Buffy paced back and forth across the sterile grey waiting room. It felt like they had been here for hours. The waiting room had been half full already when they arrived at the Manchester Royal Infirmary and Spike had had to hold Buffy back to stop her completely losing it in frustration when the receptionist took his details and calmly asked them to take a seat until he was called by the nurse.
Buffy lightened up slightly when his name was called by the tall, blonde woman in the grey uniform. He disappeared into a side room and was back surprisingly quickly, but her mood darkened again as she realised that that was not that. The woman had only been the triage nurse, he had explained. Her job was to assess him and place him in a category, which would determine how long he had to wait. He would have possibly a couple of hours to wait until he saw the doctor.
Spike now sat in a seat nearby, towel still held to his nose to catch the blood that was still trickling from his nose.
"Will you just bloody well sit down – you're making me dizzy." He complained, voice muffled by the towel. Buffy stopped pacing and threw herself down into the chair next to him.
"Sorry, it's just that we've been here forever and I… What's taking them so long?" She craned her neck to look through the doors towards the treatment area.
"Being impatient will not get me seen any quicker, it'll just piss the staff off luv. Anyway, I told you what the triage nurse said – it's not bleeding so much anymore, my blood pressure and all are fine and so we can wait. I'm sure that there are people through there who are much worse off than I am" Spike explained gruffly. Buffy stood up and resumed her pacing.
"Yeah, I know all that – you've told me before, remember. But when you said she said that we'd have to wait, I didn't think she meant this long!" He looked up at her as she came to a stop in front of him. He really did look a state – he was hunched into a plastic waiting room chair, elbows resting on his knees, shirt covered in blood from the earlier gushing when she'd hit him. It had started to dry now and she was just glad there hadn't been any more. He took the towel away from his nose and looked at it.
"Firstly, we've only been here about half an hour and, secondly, the bleeding's stopped. So, please, just sit down will you?"
"Fine," she sat. "Whatever." She looked over at him, the dried blood first smeared and now cracking all over his face. She grimaced, "I'm sorry."
"Look pet, I know that you're sorry. You haven't stopped apologising yet. Have to admit – it's beginning to grate." He snapped.
"Sorr…" she stopped as she caught the look he flashed her. "Okay, here's the thing – I'm a little on edge here…"
"You don't say?" He sneered sarcastically.
"Look, I'm trying to explain here, but if you don't want to hear it…" she folded her arms across her chest and looked over at him, eyebrow raised.
"No, no," he sighed. "I want to hear it – go on."
"No, you really don't." A tear appeared at the corner of her eye. Spike noticed and decided that enough was enough.
"Look, if you hate hospitals so much, just go home." He winced slightly as he heard the words come out of his mouth – he hadn't meant to sound so harsh. Buffy paled slightly, swallowed the lump in her throat and then her face became blank and emotionless.
"Fine, you don't want me here? I'll go." She stood up and walked towards the exit, not once looking back.
For a second he just sat there and watched her walk away. Then he came to his senses and sprang out of the chair.
"Buffy!" he called as he started to go after her.
"William Giles!" The loud authoritative voice rang out across the waiting room and Spike turned as he heard his name called to see the doctor standing, waiting for him.
Spike quickly indicated his presence and then turned back to where Buffy had been standing, only to be greeted by the sight of the exit doors sliding back into place.
"Bollocks!"
Willow lay on her bed, staring at the patterns playing across her ceiling – shadows cast by the streetlight shining through the tree which stood outside her window, its branches swaying in the breeze.
She jumped slightly as she heard the front door slam shut. That'll be Buffy then she thought wryly. She willed herself to bear in mind the conversation she had had with Tara earlier on that evening. Tara had picked up on the fact that Willow was distracted about something and Willow had ended up confessing everything that had been going on with Buffy lately. She told her about the troubles with Riley and the issues with Spike. When she confided in her girlfriend that she was convinced that there was something developing between Buffy and Spike that went beyond mere friendship Tara, who had been listening quietly up to that point, had turned to her and asked "What about Riley?"
Willow had fallen silent for a moment at this and Tara had continued, "Whether the relationship is on the rocks or not, Buffy is still dating Riley. From what you've told me she seems confident that they can work things out. You're her best friend, but are you really thinking about telling her that she should dump the guy she's been seeing for over a year for a guy she's hardly spoken to for months? There mightt be something between her and Spike and breaking up with Riley might be a good move, but Buffy has to work these things out for herself – you can't make these decisions for her sweetie."
So here was Willow, lying on her bed, available if Buffy needed a friend to talk to. Tara had left that night for that very reason and Willow was sure, from the way the door slammed shut, that Buffy might need someone to, if not talk to, at least someone to rant at. She got up, walked down the hallway and tentatively knocked at Buffy's door.
"It's only me. Can I come in?" She poked her head round the door. Buffy sat on the bed, hair a wild mess around her face, hugging Mr Gordo as if he were a lifeline.
"Okay, I'm gonna go out on a limb here and guess that tonight didn't go well." Willow said kindly as she sat down next to Buffy on the bed. Buffy looked at her.
"The phrase 'unmitigated disaster' comes to mind." She said dryly before detailing what had gone on that night, leaving out the bits about thinking Spike looked hot.
"He hates me!" She declared dramatically when she came to the end of her monologue.
"I'm sure he doesn't." Willow said gently.
"He does – it's obvious! He could hardly look at me, let alone talk to me when I was round at his place and then, just to top things off, I went and broke his nose! I'm telling you, the guy hates me."
"You don't think you could just be jumping to conclusions? You know, it's happened with you before…" Willow tried.
"When?"
"Well, there was that time when…"
"Yes, well, we don't talk about that time, do we? So, I'm prone to misunderstandings. But, I'm telling you, this is not one of them. He hates me, no two ways about it."
"Do you write me off this quickly when we have a fight?" Willow asked her friend. Buffy looked at her and frowned.
"What do you mean?" She asked, confused.
"What I said – do you write off all your friends this easily?"
"This is different."
"Why?" Willow pressed.
"Because it is. That's why." Buffy said defensively. "Look, it's late. I'm tired – I've had a hell of a day and I'm exhausted from last night. I think I'm just going to go to bed." Buffy looked at her friend pointedly and Willow sighed and stood, realising that, yet again, her best friend was going to shut her out.
Let's just hope that Tara was right and she figures it out for herself. Willow thought as she climbed into her bed.