Chapter 2

“Oh, my God, Buffy, are you sure?” Willow leapt from her desk chair and hurried to where Buffy was perched gingerly on the edge of her bed, her eyes focused on her hands folded in her lap.

“It – it has to be, Will,” she said softly, as her best friend sat next to her and put a comforting arm around her shoulder. “I mean, if it wasn’t Riley…”

It had all come together as she stood there shell-shocked, taking in Riley’s words and his innocent expression. She’d wanted to say, “You’re joking, right?” because even a joke as cruel as that would be better than the reality. Instead, she’d watched the horrifying pieces fall into place – the soreness, the bruises, the ripped panties, all signs of fairly rough sex. Sex she had no memory of.

She suddenly felt sick at the notion that she’d been turned on by those things when she thought it was Riley she’d slept with. Nausea, which this time had nothing to do with a hangover, overwhelmed her, and she dove for the trash can by her desk. Willow crouched behind her, holding her hair back as she vomited up the contents of her stomach, the acid burning her throat.

Someone had touched her, violated her, without her knowledge.

She wretched until there was nothing left in her to come up, and then she collapsed back against the foot of the bed, her face drawn and pale, a film of sweat forming on her forehead. Willow stayed next to her on the floor, gently smoothing loose strands of hair out of her face. She must have been dealing with her own hangover, but her face showed nothing but concern for her friend.

“I’m so sorry this happened, Buffy,” Willow murmured. “I never thought someone could… I mean, you’re the Slayer, you know? I – not to be insensitive, because I totally believe you, but… couldn’t you fight off someone who wanted to… to…”

“Not if I was unconscious.” Buffy glanced up, her eyes welling with tears. “Will, I don’t remember anything. Anyone could have just…” She broke off, her voice hitching as she started to get upset again.

Willow pulled her into a tight hug. “It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out. I just can’t believe… I mean, the Lowell House guys are all so nice. Who at the party would have wanted to do that to you?”

*****

Buffy burst into Spike’s new crypt, startling the vampire from his attempt to hook up his stolen television. Before he could react to her presence, she grabbed Spike by the lapels of his duster and slammed him against the wall, knocking the wind out of him. “What the hell did you do to me?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Slayer,” he protested as she pinned him in place with one strong hand on his chest.

“The party last night.”

Something flashed across Spike’s eyes at the mention of the party, but it was gone in an instant, and Buffy questioned whether she’d just imagined it.

“What about it?” Spike asked cautiously.

“Someone raped me.”

His face flickered with a myriad of emotions, finally settling on shock and indignation. “And you think it was me?”

“Let’s see. Vicious killer. Mortal enemy. Yeah, I’m thinking so.” She grabbed him by the throat, pulling him forward and then shoving him back against the wall even harder than before. “What was it, Spike? Curious whether fucking a Slayer would be as good as killing them?”

“No! Didn’t –”

“Bet it made you feel like the Big Bad again, huh?” she cried, holding him in place with one hand while she punched him with the other, her eyes frantic and wild with fury. “Did you feel like a tough guy while I was unconscious?”

More calmly than expected, given the hysterical, ranting Slayer at his throat, Spike said, “Forgetting one important detail, love.” He pointed to his head. “I can’t hurt you.”

Buffy was stunned into silence at this. He was right. He could never have caused the bruises on her body without inflicting pain on himself. Abruptly, she let him go, backing away from him with a horrified expression on her face. If it hadn’t been Spike, then it was most likely a human, someone with a soul, who did this to her.

She’d been running on autopilot, holding back as much emotion as she could in order to keep herself from falling apart, but now it all caught up to her, and the shock and the fear and the shame came crashing over her. She gasped, her hand flying up to cover her mouth as she choked back tears.

“Oh, God,” she whispered, starting to shake uncontrollably, unable to stop herself from crying. Her shoulders heaved with broken sobs, and she threatened to crumple to the ground at any moment.

Spike took a hesitant step toward her, uncertain what to do. “Hey,” he said, his voice unexpectedly gentle, given the disturbed expression on his face. “Don’t – don’t – do that.”

“I – I can’t –” I can’t help it, she wanted to say, but she couldn’t get the words out past her tear-clogged throat. Her legs trembled, and then her knees gave out and she was sliding to the floor.

Spike caught her before she collapsed, moving with vampire speed and pulling her against him for support. She raised her eyes to his, finding that he seemed almost as surprised as she was by his compassion.

“Don’t cry,” he said uneasily, clearly at a loss for the right thing to say. But his awkward attempt at comfort was at least enough distraction to help her get herself under control, and her sobs quieted in his arms.

After a moment, she pulled away, swiping hastily at her wet cheeks. “I have to go.”

Spike briefly looked like he might protest, but then he nodded, almost with relief. “Yeah, okay.”

As she was headed for the door, his voice stopped her. “Buffy?”

She turned, and they just gazed at each other in silence until Spike finally said, “I’m sorry. About…” His voice resonated with sincerity.

She nodded. “Thanks.”

*****

When Buffy got back to her dorm room, all she really wanted was to be alone. She had opened a floodgate, and though she’d managed to stop crying, her emotions threatened to just keep spilling out of her from a bottomless well of grief and despair, and she didn’t want anyone else to be witness to it. But she knew Willow would be clinging to her like an overprotective parent on the first day of kindergarten, so she braced herself for the onslaught of well-meaning comfort.

She stood outside her door, taking one deep breath after another until she thought she could speak without her voice trembling. Tamping down her emotions, she pasted on as brave a face as she could muster and opened the door.

Despite her preparation, she still managed to be caught off-guard as Xander unexpectedly swept her up in a stifling hug.

“Buffy, are you okay?” he asked, his large, familiar frame suddenly feeling intimidating as his arms tightened around her until she felt trapped. She had to fight down the urge to resist, to burst out of the embrace and throw him across the room with her full Slayer strength. This was a new sensation, one she hadn’t felt when Willow and Spike had tried to hold her, and it distressed her to realize she was frightened of one of her best friends.

“Xander?” Buffy’s face flushed with humiliation as she disengaged from the hug, suddenly becoming self-conscious that he knew what had happened to her. “Will… you told him?”

“Of course,” Willow replied, the we tell each other everything left unspoken. Her face fell as she realized that wasn’t what Buffy wanted. “I’m sorry, Buffy. Did you want to do it yourself? I thought it might be hard…”

Buffy hadn’t wanted to tell him at all. There was just something… shameful about Xander knowing, something she couldn’t put her finger on. The thought of the way he would look at her, the way he would judge her, made her cringe inside.

“No, it – it’s fine.”

“God, Buff, I'm so sorry,” Xander said, shaking his head.

It seemed like all anyone wanted to do today was apologize to her, as though that somehow made things better. “It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah… yeah, it kind of is.”

She turned to him with confusion written across her face. “What are you talking about?”

Xander heaved a sigh and sank down on the edge of Willow’s bed. “Last night, you started getting pretty spacey, you know? We figured you just had too much to drink. You looked ready to pass out, so I helped you upstairs to Riley’s room.” He rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his hands. “I thought you’d be okay there. I never expected someone to come in and – and –”

“Xander –” Buffy started.

“I just left you there… I didn’t even think…”

“You couldn’t have known,” she insisted.

“It was Riley’s room. I thought – I thought you’d be safe.”

“I know.” Taking a hesitant step toward him, Buffy took his hand in hers. He raised his head, and their eyes met. “Thank you… for taking care of me.”

“So, what did Evil Dead have to say for himself?” Xander asked her. “And please let this story have a dusty ending.”

“It wasn’t Spike.”

Xander looked skeptical. “And we’re ruling him out… why?”

Slowly, Buffy shrugged out of her jacket. She was still wearing the clothes she’d worn to the party last night, and her tank top left exposed all the bruises on her arms. They had almost faded, thanks to Slayer healing, but the vague outlines of handprints were still visible where she’d been forcibly held down.

“He couldn’t have done this.”

“Sure he could,” Xander scoffed. “It’d just give him one hell of a headache. But raping the Slayer? Probably worth it.”

Buffy visibly flinched at his crass words, a reminder of her own accusations. “It wasn’t him. I was just there,” she insisted. “I – I talked to him, and he… it wasn’t him.”

“Then, who was it?” Willow wondered.

“It doesn’t matter,” Buffy replied, slipping her jacket back on and pulling it tightly around her. “It just – I just want to forget about it, okay?”

“You don’t wanna get the guy who did this?” Xander asked. “You’re the Slayer, fighting for truth, justice, and the American way!”

“That’s not the Slayer, that’s Superman.”

“So? You’re a superhero. Don’t you think this deserves a little justice?”

“I fight demons,” Buffy reminded him. “Whoever did this – they were human. I don’t do that kind of justice.”

“So, we go to the police,” Willow suggested.

“And tell them what? We have no evidence. These bruises look like they happened days ago. I can’t remember anything. What are the police going to do?” She shook her head. “I’d rather it just go away.”

Willow and Xander exchanged an uneasy glance. “If that’s what you want, Buffy,” Willow said finally.

“Right now, I just want to be alone.”

Willow nodded, grabbing her backpack and motioning Xander toward the door. “We’ll go. I’ll be studying in the library if you need anything.”

“Guys?” Buffy hesitated, directing her gaze to the floor, unable to meet their eyes. Her voice breaking, she said, “Don’t tell Giles.”

*****

As soon as she was alone, Buffy stripped off her clothes, not caring that she tore her tank top in half getting it over her head. She just needed them off. She’d never wear them again anyway. Wrapping herself up in her bathrobe, she grabbed a towel and her shower caddy and headed for the girls’ bathroom.

She turned the water on as hot as it would go and stepped under the scalding stream. Her skin was bright red within minutes, but she could barely feel the heat, couldn’t feel anything except dirty. She fumbled in the shower caddy for a loofah and body lotion, and scrubbed her skin until she saw pink-tinged suds swirling into the drain.

Finally giving up on ever getting herself clean, she slid down to the floor, drawing her knees up to her chest as the water sluiced over her. Her forehead dropped down to rest on her knees, and she cried.