They walked back to the bar. They passed backpackers struggling drunkenly
towards the boarding houses further down the street. There was so much to
think and feel and it was all competing within Buffy for attention.
Jealousy won.
"Is the beer salesgirl going to be staying at the bar tonight?"
"Um, I don't know. Probably. It's a long drive back to the city."
"Where's she going to sleep?"
"In a bed, I expect slayer. What are you getting at?"
"Whose bed?"
"Well, probably the one in the room next to yours. Don't worry, every room has its own en suite."
"Is that your bed?"
And he understood. "Slayer, I may be trying to play Mr In-Control-of-my Feelings, but I think your presence in the bar- in the country, for that matter- will leave me a little preoccupied tonight."
Good, Buffy thought. Instead of saying that aloud, she touched his arm to stop his stride, looked up at him, settled her mouth into an expectant pout, and waited for him to come to her.
And oh yeah, there he was, personal space be damned. Her breath started to clatter. Where to look- eyes, lips, eyes lips. Lips. For sure. His eyes were closing anyway. Must close her own eyes. Her hands wanted to go to his face. Palms sitting in his cheek's hollow, fingers stretching into the beginning of his dark hair line. She didn't have to tilt her head back - he was little, from the time before compulsory milk in the cafeteria. Little boys didnÕt grow up so big back then. More proof that Angel was the exception to every rule.
Angel. She knew she was forgetting something.
She stepped back, just as he was about to really ruin her lip gloss. He kind of stumbled- he'd been ready to grasp onto her, like he always did when they kissed. He opened his eyes, and his mouth was already spewing forth the accusations, because he kind of thought he could goad her into kissing him. Come to think, he had quite a bit of past evidence to back that presumption up.
Buffy let him rant. He was good at it. She wasn't listening though. She was thinking.
Finally, he ran out of incisive things to say about her animal instincts, and there was silence.
She tried to say what she'd been thinking. It wasn't easy, but she tried.
"Kissing you," she began.
"Which you're not going to do, because it would be wrong, right, slayer?" Apparently the soul didn't have much effect on the sarcasm.
"Shut up Spike. Kissing you...its not like kissing anyone else." Buffy decided to stop the coming interruption before it started, "And you're not that extraordinary a kisser, so don't take it that way. But kissing you.. its not about expressing love and affection."
He considered this for a moment. It'd thrown him. He wasn't ready to give up, though. "Maybe not love and affection as you know it, pet."
She smiled absently at that, but her mind had already moved on. "Angel and I... I used to go to him to feel safe. Of course, it turned out we weren't safe, and, well, you saw the wackiness that ensued there, but that's still what I feel when I'm with him. Like I'm meant to be there. And I don't think I'll ever stop feeling that way."
Buffy expected Spike to look destroyed at that, and he did, but he looked resigned, as well.
"I'll never be at peace with you. I'll always doubt what I feel for you. And you'll always doubt what I feel for you. You aggravate me Spike. You make me ask who I am and why I'm doing something and what do I feel. I can never just be with you. You make me want to prove that I'm smarter than you, a better fighter, more moral, more adventurous. Part of us will always be enemies."
Spike cocked his eyebrows at that.
"I know, you've fought beside me, been tortured by a hell god for my family, yada yada yada. But that's not what I mean. Who we are, together, we're, like immediate. We don't feel like family. Kissing you... when I kiss Angel, it's all about matching up, uniting. Kissing you is about not matching up, and, she paused to laugh at her next thought, rubbing our differences up against each other. It's so different. And it felt good. It feels good. But it's something I never knew I wanted".
Silence. There was never silence with him before. Her face screwed up in confusion. He saw it, and put up a hand, asking for a pause.
"Wait a second love, I'm digesting something here"
"Because I admitted what I felt about you?"
He shook his head."You said you kiss Angel because he feels like family. Someone's still searching for that elusive father figure, aren't they?". And it was them. It was Buffy with Spike. She was pissed and she wants to kiss him.
"That's so not what I meant, asshole. She paused. Are you going to keep sleeping with all those girls?"
"Are you going to keep shagging Angel?"
"Forever, if I could." She almost poked her tongue out with that. Buffy knew it was wrong to unnecessarily hurt Spike. But she was just so good at it.
He rolled his eyes, and looked ready to retort, when his mood suddenly changed.
"Are you happy, Buffy?"
She hated that question. It was such an Oprah question. But she nodded, because, as far as she could tell, it was true. He deflated at her answer. And started to pace around the small space. And lit a cigarette. All movement, all the time.
"That's meant to be enough. But it's not. I don't want you to be happy with him. I want you to be happy with me."
And suddenly, relieving his hurt was important- clearing those blue eyes, unfolding the pained expression. "If it makes you feel any better, Dawn and Angel don't get on. He tries, but I heard her call him tall dark and broody once to his face."
He smiled. "Yeah, she told me about that."
"What?"
"Well, you know, emailed me about it."
"Why would Dawn be emailing you? She hates you?"
"She hates failing history more." Buffy just looked confused. He gave in. He always gave in. Or she always made him give in.
"The bit rang me once she found out where I'd been exiled to. She wanted me to know exactly how big an evil bastard I was. Anyway, I think she figured the best way to keep me in constant pain was to send email updates on the Buffy and Angel romance, version 3.0. And then she kind of decided she'd like to use me while abusing me, so I help her with some of her papers and such."
Buffy decided to question the least bewildering part of this. "You have a computer?"
"Well, the bar has a computer. Online banking and all that. What'd you think, your Angel dispenses his orders to me through breathy little phone calls?"
The "your Angel" cost him. It came from the part of him that knew he had to be hopeless, accept Buffy with Angel. But it was such a small part of him. Buffy felt she had to clarify again, justify them not being together again.
"I owe it to myself to be with him, Spike. I need him to be mine. I can't leave me and Angel unfinished."
"And you don't want it to finish."
She thought for a long moment. It was so insane, to want to give Spike hope. It would only make things harder. She wasn't sure there was any hope. But to say to him she never wanted to kiss him again was such a lie.
Buffy chose silence.
It didn't last long, because it was Spike's nature to fill silence. "Time for beddie-byes, then, slayer?"
They'd arrived at the bar. She looked at him in panic. He sighed. "Your beddie-byes. By yourself. In your room. The one with the bleeding en suite."
Oh. "Unless, you want company, slayer?" Buffy couldn't help it. She smiled, in relief.
"Will I see you before I leave?"
He nodded."Downstairs, in the bar. In the morning."
Jealousy won.
"Is the beer salesgirl going to be staying at the bar tonight?"
"Um, I don't know. Probably. It's a long drive back to the city."
"Where's she going to sleep?"
"In a bed, I expect slayer. What are you getting at?"
"Whose bed?"
"Well, probably the one in the room next to yours. Don't worry, every room has its own en suite."
"Is that your bed?"
And he understood. "Slayer, I may be trying to play Mr In-Control-of-my Feelings, but I think your presence in the bar- in the country, for that matter- will leave me a little preoccupied tonight."
Good, Buffy thought. Instead of saying that aloud, she touched his arm to stop his stride, looked up at him, settled her mouth into an expectant pout, and waited for him to come to her.
And oh yeah, there he was, personal space be damned. Her breath started to clatter. Where to look- eyes, lips, eyes lips. Lips. For sure. His eyes were closing anyway. Must close her own eyes. Her hands wanted to go to his face. Palms sitting in his cheek's hollow, fingers stretching into the beginning of his dark hair line. She didn't have to tilt her head back - he was little, from the time before compulsory milk in the cafeteria. Little boys didnÕt grow up so big back then. More proof that Angel was the exception to every rule.
Angel. She knew she was forgetting something.
She stepped back, just as he was about to really ruin her lip gloss. He kind of stumbled- he'd been ready to grasp onto her, like he always did when they kissed. He opened his eyes, and his mouth was already spewing forth the accusations, because he kind of thought he could goad her into kissing him. Come to think, he had quite a bit of past evidence to back that presumption up.
Buffy let him rant. He was good at it. She wasn't listening though. She was thinking.
Finally, he ran out of incisive things to say about her animal instincts, and there was silence.
She tried to say what she'd been thinking. It wasn't easy, but she tried.
"Kissing you," she began.
"Which you're not going to do, because it would be wrong, right, slayer?" Apparently the soul didn't have much effect on the sarcasm.
"Shut up Spike. Kissing you...its not like kissing anyone else." Buffy decided to stop the coming interruption before it started, "And you're not that extraordinary a kisser, so don't take it that way. But kissing you.. its not about expressing love and affection."
He considered this for a moment. It'd thrown him. He wasn't ready to give up, though. "Maybe not love and affection as you know it, pet."
She smiled absently at that, but her mind had already moved on. "Angel and I... I used to go to him to feel safe. Of course, it turned out we weren't safe, and, well, you saw the wackiness that ensued there, but that's still what I feel when I'm with him. Like I'm meant to be there. And I don't think I'll ever stop feeling that way."
Buffy expected Spike to look destroyed at that, and he did, but he looked resigned, as well.
"I'll never be at peace with you. I'll always doubt what I feel for you. And you'll always doubt what I feel for you. You aggravate me Spike. You make me ask who I am and why I'm doing something and what do I feel. I can never just be with you. You make me want to prove that I'm smarter than you, a better fighter, more moral, more adventurous. Part of us will always be enemies."
Spike cocked his eyebrows at that.
"I know, you've fought beside me, been tortured by a hell god for my family, yada yada yada. But that's not what I mean. Who we are, together, we're, like immediate. We don't feel like family. Kissing you... when I kiss Angel, it's all about matching up, uniting. Kissing you is about not matching up, and, she paused to laugh at her next thought, rubbing our differences up against each other. It's so different. And it felt good. It feels good. But it's something I never knew I wanted".
Silence. There was never silence with him before. Her face screwed up in confusion. He saw it, and put up a hand, asking for a pause.
"Wait a second love, I'm digesting something here"
"Because I admitted what I felt about you?"
He shook his head."You said you kiss Angel because he feels like family. Someone's still searching for that elusive father figure, aren't they?". And it was them. It was Buffy with Spike. She was pissed and she wants to kiss him.
"That's so not what I meant, asshole. She paused. Are you going to keep sleeping with all those girls?"
"Are you going to keep shagging Angel?"
"Forever, if I could." She almost poked her tongue out with that. Buffy knew it was wrong to unnecessarily hurt Spike. But she was just so good at it.
He rolled his eyes, and looked ready to retort, when his mood suddenly changed.
"Are you happy, Buffy?"
She hated that question. It was such an Oprah question. But she nodded, because, as far as she could tell, it was true. He deflated at her answer. And started to pace around the small space. And lit a cigarette. All movement, all the time.
"That's meant to be enough. But it's not. I don't want you to be happy with him. I want you to be happy with me."
And suddenly, relieving his hurt was important- clearing those blue eyes, unfolding the pained expression. "If it makes you feel any better, Dawn and Angel don't get on. He tries, but I heard her call him tall dark and broody once to his face."
He smiled. "Yeah, she told me about that."
"What?"
"Well, you know, emailed me about it."
"Why would Dawn be emailing you? She hates you?"
"She hates failing history more." Buffy just looked confused. He gave in. He always gave in. Or she always made him give in.
"The bit rang me once she found out where I'd been exiled to. She wanted me to know exactly how big an evil bastard I was. Anyway, I think she figured the best way to keep me in constant pain was to send email updates on the Buffy and Angel romance, version 3.0. And then she kind of decided she'd like to use me while abusing me, so I help her with some of her papers and such."
Buffy decided to question the least bewildering part of this. "You have a computer?"
"Well, the bar has a computer. Online banking and all that. What'd you think, your Angel dispenses his orders to me through breathy little phone calls?"
The "your Angel" cost him. It came from the part of him that knew he had to be hopeless, accept Buffy with Angel. But it was such a small part of him. Buffy felt she had to clarify again, justify them not being together again.
"I owe it to myself to be with him, Spike. I need him to be mine. I can't leave me and Angel unfinished."
"And you don't want it to finish."
She thought for a long moment. It was so insane, to want to give Spike hope. It would only make things harder. She wasn't sure there was any hope. But to say to him she never wanted to kiss him again was such a lie.
Buffy chose silence.
It didn't last long, because it was Spike's nature to fill silence. "Time for beddie-byes, then, slayer?"
They'd arrived at the bar. She looked at him in panic. He sighed. "Your beddie-byes. By yourself. In your room. The one with the bleeding en suite."
Oh. "Unless, you want company, slayer?" Buffy couldn't help it. She smiled, in relief.
"Will I see you before I leave?"
He nodded."Downstairs, in the bar. In the morning."
