Scream for Me by OKDeanna

Chapter 3

Chapter Notes: Thank you to everyone who has commented to this story thus far! I hope you continue to enjoy it. As always, thank you to Mari (dusty273) for her beta work on this chapter, and on all the previous chapters and stories of mine as well. *hugs*

She said yes.

Spike could scarcely believe it as he hung up the phone and fell back against the worn-out cushions of his couch. He’d actually been expecting Buffy to say no to him. To tell him that they were too good of friends and that she didn’t want to change that. That dating him would risk what they had now and she couldn’t bear the thought of messing that up should things not work out between them.

But she hadn’t said any of that. Instead, she’d shocked the hell out of him by agreeing to call her friends and tell them she was going to ride with him to the party… as his date.

Date. He had a date with Buffy. Tomorrow night. Tomorrow night his plan to woo her into bed, to complete his last dare, would begin.

He swallowed hard, screwing his eyes shut as the image of her trusting face appeared in his mind’s eye. Her hazel eyes, so wide and innocent, staring up at him in confusion, silently begging him to tell her how he could do something dishonest, be someone so different than she thought him to be.

Bleeding Christ, was he ready for this? To change what they had? To be the man that took her to bed and stole her innocence? That made her into a woman?

No, he wasn’t, he thought sitting up and opening his eyelids. But he would be. By tomorrow night, he’d be the man he needed to be for her. The one that she needed him to be. The one that she deserved for him to be.

He might not deserve her, or deserve the trust she placed in him, but he could be good to her. He could show her what she hadn’t yet learned. Teach her what she hadn’t been taught. Shower her with feelings she hadn’t yet felt.

He could do that. He could be that. For her. For Buffy.

Because she needed that. She needed him to be that. And he would be, even if it killed him inside to do it. To keep her in the dark and pretend he wasn’t a bastard for using her to win some stupid, juvenile bet with a bloke who already broke her heart once before.

Tears burned the corner of his eyelids; Spike dug the heels of his hands into the two sockets, giving himself a rough mental shake as he fought to hold his unchecked emotions back. To ignore the pangs of deceit burrowing into his chest.

Tomorrow night everything would change. He knew it. Felt it. And worst of all, he suspected Buffy felt it, too. He’d heard it in her voice, in the subtle hitch of her breathing, in the breathless tone of her words, her barely audible agreement.

Yes. That’s what she said to him. One soft-spoken, three letter word, and it had been powerful enough to unhinge him, to change everything he thought he knew about her, and himself.

Bloody hell! What was he going to do? How could he go through with it when he knew, he knew, she’d sodding hate him when it was over? That he’d lose her when it was done.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t do it. But he would. He had to. Because if he didn’t… he’d lose her anyway. And all because he’d been stupid enough to open his mouth and insert his foot.

Spike dropped his hands from his face and grabbed his ashtray off the end table beside him, hurtling the small, green, ceramic square against the far wall, watching with quick, harsh breaths as it broke apart, its sharp, jagged pieces scattering on the carpeted floor below. “Stupid, sodding bastard. Deserve to bloody lose her. To have her kick your bleedin’ arse to the curb and never look back.”

But would she do it? Would she walk away even after she learned the truth? He wanted to say that she would. Yet, knowing her as he did, he knew that she wouldn’t. That she’d forgive him. Tell him she understood. Even thank him for doing what he did, risking what he risked.

Problem was, though, she’d never look at him the same way again… and that’s what he needed from her. For her to look at him with those trusting hazel eyes and show him how much she cared for him, how much she believed in him.

Because without her, without her trust, her belief and her caring, he would be nothing. Nothing but a shell of a man, a man who had no family to speak of, and no real friends to turn to. Only her. Only Buffy. The last sodding virgin left in his senior class.

Christ, but he didn’t want it to be her. He didn’t want to have to feel this way. To think this way. Not about her. Not about himself. He didn’t want to change things. They didn’t need to change. They were fine the way they were. He and Buffy were fine the way they were.

Fucking Angel. He’d finally done it. He’d found the one thing, the only thing, Spike had as a weakness… and he’d forced him to exploit it. To break it beyond repair. And the fact that he’d saved it for last, the last thing he needed to complete to win, just proved how smart and devious the bastard truly was.

And it didn’t sodding matter that Spike hadn’t done anything yet. Damage was already done, regardless of whether or not he actually went through with it. He’d lied to Buffy the second he asked her out, he knew it and she’d know it, too. And even though she’d likely forgive him for it, he’d never be able to forgive himself. Not once he got a good look at the hurt and betrayal shining in her eyes.

Any way he went, the friendship they had now was over. Sooner or later, he’d be forced to walk away, to let her go and live her life, a life he would no longer have a place in. His own bloody guilt would drive him to become someone he didn’t recognize, didn’t respect and didn’t have a clue how to look at face to face.

He’d truly be his father’s son then, wouldn’t he? He’d become the very man he’d spent the last six years despising, the man he’d spent the last six years pretending didn’t exist, a man who didn’t know him and didn’t deserve to get to know him.

He’d become William Pratt-Giles, son of Rupert Giles, the New York Times best-selling author who changed the world with a book and turned his back on the family who supported him, breaking the heart of a woman who didn’t deserve it, a woman who stood behind him and gave him everything she had to give, everything she had to share, until it killed her. Until loving him, waiting for him, drove her to the brink of insanity and gave her a sickness no doctor on earth could hope to cure.

Buffy thought he should forgive Rupert. To give him a second chance and let him try and make amends for the pain his leaving caused. He doubted she’d feel the same way if she stood in his shoes, if she felt the pain of betrayal as deeply as he felt it, as his mother had felt it.

Spike didn’t want to hurt her that way. Didn’t want to destroy her that way. But a part of him knew that he would. He was too fucked up to tell her the truth, too prideful to back out of the dare Angel gave to him. The only thing he could do was see it through, see it through and wait for her to realize the one thing he’d known from the start.

He wasn’t bloody worth it.

Not her time. Not her caring. Not her anything.

He didn’t deserve to have her in his life and wouldn’t fight for her after she was gone. He couldn’t fight for her. He couldn’t even fight for himself. Oh, he made a damn good show of it, of course. But that’s all it was.

A show.

A big bloody façade that he was so tired of putting on, so tired of fixing up. It took all he had to get out of bed in the mornings, to pretend that he wasn’t living on an inheritance that would run out within the next six weeks. That he wasn’t looking at eviction and a high probability of starving after he graduated and found a job he had no bleeding skills to perform.

His father wanted to help him. To give him money to go to college on and a place to stay that didn’t continually hold a risk of being condemned.

But Spike wasn’t about to take a bloody handout from the man who already ripped his life apart. He’d get by on his own. Somehow. He might not go to college with the rest of his schoolmates, but… college wasn’t everything, was it? There were more important things in life than that, in his life especially.

Like Buffy, and bringing Angel down. Showing everyone that he wasn’t the bloody king of the castle and that he didn’t respect them, didn’t tell them the truth. That he used them, regardless of how much it hurt them, and that he had no qualms at all about destroying their lives if it meant staying on top of the popularity ladder, that huge totem pole they’d all mistakenly placed him on.

It wasn’t jealousy Spike felt for the git, no matter how many times Angel accused him of it. Spike had no need to feel jealous of the bastard. Not really. Because as screwed up as his life might be, he was still okay in it. Maybe not happy, but he wasn’t miserable, either. He still had someone that cared about him, someone that wasn’t there simply because she thought he could get her ahead in life, or that feared she might be disappointing him.

Buffy was there because she wanted to be there. As his friend. A friend he’d asked out and agreed to take to bed on a dare.

Spike shook his head, throwing himself backward on the couch again, drawing in a slow deep breath as his eyes strayed back to the telephone on the table beside him. He should probably call her back. Tell her he’d changed his mind. That he didn’t think the two of them going to the party together was such a good idea after all.

Yet, even as he knew he should do it, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Because he wanted to take her. As a friend, and as a… date. He liked Buffy, a hell of a lot more than he should like her. And dating her, taking her to bed, wasn’t something he hadn’t thought about a million times in the last two years. Before that, even.

He’d always thought her pretty. Always wondered what it’d be like to kiss her and stroke her body with his hands, to feel her long, golden blonde tresses tickling the bare skin of his chest as she rode him.

He was a man after all, and he wasn’t blind. He knew what she hid beneath her clothes. Had felt it rub against him whenever she hugged him, or let him hug her. He might not know it in the sense that he wanted to know it, not yet at least. But it hadn’t stopped him from dreaming about it, fantasizing about it, about her.

The dare was a means to an end, a way to win his bet with Angel and force the wanker to admit the truth about his actions, about his lies. But going through with it, taking the dare and completing the bet… that wasn’t just about winning and showing Angel he wasn’t top dog. Not anymore at least.

Because the second he’d found out it was Buffy, that the girl he had to sleep with was his best friend, a part of him had been relieved, even excited about it. It gave him the chance to do something he’d never dared to do on his own.

Admit that he wanted her. That he wanted his best friend. In his bed, in his arms, in his life. Maybe she wouldn’t stay there forever. Maybe his actions would drive her away for good. He didn’t know, but he couldn’t not take the chance.

Buffy taught him that. To risk things… even if it scared the daylights out of him. Because to risk things meant showing the world he was alive, that he wasn’t going to let life beat him down, no matter how much the fear in his brain told him that he should.

He owed her so much. More than she knew. More than he would ever admit to her. Yet, this dare, it gave him a chance, a chance to show her how much she meant to him. Even if it drove them apart in the end, at least he’d know he given her something back, shown her something she hadn’t known before, about herself, and about him, too.

Maybe it was selfish. To use a dare, a bet, to make a move on her. But without it, he’d never risk it, risk her. She simply meant too much to him to do that. Yet now he had no choice to do it, and he wasn’t sorry about it. Not really. If anything, he was excited… and a little scared.

But being scared was good, wasn’t it? It meant he felt something. That he wasn’t as numb to the world as he’d once been, before she’d come into his life and saved him from the hell he’d been about to fall into.

He doubted she knew just how close he’d come to saying to hell with it all and destroying himself, burying himself into the bottom of a bottle with every intention to never resurface. Then again, she had to know, didn’t she? She’d been the one to find him after all, passed out in the street in front of her house, completely oblivious to the carload of drunken teenage joy riders barreling down the road toward him.

If she hadn’t managed to roll him out of the way and onto the sidewalk, he had no doubt in his mind he wouldn’t have lived to see the next morning. But she had done it. She had saved him, saved him from something a hell of a lot worse than simple death.

He prayed that she knew that. He feared that she didn’t.

By the time the next night rolled around, Buffy was a nervous wreck over agreeing to go to the party with Spike. She’d glanced at herself in the full length mirror hanging on the back of her bathroom door at least a dozen times, angling her body this way and that, desperate to get the full effect of her outfit.

It looked good, she had to admit. The off-shoulder, black satin top was a great buy, as were the skinny jeans and black peep-toe shoes. Her mother had been right when she suggested she buy them all last weekend. It was the perfect outfit for tonight. Not too dressy and not too casual.

She ran a hand over the fitted, pleated hem at her waist, loving how slender and curvy it made her hips look. And the ruffled line of sequins at the top… it was stylish enough to gain notice and flirty enough to look natural.

Spike would love it. She hoped.

Pulling on her antique cross necklace, black beaded bracelet and small, black hoop earrings, she headed out of the bathroom and into her bedroom to grab her clutch purse off the bed, ignoring the way her hand shook as she lifted it from his resting place. She wasn’t planning on taking it inside the party with her, but a girl never knew when she might need something out of it and lucky for her, Spike was the understanding sort. He’d get it from the car if she really needed or wanted it.

That was the thing about going to a party with Spike. She could always count on him to be there if she needed something, whether it was a safe drink, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to bitch in, or just to fetch her favorite purse from his car. He never disappointed her… and she knew tonight would be more of the same, regardless of the fact that he wanted to change the nature of their relationship.

She was still a bit confused about why he’d wanted to go as a couple tonight. He’d never even hinted at being interested in her before. Okay, so yeah, there had been the occasional comment or two from him, mostly about her penchant for wearing too revealing clothing, but… he’d never acted as if he actually meant the words he spoke, or that he wanted to reenact their one and only drunken encounter in his apartment last year. An encounter he swore he didn’t even remember, and maybe he didn’t. Then again, maybe he did and just hadn’t been able to bring himself to admit it to her.

A chime sounded from the floor below, her mother’s cheery voice echoing through the foyer as she greeted the man that stepped inside the house. Buffy’s stomach rolled as she heard her name being called, and she took a deep, calming breath, praying she didn’t make a fool of herself as she flipped off her bedroom light and slowly made her way down the stairs and toward her date.

“’ello, pet,” he said, his smile widening as he took in the sight of her on her way down. She felt the intensity of his gaze sweep over her body from head to toe and was amazed to keep her response to only a slight warming of her cheeks, instead of the full body shiver she felt going off inside. Spike’s grin grew, obviously recognizing something in her actions, though he chose not to comment on it. “You look great, Buffy. Dynamite, in fact.”

She smiled at him, albeit briefly, coming to a stop at the foot of the stairs and finally let her gaze have free rein over his appearance. He’d dressed all in black, of course, but instead of his usual fitted t-shirt, he’d gone with a long-sleeved black button up, the top of which was open at least two buttons, revealing the barest hint of sun-bronzed skin and a black and white beaded surfer choker around his neck.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she murmured, tilting her head sideways, studying him. “Is that shirt and necklace new? I don’t remember seeing you wear them before.”

He shrugged. “Been in my arsenal for a while. Just never had occasion to don them b’fore t’night.” He winked at her and reached out, taking her free hand in his. “You ready to go, love? Promised everyone we’d get there early so I could help set up the sound system out back.”

She nodded, saying a quick good night to her mom and then followed him out the door, wondering if the butterflies in her stomach were due to her surprise at his attire or the fact that he’d yet to drop her hand from his grasp.

When they got to his car, he opened the passenger side door for her, but not before using his arm to block her from sliding inside. “Hang on a second, Buffy, I…” he drew in a deep breath then blew it out slowly, “I have something I want to say to you b’fore we leave.”

She could smell the woodsy scent of his cologne and feel the heat of his arm through the thin fabric of his shirt, warming her forearm and sending another rush of nerves skittering up her spine. God! What was wrong with her? This was Spike, her best friend! She shouldn’t be so nervous around him. They knew each other too well for that, didn’t they?

She shook her head, licking her lips and a quiet gasp escaped her throat as his gaze lowered to her mouth, his own tongue shooting out to wet his lips. “W-what did you… w-want to say?”

He smiled, looking back up at her, letting go of her hand to reach up and gently cup her face, his warm palm a familiar comfort against her overheated skin. “I want to tell you how sorry I am again ‘bout yesterday. I know I was bein’ a jerk, cancellin’ out on takin’ you to the mall after promisin’ you I would and everythin’ and I… hope you’ll let me make it up to you t’night.”

Make it up to her? How did he plan on doing that exactly? They were going to a party not the mall. “I don’t… understand. How are you going to—?”

One of his fingers landed on her lips, stalling the rest of the words in her throat. “Got a li’l surprise for you, at the party. A way to say thank you for always bein’ there when I need you to be, and for puttin’ up with me even though we both know what a job it is to do sometimes.” He winked at her, moving his finger until he rested it below her top lip.

“W-what k-kind of surprise?” she asked, mesmerized by the look in his eyes and the slow drag of his finger across her lips and down her chin.

“The kind ‘m not gonna tell you about jus’ now.” He smiled at her again, dropping his hand from her face and stepped back, motioning for her to finally get inside the car. “Hop in, pet. We’ve got places to be and people to see, yeah?”

Buffy did as he asked, waiting until he’d shut her car door before placing her hand on her stomach and letting out the breath she’d been holding. She drew in another shaky breath, swallowing the lump in her throat and praying the intake of oxygen finally calmed her rattled nerves, and turned her head to watch Spike climb into the car seat next to her, knowing as he did that she wasn’t just dealing with her friend anymore. She was dealing with the guy every girl in school wanted to bed… including her, more than once.

Submit a Review!