Chapter Four
"Hi," He stated it plainly, almost shyly but not quite, one afternoon. The smell of musty old books surrounding them, forever linking her back to this moment.
She turned to him without much concern. She'd known he was there, could feel the presence behind her and she looked at him now with a piercing quality she'd been told was quite impressive. Because she knew that 'Hi,'. Because that wasn't a passing greeting or 'Hi, I saw you in my English class and I need notes' 'Hi'.
It was an invitation, a beginning, a want. She knew people, and she knew that 'Hi,"
She looked him up and down, studied him thoughtfully.
She'd just met Billy Idol.
"Hi." She nodded slightly in return, waiting calmly to see what would happen next.
"Saw you in Snyder's office this morning." He said, leaning against the tall bookshelf slightly, trying to look casual.
But he wasn't casual. He was tense.
"You have eyes." She stated plainly, not trusting him yet wanting to at the same time. Fresh from L.A. and all the various criminals and drunken lowlifes it had to offer, Buffy Summers wasn't that jaded, but she knew people.
"Was there myself for a bit of a mishap," he smirked slightly. He had a dimple.
"Bad fight or good make-out time in the janitor's closet?" She looked fully at him, this guy she'd just met on her first day in a new school.
He seemed slightly taken aback by that, but the shock faded quickly from his eyes and he responded, "C. None of the above."
"A mystery." She nodded her approval.
"I am at that, luv," the accent was getting to her - they'd always been a weak spot for her.
"Do I get a decoder ring or more word games?" She wondered and now she wasn't holding back.
She liked her friends in Los Angeles well enough, but most of them had been…intellectually challenged. Sunnydale was a new place with new faces and a fresh start. The people that she'd met so far - Willow, Xander, Tara - they were intelligent people. Cordelia Chase, bitch that she seemed to be, would have surpassed her clique in L.A., sad as that was.
Even Oz, who rarely spoke, it seemed, looked wise beyond his years. Buffy hadn't pinpointed why, yet, but she would. She knew people. She wondered if it was shyness that kept him silent.
"Do you really wanna know?" He leaned forward a bit, Buffy held her place, not backing down.
"Do you want me to know?" She switched it around and smiled when his smile faltered.
"I just came over here to ask your name," he responded.
"The banter being only a bonus?" She guessed.
"You can hold your own," he nodded, crystal clear blue eyes lighting up remarkably, "that's for sure."
"Funny," she commented lightly, "I was just thinking the same thing about you."
"Great minds and what not," she smiled again, a full one this time and paused a moment before, "Spike."
She studied his eyes again. They really were fascinating. He was an insightful person with a tough exterior and something very powerful hidden underneath.
"Is a nickname to replace..?" She prompted and wouldn't look away when he met her gaze head on, eyes flashing a bit.
"You care?" There was some real doubt mixed in there and she was fairly certain she had at least the foundation figured out by now.
"I asked."
"William." It was short, quick and he glanced away when she looked up again.
Yeah, she knew people.
"Buffy."
His eyes darted to hers again and she didn't want to look away. There was something there. Not something good or something bad, not something life altering, just…something. Buffy wasn't sure yet, but she did know people. And she did know plots.
This was a beginning.
"And what's Buffy a nickname for, pet?"
She'd slapped his arm lightly, dropping her guard and left the library with him that afternoon. They'd talked of classes and friends and The Bronze and other normal, teenagey stuff.
And Spike never saw that suspicious person again. Never, after that, did Buffy size him up like she would an enemy or hold her stance like she was preparing for war. Never again was she that defensive, angry, guarded person.
In fact, Spike had almost forgotten she existed. Almost, but not quite. He would never forget that look, never had her eyes been so loaded and untrusting.
Never.
Until February nineteenth, nineteen-ninety-nine; when two students had come to Sunnydale High School with guns, shot at random, killed five, injured ten and kept eight students hostage for three hours and forty seven minutes.
When Spike literally thought he was going to go mad from the waiting and the terror of not knowing whether or not the girl he loved was okay or not. Was dead or not.
It wasn't until the forty eighth minute, when all eight of them had walked slowly out of the school, when Spike looked at Buffy for the first time in a lifetime, that he remembered again.
Even from the distance, he recognized the woman he'd met in the library two and a half years before. And in that same moment, when relief should have been all consuming... he felt fear.
TBC…
Really, if I don't get some feedback I'm thinking I'm gonna delete this.
