Summary: They were just a bunch of kids about to start summer vacation, before returning to Sunnydale High as seniors. Buffy Summers wasn't in the Cordelia Chase elite group, but she had a good circle of friends. William Pratt had no one: bullied mercilessly, bookish, quiet and a straight 'A' student. One day, fate steps in and a decision he makes changes his life forever...
Author's Notes: Thanks as ever to Carol for betaing it and to Jo in NY for previewing it for me until I could get it posted.-------------I wrote this for my pal Kirsten who is not a fan of the Buffyverse so I set them in my universe instead so she could read it without the back story of the series!!
Rating: PG-13
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After lunch Spike made his way to his English class. He got there early
hoping to slip in pretty well unnoticed. There was only one student in
the class so he just went and chose a desk at the back hoping no one
would ask him to move. He pulled out his notebook and started doodling;
keeping his head down, then he heard it. It was Buffy’s voice; she was
walking into the classroom with Willow.
“…so I’ve got to work at the gallery again on Saturday but the good
thing is Mom’s okay about me going to The Bronze on Friday, so what
time shall we get there?”
“Cool,” replied Willow “Shall we say eight? Shame the Dingoes aren’t playing but Devon and Oz keep falling out.”
Spike was frozen; he couldn’t move, his heart was pounding.
“Um, excuse me, I know you’re new but…er…I usually sit there.” A timid voice said in his ear.
“Wot?” He glanced briefly at the voice’s owner but was still focussing on Buffy and Willow.
The timid boy took in the scar on his face, his bleached hair and the
rumour going round the school that he’d stood up to Angel and decided
discretion was the better part of valour and backed away.
“Oh, nothing, you’re okay,” he said, taking a seat nearer to the front.
Spike barely registered the guy at all but Buffy scowled as she saw
Jerry back away from him and sit at the front. She looked across at
Spike but he had his head down. She could see the crescent-shaped scar
around his left eye and felt a pang of pain in her heart knowing that
the scar marked the day William had died.
To Spike’s relief Buffy and Willow sat a row in front of him and to his
left. He watched her surreptitiously for the whole class; he remembered
the feel of her body leaning back against his in The Bronze that night.
Why hadn’t she called him? He didn’t participate in the class at all,
not putting his hand up to answer questions even thought he knew them.
He was aware of nothing but Buffy. When the bell rang he was the first
on his feet. He pulled on his duster and strode out of the classroom.
He had a fraction of a limp on his left leg but not enough to slow him
down. The coat billowed out behind him.
Buffy and Willow watched him go with curiosity.
“Must be tough having to move out here after losing your parents and all,” said Willow.
“Yeah, but did you see how poor Jerry backed away from him and let him
keep his seat? He looked scared,” said Buffy, “No need for him to be
like that with him.”
Ooooooo
Spike went to find Rupert in the library; he pushed the door open to
see him half hidden by a huge pile of books on the table in the centre
of the room.
“How did your first day go?” he asked when he saw Spike.
“Okay, I suppose. Wot are yer doin’?”
“Oh, they had all these books in the wrong categories. No wonder no one
could find anything, it’ll take me weeks to sort this out. It’s a total
mess,” said Rupert, “I’d like to do another hour or so before I go
home. Want to help?”
“Er,” said Spike, “Okay.”
“Really?” said Rupert.
“Yeah, I don’t mind,” he replied. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do.
The two worked diligently for an hour and a half in the end, clearing the table of books.
“That’s a great help, thank you,” said Rupert when they were leaving, “I can get the next section started tomorrow.”
Ooooooo
The next few days at school passed uneventfully. Spike was silent in
all his classes and took his lunch outside to eat alone. He didn’t try
to talk to anyone and the students didn’t make any effort to talk to
him, partly because they didn’t know what to say given the tragic
circumstances and partly that he didn’t look very receptive to being
approached.
Now it was Friday afternoon and the thing he’d been dreading the whole
week. The time had come for the promised memorial service for William
Pratt. He’d argued with Rupert that morning about how he didn’t want to
attend. Rupert had stood firm and told him he had to and that it would
be insensitive not to. So here he was making his way to the hall. He
couldn’t walk any slower otherwise he’d be stationary. Rupert appeared
in the corridor in front of him.
“There you are!” he exclaimed, “Come along, hurry up.”
Spike upped his pace a little and the pair entered the hall. He balked when Rupert led him to the stage at the front.
“Wot? No way,” said Spike, “I’m not going up on there.”
“Yes, you are,” said Rupert firmly, “Principal Snyder expects you to be
up on there with me and it’s disrespectful to William’s memory if you
don’t.”
“Oh, Christ!” thought Spike as he walked up the steps and took a seat.
The hall slowly filled with students. Spike resolutely looked at his
feet throughout Snyder waxing lyrical about William, judging him only
by his academic achievement, and not knowing the bullying he endured or
anything about him as a person at all.
When Rupert went to the front and started to speak, Spike could endure
it no longer. He leapt up, knocking his chair over, and jumped down the
six steps off the stage in one bound, wincing as his left ankle
protested at the jar it received when he landed. Then he ran from the
hall as if the hounds of hell were on his heels, his feet loud on the
wooden floor, duster billowing out behind him. Every head turned and
watched him leave.
He ran until he reached the front of the school. He sat down on the
steps and put his head in his hands and groaned. He didn’t know how
long he’d sat there before he heard footsteps approach, they stopped in
front of him.
“Hey, man, are you okay?”
Spike looked up; he hadn’t mistaken the voice, it was Oz.
“No, mate, I’m not, I’m really not,” he said honestly.
Oz sat down next to him.
“Not surprising.”
“Suppose not.”
“It’ll get easier,” replied Oz, a big speech for him. He sat there for
a while longer then stood up. “I liked William.” He put his hand on
Spike’s shoulder for a moment before he walked away.
Ooooooo
Rupert and Spike travelled home in silence. Spike went to his room as
soon as they got in; it wasn’t until they sat down to eat dinner that
Rupert spoke.
“That was quite an exit you made. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Sorry if I embarrassed you,” said Spike, sounding anything but.
“You didn’t embarrass me; that’s not what I meant. It’s just you
haven’t really talked to me about the loss you’ve suffered, not even
went we went to the memorial gardens where their ashes were placed. I’m
worried about you.”
“Wot can I say? That I wish it hadn’t happened? Won’t change anythin’
will it? Would’ve been easier if I’d died too,” he replied flatly.
“No, it would not!” said Rupert adamantly, “Don’t say that, James!”
Spike flinched and closed his eyes.
“Don’t call me that,” he said, “please.”
“How are you getting along with the other students?” asked Rupert, changing the subject quickly.
“Uh, okay I guess,” not wanting to say he’d barely spoken to any of
them. “Um, was wondering if it’d be okay for me to go out tonight?
There’s this place called The Bronze, everybody’s goin’.”
“Yes, of course you can, it’ll be good for you to go out and socialise a little,” said Rupert, “Do you want a ride to it?”
“No,” said Spike, “I know the way, I…er…got directions, thanks.”
“Okay, give me a ring if you want a ride home,” said Rupert, pleased
that Spike wanted to go out, especially after what he said earlier.
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