Chapter 13
“I think this thing,” he sighed, “between you and me is just…hopeless…”
Elizabeth just stood there, stunned, not quite believing that this conversation was occurring. “W-What?” she stammered nervously, her heart sinking in her chest as the implications of his words sunk in.
“I can’t do it anymore,” he repeated in as calm a voice as he could manage considering the circumstances, desperately trying to make this as easy for both of them as possible. “You hanging out with me, but not ever being really with me… It’s eating me apart. So,” he took another deep sigh, “I think we have to just stop seeing each other. For both our sakes.”
Elizabeth could almost see the fractured remains of her world crumble around her. “Why?” she demanded, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. “Why now? Where did this come from?”
“I can’t live a lie anymore,” he responded, perhaps a bit over-dramatically.
“Is it because of her?” Elizabeth nodded her head disdainfully in the direction that the brunette had fled in after Elizabeth’s arrival. The last thing Elizabeth had expected to see when she entered his room was him sitting on the bed with another girl, kissing her softly, gently, the way Elizabeth had always wanted to be kissed…
“She helped me realize that I needed someone who was really here for me, yeah,” he agreed. “But it’s not her fault. We weren’t going anywhere, Elizabeth,” he said softly. “I guess it just wasn’t meant to be…”
Elizabeth let out a strangled little sob. “But I need you,” she whimpered softly.
“You’re strong,” he insisted with a fond smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman as strong as you. Which is why you have to be strong now – why both of us have to be strong – and let this go…”
She sniffled and managed a weak little nod. “I-I really like you,” she insisted.
His expression softened. “I like you, too,” he agreed, “but what we’ve got together… I just don’t think it can work?” He left a little question at the end, trying to verify her own opinion on the matter.
“I-I guess you’re right,” she admitted sheepishly, wiping at her tears. “I really wish it could, but…”
“It’ll be all right,” he assured her. “I just need time…and I think you do, too.”
She shakily nodded her head and sniffed a little. “You’re probably right,” she agreed sadly, turning to go.
“Are you going to be all right?” he asked, still worried about her despite the fact that he’d just given up the right to be.
She managed a weak smile and a nod. “I’ll be OK,” she agreed. “I’m really sorry, and…good-bye, Riley.” And, with that, she was gone.
* * *
It was with a weary stretch and a tired sigh that Spike collapsed on the couch in the house lounge and flicked on the TV. There was no doubt in his mind that this was going to be the most miserable Friday night ever.
With the help of many strategic elbow jabs and foot stampings, Spike had finally managed to give Xander the courage – or, at least, the desire to avoid pain – to ask Anya to the Autumn Formal Dance. Personally, Spike had always found dances to be dull as toast, but the capitalistic young woman had immediately declared that it was “wonderful practice for future business engagements,” and Xander had found himself very happily with a date. Lucky bastard.
Oz and Devon had an out of town gig this weekend and had driven out that afternoon. Faith had tagged along – all part of Faith/Devon make-up number ninety-six, so all of them were off elsewhere having fun as well. Well, as long as none of Faith’s really annoying groupie friends were hanging around, that is.
Willow and Tara had reserved this weekend as their ‘special date night’ over a month ago, and were right now doing all sorts of things that caused Spike’s jeans to strain painfully whenever he thought about them too much.
Of course, that particular problem went away instantly as soon as he remembered where Elizabeth was. Off at the dance, on Captain Cardboard’s arm, and – from the occasional female giggles he’d heard around the house – straight into his bed.
God, was he miserable! And he could really use a drink, too…
He mentally slapped himself for that one, digging around in his bag for his cigarettes. He plucked one out and let it dangle between his lips for a minute, studying his lighter intently, before he figured ‘to hell with it!’ and lit up in the lounge anyway. He reached over to open the window a crack, though. Willow would have his head if this place smelled like cigarette smoke when she got back.
It took only a few, quick drags for him to realize that nicotine wasn’t going to be enough to soothe his nerves tonight. And, given that the best thing on television was Star Trek V, it didn’t look like the TV was going to save him tonight, either. Dammit. He really needed a drink.
He began to pace about the room in an agitated manner at that, hoping to burn off some of his excess emotional energy. He had to get out of here, he decided. If he stuck around the dorm, he was just going to get more and more wound up, and that never ended well. And, really, there was only one place he could go when he got in a mood like this.
Decision made, he quickly flicked the television off just as the opening credits read Leonard Nimoy’s name, and that was when he heard it.
He froze for a second, trying to identify the sound. Someone talking down the corridor, perhaps? But the only one who could possibly be here tonight was Jonathan, and the voice had sounded…
Another little whimper, and he turned to face the door to Willow and Elizabeth’s room. Yes, the sound was definitely coming from there, and it really sounded like someone was…crying?
Cautiously, he knocked on the door. “Anyone in there?” he asked, still half-believing that he was hallucinating.
There was nothing for a minute, and he almost thought he was starting to hear things when a ragged “Yeah?” finally broke the silence.
“’Lizabeth, is that you?” he cracked open the door, and what he saw made him want to instantly run over to her and hold her in his arms.
“Oh god,” she groaned, wiping that the mascara trails that ran down her face, “I must look like hell…”
“No,” he assured her quickly, trying for nonchalant as he stood in the doorway and watched her, still curled up in a ball and wearing the white dress she’d chosen for the dance, sobbing softly on the bed. “A-Are you all right, luv?” OK, he knew it was a stupid question, but he had no idea what else to do.
She managed a little smile, acknowledging that, yeah, that was a really stupid question. “Not really,” she finally shrugged with a grimace. She reached over to the nightstand for a Kleenex and quickly blew her nose.
Cautiously, Spike stepped into the room, perching on the corner of Willow’s deck so that he could watch her more comfortably. “Wanna talk about it?” he asked, belatedly realizing that his cigarette was still lit and searching frantically for a place to put it out.
Elizabeth fetched an old bowl she’d stolen from the dinning hall and handed it to him. “Not really,” she repeated with a half-sad, half-amused little smile.
He gave her a grateful one in return and snuffed out his cigarette in the bowl she’d provided. “Right then,” he said, scratching the back of his head. He watched her walk over to the mirror and grimace at the state her make-up was in. His gaze turned to his boots for a second as he debated what to do. “Was plannin’ on going out,” he finally announced, his voice sounding overly loud in the otherwise empty dorm. “You can come with, if you want,” he added almost shyly. “That is, if you don’t ‘ave anythin’ better to do, or…y’know…” He trailed off awkwardly.
Elizabeth didn’t know whether to cry or laugh – it had just been one of those days. So, she just settled for neither. “OK,” she said calmly, wiping at her eyes once again. “I just hafta…y’know…” She gestured to her dress.
“Right,” Spike nodded, “you want me to…”
“Yeah, you’d better,” she agreed. “You’ll be…?”
“In the lounge,” he assured her before giving her a hint of his usual cocky smirk. “Don’ keep me waitin’, luv…” he offered before stepping back out into the hall.
She gave him a bemused little smile and an obligatory roll of the eyes. “You’re so full of yourself,” she couldn’t help but tease before closing the door so that she could change…
* * *
Spike found himself strangely at peace as the two of them wound their way through the narrow, old streets of Shady Glen, both burrowed deep into their jackets to fight off the cold November winds.
Elizabeth had been ready to go in less than five minutes – undeniably the women’s world record in getting prepared for going out. All she’d done was slipped into some old, comfortable jeans and a tight black sweater before washing all of her make-up off.
He hadn’t ever seen her out in public without the make-up before, but he’d always preferred the natural look he saw every morning in the bathroom to the painted mask of perfection she presented to the world. It made her look more real, more human, more beautiful…
They’d exchanged few words during their walk, mostly caught up in their own private thoughts, but it was still…pleasant, Elizabeth decided.
She even managed a little giggle when she hadn’t anticipated turning the corner Spike had intended and he ended up accidentally bumping into her. She bumped right back into him, hands still firmly buried in her jacket pockets, and he got this wicked grin on his face before returning the favor.
Before either of them knew what was happening, all out war had broken out. And, after a particularly skillful shove to his behind, Elizabeth had run from the obvious retaliation, squealing and laughing as she ducked behind bushes and fences, evading his amused/enraged pursuit.
He finally caught her in someone’s backyard, and he grabbed her waist, lifting her up a few inches off the ground before carrying his giggling and squirming load back over to the sidewalk.
“’S not nice to run around in other people’s yards,” he informed her teasingly.
She gave him a little mock-pout. “I was under attack,” she countered. “There were mitigating circumstances.”
“Ah, well, tha’s all right then,” he agreed with false gravity. “But don’t you worry, miss,” he affected an absolutely horrible American accent, “the cavalry’s here now.”
“I think I’d be safer without the cavalry,” she countered with a smile. She still hadn’t moved away from he’d put her down, and she found herself in a loose embrace. “But, mmm,” she savored their closeness, “he sure is hot…”
“Oi! You’re stealin’ my heat!” Spike joked before her words hit him. “ ‘Hot’, you say?”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes at her unfortunate choice of words. “Don’t suppose there’s a chance in hell you’ll let me get away with that one easily?”
“Never,” he promised softly before catching her elbow where her hand was still buried in her jacket pocket and pulling her along with him. “Have ta make a quick stop,” he informed her, “drop some stuff off, and then we can head out.”
“Where?” Elizabeth ran up alongside him. “Where on earth are you taking me, William?” she demanded in a goofy, low voice.
“You’ll find out later,” he gave her a little wink. “For now,” he led her through a hole in a nearby hedge and they came out into a large backyard with the expanse of forest preserve that formed Shady Glen’s northern boundary as its only fence, “we’re headed to my house.”
“Luring me over to his place,” Elizabeth shook her head and clucked her tongue. “For shame, for shame.”
“Yeah,” Spike rolled his eyes, “’cause ‘m gonna seduce you in my house while my mum’s there instead of, say, usin’ that nice, private dorm room ‘f mine.”
She flashed with a wide smile. “While your mom’s there?” she teased. “Ooh, very kinky…”
He snorted in annoyance and fiddled with the key-chain he’d produced from his duster pocket before finding the right key and unlocking the door. “After you,” he gestured with a politeness and formality she never would’ve guessed him capable of.
All too eager to escape the cold, she entered the old Victorian house, a smile gracing her lips at the homey kitchen she found inside.
Behind her, Spike let the screen door shut with a bang before shoving the backdoor shut with what looked like a Herculean effort. “It sticks!” he protested to the amused look she gave him. “Well, it does!” he continued to defend himself when her entertained expression didn’t fade. Grumbling under his breath with as much creative British invective as he could come up with, he let his bag drop onto the kitchen table with a loud thump before digging around in it and pulling out the books he’d borrowed for his history paper.
Elizabeth, meanwhile, wandered around the kitchen somewhat aimlessly, observing all the strange little quirks that always stuck out to you when you visited someone else’s home for the first time. The kitchen was neat enough but displayed what Elizabeth could only call a ‘healthy clutter’. Several books were pilled on one corner of the table, together with notebooks, papers… All the shelves were packed to full with various spices, and every bit of free counter space that had been left was covered with houseplants. Elizabeth leaned in to smell the flowers of whatever hanging vine dangled from the hook in the ceiling right above the sink. No scent, but the plant – and all the others, for that matter – looked very well tended to.
“You, uh, want somethin’ to drink?” Spike’s soft-spoken question snapped her attention back to him. “Or, you hungry?”
“I don’t want to be a bother,” Elizabeth brushed aside his offer, nervously studying her fingernails.
“’S no bother,” he insisted, getting up and walking over to the fridge. One of the floorboards creaked under his feet as he did so.
Elizabeth smiled a bit at that. This was so unlike the houses she was used to. All her life she’d lived in new, expensive, suburban homes that had been thrown up overnight. They all felt sterile, plastic, like a tacky billboard that screamed “Wealthy here!” Spike’s house was the exact opposite – old, used, built with beauty and love. It didn’t have the same obsession with maximum space as the houses Elizabeth was used to, but she liked it. It felt warm and snug and safe.
“I like your house,” she said softly, coming over to stand by him as he dug through the fridge.
“Thanks,” he looked up at her with another of those shy smiles. “Mum’s had it since I was five. Spent all my life livin’ here an’ in my da’s place in Cambridge.”
“Your parents are divorced?” Elizabeth asked curiously.
“No,” he shook his head, “jus’ got jobs at different schools. We all get together for the holidays an’ breaks an’ such…” He frowned. “Don’ have much besides milk and orange juice,” he said apologetically. “You want—?”
“William, is that you?” a voice from the stairs interrupted him.
He rolled his eyes. “No, mum, ‘s a burglar.”
Elizabeth giggled slightly, and the laughter from the doorway echoed hers. “I guessed as much by the way you didn’t even bother to announce you were home,” Spike’s mother teased.
He gave her a bemused smile. “Din’t wanna wake you up was all,” he joked back. “After all, ’s seven – way past your bedtime.”
She laughed good-naturedly and gave him a quick hug, which he looked embarrassed at…although more because it was expected of him than he really minded. “Nice to finally have visual confirmation that my son’s not dead in a back-alley somewhere,” she said, mirth in her eyes. “Now what’ve you managed to do to yourself so far this quarter?” She looked him up and down appraisingly and plucked a twig from his otherwise white hair.
He shrugged. “Just around. Brought back the books I borrowed. Brought a friend, too.”
His mother’s attention turned to Elizabeth for the first time, and she quickly noticed the thing which had had Elizabeth stunned ever since she walked in. “Elizabeth!” she exclaimed in delight. “You never told me you knew William!”
“That’s because I really, really had no idea that you were his mother,” Elizabeth explained, still stunned.
Spike looked back and forth between the two of them curiously. “You know each other?” he sounded surprised.
“Elizabeth’s in my Visual Arts class,” Professor Devereux explained.
“Really?” Spike cocked an eyebrow in Elizabeth’s direction. “Din’t know you did art.”
“Neither did I,” Elizabeth agreed, still a little bit shocked and a lot unsure how she should act in this situation.
“Elizabeth’s quite the artist,” Professor Devereux said with a little smile, heading over to the fridge. “And, honestly William, haven’t you offered our guest anything to…?” She looked into the fridge and frowned. “Do you like orange juice?” she asked Elizabeth apologetically.
“I’m OK,” Elizabeth insisted with a nervous little smile.
“Wouldn’t say no to hot chocolate,” Spike hinted none-too-subtly.
Elizabeth perked up at this idea as well. After all, it was cold outside…
Professor Devereux gave Spike a quirky little smile before opening one of the cabinets and fishing around in it for the chocolate. “And you can’t make it yourself, I suppose?” she teased.
“No where near as well as you can, mum,” Spike swore with false sincerity.
“Flattery will get you absolutely nowhere, young man,” she said in that Mom Voice that all women developed once they had kids. There was still a bemused, light-hearted note to her words, however.
Spike gave Elizabeth an embarrassed little grin. “So, yeah, that’s my mum. I would introduce you, but…would be kinda pointless, wouldn’t it?”
“Spike,” Elizabeth couldn’t help but tease, “don’t look now, but your mother’s a teacher.”
Professor Devereux laughed along with them at this. “Sorry, for fundamentally shattering your universe,” she gave Elizabeth a little wink. “So,” she said, stirring the pan on the stove, “what are you kids up to tonight?”
“Just headin’ out to the lake,” Spike shrugged, collapsing in the chair beside Elizabeth.
“It’s a cold night,” Professor Devereux hinted.
“Yeah…” Spike agreed, a hint of dread in his voice.
“So where are your hats and gloves?” she demanded.
“Mum!” Spike exclaimed, obviously mortified, before collapsing onto his arms in mock-tears.
Elizabeth gave his hand an amused little reassuring pat, and he smiled at her.
“I’m required by law to embarrass him with that question in front of all of his friends,” Devereux joked.
Spike moaned in complaint.
Engaging in whatever unearthly ritual it was that allowed People Who Knew How To Cook to determine when something was done, Devereux turned off the stove and poured the hot chocolate into three mugs.
“Thanks, Professor,” Elizabeth said with a smile as she took hers.
Devereux waved her hand in the air in distaste. “Please, call me Joyce,” she insisted. “I’ve never been fond of the whole ‘professor’ thing.”
“Joyce,” Elizabeth tried it out. It was still strange to call a professor by her first name, even if it wasn’t in a class situation.
“William,” Joyce nudged Spike’s elbow and set his mug beside it, “the obligatory Period Of Embarrassment is over. You can get up now.”
He gave her that irascible smirk of his before practically devouring the contents of his mug.
Joyce gave Elizabeth a little grimace. “I tried to teach him manners,” she insisted, taking a sip of her own mug, “really I did.”
Spike gave her an annoyed glance, and Elizabeth laughed. A brief silence followed as they all drank the delectably sweet beverage.
“This is really good,” Elizabeth genuinely complimented Joyce. “All I ever got at home was that stuff out of the packets.”
“Thanks, dear,” Joyce gave her a friendly smile. “I always do my best.” She looked back and forth between her son and his young friend and tried not to notice the raging hormones that seemed to be flashing between them. “So,” she said, making conversation, “how did you and William meet?”
“He lives all of two doors down from me,” Elizabeth answered.
“Oh, so you’re in Westing House, then,” Joyce nodded. “I’ve always loved that old building.”
“It’s really nice,” Elizabeth agreed. “Although, everything seems really nice around here,” she said, gesturing to the room around her.
“The town’s got a nice feel to it,” Joyce agreed, “very old. You feel like secrets of the past are around you at all times.”
“Yeah,” Elizabeth agreed with a smile, “that’s exactly it.”
“So, where are you from?” Joyce asked curiously.
Spike got a worried look on his face when he realized that his mom was doing the whole check-out-the-potential-girlfriend routine.
“Sunnydale, California,” Elizabeth answered, oblivious to Joyce’s sly maternal motives. “It’s near LA. One of those exurbs that pop up overnight. Nothing like this place.”
“Hmm, I bet it’s warm over there,” Joyce said wistfully. “The only thing that gets to me here are the winters.”
“Yeah, it’s freezing outside,” Elizabeth agreed, “and people keep telling me it’s only going to get worse.”
“You should be wearing a hat and gloves,” Joyce returned to what was obviously one of her favorite nagging topics, given that Spike groaned. “You won’t even feel the cold then,” she informed Elizabeth.
“Yeah, I’d better go buy some soon,” she agreed. “It’s getting to be more than I can handle.”
“Do you want to borrow some of mine?” Joyce asked in maternal alarm. “I’ve got plenty of extras, and your ears look a little bit pink, dear…”
Spike groaned inwardly. Apparently, Elizabeth was passing the test. Now came the ‘mother potential girlfriend incessantly’ stage.
“That would be really great,” Elizabeth said with a wide smile. “I mean, I’ll return them and everything, I promise. It’s just I kind of got caught off guard. After all, winter doesn’t really start until after break.”
“It’s starts in September here,” Joyce joked, quickly dashing off to fetch Elizabeth appropriately warm winter-wear. “You know, William,” she called out as she dug through the hall closet, “I’ve got plenty of your old things here, too. No need to freeze your fingers off for fashion’s sake.”
“Mum!” Spike protested, his face turning a bit red. “Mum’s kinda…um…” he tried to explain to Elizabeth, embarrassed beyond belief.
“Sweet,” Elizabeth said with a smile, giving his hand a quick squeeze.
“I was thinkin’ more along the lines of ‘annoyin’ an’ embarrassing’,” Spike countered, finishing off his hot chocolate, “but yeah,” he agreed with a shy little smile.
There was just something about him when he got that bashful look on his face that drew Elizabeth right in. She felt her heart pounding faster to her chest and unconsciously began to lean closer to him, wanting to reassure him with her touch…
“Here you go,” Joyce dropped a black woven hat, scarf, and mitten set onto the table.
“Thanks so much,” Elizabeth said appreciatively. She tried on one of the mittens. “Ooh, warm!”
“You can borrow them as long as you like, Elizabeth,” Joyce insisted, watching the young pair get up to leave. She gave her son an approving little smile at how close the two of them had been together as she’d walked in.
“Thank you so much, Prof—I mean, Joyce,” Elizabeth repeated, adding a little wince to the title she’d habitually used.
“You two have a nice evening,” Joyce called after them.
“Thanks, mum,” Spike gave her a little wave.
“And come back soon!” she mock-ordered.
“Right, mum,” he agreed before practically shoving Elizabeth out the door before him.
Happily bundled into her new warm winter gear, Elizabeth gave him an amused grin. “Afraid she was about to bring out the baby pictures?” she teased.
“Oh god,” Spike groaned, “you ‘ave no idea…”
“Oh, c’mon,” Elizabeth prodded his arm, “she was really cool.”
“She’s not ‘cool’,” Spike gesticulated wildly. “She’s my mum!”
“Trust me,” Elizabeth insisted, linking her arm through his where he stubbornly kept his hands buried in his pockets rather than wearing gloves, “she is by far the nicest mom I’ve ever met. The nicest professor, too.”
“What ‘bout your mum?” Spike countered, desperately trying to hide the smile that indicated that, yeah, he really did like his mom.
“She’s dead,” Elizabeth said softly.
He stopped and looked at her. “Oh, ‘m sorry, luv,” he said apologetically. “I din’t know…”
“That’s OK,” she assured him with a little smile. “There was no way you could.” They resumed walking in silence a bit before Elizabeth let out a little chuckle.
“What?” Spike asked curiously, glad his question hadn’t depressed her.
“If I were the paranoid sort,” Elizabeth explained, “I would think this was all some sort of conspiracy.”
He gave her a confused look.
“Your mom turning out to be my professor,” she shrugged, “trying to trick me by having a different last name…”
He let out a low chuckle at that. “’S an academic thing,” he provided. “She’d already published a bunch of articles before she married my dad an’ din’t want to add to the confusion of academia by changin’ her name on everyone. That, and she likes Devereux better’n Giles,” he added with a sheepish grin.
Elizabeth laughed. “God, if she’d tried that in my parents’ circle of friends, she would’ve been cast out as an ‘uppity woman’.”
“You’re kiddin’ me?” Spike gave her an incredulous look. “People still think like that?”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t believe how stuffy some of these business types can be. Like, when my dad married my mother? There was this huge scandal because he was, gasp!, new money!”
“You’re serious?” Spike still couldn’t believe it.
“Oh god,” Elizabeth grimaced, “all the women I grew up with…” She shuddered. “They actually go around making family trees of various fortunes and then ‘pairing up’ the heirs in the way that they think would work best to keep all the big families on top. And I always got paired with the really scrawny, inbred-looking guys with asthma.”
Spike laughed. “Aw, poor baby,” he gave her a playful little squeeze.
She shut her eyes and breathed deeply, enjoying the brief feel of his arms around her. “It’s nice to get away from all that,” she finally agreed softly when he’d reestablished an appropriate distance between them.
“’ll bet,” he agreed, dodging off on a path to the side. “This way,” he instructed.
She followed him curiously. They’d taken a path back through the woods behind his house, and it was actually a weird experience for her. She’d never really been in a forest period, let alone one at night. Most of the leaves had fallen already, crunching softly beneath their feet as well as opening up their field of view and thus allowing the street lights from the town to shine through the dark shadows of the tree trunks, like distant stars fallen to earth.
“You’re sure you’re not lost?” she asked, a bit nervously.
“Had this path memorized since I was ten,” Spike reassured her. “Could find my way blind.”
“That’s good, since we pretty much are blind,” she teased.
He gave her an amused little “humph” before dodging over to another small path, this one leading away from the town.
She followed him un-hesitantly. It was strange. If her past experiences had taught her anything, it was that she should be wary of situations like this. But she just couldn’t bring herself to distrust Spike. There was never any doubt in her mind that he would never hurt her, even though she tried to remind herself a few times that she was getting herself into a vulnerable situation. Very strange.
“Close your eyes,” Spike stopped abruptly.
“Why?” she retorted. “I can’t see anything now. Closing my eyes isn’t gonna make a lot of difference.”
He rolled his eyes in that annoyed manner of his. “Jus’ do it?” he requested. “Please?”
“OK,” she agreed in a shier voice than she knew she had, obeying his request.
She felt his hands take hold of hers and smiled, following his lead. It wasn’t far – just around the bend – before he brought her to a halt.
“You can open your eyes now, luv,” he whispered right against her ear so that she could feel his warm breath, even though the hat.
She opened her eyes and her smile widened. “Wow,” she said breathlessly.
They stood on an open little hill that overlooked a small lake. The black depths of the waters below were highlighted by the full moon that hung low in the sky, creating silver ripples on the lake’s surface. The soft moonlight illuminated everything around them now that they were out from under the forest canopy, creating ghostly shadows and shrouding the world around them with an ethereal beauty.
“Used to come here all the time when I was a kid,” Spike was looking down at his boots, playing the bashful role once more like he was afraid she would laugh at him. “My dad an’ I would come out at night. Learned how to swim in that lake an’ everythin’.”
She looked up at him with a shy smile of her own, charmed by his story.
“Anyway,” he shrugged, “’s where I always come when somethin’s botherin’ me, so I figured maybe it’d work for you, too…” He trailed off, embarrassed, and looked down over the water.
“It’s nice,” she agreed with him softly. “It’s really nice.” She rose up on her toes and gave his cheek a quick kiss. “Thank you, Spike.”
He managed to look both embarrassed and goofily ecstatic at once at her response and quickly caught her hand, pulling her after him with a laugh. “C’mon,” he insisted, “gotta show you the rocks – loads ‘f fun.”
She laughed along with him, amazed at the change in her companion. The moonlight had turned him into a silvery specter, his hair glistening and his eyes glinting. The angles and curves of his face were smoothed out in the soft light, making him look like a creature not of this world. Forever young, forever beautiful… She had never seen him look so relaxed, carefree, boyish… And it was contagious.
With a laugh, she leapt out onto the rock in the lake alongside him. It seemed that the lake’s visitors had created a little path in stones that meandered through the waters and the marshlands. Without the slightest care that this probably wasn’t so safe, she chased after him, and they played a little game of tag across the surface of the lake. Nothing else but the game mattered; they were immortal.
Elizabeth let out a little squeak of alarm when the illusion was shattered and Spike tripped on one of the wet stones. Fortunately, he landed on the stone itself, rather than falling into the lake. Instantly, she was at his side, helping him up.
“Are you all right?” she asked with wide, concerned eyes.
Spike shook his hand and let her lead him to shore. “Bugger,” he said, examining the hand he’d landed on.
Elizabeth took it in hers when they were safely on the beach and winced at the deep gouge a jagged edge of the rock had put in it. “Ouch,” she said sympathetically, watching him bring the hand up to his face and suck on the wound.
“Ew!” she exclaimed in mock-disgust.
“What?” he protested. “Need to clean to wound out, don’t I?” He winced a bit at the tenderness of the skin that hadn’t been shredded.
“Nice lake equals water,” she pointed out with a perfect ‘duh’ tone in her voice. “No need to go all vampire on me.”
“Maybe I am a vampire, and I brought you out here to kill you,” he teased, waving the fingers of his uninjured right hand in a typical menacing monster gesture.
“Nice try,” she retorted, unimpressed, “but I’ve seen you out in the sun. That, and I doubt vampires fall flat on their asses like you just did.” She giggled slightly at the memory of the sight now that she knew he was all right.
He pouted at her mockery before catching hold of her. She let out a little squeal and batted halfheartedly at him when he nuzzled her neck.
“Gonna drink your blood,” he teased.
She laughed at the feel of his warm lips on her neck. “God, you are so weird!” she exclaimed fondly. “Plus, if you were a vampire, I would so shoot you with a silver bullet.”
“That’s for werewolves, luv,” he pointed out, pulling back to look at her with a smile. He gently brushed aside the one lock of her hair that persistently escaped her hat and got in her eyes. “Hafta stake vampires to kill ‘em.”
“Whatever,” she shrugged. “I would so kick your ass anyway.”
“’ve no doubt you would,” he agreed softly, that shy little smile that drove her wild coming back onto his face.
The impulse to hold him at that moment was too strong to resist, and she wrapped her arms around him. His breath seemed to catch in his chest as she clung to him, and slowly his arms slipped around her as well.
With a contented murmur, she rested her head on his chest just over his pounding heart and whispered in a soft voice, “Riley dumped me.”
“Yeah,” he murmured against her hair, “I kinda figured something like that.”
“I guess it was obvious,” she sighed. “Hell, I knew we were doomed, but I didn’t have the courage to break it off… I had to wait for him to figure it out.”
“’S not so bad then?” he asked hesitantly. “I mean, you agreed with him?”
“I did,” she agreed, nuzzling the soft leather of his jacket further, “but it still hurts, y’know?”
“Yeah, I think so,” he nodded.
“I just feel so much like a failure,” she confessed. “I mean, I didn’t really want to join Tri Xi or date Riley, but I wasn’t strong enough to say so. I just kind of stood there and waited until they passed me by.”
“That bothers you?” he asked softly.
She pulled back just enough to look at him. “That bothers me a lot,” she agreed. “I like to think that I’m a strong person, that I can make my own decisions and I don’t have to have other people make them for me.”
“You are a strong person,” he insisted. “Jus’ seems like you din’t quite know what you wanted. Din’t realize you wouldn’t miss it ‘till it was gone.”
“That doesn’t make me weak?” she countered.
“No,” he said with a small smile. “It just makes you a bit confused. Like everyone else, luv.”
“You, too?” she asked, biting her lip. “’Cause you seem pretty confident in what you want.” Her lips couldn’t help but quirk into a smile at that.
“You’re the exception that disproves the rule, luv,” he whispered softly, his eyes ducking beneath long lashes. “When ‘m with you ‘s just…clear, y’know?”
She caught his chin in her palm and tilted his head downward to face her. “Yeah, I know,” she agreed softly, resting her forehead against his. A contented hum seemed to vibrate through her body in response to even this most innocent of touches.
Then, she sighed and pulled away, the spell broken for the moment. “We’d better get home and bandage that hand of yours,” she said with a shy little smile, taking his good hand and leading him back along the path…