Chapter 9

When Buffy returned to her dorm after her morning classes, she was surprised to find Spike and Willow on opposite sides of the room, eying each other warily.

“Uh, what’s going on?” she asked, her gaze flicking back and forth between the two of them.

“Spike said he needed your help,” Willow replied. It was unclear whether Spike’s presence bothered her because he’d tried to kill her on several occasions, or simply because he was interrupting her study time. “I told him you were at class, but he wanted to wait.”

Buffy turned back to Spike, taking in his disheveled appearance for the first time. His duster was absent, his shirt was torn, and there was blood smeared on his upper arm. “What’s the matter? Is something wrong? What happened to you?”

His eyes narrowed. “Captain America and his toy soldiers broke into my crypt today.”

Buffy abruptly dropped her books on her desk and rushed to his side. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, love,” he assured her. “Heard ’em coming and got out of there as quick as I could.”

“You’re cut.” Her fingers traced lightly over the gash on his arm, already closing up amidst the dried blood.

“Snagged it on something runnin’ through the sewers.”

Willow just raised her eyebrows in silent bemusement as Buffy grabbed the damp washcloth from her shower caddy and proceeded to clean up Spike’s injury.

“How did they find you?” she asked as she worked.

“Must’ve spotted me one night on their patrol and decided to come back in the daytime when I’d be trapped in there. It’s fine, pet. Don’t need a bandage.”

“How’d you escape?”

“Crypt has a tunnel to the sewers. I lost ’em, then made my way here.” He paused, slightly sheepish. “Didn’t know where else to go.”

“You can’t go back to your crypt,” Buffy warned him. “They’ll have the place staked out; it won’t be safe for you anymore.” Her take-charge tone suddenly softened, and she placed a gentle hand on his arm, a concerned expression on her face. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “No need to apologize for him.”

“So, what are you going to do now?” Willow asked, in a tone that indicated she’d be less than pleased with the prospect of Spike as a third roommate. It was pretty clear that something was going on with Spike and Buffy – something Buffy hadn’t thought it important to mention – but whatever it was, she wasn’t keen on it happening in her room.

“No idea. Was hoping the Slayer’d think of something.”

“You could stay at the mansion,” Buffy suggested.

Spike scowled. “Angel’s old place?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“The factory?”

Buffy shook her head. “That building is in shambles. Besides, if the Initiative comes after you again, I’m not thrilled about you being alone.” She chewed on her lip, trying to think of another plan.

“Well… there is one other place,” Willow spoke up tentatively, “but you’re not gonna like it…”

*****

“No way. Nuh-uh. Not happening. And in case I haven’t been clear – no.”

“Come on, Xander,” Buffy cajoled him, following him around the basement as he did his best to ignore her. “It’s just until I talk to Riley and get them to leave Spike alone.”

“Oh, yeah,” Xander scoffed, tossing a load of laundry into the washing machine. “And what are the chances Riley’s going to agree to that? Personally, I think the Initiative’s on to something here. Why don’t we just let them do their thing and we’ll have one less menace in town?”

“Because he’s helpless! He can’t even defend himself, and you want to just let them kill him? Or worse, take him back to the lab and do God knows what experiments on him. It’s cruel!”

Xander slammed the lid of the washer shut. “When did you start caring about that waste of space’s welfare?”

“We’ve… spent some time together lately.”

“Oh, so you’re best buds now, is that it?” He rolled his eyes.

“I trust him.”

“He’s a demon!”

“He has the chip! He can’t hurt us.” Buffy paused, and then said quietly, “He’s the only one I know for sure can’t hurt me…”

Xander’s expression suddenly became troubled, as though he were struggling to decide whether to say what he was thinking. “This is… this is about the rape, isn’t it?”

“Of course it’s about the rape!” she burst out. “There’s nothing in my life that isn’t about the rape anymore. And he’s the only one I know for sure… the only one I can trust.”

“What about your friends? You can’t trust us?” When Buffy glanced away uncomfortably, he said, “Oh, God, you don’t think…?”

She wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Xander looked as though she’d physically struck him. “Buffy! You seriously think I could’ve done that to you?”

“Xander…”

“Lemme guess – did Spike by any chance put that idea in your head?” He practically spat the words at her, and when she didn’t immediately deny it, he let out a disgusted sound. “Of course! Not like he knows anything about loyalty or friendship! Why wouldn’t I rape my best friend?”

“It wasn’t like that. He didn’t –”

“He didn’t what? He didn’t try to throw suspicion on someone that’s not him? He didn’t try to drive a wedge between you and the people you’re supposed to trust? Tell me, Buffy, because I’m really trying to understand how you could take the word of a freakin’ vampire over me.”

“God, Xander, you think I want to believe that you did this?” Buffy cried, suddenly feeling claustrophobic in the cluttered basement. “You think it makes me happy to have this conversation? I hate it!”

“Well, here’s a crazy idea. Maybe you could try not accusing your friends of raping you.” She started to protest, but he cut her off angrily. “No. Buffy, how could you think that? How could you possibly think that I would…?” He trailed off abruptly, meeting Buffy’s gaze with dismay, knowing what she was about to say.

She loathed the idea that it could be Xander, rejected it with every fiber of her being, but nevertheless, it had been gnawing at her ever since Spike had brought it up. She refused to even consider it except as a last resort – but here she was, out of suspects, out of leads. Xander had been the last person to see her that night; if anyone was in a position to know what had happened to her, it was him. As Spike had pointed out, he’d had feelings for her since they’d first met. And Spike hadn’t even known about the worst part.

“You tried it once before,” she said quietly.

“I was possessed by a hyena!”

“Then why did you lie about not being able to remember?”

Xander gaped at her. “You’re seriously going to throw that back in my face? You knew I lied, and you never brought it up. I thought that meant we were okay. Why didn’t you say something years ago if it mattered so much to you?”

“Because I wasn’t raped years ago.” Buffy crossed her arms protectively over her chest. “I didn’t say anything because I trusted you. I knew you would never… it wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t possessed.”

“But now you think it could?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Buffy, this is crazy. Look, if I’d wanted to take advantage of you, I’d have done it when you were under that love spell. Remember that? When you offered yourself to me?”

The way he said it made her cringe, reminiscent of Kevin’s harsh words the other day, the implication that she’d been asking for it. But Xander was right; she had been asking for it under the spell, and he’d been too honorable to take advantage. If he hadn’t done it then, surely he wouldn’t have done it at the party.

Just days ago, she’d been defending Xander against Spike’s accusation. Was she really so desperate now, so paranoid, that she couldn’t leave this stone unturned?

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Xander’s mouth twitched as though he was holding something back, and finally he shook his head. “That’s not gonna cut it. You accused me of being a rapist, and you clearly don’t trust me… what am I supposed to say to that? ‘It’s okay, we can still be friends?’ I can’t, Buffy. I can’t do that.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again, though she was already resigned to his rejection.

“I think you should go,” he replied, keeping his voice calm and level only with concerted effort. Unable to argue, Buffy turned and fled from the basement.

*****

When Buffy returned to the dorm once again, she was still hovering on the verge of tears, but she swallowed it down, not wanting to explain what had transpired between her and Xander.

“He said no,” she told Willow and Spike simply, heaving a deep sigh. “Spike will just have to spend the night here, until we can make other arrangements.”

“Uh, Buffy? Could I talk to you outside?” With a pointed look, Willow took her by the arm, towing her out of the room and down the hall to the girls’ bathroom before she could manage a response.

“What is going on?” Willow demanded, as soon as she’d done a stall-check for privacy.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Buffy hedged.

“I’m talking about Spike! Buffy, there’s something going on with the two of you that you’re not telling me.”

“It’s nothing. We’re just friends.”

“Don’t even try. I saw the way you – you touched him! And don’t even get me started on the way he looks at you. And since when are you and Spike friends anyway? A few weeks ago, he was the annoying pain in your ass you couldn’t wait to get rid of. Now all of a sudden you’re protecting him and cleaning up his scrapes?”

“Things change,” she said quietly, in stark contrast to Willow’s manic babbling.

“Is this some kind of PTSD thing? I was reading on the internet; it says that sometimes rape victims react by becoming promiscuous –”

“I’m not promiscuous!” Buffy interrupted indignantly. “But since it wasn’t some spell you screwed up this time, there must be something wrong with me, right? Is that it?”

“I didn’t –”

“How could you possibly think I’m promiscuous? I can’t even stand it when my boyfriend touches me!” Her voice softened. “And this thing with Spike… it’s not like that. It’s not… sexual. He helps me. I can’t explain it, but he makes me feel better.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been seeing him?”

Buffy shrugged, turning toward the row of sinks along the wall and leaning against the closest one, staring at the metal fixtures. “I don’t know. It’s not like I deliberately kept it a secret, I just… it was personal.” Idly, she began to flip the hot water knob on and off, watching the intermittent bursts of water as they flowed down the drain.

“I’m worried about you, Buffy. I just wish you’d let me in.”

“I can’t, Will.”

“What?”

At Willow’s incredulous response, Buffy glanced up and met her eyes in the mirror’s reflection. “I can’t. Because you do this. You poke and you prod, and you never leave anything alone. And you always need to fix everything.” She spun around so that they were facing each other. “I don’t need you to fix me, Will. I need to do it on my own. If you want to be supportive of that, great. If not, I don’t have the energy for this.”

Without allowing her to respond, Buffy strode out of the bathroom and headed back to the room, Willow on her heels.

“Spike, you’re staying here tonight, until we come up with a better plan,” she announced. “You can sleep in my bed.”

“Where will you be sleeping?” Willow asked hesitantly from behind her in the doorway.

Buffy closed her eyes briefly. She knew what she needed. “I’m going home.”