Spike felt as if déjà vu had struck him the minute he spotted Buffy
standing in the doorway. Impossible.
Finn had told him he had never been in Angel's office or met Buffy before. So, how could he have déjà vu?
"I...I didn't realize you were going to be here," Buffy said.
Spike's stomach clenched. "I didn't either." He stood; ready to apologize. "Finn said they'd planned to put me in a cubicle, but since..." He let the sentence trail off when he saw the horrible meaning register in Buffy's eyes.
No sense wasting good office space, Finn had said. But he didn't tell her that part. That he had thought Finn seemed cold, impersonal. Then again, sometimes scientists were cold and impersonal. They had to be.
Another little tidbit, he realized, wondering if these small flashes of insight were memories prying through the empty spaces in his mind. She squared her shoulders. "I came to get his personal things."
Spike's gaze strayed to the photo of her and her husband.
"You looked very happy," he said, his voice tight.
Emotions flickered across her face. A happy memory obviously surfacing. Then sadness. And something else he couldn't quite put his finger on.
"That was Hawaii, right? Your honeymoon?"
Her gaze flew to his. "How...how did you know that?"
"I don't know. Maybe someone told me." The image of Buffy in a calf- length white cotton dress floated through his mind. She'd looked like an angel. Other memories crowded through the haze. A kiss. A long walk on the beach. A sailboat. "The boat tipped and you fell in the water."
His throat grew thick. She was staring at him, a frightened look in her big hazel eyes. "Who told you about our honeymoon?"
He had no idea. Worse, just as quickly as the images had come to him, they disappeared. And once again, his mind was and empty hole.
Buffy gripped the edges of the photo, searching Spike's face for some explanation about his comment, but he offered none. Instead he seemed confused, almost as troubled as she was about his knowledge.
She had only told a few of the nurses about their short trip to Hawaii. As far as she knew, Angel had told no one. Of course, anyone who had come in his office might have asked about the photo, so Angel might have explained the picture. He certainly wouldn't have shared any details thought.
Angel was not that kind of man.
He kept his personal life and feelings to himself, his business life almost a different entity. If she hadn't worked at the center herself, she might never have met his colleagues.
"I'll step outside while you go through things," Spike offered.
Buffy nodded, needing some space. Not only did she dread the task ahead, but being in close proximity to Spike Courtland unnerved her. His presence seemed to take up all the space in the office, filling it with different sense, a huge breathtaking massive one.
A frightening one.
Or maybe it wasn't him at all, but just the fact that he'd been sitting in her late husband's chair.
He reached for the cane and leaned on it, then moved to the door, hesitating. "I'm sorry if my being here makes it more difficult for you."
Buffy clamped down on her lip with her teeth. "It's not your fault."
He gripped the door, confusion in his eyes again. "I didn't ask for Angel's office, Buffy. Dr. Finn insisted. In fact..."
"Yes?"
"I feel uncomfortable being here, too."
Buffy's anxiety lifted slightly. She understood how difficult it was to be the new man on the block. As a nurse and employee of SRP, she should be welcoming him, easing his transition.
"I do need to review his files at some point," Spike said.
"All right." Buffy placed the photo in the box. "Will you be taking over his patients also? And his research?"
He glanced at his hand as if her question disturbed him. "Not right away. I recently had an accident myself."
"I'm sorry. Was it serious?" Buffy remembered the scars.
"Yes, I haven't fully recovered." She waited for further explanation but he didn't elaborate. In fact, she sensed the accident was difficult for him to discuss. She understood about not sharing one's problems, too; her entire life had been a hard road, one that had kept throwing her curves when she least expected it.
Just as it was doing now.
Spike stepped into Dru's office, wondering where the brunette had disappeared to. He felt a small headache pulsing behind his eyes. He poured himself a cup of coffee from the corner table and massaged the side of his temple. What had happened back in Angel's office? How had he known where the photo of Buffy and her husband had been taken? Had one of the other doctors told him? According to Finn, he had only met Angel O'Connor for a brief minute or two when he'd interviewed for the job. Would he have shared something personal with a stranger? Most men didn't.
"Dr. Courtland, are you alright?"
He pivoted, sloshing hot coffee on his hand.
"Oh, my goodness." Dru grabbed a napkin and wiped at his shirt. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"Not your fault." He had said the same thing to Buffy. "I have a headache, that's all."
"Can I get you some aspirin?"
He had no idea why the young woman was so jittery. Was she nervous around all men? "I guess it's just the stress of a new place."
"I know what you mean. I was a wreck when I first came here."
A smile twitched at his lips.
"That must seem weird since I'm acting so nervous now, but I really was a mess. Dr. O'Connor and his wife have helped me immensely."
He narrowed his eyes, not quite comprehending.
"I figured Dr. Finn told you. He doesn't like me very much."
"Why do you say that?"
"I don't know. Maybe because I was a patient. Dr. O'Connor helped me with my depression. And his wife, Buffy. She's a real doll, so kind and understanding. Anyway, Dr. Finn wasn't real thrilled when I took the job here. I guess he thought the center shouldn't hire former patients. He probably thinks I'm not very stable." She blushed as if she realized she'd been rambling.
He nodded sympathetically.
"If you want someone to show you around, ask Buffy. She knows everyone in the psych ward. All the doctors I mean."
"That's not a bad idea," he said. As soon as the words left his mouth, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Before he even glanced sideways, he knew Buffy Summers stood in the doorway. He smelled her body spray, a very soft hint of vanilla, the kind of fragrance she always wore. Subtle but fresh. She hated heavy perfumes; too many patients had allergies and reactions.
His heart stopped beating. How in the bloody hell had he known that?
TBC.
Finn had told him he had never been in Angel's office or met Buffy before. So, how could he have déjà vu?
"I...I didn't realize you were going to be here," Buffy said.
Spike's stomach clenched. "I didn't either." He stood; ready to apologize. "Finn said they'd planned to put me in a cubicle, but since..." He let the sentence trail off when he saw the horrible meaning register in Buffy's eyes.
No sense wasting good office space, Finn had said. But he didn't tell her that part. That he had thought Finn seemed cold, impersonal. Then again, sometimes scientists were cold and impersonal. They had to be.
Another little tidbit, he realized, wondering if these small flashes of insight were memories prying through the empty spaces in his mind. She squared her shoulders. "I came to get his personal things."
Spike's gaze strayed to the photo of her and her husband.
"You looked very happy," he said, his voice tight.
Emotions flickered across her face. A happy memory obviously surfacing. Then sadness. And something else he couldn't quite put his finger on.
"That was Hawaii, right? Your honeymoon?"
Her gaze flew to his. "How...how did you know that?"
"I don't know. Maybe someone told me." The image of Buffy in a calf- length white cotton dress floated through his mind. She'd looked like an angel. Other memories crowded through the haze. A kiss. A long walk on the beach. A sailboat. "The boat tipped and you fell in the water."
His throat grew thick. She was staring at him, a frightened look in her big hazel eyes. "Who told you about our honeymoon?"
He had no idea. Worse, just as quickly as the images had come to him, they disappeared. And once again, his mind was and empty hole.
Buffy gripped the edges of the photo, searching Spike's face for some explanation about his comment, but he offered none. Instead he seemed confused, almost as troubled as she was about his knowledge.
She had only told a few of the nurses about their short trip to Hawaii. As far as she knew, Angel had told no one. Of course, anyone who had come in his office might have asked about the photo, so Angel might have explained the picture. He certainly wouldn't have shared any details thought.
Angel was not that kind of man.
He kept his personal life and feelings to himself, his business life almost a different entity. If she hadn't worked at the center herself, she might never have met his colleagues.
"I'll step outside while you go through things," Spike offered.
Buffy nodded, needing some space. Not only did she dread the task ahead, but being in close proximity to Spike Courtland unnerved her. His presence seemed to take up all the space in the office, filling it with different sense, a huge breathtaking massive one.
A frightening one.
Or maybe it wasn't him at all, but just the fact that he'd been sitting in her late husband's chair.
He reached for the cane and leaned on it, then moved to the door, hesitating. "I'm sorry if my being here makes it more difficult for you."
Buffy clamped down on her lip with her teeth. "It's not your fault."
He gripped the door, confusion in his eyes again. "I didn't ask for Angel's office, Buffy. Dr. Finn insisted. In fact..."
"Yes?"
"I feel uncomfortable being here, too."
Buffy's anxiety lifted slightly. She understood how difficult it was to be the new man on the block. As a nurse and employee of SRP, she should be welcoming him, easing his transition.
"I do need to review his files at some point," Spike said.
"All right." Buffy placed the photo in the box. "Will you be taking over his patients also? And his research?"
He glanced at his hand as if her question disturbed him. "Not right away. I recently had an accident myself."
"I'm sorry. Was it serious?" Buffy remembered the scars.
"Yes, I haven't fully recovered." She waited for further explanation but he didn't elaborate. In fact, she sensed the accident was difficult for him to discuss. She understood about not sharing one's problems, too; her entire life had been a hard road, one that had kept throwing her curves when she least expected it.
Just as it was doing now.
Spike stepped into Dru's office, wondering where the brunette had disappeared to. He felt a small headache pulsing behind his eyes. He poured himself a cup of coffee from the corner table and massaged the side of his temple. What had happened back in Angel's office? How had he known where the photo of Buffy and her husband had been taken? Had one of the other doctors told him? According to Finn, he had only met Angel O'Connor for a brief minute or two when he'd interviewed for the job. Would he have shared something personal with a stranger? Most men didn't.
"Dr. Courtland, are you alright?"
He pivoted, sloshing hot coffee on his hand.
"Oh, my goodness." Dru grabbed a napkin and wiped at his shirt. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"Not your fault." He had said the same thing to Buffy. "I have a headache, that's all."
"Can I get you some aspirin?"
He had no idea why the young woman was so jittery. Was she nervous around all men? "I guess it's just the stress of a new place."
"I know what you mean. I was a wreck when I first came here."
A smile twitched at his lips.
"That must seem weird since I'm acting so nervous now, but I really was a mess. Dr. O'Connor and his wife have helped me immensely."
He narrowed his eyes, not quite comprehending.
"I figured Dr. Finn told you. He doesn't like me very much."
"Why do you say that?"
"I don't know. Maybe because I was a patient. Dr. O'Connor helped me with my depression. And his wife, Buffy. She's a real doll, so kind and understanding. Anyway, Dr. Finn wasn't real thrilled when I took the job here. I guess he thought the center shouldn't hire former patients. He probably thinks I'm not very stable." She blushed as if she realized she'd been rambling.
He nodded sympathetically.
"If you want someone to show you around, ask Buffy. She knows everyone in the psych ward. All the doctors I mean."
"That's not a bad idea," he said. As soon as the words left his mouth, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Before he even glanced sideways, he knew Buffy Summers stood in the doorway. He smelled her body spray, a very soft hint of vanilla, the kind of fragrance she always wore. Subtle but fresh. She hated heavy perfumes; too many patients had allergies and reactions.
His heart stopped beating. How in the bloody hell had he known that?
TBC.