Buffy let out a huff that bordered on a growl as she slammed her laptop lid shut. There was an unexpected crack that came from the machine and she stared at it with a seething rage. “Great!” She stood up, storming across the room and away from the damned thing. Who knew a computer could cause so much trouble, could bring annoying anonymous askers of questions into her very home. There really wasn’t an escape. She couldn’t walk around town without someone noticing who she was and she couldn’t go on the internet without being harassed either.
She started putting on her shoes and jacket without even realizing what she was doing. By the time she was out the door, down the stairs, and in her car she was certain of where she needed to go: Spike. This latest barrage of questions was almost entirely his fault and he somehow though he’d done something good? He had to know that what he was doing would cause her problems, he knew and just didn’t care. How could he not care? He was supposed to be nicer with his soul, or at least nicer to Buffy. He had been before. Sure he was always a little snarky, that’s just the way he was. But he hadn’t intentionally done something to cause her trouble in quite a long time, and it pissed her off.
But now that she was driving to his crypt (house?) she wasn’t really certain of what she’d do when she got there. Only that she needed to be there. If she followed her gut she’d walk in there and give him a hard slap right across the face (so much for the firm talking to she’d promised Faith), but that wasn’t right was it? No, mature Buffy didn’t use violence to solve every problem. And using violence with Spike wouldn’t solve the problem anyways. Maybe yelling? Yelling sometimes did something. She was still trying to sort out what she was going to do, what she was going to say, when she parked the car and opened ever so swiftly and quietly his gate. She walked with haste and purpose to his front door and began knocking loudly and rapidly on his front door. Take the violence out on the inanimate object, not the annoying vampire.
She didn’t stop knocking until she felt and heard the slight movement behind it that meant Spike had in fact noticed that she was there. She withdrew her fist down from the door before it had a chance to open and grabbed her clenched fist, both arms behind her back. Self control. No punching. Maybe a little yelling, maybe a lot of yelling. Get your point across clearly, don’t let him argue. You’re right, he’s wrong. It was simple, easy even. When the door opened to her she didn’t bother looking at him, not yet. Instead she stormed in and as far across the room from him as she could, that way she couldn’t attack if she lost the self control she was clinging to with desperation. Once she was safely away she looked at Spike and opened her mouth to speak, but words didn’t come out. She took a couple of deep breaths and tried to keep her cool, to speak instead of act. Instead she found herself rapidly approaching him. Hopefully those weren’t fists she felt her hands forming.
This Is A Test 