Chapter 3

Going to class on Monday was harder than any demon she’d ever had to face.

She didn’t want to leave her room – ever, if possible – but Willow would worry if she didn’t keep up with her normal routine, and the last thing she needed was more questions and concerned mother henning.

Buffy slouched down low in her chair, surreptitiously scanning the lecture hall while her professor droned on about Hitchcock and formalism, unable to shake the anxiety that gripped her. Now that she’d ruled out Spike as a suspect, that only left the entire population of UC Sunnydale as potential rapists. Any one of her fellow students could be her attacker. She could be sitting next to him in class and not even know it. He could be out there in the hall right now, laughing with his friends about the easy lay he’d had Friday night.

How did this happen? She was the Slayer, always in control of her environment, always confident that she could thwart any attack. She shouldn’t be afraid of stupid college boys that she could best one-handed without even breaking a sweat.

The shuffling of papers and the rustle of students filing out of the lecture hall alerted her that class was over, not that she’d absorbed any of it. Numbly, she slipped her books back into her bag and joined the procession out of the room.

The hallway was bustling as students darted to and from classes, and she was swept up in the crowd, jostled and poked as backpacks brushed against her and elbows jabbed into her sides. Clutching her bag to her chest, she felt the panic building up, like she was being smothered and she couldn’t breathe. She fought her way through the streams of bodies until she broke free, stepping out onto the quad.

She found a vacant bench and sank down with relief, willing herself to take deep breaths until her heartbeat slowed to its normal tempo. She wouldn’t cry – she would not cry. Not here. Not in front of people.

She hadn’t let herself cry since the morning after, first with Spike, then alone in the shower. It was an imaginary barrier, a line in the sand she couldn’t cross, or she would become a victim again. She hated that some guy whose name she didn’t even know could make her feel this way, hated that this stranger had torn apart everything she’d built herself up to be. But mostly, she hated herself for being weak, for being vulnerable, for letting this get to her when she’d fought much fiercer demons and won.

With one final deep breath to steady herself, Buffy strengthened her resolve, swallowing down the unshed tears and snatching her bag from beside her on the bench as she headed to her next class.

*****

“Hey, Buffy! Wait up!”

She turned to see Riley jogging across the quad, flagging her down with one hand. The thought flitted across her mind that it was too late to pretend she hadn’t heard him, and then she was angry with herself for even considering it. She’d avoided him all week, unable to face the shame of explaining what had happened to her. She longed to be comforted, to hear him reassure her that it would be all right, but every time she imagined telling him, all she could picture was disappointment on his face, like she’d betrayed him, like she was to blame.

On top of everything else, she couldn’t stomach his rejection, especially not so soon after Parker, and Angel before him. She’d do whatever she had to, even if it meant keeping her assault a secret from Riley. The only problem was, she didn’t know how she could act normal and pretend that nothing was wrong. Thus, avoidance was of the good, but she knew she couldn’t do it forever.

Dutifully, Buffy stopped and waited for him to reach her, but she instinctively turned her head so that his kiss landed on her cheek instead of her lips.

“Where’ve you been?” he asked her. “I’ve hardly seen you at all this week.”

“Oh… just around.” She shrugged. “Busy with classes and stuff.”

Riley shifted nervously. “I thought… maybe you were mad.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“I dunno, you’ve just been pretty scarce since the party. I thought maybe you were pissed that I had to skip out to do Initiative stuff instead of spending time with you.”

Buffy exhaled a deep sigh. “No, no, that’s not it at all.” Catching herself, she quickly added, “I mean, there isn’t anything. I’m not mad. Just… busy.”

“You sure?” he pressed, with all the insecurity of a new relationship. “I mean, I wouldn’t have wanted to be around crabby, sleep-deprived me, either, but you left pretty quickly that morning. And you seemed, I dunno… strange.”

“It was nothing. Just a hangover.”

“I’m glad.” Riley smiled, then bent down to kiss her again, and this time she couldn’t avoid his lips meeting hers. Not that she wanted to. She pressed her mouth against his, kissing him earnestly in denial of her earlier impulse, swallowing down her discomfort at the intimacy.

When it seemed as though his concerns were assuaged, Buffy pulled away, forcing a smile as she met his eyes. “Listen, I have to run, but how about we do something tonight?” she suggested. “Willow was talking about Bronzing it – we could all go.”

“Yeah, okay,” Riley replied, stealing another kiss before he let her go. “Sounds like fun.”

As he walked away, Buffy felt a wave of guilt for wanting to keep him at arm’s length. It wasn’t Riley’s fault, and he didn’t deserve the cold shoulder for what had happened to her. She would have to get over it, because avoiding her boyfriend was going to be a big red flag that there was something she wasn’t telling him, and Riley wasn’t stupid. Besides, this was just a temporary thing, just some residual freaking out due to recent trauma. It would all go away soon enough, and she and Riley would be fine again.

*****

“Ooh, good song!” Anya exclaimed. “Let’s dance.” She grabbed Xander’s hand and dragged him onto the dance floor before he had a chance to protest.

Riley glanced at Buffy. “You wanna?”

She hesitated for a moment before nodding, and they followed Xander and Anya out to the floor. The music had a decent beat, and Buffy started to loosen up as she was swept along by the pulsing crowd. The song was fast enough that no-touching dancing was acceptable, and she pulled Willow into the mix, making it harder for Riley to pair off with her.

When she’d suggested the Bronze, she hadn’t realized how uncomfortable it would be. She hadn’t considered that the feel of Riley grinding against her would send her imagination into overdrive, wondering if this was what her rapist had done, if he’d rubbed his crotch against her hip, slid his thigh between her legs. She wondered if his hands had clung to her waist with the same possessiveness, if his skin had glistened with the same sweaty sheen, if he’d looked at her with the same hungry expression before he took her.

Riley knew none of what was going through her head. He was just trying to have a good time with his girl. But every time he touched her, it reminded Buffy that someone else had touched her without her permission, and all the sickening feelings came rushing back.

It became like a game of cat and mouse, with Riley continually dancing closer, and Buffy always edging away, covering her discomfort with laughter and flirting, as though she were just being a tease.

They went on that way for several songs, until the band segued into a ballad, and Riley caught Buffy by the wrist, drawing her against him as they began to slow dance.

“Finally,” he said, his tone just a fraction too hard to take it as a joke. “Chance to get my hands on you.”

Buffy stiffened in his arms, swaying awkwardly to the music. “What?”

“You’ve been avoiding me all night, Buffy.”

“I’m not!” she protested. “I –”

“You are.” He shook his head. “Look, if you’re mad at me, just say so.”

“I told you I wasn’t,” she said softly.

“Then why are you acting like this?” His eyes suddenly darkened with insecurity. “Is there somebody else? Another guy you’d… rather be with?”

Yes, there’s another guy, Buffy thought. But not someone I’d rather be with.

“No, there’s no one else,” she reassured him. “I just…”

“I don’t understand, Buffy. What did I do?”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Can we please not do this right now?”

Riley withdrew his arms and took a step back. “Fine,” he said, his frustration evident. “Let me know when you feel like talking about it.” As the surrounding couples looked on with curiosity, Riley turned and walked away, leaving Buffy alone on the dance floor, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Willow watched Riley’s retreating form from the sidelines. “Buffy, you have to tell him,” she said quietly, escorting her friend back to their table.

“I can’t, Will. I couldn’t bear him thinking of me like I’m…”

Willow reached out and covered Buffy’s hand with her own. “Buffy, what happened to you wasn’t your fault. But you’ve been avoiding Riley the entire week, and if you don’t tell him what’s going on, he’s gonna think…”

“I know,” she insisted. “But I – I can’t talk about it. Not with him.”

“Maybe you should talk to someone else,” Willow suggested. “Like a – a counselor or something.”

Buffy shook her head. No way was she going to even consider that. Talking to a counselor meant that her problems were real, that something was actually wrong with her. As long as she didn’t need professional help, she could convince herself that it wasn’t serious, nothing to worry about.

“You know what? I’m not really feeling the Bronze tonight. I’m gonna go patrol,” she said, making a hasty exit.

*****

“Shouldn’t be out all alone, little lady,” a voice from behind her crowed. “No one to protect you.”

Buffy whirled around to face the vampire. “I don’t need protecting.”

She didn’t give him a chance to retort, vaulting over a headstone to land in front of him with a well-placed kick. She followed it up with a backhand to the face and then another kick aimed at his legs. The vampire crumpled to the ground, but Buffy grabbed him by the hair and dragged him back to his feet.

“We’re not done yet,” she snapped, delivering a series of rapid-fire punches that drove the vamp backwards several steps. He tried weakly to fight back, but he was practically fresh out of the grave and was no match for the Slayer. His blows didn’t even slow her down as she slammed her boot into his chest and then grabbed his arm, spinning him around and twisting it behind his back until it snapped.

The vampire howled in pain, jerking out of her grasp, but Buffy didn’t relent. “You think you can attack some unsuspecting girl, huh?” she cried. “You think you can take whatever you want and I won’t fight back?”

She kicked again at his kneecaps, this time hearing the crunch of bone as one leg bent at an unnatural angle. Again he fell, and again she yanked him upright, pulling his arm out of its socket in the process.

“Please, stop!” the vamp begged her, until Buffy’s hand closed around his throat, holding him in place while she used his face as a punching bag. His head snapped back with each blow, but Buffy was too absorbed in her rage to hear the crack as she broke his neck.

All of a sudden, she was roughly shoved aside, and the vampire she’d been pummeling exploded in a cloud of dust. As the ash settled, she realized Spike was standing in front of her, a stake in one hand and the heel of the other pressed to his forehead in pain.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded.

“Puttin’ this bloke out of his misery,” he retorted.

“I was handling it.”

Spike shot her a disapproving look. “Turnin’ him into hamburger, more like.”

Buffy stood with her hands defiantly on her hips. “So?”

“So, you’re meant to slay ’em, not beat ’em to a bloody pulp!”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, like you’ve never beaten someone up for the hell of it.”

Spike shrugged. “I’m evil. You’re meant to be above all that.” He said it casually, but she could see in his eyes that he’d somehow lost respect for her.

“He deserved it,” she pouted, hopping up on a tombstone and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yeah? How’s that?”

“He – he – It doesn’t matter,” she mumbled, shoving off the grave and storming away from Spike. “Just go away.”

“Slayer,” Spike called, following briskly after her.

“Leave me alone!” she cried, whirling to face him as he caught her by the elbow. “I don’t want to talk to you right now, and I definitely don’t feel like a lesson in vampire ethics, so just leave. Me. Alone.”

She intended to spin on her heel and walk away from him, but no sooner had she turned her back than her vision started to blur with tears. She stumbled, unable to distinguish the grave markers from the ground, and she felt a tentative hand on her back.

“Buffy,” Spike said quietly. “Are you all right?”

“Why are you being nice to me?” she shot back, inwardly cringing at her harsh tone.

“Sorry,” he replied, removing his hand from her back and holding both hands up in protest. “Won’t happen again.”

“No, I…” Buffy sighed. “It’s just… I feel… wrong. Like I don’t fit in my skin… like it doesn’t belong to me anymore.” She glanced up at him, meeting his eyes for the first time. “I hate feeling like this, like my body isn’t mine. I hate that I feel… I just want it to go away.”

“Buffy,” Spike said, taking a deep breath as though screwing up his courage to say something meaningful or sensitive. But when he spoke, he only said, “You’re not gonna cry again, are you?”

Buffy grimaced. “No, I’m not.” Surprised to find herself slightly hurt that he’d back down from his attempt at comfort, she added, “Forget I said anything. Goodbye, Spike.”

This time, when she walked away, he didn’t follow.