Chapter 3
Spike opened the door to Edward’s shop and made his way to the back where he found the Avarician demon mulling over paperwork.
“Ah, William the Bloody, how are you this fine day?”
Spike nodded, prepared for the pleasantries that always accompanied dealing with Edward. “I’m well, and you?”
“Lovely, lovely, business is doing well, everyone’s always a little more flush in spring you know. Can I offer you a cup of something? Tea? I might have some O+ if you’d like. Or something stronger?”
Spike settled in. He hated this negotiation, but Edward wouldn’t do business any other way. “Cup of tea would be fine, thanks.”
The demon hurried around making the tea, and they continued to exchange small talk about who had left town, who had arrived and other gossip.
“You’re related to Angelus, aren’t you?”
Spike nodded. “Dru’s sire, my grand. Course he’s gotten himself all souled up again you know, lapdog to the Slayer up in the old U.S. of A. last I heard.” He suppressed a twitch at the memory of his dream.
“So I’d heard. Very odd turn of events that. But apparently he’s moved on.”
Spike set up a little straighter from the slouch he’d adopted. “Really? Where’s he gone?”
“Oh not far, Los Angeles I believe. Appropriate location, don’t you think?”
Spike agreed. “Hadn’t heard that mate, thanks for the update. Always good to know where the family is, even if we’re not exactly close these days.”
Edward nodded. “It’s even better – apparently he’s opened a detective agency. Isn’t that a hoot?”
Spike raised his brows. “Always was an odd one, was Angel. Well, maybe it’ll keep him busy, might interfere with the brooding a bit though.” Finished with the updates, he began to steer the conversation towards the reason for his visit.
“So, I understand you have some new merchandise?”
“Oh yes. Some lovely pieces that would look marvelous on your Drusilla. But I just had an arrival that came in today, might be of interest to you as well. You’re the first vampire to drop in since I acquired it, so I’ll give you first option.”
“Really? What is it?”
“A volume called the Legend of Amarra, quite fascinating really, written by a scribe of a legendary mage who moved through the North American region in the 1700s. I knew you were familiar with the area, though it might amuse.”
Forty-five minutes later, Spike exited the shop with a necklace sure to please Dru and the slim volume tucked into his duster.
~*~*~*~*~
Oz dropped off the girls at Willow’s house and they quietly crept in, trying to avoiding waking her parents, who for once were both home. As they dropped their bags, Willow turned to Buffy.
“Okay, you were off for a long time with Jason. Dish. He’s quite the hottie.”
At Willow’s hopeful and expectant expression, Buffy slowly shook her head. “No go. I don’t know what’s wrong with me Will. I want to move on, I really do. I’m trying. But it’s the same as it was with Scott back in high school. I’m not normal, I never will be. These guys are great, but they’ll never accept the real me.”
“Buffy, there’s more to it than that. I’ve watched you all summer. You dance, you flirt, you reel them in, then, kaplooey, no action. You don’t given them a chance.”
Buffy plopped down in the floor beside the bed. “I know. It’s like every time I get remotely intimate, more than a peck or a kiss, I just freeze. Every memory of Angel just comes back in full Technicolor, the good and the bad and I can’t seem to respond.”
She blushed slightly and looked away. “It’s like they’re too warm and I don’t feel anything you know? No…excitement, nothing. Jason, the guy tonight, he was really sweet when I stopped him. He was better than most. Some of them get snarky and then I have to show them I’m a little stronger than the average girl. But he was nice about it. He asked if I’d been raped Willow, he thought that was what was wrong.”
Willow knelt beside Buffy and laid her hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Buffy, it’s okay. I know Angel never hurt you like that, but mentally, well, pardon my French, but he fucked you up, Buffy.”
Buffy mock gasped. “Ms. Rosenburg, what a mouth.”
Willow grinned. “Yeah, it’s from dating a guitarist. Anyway, Buffy, it’s like this book I’ve been reading, you know to get ready for our psych class?”
Buffy stifled a grin. Only Willow would begin advanced reading for the course before they even had an assigned text.
“It’s like you’ve associated love and sex with betrayal and heartbreak because that was your first experience. So every time you start to try to move on, you freeze up because you think if you take that step and fall in love and have sex again, you’ll have the same aftermath. You’ve been conditioned by a traumatic experience to only expect the worse.”
Buffy nodded slowly. It made sense.
“You do know you keep going for guys that look a little like him, don’t you?”
Startled, she stared into Willow’s serious green eyes. She was right. They’d all looked like Angel. Coloring, build, height. Could she set herself up any more?
Willow patted her shoulder to bring her back to attention.
“Hey Buff, don’t worry about it. We’re starting college next week, there’ll be new guys all over the place, new setting, totally Angel free, and you can move on, ‘kay? Maybe you just need to throw caution to the wind, have a one-night stand and let it go?”
“Willow! Are you suggesting I be Slutty Buffy?”
“Maybe.” Willow grinned at her. “No, you just need to accept that it doesn’t always have to be a grand passion.”
Thanks, Will.” Buffy hugged her best friend. She didn’t think Willow realized just how serious her problem was, but she appreciated her concern. She’d been trying to have some kind of fling all summer, ending up in the dark hallway at the Bronze, the alley it really wasn’t safe to make out in, the backseat of a few cars and now a deserted beach in an attempt to move on. But so far, nothing had worked.
Maybe Will was right though. College was a whole new game, new place, new faces and a new life. She’d be College Buffy, mature, jaded, ready to try new things. Angel was a thing of the past. She pulled the crumpled paper with Jason’s info on it out of her bag and smoothed it out slowly. Well, maybe not quite yet. She threw away the scrap and grabbed her bag to shower as soon as Willow exited the bathroom.
As she slid in to the bed minutes later next to an already sleeping Willow, she drew a deep breath. No dreams of Angel tonight, not going to happen. Willow had been rattling on about focused dreaming or something like that earlier today on the way to the beach. That’s what she do. Focused dreaming. I won’t dream about him, I won’t. Chanting her internal mantra, she drifted off.
Two hours later, Buffy bolted awake. Now that had been…well, both erotic and disturbing. Definitely a sex dream, but who had the guy been? Not an Angel, a relief for once, must be something to that focused dreaming. She could only recall snatches, a few words, a blonde head nestled between her thighs, a cool hand….Buffy’s hand flew to her mouth. Spike? She’d been dreaming about Spike? She firmly shook her head and burrowed back under the covers next to the still snoring Willow. Okay, that was just wrong. She chalked it up to a bad burger at the cook-out and try to drift back off and forget the images her brain had conjured up.