Disclaimer: I own nothing, am making no money from this and am doing it purely for enjoyment.

Chapter Ten

Sam woke early on Saturday morning. He and Buffy had a lot to talk about and he was both dreading and looking forward to it. There was a lot in the air between them that needed clearing up - what had happened the night before, what it meant, where this was going - those were the things that Sam was hopeful about. What he'd been doing in her office, why he had a gun, where he learned to shoot it - those were the parts he was dreading. Should he tell her the truth? Lie about it? Should it depend if they decided to try having a relationship? He sighed and flopped back down on his pillow, glaring at the ceiling. He just didn't know. He could really use his brother's advice about now, but he still hadn't called back. Was he just going to ignore Sam like Sam had ignored him for the last few years? He couldn't blame if he did. But what if it was something else? What if something was wrong?

And as if that wasn't enough crap to weigh on his mind, there was also his date with Jessica tonight that he still had no idea what to do about. Should he wait until he found out whether Buffy wanted to give being together a shot or not before making a decision? That seemed like a scummy thing to do though… Like he was leaving Jessica on the backburner as some kind of backup girl. Should he call to cancel or go and tell her in person?

Deciding that overwhelming himself was not the way to start the day, he pulled himself out of bed and slid on a pair of sweatpants then headed out to track down Buffy. He knew as soon as he stepped foot in the hallway that he was alone in the house - the warm sort of life and energy Buffy gave off was missing. Where the hell was she at eight in the morning on a Saturday? Brows furrowed and disappointment settling in his chest, he went to the kitchen. There, stuck to the fridge with Stanford magnet, was a note.

Having breakfast with Dawn, then I have a meeting in Modesto. Should be home early tonight though. Maybe we can talk when I get back? -Buffy

Sighing, Sam reheated some of the leftover coffee and plopped down at the island. No talking with Buffy until tonight then. He wondered how early she considered "early" to be… five, six, seven? He was supposed to be meeting Jessica at six. Well, that settled it then, he'd just have to cancel with Jessica by phone so he could be here when Buffy got back. Deciding that it was too early right then to call anyone on a Saturday, Sam spent the rest of the morning alternating between searching the garage for hex bags (there were none and it was far cleaner than any garage he'd ever seen), doing laundry and poking through his text books trying to study but mostly just replaying the night before in his mind.

He still remembered vividly the way his heart had almost choked him to death when he'd seen her laying in that alley. He'd watched her exit the club through a side door just moments after he'd arrived, but it had taken him a few minutes to catch up. When he'd finally gotten out there… He swallowed hard at the memory of her still form sprawled on the ground. She really was going to be the end of his sanity. Then of course there was the other assault on his mental well being - her practically attacking him behind the dumpster while they were being shot at. Not that he was complaining, her throwing herself on him with that sexy little growl had been one of the hottest things he'd ever experienced. Okay, not "one of", definitely the hottest thing, number one on the list. It had been easy to forget about the danger with her writhing on top of him as if nothing in the world mattered as much as being as close as possible right at that moment. Shaking his head, he slammed his text book shut and went up for a cold shower.

A little after noon he manned up and pulled up Jessica's number on his phone. It took him about fifteen minutes of planning what to say before he hit the call button though. Unfortunately it proved to be a wasted effort because instead of Jessica, Sam got a deep voiced guy thanking him for calling Walt's Music Store and asking what he could help him with. Hanging up, he felt the first stirrings of panic setting in. He had Jessica's number wrong. It really shouldn't be a surprise since he was pretty much still in shock when she'd given it to him to program into his phone, but now he was screwed. Either he was the jerk that stood her up or he was the jerk that was out with another girl while Buffy was here possibly waiting on him.

Shit.

He paced around the house for an hour and a half then called Dean again - still no answer. Finally seating himself at the couch he decided to just think about this logically. Jessica had asked him out and he'd said yes, it was cruel to leave her waiting for someone who said he was going to be there and then not show up. If Buffy was upset with him when he got back then that was his own fault and he deserved it for being such an ass as to accept Jessica's offer when he obviously had feelings for Buffy in the first place. Nodding resolutely, he spent a little time in the yard pulling out the few weeds that had sprouted since Buffy had last been out there, then went in to shower again and get ready. It was still early, but Buffy had taken Dawn's car so he'd have to walk.

The early evening air was still and crisp, the sky clear as it faded from blue to orange. Even though his plans tonight were completely messed up and there was knot in his stomach about this date with Jessica, Sam couldn't help but enjoy the walk to the restaurant. This, this is why he'd left the hunting game. Hunter's didn't do things like this - enjoy leisurely walks in friendly, populated areas. They prowled the dark for things to kill, always looking backwards at what they'd lost, over their shoulder at something behind them or forward to the next hunt. They never appreciated the now. He'd seen the kind of man his father was, seen how Dean was slowly being shaped into the same mold and he didn't want that for himself. Yes, he had his own set of problems here and yes, he missed his family, but he still loved his life at Stanford. Hopefully he could make Dean and his dad accept that without them shutting him out and hopefully he'd be able to be a better son and brother as to not do the same again.

It took about twenty minutes to get to the little Italian restaurant they'd agreed to meet at. It was set back off a main road on the edge of campus, the dining room small, only having about twelve tables. One wall was all windows that looked out at the sidewalk and tiny little lights hung from the ceiling, giving it a private, soft feeling but not making it feel dim. Jessica wasn't there yet when he arrived and only two other couples were dining so he let the waitress seat him, assured Jessica wouldn't have any problem spotting him. He'd just be upfront with her, explain that she was great, but he had feelings for someone else. Hopefully she wouldn't throw wine in his face and storm out…

A few more minutes ticked by and he had a moment of skewed optimism thinking maybe she'd stood him up, but then, just before six, she walked in looking absolutely stunning. Her long blond hair was loose and curly around her the shoulders of her soft pink cardigan that she had over a floral printed dress. She looked adorably feminine and Sam felt like more of an asshole than ever.

"You look amazing," he said truthfully as she walked over, giving her a genuine smile.

She smiled back teasingly, "Well, anything would be an improvement to the way I look during class. You're just used to seeing me in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt."

"You're still the most beautiful girl in the room," he said immediately and honestly, then blushed and looked down. This wasn't how things were supposed to be going. He couldn't go on about how great she looked when he was planning on telling her this was a mistake. Shaking his head, he looked back up at her, hoping she could see the regret he felt. "Listen… Jessica-"

Then the waitress showed up to take their drink order, interrupting his momentary surge of courage. After both of them ordered a glass of wine and the girl scurried off, he was scraping together his nerve again when Jessica beat him to it.

"Go ahead," she said, leaning back in her chair a little and crossing her arms. "You look like you're a doctor that's about to tell me I'm dying. So just out with it."

"Sorry," he said, looking down and rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Don't get me wrong, you're great and all. I've actually wanted to ask you out for a few months. But…"

"There's someone else?"

He looked up in surprise to find her watching his discomfort with a kind of sad amusement.

"Uh, yeah actually. Kind of…"

"Well, I can't say that I'm not disappointed. I've been hoping you'd ask me out for a couple months, too," she said with a sad little half smile and a shrug. "I shouldn't be surprised that someone else snatched you up in the meantime."

"She hasn't- I mean, we're not," Sam stuttered, feeling stupid and out of his depth.

"You like her but you're not sure she feels the same?"

"Well, I wasn't, but I am now. At least I think I am. I hope I am…"

"So, why'd you agree to go out with me if you liked someone else?"

Her tone was curious, not accusatory, but Sam still winced. "I meant it when I said I've liked you for a while, and things between me and… this other girl, it's not really the best situation for a relationship."

"So you were going out with me because you couldn't have her?" She asked with a raised eyebrow as she started flipping through the menu.

"No! Well, yes… but - god, I'm such a dick."

Jessica let out a light peal of laughter. "You're not a dick. You're actually so adorable it's almost painful. Whoever this girl is, she's lucky you decided to give it a shot with her, because, second choice or not, I'd scoop you up in a heartbeat."

She was laughing and he was blushing again with a relieved smile when the waitress reappeared with their wine and to take their orders. Sam told her what he wanted and let his gaze drift toward the large windows as Jessica started asking questions about a certain dish. A blur went by, catching his attention and making him sit up a little straighter. Seconds later another figure came into view directly in front of the window. Slight, blond, panting and looking around in irritation, Sam's breath caught in his throat as he recognized her. Buffy glanced in the window just as the dread hit him and then looked away. For a second, Sam thought maybe he'd gotten lucky, maybe she hadn't seen him despite the fact there were only two other couples in the room. Or maybe the lighting sent a glare off the window and prevented her from seeing in. He'd just started to breath out a sigh of relief when her head swiveled back around in a double take - wide, shocked eyes meeting his own then landing on Jessica. Her gaze turned back to Sam and he flinched as betrayal crumpled her features. Blond hair whipped around, catching the light from the restaurant and then she was gone.

"Oh shit," he hissed, startling both Jessica and the waitress as he jumped out of his chair. "I'm sorry, really sorry, but I have to go," he said, pulling a wad of cash out of his pocket and dropping it on the table before rushing out the door. He felt like an ass as he looked around, trying to catch sight of Buffy's fleeing form. No, not an ass. A double ass. Now both Buffy and Jessica were going to hate him. Damn it, he was such a screw up…

He wandered around the area for close to an hour looking for Buffy before finally giving up and heading back to the house. He hoped she'd be there, he had to explain, had to tell her that she was the one he wanted and how it was nothing more than a string of bad decisions that led him there. As he started up the walkway, he prayed to whatever higher power there was that she'd as least listen to him and not just throw him and his things out in the street.

There was a moment of hope and nervousness when he first noticed the figure waiting on the front porch. But it was dashed quickly when the person stood. Tall (not as tall as Sam himself, but few were), dark haired and pale, the man on the porch was a far cry from Buffy's small, blond, tan form. Dressed all in black, the stranger watched Sam approach with dark assessing eyes. Something about the guy set Sam on edge and he slowed his steps.

Just what the night needed, another complication.