Spike had no idea what she was on about. Her fist up, his face close, her fist down, and holy hell she’d really been about to take a swing, hadn’t she? For what? Bust the door in and take up all the space she wanted, sure. Bust the door in and go straight for him without so much as a well-I-never. She was actin’ like they were back in Sunnydale again with her folded cash and his head full of static. They were actin’ like it, maybe. Maybe. Maybe he’d done something wrong.
He watched her stretch herself out onto the slab where he’d just been sat. Took her time smoothing herself out. Good. Let’s all — just her, really — take a breather ‘fore we do something we might regret. When she spoke again, she was quieter. Calmer, yeah? He didn’t have to stay stuck shoulderblades to the wall? Not like he’d actually been afraid of her or anything. Spike eased himself down off the balls of his feet, shifty and more than a little defensive about what’d just happened. About what was happening. What was happening? He crossed his arms tight over his chest. What the sodding christ was happening?
“Is this about the rankings?” He didn’t have to stay trained on her face to see her mouth get hard. Sore subject. Yeah. Figured as much. “‘cause if you came all the way out here to sock me straight on, you can just scuffle home. Already gave it me good, Buffy. Congratulations.” And for a moment, it looked like that was it. They were gonna apologize, each one, and they were gonna admit the hurt, and they were gonna patch it up before it made any more trouble. If it had cut her deep enough to send her thrashin’ over here, he could tell her he’d gone a bit sick at Angel’s name. Would you believe he was thinking about pulling over a couple crystal glasses and sharing some whiskey? Been a while since they talked.
Hospitality thinned and scattered when the recognition didn’t flash on her face. No. This wasn’t that. This was something else. This was — oh. Oh, this was rich, ‘s what it was. This was a bleedin’ ball-game. And he wasn’t letting her walk.
“Oh,” he said. He held it out, unhooked an arm to wag a finger at her in a dramatic gettin’-it-now. ”You’re not sore ‘bout me and Dru. You’re brassed off ‘cause I didn’t send you a transcript before I went on the telly. That’s it, isn’t it? You came stomping by with your fingers folded to tell me I’m a liability now.” Not fair. Over in his head: not fair, not fair. You don’t get to do this. You’re the only person who doesn’t get to do this. Spike stepped away from the wall. Smooth as possible for a bloke all twisted up in upset, he leaned over where her legs hung off the side of the coffin and he put one locked arm on either side of her knees. This was angry. This was starin’ down, every word punctuated hard. ”Only way I could’ve helped the cause is if I’d gone up there and talked about what a bad boy William’s been. Can’t use me if I’m any good at all—no, that might mean you’d have to think philosophic.”
He leaned in just enough. Just enough. ”Am I right so far?”
When he spoke the first thing out of his mouth was of course the thing about who was better than who in the sack. It was always about sex with Spike, or at least it was mostly about sex. She started to roll her eyes, wrong again, but stopped herself when she realized the hurt he was admitting. She knew she’d hurt him, it was kind of the point. Being told you’re inferior to someone crazier than an entire insane asylum? It was an insult and it hurt. It hurt enough that she impulsively felt compelled to bite back, and she didn’t even have to mention Angel’s name to do the damage. She looked over at him with his arms all crossed and couldn’t help but feel guilty. But that wasn’t what she was here about and she wasn’t going to let her sentimental side stop her from doing what she came to do. She intended to give Spike a piece of her mind.
And like clockwork he seemed to realize that she wasn’t there about that, her face probably gave it away. It always did. It wasn’t even a moment before he caught on to what she actually came for. Yes, the television. She nodded in response, her lips forming a tight frown. He shook his finger, the drama of it was like a slap in the face. He still wasn’t taking this seriously, and he still didn’t get what she was upset about. He couldn’t possibly not know what he’d done, it seemed clear as day to her. Obviously he didn’t understand her pain because the look of rage on his face said it all. Somehow, he was the one being wronged here. She was just about to get up, to put him right in his place when he all but pinned her to the coffin. She was trapped for the moment by two strong arms, vampire strength and all. She was trapped and it made her so incredibly pissed off. She couldn’t help the death glare that radiated from her eyes to his. And word coming out of his mouth was wrong. The idiot had it all wrong.
She was about to speak, she even took the breath. But it was cut off, stiffled, when she found herself face to face with two very smug blue eyes. He was invading her space, and it felt so incredibly wrong. He had the upper hand and he thought he’d won. She would have spoken, would have leaned her head back and away from him and told him just what she was thinking if she thought that it’d work. But she knew better, she couldn’t stay there contained. Not when she was this angry. "No!,“ she yelled in response to the question of whether or not he was correct. In one swift movement, she leaned forward with all her might and head-butted him.
A jolt of pain shot through her skull, but the rage she felt was so strong that her head remained clear. She had one laserlike objective and a headache wasn’t going to stop her. Spike was jolted for a moment, and a moment was all she needed. His arms were weaker because of the fact that she’d just made scrambled eggs of his and her brains less than a second before. She pulled her knee caps to her chin, her feet firmly placed between the two of them and kicked as hard as she could. An inhuman growl sprung from her lips and her teeth bared themselves involuntarily as she hopped off the coffin. Only a few seconds had passed and Spike looked like he was still trying to recover, perfect. She sped toward him, crashing into him with her body weight and toppling him down to the ground. She swung one of her legs on either side of him and grabbed his wrists, pinning him to the ground. She wasn’t certain how long she’d be able to hold him down so she spoke quickly, trying to get as much of her own opinion out before he reacted. Which wouldn’t be long.
"No, Spike. Not right. Not really.” She moved her face in close to his, mimicking the way that he’d taunted her only moments ago. "Everyone thinks they know me so well, that they know just what I’m thinking. How I’ll react.“ Spike sort of did know her pretty well, but she wasn’t about to admit that. And this wasn’t just about him anymore. Everyone around her was lying to her, she pretended she didn’t know. Everyone thought she was this volatile person, so liable to fly off the handle at any second. They treated her like she wouldn’t understand if they came to her with the truth, which pissed her off. She could understand, if they’d give her the chance. She’d been a big girl and gotten over (or at least for all intents and purposes she was past it) the time travel delimma and the messed up little sister that was going through something she knew all to well. She was a trying so hard to be what everyone wanted her to be and nobody even noticed.
"They think they know what’s going on in my head but they don’t,” she didn’t move any closer but she took a few deep breaths, regaining her focus and strength so she could hold him down even tighter. She wasn’t done talking just yet. “Going on tv hasn’t made you a liability Spike, you’ve always been one.” She knew the words would sting the moment they came out, but she couldn’t sugar coat the truth. Not with Spike, she trusted him to be honest with her and always returned the favor. No matter how painful it was for either of them. "Think about who you were, it doesn’t just go away because you’re good now. The history books don’t get erased because you’ve go a soul now.“
She took a few more breaths, this time trying to breath through the urge to attack without explaination. He should know this stuff. Why didn’t he think about this stuff? He was so careless. And she just wanted to hurt him for it, why couldn’t he just care? She cared. He’d said he cared about her. She did things, she helped him, because she cared about him. But he didn’t seem think that he needed to show that he cared, no. He just got to do whatever he wanted without worrying about who or how it might hurt. It was too much, she was so angry. So upset. She took a couple more breaths holding him down even tighter, she didn’t know if he was resisting anymore. The air went into her lungs with the telling hitches that said she might cry. She wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t allow herself to cry.
"I’m not upset because now I can’t ‘use’ you. I wasn’t trying to use you. Why would I use you?” She had to stop herself. She was getting carried away, getting huffy. Tears were welling up in her eyes despite the fact that she was trying desperately to hold them back. This is not what she was here for. She was here to punish him for his insensitivity not to cry on his face. She turned her head so that gravity would have the tears stream down her face and into her long blond hair. She forced them to fall anywhere but onto him. She stopped talking all together. She didn’t care if he broke free and threw her across the room at this point. Maybe then she’d snap out of her stupor, she might be able to get her point across if she was angry again.
This Is A Test 