing left to say to each other,” Buffy said, staring at him with cool hazel eyes. Neither had noticed the blonde standing in the yard, taking in the scene with great interest. Dawn saw him though, from where she was peeking out over her sister’s shoulder to glare at Angel.
“You can’t just break up with me without hearing me out,” Angel insisted.
“What’s to hear? You can’t keep your dick in your pants. What’s so hard to understand about that?” she answered cooly.
“Like you have room to talk,” he shot back
“What the hell are you talking about. I NEVER cheated on you.”
“Then what was with the phone call Andrew got from his little brother about you playing tonsil hockey with that Spike guy? You know, the one you were just being NICE to?” Buffy blanched at that. *So much for Cordy’s theory* she thought. Spike scowled again, until he remembered what day the poof was talking about.
“A kiss is a lot different than sex, Angel. Or did you fall asleep the day they explained that in Health?” she snapped back.
“How do I know it was just a kiss? For all I know that cherry was popped the second he slithered into town. What is it about him? Huh? Is it the bad boy look? Or maybe it’s the accent. Woman are suckers for accents.” His head whipped to the side with the force of her tiny hand connecting with his face. She had finally recovered from the shock the first part of his statement had incurred and lashed out.
“Don’t turn this around on me. . .” she started, only to squeak when he gripped her arms painfully. She felt a moment’s fear before he was ripped away from her, his body flying down the stairs to land in a heap on the grass below. Spike was over him in a second, hand fisted in the front of his shirt, arm cocked back to strike. He wasn’t expecting Angel to kick out and land a hit to his stomach. Dawn screamed, and Buffy watched in shocked horror as they went after each other.
Spike cursed inwardly when Angel’s meaty fist plowed into the side of his head, making stars shoot brightly behind his eyes. Angel grunted when Spike blocked the next hit and landed one into his stomach. Fists flew, and blood spilled as the two went at each other, one in defense of the lady’s honor, the other trying to lay claim to what should be his.
Unfortunately, even though Spike was quicker, he was outmatched in size and strength. The former QB soon had the blonde pinned to the ground, fists aimed at his handsome face. He never got a chance. Buffy had seen the turn the fight had taken, and ran back into the house to look for a weapon. Nothing deadly, just something to stop it. She came up with a frying pan. Cliche, yes. Effective. Definitely.
Buffy came up behind the man she had thought she loved and swung with all the force in her tiny body. It landed with a thud against Angel’s back, causing him to grunt, and breaking his attention enough that Spike could buck him off. The men rounded on each other again, and Buffy stepped between them, silently praying that she didn’t meet with any wayward punches. Dawn watched, wide-eyed from the porch, torn between horror and fascination at the spectacle.
“Go home, Angel,” Buffy told her ex, hazel eyes flashing in the light of the street lamp. Angel looked at her with disgust, wondering what the hell he had ever seen in her.
“Fine, bitch. Hope you have fun with your new fuck toy.” Spike went to go after him again, only to encounter Buffy with her raised frying pan. She didn’t lower it again until she heard the purr of the powerful engine fade down the street.
“Pet…” Spike started, only to be cut off by her raised hand.
“You. House. Now.,” was all she said as she turned and stalked away from him, leaving him to follow. He turned and slowly made his way to the porch, looking up at Dawn as he walked up the steps.
“How much trouble am I in?” he asked, staring at the open door with trepidation. Dawn glanced between him and it, flinching at the sounds of things getting put down with a bang.
“A lot,” she answered, giving him a tight smile before going inside herself. Spike watched her go with an expression of horrified amusement on his face. He flinched when he heard something heavy slam down.
“SPIKE! NOW!” Buffy’s voice drifted to him out of the open doorway, and he sighed heavily.
“Bloody hell,” he cursed, before walking inside and shutting the door.
~*~*~
“Of all the stupid, mundane, macho things,” Buffy mumbled to herself, ignoring the blonde for the moment and looking for the first aid kit. Spike sat silently, afraid to open his mouth, lest she start wielding the frying pan that was sitting on the kitchen table within easy reach. He jumped when she walked back to him, and dropped the kit on the table with a clatter. She slammed open the lid, and pulled out the disinfectant, and some cotton balls. Turning to him, she went to work, eyes flashing brilliantly with anger.
“What the hell were you thinking?” she asked after a few minutes. Spike had managed not to hiss or complain when the sting of the disinfectant seeped into the cut on his cheek.
“Thought he was going to hit you,” he answered, and Buffy felt her anger start to ease.
“I don’t know if he would’ve or not. That’s the first time anything like this has happened,” she admitted, her hands turning more gentle.
“Why do you put up with it?” She looked into his curious eyes, and sighed. Tossing the cotton ball on the table, she sat down on the stool across from him and started on his bleeding knuckles.
“I don’t. Anymore,” she said, shaking her head at the fool she had been. “He’s been cheating on me,” she whispered, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall.
“He’s a fool,” Spike answered, smiling shyly at her when she looked up at him in surprise.
“Thank you,” Buffy said softly, before returning to her work.
“You’re welcome,” was all he said in return, and silence returned to the room.