Flat Mates

Chapter 31


Buffy was running horrendously late and it seemed to her that no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't get out of her own way. She definitely felt that Murphy's Law was in full effect for her today. On a normal day, she would just toss up her hands and say ‘fuck it! I'm going home.' But, tonight was Spike's poetry reading – it'd been a week since their talk—and she didn't want him to think she was blowing him off or had forgotten.
And it wasn't as if it just seemed to happen as the hours drew closer, as one would suspect with her being so nervous about going. No, it had been an all day event, starting with getting mascara on her shirt for work and having nothing else clean to wear. Then not being able to find her shoes and her keys, to getting stuck in traffic, being late for work, dropping things and losing things continuously while at work. Her therapist had called to ask her if she'd mind coming in an hour later due to an emergency to which Buffy had agreed, figuring she would still have forty five minutes in which to change before meeting up with Spike.

Yeah, right.

The emergency went a half hour into Buffy's one hour session and she had teetered on canceling her appointment. However, she'd have to fork over the money anyway and she'd come to actually look forward to her sessions. Why stop progress? So she stayed and figured with the slim half hour she had after, she'd just make it straight to the café to catch Spike. Except a major accident had halted her arrival and there were no other routes to take—that she knew of anyway. It dawned on her that she could call Spike and tell him what happened, but when she fished around in her purse, then glove box and under her seat, she had to face up to the fact that she'd left her cell at home. Sitting in her car, waiting for the go ahead, Buffy burst into tears.

When she'd finally arrived at the café, she was a mess. Her hair stringy, her clothes wrinkly and her makeup now cried off. She managed to tie her hair back, discard her suit jacket and wore her blue skirt and cream colored blouse into the café. Still decidedly too dressed up, yes, but she didn't have time to stress so much over technicalities at that point.
She burst through the door and heads swiveled to her, but she ignored them. She only had eyes for Spike who was standing at the mic, looking out of this world gorgeous. His hair was springing curls and he wore the tightest black t shirt and tightest pair of black jeans known to man. He was hot. With two t's. She gulped, thinking that every girl in the room must want him. How could they not? She wasn't sure how to let him know she was there, so she just stood rooted where she was and figured she'd come over after. He was turning pages what appeared to be his notebook.

"This one. . . I wrote on the night of a full moon. I was feeling particularly. . . angry and cyncial," he chuckled, but it wasn't a light chuckle; it was dark.
She shivered at the sound. "And since I'm kind of pissed right now," he continued, "It fits." He took a deep breath and began:

"It's a Full Moon.
I can feel it in my Mood.
Nothing satisfies and Everything Provokes.

The Lion is at hand and it's making the beast within me restless.
I want to rule the forest

And I will.

The key is not in hating them,
But being okay with them hating you back.
When you say you don't care what they think,
You have to really mean it
Or everyone thinks you're just Hiding Something.
Always let them see you sweat
So they know how much work you did
And how much they didn't.

You never know what you can do until
You're forced to find out.
It's amazing how far your survival skills
Will take you.
It's incredible the amount of knowledge you can gain
By doing absolutely nothing for yourself.
It's fantastic how amazing you can Be doing
Everything for yourself.

Sure, everyone deserves love—
but how come the Bad love so Good and the Good love so Bad?
Experience doesn't mean you know Everything
It just means you Messed Up Everything.

True closure comes not with sticking it to the ignorant fool
But in being able to Forgive
And Never Forget.
Been There
Done That
Made the T-shirt.

Time makes you apathetic to all wounds.

When all else fails
Remember: Indifference is Power.
It makes her scramble around
Like a headless chicken wondering
How she can make you care again.
All you have to do to help her Die
Is sit back and laugh. "

Buffy gulped. Again. She imagined the ‘her' was, well, her and that it was probably a bad sign. She felt her tears start to surge forth again and she forced them down and focused on breathing instead. So many things were going through her mind at his words –and how amazing was he by the way?—and she felt the room grow smaller at the idea that he thought she wouldn't show, that he thought –and he had every right to think—

"Buffy?"

Her watery eyes focused on a pair of brown ones. She blinked and took in the tiny woman with the long brown hair and kind eyes before her. "Yes?"

"Oh, I wasn't sure if you were. . . her. Spike had described you to us and I feel as if I know you – not that he's said bad—when did you get here?"

Breathe, Buffy, breathe. "Just now," she said in small voice. "I tried to get here sooner, but I just couldn't seem to do it."

Fred nodded sympathetically. "Were you nervous to come?"

Buffy shook her head.

"Nervous about what? To hear me read some sodding poetry?" Spike. He stood before her, eyes flashing with anger, his jaw clenching.

That did it. Buffy burst into tears. She shook her head, "No, I wasn't nervous about coming. Well, I mean yeah, I was, but that's not why I was so late. I was late because I had the day from hell and nothing was going right and I tried so hard to get here, but I got out of my session late with just enough time to make it straight here and then there was an accident and I don't have my phone on me and I just made it in time to hear your last poem and I know I'm the her that you want to die and I'm so sorry that I was late and I really did try everything I could to—"

She was cut off her extreme ramble with no breath by Spike taking her in his arms and stroking her tangled ponytail.

"Ssshhhh kitten. It's okay now," he said calmly.

"Yrragrtwrtr," she mumbled against his chest.

"What was that?" he asked, his tone light, almost laughing.

She looked up at him, "You're a great writer."

He smiled and pushed some hair away from her face, "Thank you."

She nodded and peered over at the girl watching the exchange with a smile
on her face.

"Hi," she said, detangling herself from Spike's arms, trying not to let his
friends think she was a complete loon. "You must be--?"

"Fred," the woman said kindly. "I'm so glad to finally meet you."

"Really?" Buffy asked dumbfounded.

Fred and Spike chuckled at that and Buffy gave an awkward smile.

"What's all the commotion over here?" a man of medium build with a
british asked queried and wrapped an arm around Fred's waist. He looked
directly at Buffy and smiled. "You must be Buffy. I'm Wesley," he stuck out
his hand and Buffy shook it before rolling her eyes up to Spike. "Just what
have you been telling them?" she asked.

Spike grinned and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. "It's all right kitten.
Why don't we get out of here huh? I think you could use a drink—and not of
the coffee nature. What do you think?"

Buffy nodded dumbly and allowed him to lead her to his car, Fred and
Wesley not far behind.

"Spike, wait, what about my –"

"Buffy, it's okay. I'll drive you back later to get your car, okay?"

She nodded and climbed in, feeling suddenly relaxed. She sighed heavily,
feeling as if she were expelling the stress of the day with that sigh.

Wesley and Fred pulled up behind them and Spike took off.

"Have you eaten, pet?"

"No. I didn't have time."

"We'll get you something, yeah?"

"Spike, I'm sorry I wasn't there from the start."

Reaching over, Spike patted her knee. "It's okay, baby. Why don't you tell
me about your day?"

"It sucked total ass," she told him bluntly.

Spike laughed out loud, "Tell me all about it, kitten."



She really liked Fred and Wesley. A lot. They were kind and sweet and
funny. More importantly, they seemed to love Spike. She decided not to
dwell on what he told them about her. That would just play games with her head. Instead, she listened them talk and interjected when she felt she had something to share. Spike was sure to include her and took her hand in his when she was done dinner, squeezing it every now and then.

She felt much better after a drink and some food. The day just washed away and she sat back, laughing softly at the jokes being passed around the table. She looked over at Spike and found him watching her. She smiled at him and he grinned.

"Want to get out of here? Talk?" he asked softly as Fred and Wesley discussed their half of the bill.

"Sure," she nodded. "I need my car."

"I know. Want to go back to your place for a bit?"

"How about the beach? I could use the sound of the water to fully wash
this day away."

He grinned. "Sounds good, pet. Let's go." Standing up, they said their good
bye's and nice-to-meet-you's and they were gone.

Once outside, Spike stopped, still holding onto Buffy's hand.

"What?" she asked; looking up at him curiously.

Leaning in, Spike brushed his lips across hers ever so gently. She hadn't
expected that and she jumped a bit.

He grinned and caressed the side of her face. "I'm glad you came," he
whispered and they took off for his car once again, Buffy following and
touching her lips with the pads of her fingers, feeling the remnant of his
kiss.



**Poem by me**