Buffy didn't know how long she'd been standing outside. Ten minutes? Maybe fifteen? Either way, she was still in front of the Magic Box, even though everyone had left long before. Giles had locked up the shop hours ago but she'd made some flimsy excuse about wanting to get some training time in before heading home. Actually, she just wanted to clear her mind and the best way to do that was usually on patrol. But Buffy couldn't bring herself to go combing through the cemeteries, not because she was avoiding Spike but because she was too distracted; at least that was the rational she had used in her head. After what felt like hours of punching the sand-filled bag hanging from the ceiling, she had finally decided to call it a night.
The streets were so quiet at night, vampire and demon activity had been light since the battle with Glory, making Sunnydale feel like a normal California town. Closing her eyes, Buffy sat down on the curb, wrapping her arms around her knees, resting her chin on the rough denim of her jeans. She was so glad that her friends had left without a fight; it was such a pain to be on the receiving end of four sets of sympathetic expressions. Buffy couldn't stand the way that everyone thought she was so distraught over Faith's death, when in actuality her friends couldn't be further from the real reason behind her depression.
She was so tired; tired of pretending to care that the Hellmouth was going to be overrun by the demon du jour, tired of listening to Giles drone on and on about the Council and what to do now that Faith was dead, tired of pretending to be excited about the prospect of not being an active Slayer, tired of fighting battle after battle with nothing to show for it, tired of her friends and their constant questions, tired of being alone, tired of having more responsibilities thrust onto her shoulders every day simply because she had been chosen.
Buffy exhaled slowly, hating how shaky her breath sounded, like she was trying not to break down into tears. Swallowing hard, she looked down the deserted street, watching the streetlight cast eerie shadows on the pavement. She still couldn't believe what had happened; her day was going so well and then bam, it all fell apart. First the call about Faith and then the scene with Spike. She dropped her head in defeat; Spike, there was a whole issue unto itself.
She could still see his face, not the cold mask that he put up to fend off her harsh words, but that momentary glimpse of weakness. The way his eyes fell and his jaw tightened, trying to maintain some form of control in front of her. Buffy hated what she did to him, not just a few hours ago in the shop, but all the time. Even though she tried to justify keeping her distance from Spike, Buffy knew that she was lying to herself.
He was in love with her, he'd said it more times then she could count and yet for some reason, she never had a problem manipulating his feelings to suit her needs. Blackmailing him into helping her, all in the name of love; purely one-sided love, she kept reminding herself.
I am such a bitch, she thought, resting the side of her face against her knees, tucking her body into a tight ball. No wonder I can never keep a boyfriend.
Her eyes widened as the thought hit its mark; she'd put Spike in the same category as Angel and Riley, as a boyfriend, not a mortal enemy, or training partner, but a long-term relationship, hoping for a serious commitment kind of guy.
I'm screwed, she thought. Completely and utterly screwed.
Cupping her face between her palms, Buffy shook her head back and forth slowly.
Great, just great, she thought, I'm falling for Spike. As if my day couldn't suck anymore. But it's not like I planned this. I mean I didn't go out looking for another vampire to fall in love with.
"Shit," she whispered, "bad thoughts. *Bad*, very bad."
Shaking her head, Buffy tried to justify her traitorous heart to the empty street.
"I'm not in love. I can't be *in love*. This is Spike I'm talking about. I'm not in love with Spike. I just have feelings for him … Non-love related feelings … I mean there's a potential there, a teensy-weensy little bit of potential, but not *love* … I can't be in love … right?"
She sighed heavily again, not caring that she was talking to thin air.
"Even if I was, it wouldn't matter. *Definitely* wouldn't matter. God, I wouldn't be surprised if he left Sunnydale, after the hell I've put him through. If I was him, I'd probably leave tonight."
For some reason the thought of Spike leaving didn't sound like the answer to her problems, instead it formed a cold pit of dread in Buffy's stomach.
What if I finally pushed him too far?
The thought swirled through her mind like a relentless mantra, a sudden outpouring of emotions wiping away any trace of logic and reason.
"My life sucks," Buffy said shakily, standing up from the curb, brushing gravel off her pants before swiping half-heartedly at the tears streaming down her cheeks. Wrapping her arms tightly around her waist, clutching handfuls of her tanktop in her fists, Buffy slowly started her walk back towards Revello Drive.
A few minutes later, turning down her street, Buffy looked up at the inky black sky, searching for the brightest star she could find. When she was little, Joyce had told her that whenever someone wished on the brightest star and the star fell, then their wish would come true. But it was too overcast to really see any bright stars twinkling overhead, and Buffy sighed again.
"Guess there isn't going to be a happily ending for me tonight," she complained, turning onto the small path leading up to her front porch.
With one foot on the step, she stopped, squinting in the dim light, cursing at herself for not replacing the porch light when it had burned out. There was something, no, someone, lying in front of her door. Narrowing her eyes to tiny slits, Buffy pulled a stake out of the waistband of her jeans and inched closer, there was something familiar about the black-clad heap of limbs.
In fact, there was something too familiar about the leather coat and the shocking white-blond hair. "Spike," she exhaled, her voice a mixture of relief and exasperation. Rolling her eyes towards the sky, Buffy tucked the stake back in her pants. She gingerly kicked his shoulder, not sure what in the hell he was doing lying on her front porch at four-thirty in the morning. When he didn't move, she kicked harder, this time flipping Spike onto his back. Leaning down, Buffy sniffed, wrinkling her nose at the overwhelming stink of alcohol.
"Oh this is just wonderful," she muttered. "You're drunk. Perfect. And you're on my porch. Absolutely perfect. Thank you Spike. This is exactly what I wanted to find when I came home."
Buffy started to climb over his body, her hand reaching for the doorknob, when her conscience got the better of her.
"I guess I can't just leave you there, huh?"
Unlocking the front door, Buffy threw her weapons bag in the foyer before grabbing hold of Spike's legs.
"Y'know Spike, you're a real pain in the ass," Buffy complained. Swinging the vampire over her shoulders, she bent her body forward to absorb some of his weight.
"God you're heavy," she complained, "would it kill you to lose a pound … or ten?"
Kicking the door shut behind her, Buffy moved into the living room, throwing Spike onto the sofa. Shaking her head in disbelief, she closed the drapes tightly, making sure that she wouldn't wake up to a pile of ashes on her couch. Lifting his upper body, she pulled his duster off, tossing it on a nearby armchair. Untying his combat boots, Buffy grinned when she saw that even his socks were black. Dropping the boots on the floor with a heavy thud, Buffy moved up the sofa to sit beside Spike.
"You're such a pain," she told him, perching on the sofa cushion; her thumb tracing random patterns on his palm. Her left hand hovered above his face, itching to caress his sharp cheekbones but not wanting to wake him up. Deciding that nothing would wake Spike up in this state, Buffy gently ran her hand down the side of his face. She let her hand rest in the hollow of his cheek, her fingernails just grazing his eyelashes.
"Don't know what I'm going to do about you," Buffy said softly, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on his forehead. Draping a blanket over his body, Buffy took one last look at her sleeping vampire. Making sure the door was locked and the curtains drawn, she turned and walked up the stairs towards her room. Just when she thought that she had everything all figured out, Spike threw her for yet another loop.