Chapter 4
Ice Cream and Sympathy

"What's the rush? Spike can't hurt anyone, right? And I figured since
I'm kinda grievy we could, you know, have a girls night."
-Willow, 'Something Blue'

Willow finished cleaning Amy's cage and put it back in its place. She looked around the room, trying to find something else to occupy her time. She'd never realized how empty a room could feel. She thought about going over to Xander's for the evening instead. Considering the sympathy, or lack thereof, she'd gotten from her other friends lately, she wasn't sure what her reception would be. Plus, there was a very good chance that Anya would be there, too.

It wasn't supposed to go like this, she thought. She kicked idly at her trunk, but instead of making her feel better, it just bruised her toe. She grimaced and lay down on her bed. This was supposed to be her night with Buffy. And then Giles had called.

Spike had once more managed to slip his chains, and Buffy immediately began to head out to try to corral the wayward vamp. Willow had tried reminding her of the last fruitless attempt to find him, but Buffy had an answer to that. She and Giles had assumed that Spike would be looking for someplace to hide, something out of the way, where neither she nor these mysterious soldiers could find him. So they'd spent the night checking every abandoned building and sewer tunnel they could find. But by the smell of his breath when they'd finally returned, he'd been off drinking somewhere, heavily. Tonight, she'd hit every bar in town if she needed to.

Then Willow had tried to convince her roommate that it was pointless. Spike couldn't hurt anyone, so why bother? But Buffy was adamant. If he was going into populated areas where he might be spotted, she didn't want to run the risk of the commandos finding him first. At least, not until she'd actually gotten some useful information out of him in exchange for all their efforts.

Willow wasn't sure who she was angrier at, Spike or Buffy. She knew he couldn't kill, better than any of them. Giles, at least, should have been convinced by now, with his knowledge of Spike's character. Spike wasn't one for long stalking campaigns, like Angel. An image of tropical fish on a string rose in her mind. She shuddered at the memory. No, if Spike could still kill, he would have taken out Giles last night, before anyone could be warned. Then he would have gone straight for Buffy, like usual. Instead, he'd dashed past the other man and headed for the nearest bottle of whiskey.

And why did Spike have to go and ruin her night by escaping a second time anyway? She frowned, completely disgruntled by the whole situation. With nothing better to do, she spent a little time thinking about it from Spike's point of view. It didn't take her long to decide that if she'd spent several days chained up in a bathtub, she'd probably try to escape at every opportunity, too. In fact, he might actually stay put at Giles' place if they just stopped chaining him up. It didn't make her any happier with him though.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in!" she called, hoping it might be one of her dorm-mates, or even Xander.

"Don't you ever learn, pet?" Spike strolled in, carrying a paper bag, "I'd think you of all people would know better than to call out an invite with no bloody idea who's knocking."

"Spike? What are you doing here?" Willow sat up, a little worried. Did I actually make myself clear on the 'just friends' bit? Now that she thought about it, she wasn't sure she'd even managed to mention that part.

"Came over to give you a bit of company. Gave the Watcher the slip again, then figured you might be lonely," he replied nonchalantly, leaning against her desk.

"I am now, thanks to you," she grumbled, remembering that she was supposed angry at him.

"What'd I do?" Spike asked, taken aback.

"Escaped. Again. So Buffy had to go out looking for you. Again. We were going to have a nice girls' night, too, until you spoiled it," she pouted.

"I'm sorry, love. Never thought that she'd bother to make plans with you," he apologized.

"Well…" she temporized.

He indicated for her to continue.

"I'd made plans. I hadn't really asked her about it yet, but she was actually going to be home for once – until Giles called," she ended sulkily.

"So she had no idea that she was messing up plans of such importance."

Willow looked at him skeptically, to see if he was mocking her, but he seemed fairly sincere, for Spike at least.

"I tried to convince her not to go, that there was no point in attempting to find you…"

"Thanks, pet," he said bitterly.

"No, I meant because you always go back to Giles' apartment anyway." She hadn't, and she could tell that he knew it. She ducked her head, and decided to go back to the main point.

"That's when I told her about the plans for a girls' night, but I guess being 'the Slayer' was more important than I was," she concluded sadly.

"Usually is, unfortunately," was his less-than-comforting reply. "They're so focused on their duty, everything else just falls away. It's why they don't have friends, do their fighting alone."

That didn't sound right to her. "Really? I thought it was because she has to keep it a secret, to protect everyone. At least, that's what Giles and Kendra both said. It's in the handbook, and everything."

"There's a handbook?" Spike's eyebrows shot up at that, incredulous. "I'd give a pretty penny to see that."

"So I'm told. Buffy doesn't have one, so I've never seen it." She wanted to make that clear before Spike started searching the room for it, or something.

"Why not?" He cocked his head in interest.

"Giles said something about it not being any use, in her case."

"I bet it wouldn't, at that." He laughed. "Not supposed to tell anyone, huh? Well, that explains why her mum didn't know. I'd always wondered about that." He mulled it over a bit, then turned back to Willow. "I'll warn you, Red, it may start that way, but…"

"But what?" Her face was concerned.

"Let's just say I'm surprised you've even managed to hold on to her this long. Slayer's not just a job description, it's what she is. The longer she lasts, the more it becomes all she is."

She tried to digest this disturbing news, wondering if Spike was telling the truth or not. He does know Slayers, or claims to…He didn't give her a chance to finish the thought.

"So, 'girls' night', huh? That when you paint your nails and do each other's hair?" he asked, looking a bit uncertain.

"That's a sleepover." Her tone was full of disdain at his male ignorance. "A girls' night," she instructed, "Well, usually it means going out in a group somewhere, I believe." I think that's right. Well, it doesn't really matter now. She resumed her lesson as if she'd never paused. "But a post-breakup girls' night means staying in, with a lot of ice cream, and/or chocolate, and watching sad movies. Like 'Steel Magnolias,' or 'Beaches,' so you can feel your life is at least a little better than theirs."

"I stand corrected," he replied, with a twinkle of good humor in his eye. "Well, I won't watch 'Steel Magnolias' with you. Bloody awful flick that was. But will this do for the rest?"

He produced a familiar-looking carton from the bag he'd brought.

"Is that…?"

"Triple fudge brownie ice cream," he confirmed with his lopsided grin, "Chit at the market swore by it for this sort of thing."

"Spike, you're a god." she cheered, jumping up and reaching for it greedily, "A really evil god, but still…"

Spike chuckled and handed it over. "You're welcome."

"Thank you," she chirped happily, giving him a big hug before she realized what she was doing. Suddenly embarrassed, she backed away and changed the subject as something else occurred to her.

"What if Buffy catches you here?" she asked with real concern. Anyone who brought triple fudge brownie ice cream did not deserve to be staked for it, in her mind.

"I thought you said she was out looking for me," he said absently, looking around for something.

"She is," Willow replied earnestly, trying to understand why Spike didn't see the danger.

He turned to her with that cocky half-smile of his. "So where's the absolute last place on earth she'd ever think to look for me?"

"Oh." She was a bit chagrined at that. "But what if she comes back while you're still here?"

He was still poking around her room for some reason. "Ever known her to give up on something she thinks is important?"

He didn't even bother to wait for a reply, his patience apparently gone. "Don't you keep any spoons around here, love?" he burst out in exasperation.

"Yes, Spike, we leave all of our dishes lying around in plain sight," she retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She set down the ice cream and retrieved one from its cupboard.

"That one for you, or for me?" he asked. She turned around in surprise at the question, to see Spike making himself perfectly at home, already stretched out on her bed. With the ice cream carton. She'd have to sit right next to him if she wanted to eat any of it. This was not the way she'd planned it. She began to get upset with him again.

"Why can't you sit on Buffy's bed? They're hardly big enough for one person, let alone two," she complained.

"Well, I can't exactly share it with you if you're over here and I'm over there," he pointed out calmly.

He'd not only taken over her bed, but was on the near side, and showing no sign that he planned to scoot over for her. With a scowl, she grabbed a second spoon and headed around the bed to the other side. She scowled even more when he draped one arm across the headboard behind her.

This one, he caught. "Like you said, pet, it's a small bed," he said, all innocence.

She wasn't fooled in the least. Or placated, either. "You could have moved over for me," she groused.

"Left-handed," he replied, holding up the hand in question, "We'd be bumping elbows all night."

She was slightly mollified by that, but she still wondered what Spike was up to.

"I thought vampires didn't eat human food."

"Angel won't eat human food, there's a difference," was the derisive reply, "Bit of advice, love, if you're planning to be friends with me: Stop basing everything you think you know about vampires on what you know about that bloody poof."

"Who said I wanted to be friends with you?" she said flatly.

He seemed unphased, "Well, you seem rather chummy, all cozied up next to me, sharing my ice cream. I assumed you wanted to be friends. Or did you have something else in mind," he leered, waggling his eyebrows at her.

"I am not 'cozied up' with you! It's a small bed." She gave him a look of reproach before continuing.

"Just friends, thank you. I don't think I'm ready for anything else right now." At Spike's raised eyebrows, she hastened to add, "Not that I want to be anything else with you – or anyone!"

"I'm crushed, pet. And here I thought you were going to confess your long-standing love for me!" he teased, winking at her to show he took no offense at her reply.

She actually smiled at that, even as she heaved a sigh of relief. Somehow, she just couldn't seem to stay mad at the vampire for very long. Besides, she thought, digging into the carton, he's the only one who's bothered to do even this much for me.

"…So I finally make it to the surface, and find I've got a ten-mile swim to the nearest land, with sunrise on the way." The ice cream was almost gone. They'd decided that there was nothing worth watching on her little TV set, so Spike had been entertaining her with a string of absurd stories of things he'd supposedly done.

She wasn't sure she believed any of them, this one in particular, a rather ridiculous tale of how he'd escaped after single-handedly fighting off the crews of both a German and an American submarine after the Nazis had tried to capture him in World War II. But he seemed to be enjoying himself, so she'd let him talk. Besides, it was rather nice to be snuggled up with someone while sharing ice cream. Even if it was Spike. Beats the heck out of 'Steel Magnolias,' she thought with a smile, scraping a little more chocolate off the sides of the box.

"I suppose being a vampire would explain how you managed to withstand the pressure of the ocean at that depth," she mused, thinking about it, distracted enough to forget for a moment that she didn't believe any of it.

"Not exactly fun, but yeah, I dealt with it. Better than ending up in some sodding demon army," he concluded. "Never was good at following orders." He smirked at that, and Willow was almost certain he was remembering some exchange between him and Angel. She'd heard enough of those stories tonight to gather that they'd never really gotten along, even before Angel had gotten his soul back. Some of those, she even believed.

Spike had taken out a flask from somewhere in his jacket and took a long drink from it. "Alright, Red, ante up."

"What?" She had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.

"I've done my share, now it's your turn," he said with a smile, "Let's hear some of your stories."

"My stories?" she said, surprised, "I don't have any stories, Spike. I'm just boring old Willow."

"You've being fighting next to the Slayer all these years, and you don't have any stories?" he said dryly.

"None about me, really," she shrugged, "Unless you want to hear about the time my mother nearly burned me at the stake."

She thought about that one a bit more. "But still, it was Buffy that saved the day. All I did was scream," she finished ruefully. "Mostly, it's Buffy who takes care of things, we just help out. I don't think those are the kind of stories you'd want to hear."

"You hit me over the head with a lamp, once. That has to make for one hell of a story," he prompted, clearly unwilling to be swayed from this.

"True, but you already know that story, you were there."

"Come on, Red, there's got to be something. I've seen you go after vamps before."

"Ooh, we stole a rocket launcher from the army once!" she sat up in sudden inspiration, then slumped back down as she thought it over. "Well, actually, that was Xander and Cordelia, mostly. I did hold the ladder, though."

"Grand theft rocket launcher," he mused, "It's a start." His arm slipped down around her shoulders, and he pulled her a little closer. She let him.

"But there's bound to be at least one story where you got to be the hero. A spell you did, some computer thing, I don't know."

The topic was starting to make her uncomfortable, the more she racked her brain for a tale to tell. She couldn't seem to come up with anything that might fit the bill. She'd helped a lot, found key pieces of information, that sort of thing, but it was usually Buffy who saved the day. She doubted that was what he was looking for.

"Maybe you should be heading back," she suggested instead, "There are a lot less bars in Sunnydale than there are abandoned buildings."

"Was that where they were looking?" he said in disdain, "I'd wondered. Kept thinking she was going to pop in and catch us."

"Well, I don't want her catching us tonight either. We don't exactly look like we're just a pair of friends who've been sharing some ice cream," she said, suddenly aware of how they did look, with his arm around her like that.

He gave her a little squeeze at that, smiling. "Yeah, I'd reckon she'd be likely to stake first and ask questions later. Even if she did think we were just being friendly."

Too true, she realized with discomfort. Buffy and the others would certainly not approve of…well, whatever this was between her and Spike. She toyed with her spoon, wondering to herself. What was this, anyway? They certainly didn't feel like 'just friends' at the moment. Why am I letting him get so close, why did I let him talk me into another evening spent together?

"Still worried about what they might think?" It was supposed to be a question, but he said it with such certainty. She looked up in astonishment. Sometimes, she wondered if he could read her mind. Drusilla supposedly could do some amazing things, or so she'd heard.

"It's all over your face, pet," he added, smirking at her.

"Okay, yes," she admitted, "That, and wondering why I'm here at all!"

"It's your room." he pointed out.

"That's not what I meant." She gave him a withering look. "Fine, I'm wondering why you're here, then. Why you brought me ice cream, why you bought me drinks last night. Why I haven't kicked you out by now, or called Giles, or something." If Spike could be brutally honest, then so could she.

"I suspect it's that last one that's bothering you most." He set the empty carton on the floor and turned towards her.

"Well, you're not exactly high on the list of people I should be making friends with. Or even being nice to."

"On who's list?" he challenged, "Yours, or somebody else's?"

"Either, both, it doesn't matter, Spike. You're a vampire. Plus, you're evil – which I suppose goes with out saying, being a vampire and all." She got herself back on track, "But vampires don't make friends, at least not with humans. They don't sit down to talk."

"I have with you, even before this," he pointed out.

"Do you mean when you kidnapped me, or when you tried to kill me?" she said with disdain.

"Either, both," he echoed, "You think I have meaningful conversations with the Slayer?"

"Exactly! You don't! So if you're here, you have to have some ulterior motive."

"Have I?" he asked softly, reaching over to brush back some of her hair, then wrapping his other arm around her waist. "And what would that be, then?"

She was finding it a bit hard to concentrate, with those gorgeous blue eyes staring at her. "Well, I – haven't figured that part out yet. But I will!" she recovered, brandishing a finger at him.

"After all, you are the smart one," he confirmed with a smile. "I have every faith that you'll figure things out eventually."

He cocked his head, looking her over. "You know, I've decided I was wrong the other night, calling you cute."

"You were?" she asked hesitantly, completely distracted from her earlier train of thought.

"Beyond a doubt. You're dead sexy, love," he glanced down at her outfit before continuing, "or could be if you stopped dressing like a head-on collision between a rummage sale and a paint truck."

"Hey!" she cried indignantly, then promptly forgot the insult as the rest of the sentence caught up to her, "You really think so?"

"I know so. Admittedly, I didn't see it clearly, myself, until recently, but it's in there. Different wardrobe, bit of makeup, less of a hide-in-the-shadows wallflower vibe, and you'll be fending them off with a stick. Or with magic, knowing you."

His eyes held her, and her stomach did a few flip-flops before she caught herself and looked away, blushing. "You're just saying that."

"You're right, it's all just part of my evil plan," he concurred with gentle humor.

Willow started shifting closer, almost despite herself, deliberately looking into his eyes now. She started to put her arms around him, too.

"I should go," he said suddenly, stopping her.

"You don't have to," she said quietly.

"Yes, I do, princess."

"Buffy probably won't be back for hours," she argued, trying to move even closer, suddenly very much wanting to feel his lips on hers again.

"That's not it." He began to move away.

"Then why?" she almost whispered, disappointed despite herself.

"Because you made it very clear to me that all you were ready to have from anyone was friendship," he said gently, but firmly, sitting up, "And no matter how I feel about it, as a friend I shouldn't let things go any farther."

"That's not really why, is it?" she said, sitting up as well.

"It is, actually," he responded, gently touching her cheek.

"I'm that obvious?" she said with chagrin. He really could read everything on her face. But he was right, he had started things.

"Afraid so." He smiled a little. "I'd be surprised if you've ever managed to keep a secret in your life."

"Not very well," she grudgingly admitted.

"I noticed that earlier, at the Watcher's flat," he said as she blushed, "Scared me for a moment there, pet. But you pulled it off."

She smiled at him wanly.

"That's another reason I should go. I don't want you waking up tomorrow like you did today."

"With a hangover?" she joked feebly, knowing what he really meant.

He smiled again, then got to his feet. "I'll see you later, Red. You get some sleep." And with that, he was gone.

Willow sat alone on the bed for some time after Spike left, staring at the carpet. Now she almost felt worse than when the evening started. Despite all her intentions, she'd ended up in the same spot, nearly kissing him. Had he really meant what he said about her? Or was it really part of some evil plan, as he'd supposedly joked?

He hadn't made fun of her right away this morning, as she'd feared, but there was absolutely no way to know if he was sincere about this friendship, or still acting. She'd never really know for sure, she realized. He'd certainly been chivalrous, though, and that wasn't a word she usually associated with Spike. And what had he said tonight? 'No matter how I feel about it'? Did that mean what she thought it did?

Willow didn't know which Spike to believe anymore, the dangerous and violent one she'd helped fight against for so long, or this strange new sympathetic one, who brought her ice cream, worried about her being lonely, and said he wanted to be her friend. Who hinted at wanting more than that. It didn't make sense; he couldn't be both at the same time. Could he?

Her head hurt.

It would be so much simpler if he'd just be evil and nasty to her all the time, then she'd know she couldn't trust him. But then she'd have no one to spend time with. Wait, that was the problem, right there. Not that there seemed to be two Spikes, but because she was torn. Willow wanted sympathy, and the only one who gave it to her was a vampire. That's why she wouldn't turn him away when he showed up. Not because she thought he was pretending, that he didn't have the ability to understand her feelings, to share them, but because he seemed to be the only person in her life right now who was even willing to share them. The truth was that Willow wanted Spike's friendship, if friendship it was. And she was willing to take the risk to find out, if it meant nights of sympathy and flattery like this one.

Why shouldn't I? She thought, suddenly defiant. Why shouldn't I have a friend who takes the time for me, even if it is Spike. After all the pain I've been through, I deserved a little respite. Spike is harmless now, it isn't like hanging out with a real vampire, she rationalized. It couldn't hurt just to spend time with him. He made her feel sexy, and powerful, and wanted, and those were feelings Willow hadn't experienced much. It wasn't like she was going to go fall in love with him, or something ridiculous, she concluded. It was just a little harmless fun.

All she had to do was make sure no one else found out about it, she thought suddenly, biting her lip in concern. Her resolve firmed, then, as she thought about losing the only comfort she seemed to have. It's none of their business who I spend time with, she stubbornly decided, It's not like any of them have been there for me! With the issue finally settled to her satisfaction, Willow turned off the lights and went to bed.