Driving to Distraction - Chapter 4

Buffy smiled to herself as she sat on the end of the bed, staring at the muted television. The walls of the motel they had chosen to stay in for the night were paper-thin and she could hear Spike in his room next to hers.

He was singing.

She couldn’t make out the words, but she could hear him singing along as he played with his guitar. What he’d told her in the car was true, he did sing a lot better than he hummed and she wished she could hear him clearer.

Looking at the disgustingly beige wall that separated her from Spike, she just listened to him singing, either oblivious to people being able to hear him, or not caring that they could.

She thought about their earlier conversation and how badly he apparently needed to talk about things that were on his mind. The car journey after they had shared a little slice of their life story had been more pleasant and had even seen her agreeing to go out with him tonight to find something to eat in the little town they had stopped in.

Zoning back in on his singing, she heaved a long sigh and let the smile fade from her face.

She wished she could do what he was doing, move across country to no job, no home and just do something she loved. She’d always wanted to be a singer, had spent countless years at school in the choir and had always been a part of recitals.

Picking up the suitcase she’d brought in with her, she opened the latches and pulled the lid up. She rifled through the CDs she had packed in it, walked over to the little stereo and put one in. Moving around the room in time with the music, she sang along to the song and figured out what to wear out into town.

Grabbing some clothes, she waltzed into the bathroom, still singing along to the song on the stereo.

Spike stepped out of his room and took a long deep breath of earthy night air. He lowered his head as he heard the music coming from the next room and let his eyes slide across to her door.

Standing outside her room, he glanced down at his watch and realised that he was fifteen minutes early. Shrugging, he pushed her door open and invited himself in.

When he heard her singing in the shower, he stopped dead and a smile weaved its way across his lips. He eyed the bathroom door and seeing it still open a crack, he resisted the temptation to pay her back for last night. Instead, he sat down at the end of the bed and stared at the muted television, completely unaware of sitting in exactly the same spot and manner that she’d been not minutes before.

Lying back on her bed, he stared at the ceiling and listened to her singing along in the bathroom. She had a good voice, a little out of practice but it was good, and he got the feeling she’d sung before.

As the shower switched off, he remained lying on her bed waiting for her to appear. He smiled as she walked through the bathroom door, a towel wrapped around her body and her hair roughly pinned up to keep it dry.

He noted with curiosity that she didn’t seem at all surprised to see him there, or at all embarrassed.

Buffy blushed a little and desperately tried to stifle it so she wouldn’t look like some innocent little girl in front of him.

Spike watched her cheeks tint a deep rose pink and smiled internally. Maybe she was a little embarrassed, but his staring at her probably wasn’t helping matters.

He drew his eyes away from her and fixed them on the ceiling again.

“Quite the little choir girl, aren’t you, pet?” He glanced over at her and saw the colour of her cheeks darken.

“You’re one to talk. It was your singing that got me going.” Buffy picked up her make-up and hair things as Spike smirked at her. “Won’t keep you waiting long.”

Spike just watched her disappear into the bathroom and sighed. Closing his eyes, he lost track of time as he waited for her and just relaxed on her bed. He could smell her all around him—she smelled beautiful, like sunshine and warm sand, like everything good.

As Buffy walked out of the bathroom, she wondered if he was sleeping. He was lying on her bed, a little smile teasing his lips and his hands resting behind his head.

She was about to say something when he opened his eyes and looked over at her. He ran them down the length of her body as he openly checked her out.

She kept a tight leash on the blush that wanted to creep onto her cheeks. She couldn’t keep letting him affect her like that, couldn’t keep blushing all the time or he was really going to get the idea that she was some little girl and not a woman.

Sitting up, Spike ignored how dry his mouth had gone when he’d first laid eyes on her and just smiled approvingly.

So she was pretty, beautiful even, it didn’t mean anything to him. He was sick of playing the fool for girls, tired of getting his heart torn into a million pieces, tired of everything.

When she smiled broadly and walked toward him, he was captured by the way she was looking at him, like there was something going on between them that he wasn’t aware of having happened.

He stood up sharply and just held his hand out to one side, intimating the door.

“Shall we?”

Buffy nodded and smiled. She didn’t know what had possessed her to put on the little red dress she was wearing. Her hands had just chosen it and her mind had gone with it. As he walked out of the door in front of her, she gave herself a chance to look him over.

Even he’d dressed up.

In place of his black t-shirt was a black silk shirt that had some kind of pattern on it that she couldn’t quite make out. His hair was tousled—spiked and wild to match his personality—and it suited him.

He looked good. She didn’t think it was possible for him to look any hotter than he already did, but he’d managed to prove her wrong tonight.

And suddenly this felt very much like a date.


Buffy kept sneaking glances at him as they walked into town together. He didn’t look at her once. In fact, his eyes remained suspiciously locked on anything but her, as though he was avoiding looking at her at all costs.

Even trashcans appeared to be more interesting to him.

She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself, ignoring how negative it made her body language toward him. She didn’t know what she was expecting of him, or even if she really wanted his attention, but the way he was avoiding her made her head hurt with questions.

Spike looked up at the stars and frowned. He knew that she was upset at him for some reason, he just didn’t know what. She looked as though she was hugging herself protectively as they walked together, and she wasn’t protecting herself from the cold that was for sure.

As a little warmly lit restaurant caught his eye, he smiled, glad to have the excuse he needed to break the silence and look at her without feeling as though he was checking her out.

Did she think it was easy not to look at her? She was radiant, breathtakingly beautiful in that dress with her hair all twirled in loose waves, but he couldn’t look at her.

If he looked at her then part of him was admitting that he felt something, that she really stirred this warm feeling in the pit of his stomach and in his chest.

And he didn’t need that, not again, not ever.

“Fancy it?” He pointed to the restaurant over the road from them.

Buffy followed his finger and smiled at the sight of the small Mexican restaurant. As she started towards it, her eyes ran over the exterior, and she noted how intimate it looked with the flickering candle glow lights and small tables.

And how much more it made this seem like a date.

Her stomach squirmed with nerves and she found herself immediately looking over at Spike. She smiled slightly as she found his eyes on her and saw how dark they were, as though he couldn’t hide the passion she was stirring in him.

At least part of her hoped it was passion she was stirring. It was either that or he really liked Mexican food.

Following Buffy into the restaurant, Spike felt a little uneasy as he saw the small round tables that were each set with deep blood red table cloths and a candle in a red lantern. He smiled nervously at the waitress as she asked Buffy something and then followed the two of them as they weaved through the patrons toward a free table.

Looking around the room, he shot a smile to the Mariachi band that were playing in the corner and began to wonder if this was such a good idea.

Buffy couldn’t miss the stark contrast that she was faced with when she compared this beautiful little restaurant, with its low lighting and romantic atmosphere, to the bright lights and greasy food of last nights roadside café.

She couldn’t help looking startled as Spike pulled the chair out for her and she sat with as much grace as she could manage when her nerves were making her insides leap around so badly.

Spike fidgeted with the chair as he pushed it back in under her and then realised what he’d done.

It wasn’t like he even knew the girl and she had him acting all chivalrous.

This was wrong in so many ways and no matter how many times he told himself that he had to disconnect from her for his own sake, he found he just couldn’t.

Either that or he wouldn’t—he didn’t want to.

Buffy smiled broadly at him as he seated himself opposite her and then promptly lost herself in the menu, buying herself time to think about what he’d just done. She racked her brain to see if anyone had done something similar for her in the past and was upset when she found that no one had.

Chivalry was low on the ground in her circle of friends.

“I think I’ll have the fajitas. My mom always made the best fajitas. I can’t get enough of them.” Buffy grinned across the table at him and was pleasantly surprised when he smiled back at her—it was warm, real.

“Fajitas it is then.” Spike leaned back in his chair slightly and just looked at her, watching her as she toyed with her cutlery and then ordered their food.


Sipping his glass of red wine, Spike stared at the girl opposite him as she babbled on happily about things he didn’t quite understand. He knew she was talking about college, and by the sounds of things, she was going to be studying some seriously heavy subjects, but beyond that, she was just saying words that went in one of his ears and straight out of the other.

He didn’t care what she was saying. The bottle of wine she’d shared with him had apparently loosened her tongue a little and he wasn’t even sure if she knew what she was saying anymore.

He didn’t care what she was saying because he was completely lost in studying her.

She wasn’t the only one that wine loosened up.

Ignoring the majority of his food, he tilted his head to one side slightly and narrowed his eyes as he watched her. She was mesmerising, the way her eyes sparkled in the candlelight, her cheeks rosy with her smiles and her shiny lips enticing him.

He smiled as she wrinkled her nose, pulling a face at something he didn’t hear her say and then almost laughing as she remembered something else that was a part of whatever she had been saying.

She had such wonderful nuances.

As her eyes widened and she said ‘oh’, it hit him that she was way out of his league. She was another galaxy away from him. The money types like her rarely bestowed their giggles and warm smiles on blokes like him—unless they were trying to get back at their daddy for something.

What did he care anyway?

He didn’t want her attention, didn’t want her pretty smiles and little touches—didn’t want to feel special.

Or was it that he felt he didn’t deserve her? He’d done nothing worthy of the sweet look she was giving him as she spoke and played with her food. He’d taint her, ruin her life with his somehow. He didn’t know how but he would.

It was safer this way, but safer for who? Her or himself? Was he protecting her, or was he protecting the fragile remains of his heart?

He reasoned that either way it was safer to keep his distance from her, or easier at least.

He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose as his head began to pound with his heartbeat.

Buffy stopped what she was saying and looked at him. “You okay? I’m babbling aren’t I? I do that sometimes.”

Spike looked up to see her face warm and full of concern, as though she’d done something wrong. He tried to convince himself that she had, that the riotous pain in his head was her fault. This was what he got for letting himself like her.

“Just a headache.” He rubbed his temples for emphasis. “It’s probably the bloody candles and tiredness.”

“We should get some rest anyway.” Buffy blinked slowly as she looked at him and then signalled the waitress. When she came over, Buffy smiled broadly. “Can I get the bill, please?”

Spike leaned against the table, supporting his cheek on his upturned palm and stifling a yawn. He tried to bury the feelings that were running amuck inside him but every time he got hold of them, his eyes betrayed him and moved to rest on the girl sitting opposite him and they started all over again.

Buffy just smiled at him as she found him watching her. She wasn’t sure what was wrong with him but it definitely didn’t seem like a headache. She told herself that he was probably tired from all the driving and that he’d been quiet for most of the night, seemingly happy just to sit there giving her looks that stirred unwanted fires in the depths of her heart.

He had a way of expressing everything with his eyes that was beyond her comprehension and tonight he just seemed to be looking at her in such a way that she felt confused about her feelings. Did he like her? Not in a ‘lets be friends’ kind of way, but in a ‘I’d like to kiss you now’ way?

In his eyes, he’d showed her such emotions all night that she’d felt as though she was drowning in her own feelings and now he seemed so distant, as though he’d switched something off inside him and a vast gulf of cold emptiness had appeared between them as a result.

“Thanks.” Buffy smiled at the waitress as they handed her the bill and she instantly placed her card down onto it and gave it back.

It took Spike a few seconds to realise what was happening. “Wait a minute. You’re not paying for my dinner.”

Buffy noted the disbelief in his voice that was tinted with a little anger and she just smiled as she watched the waitress walk away. “Yes, I am and it’s too late now to argue about it. You’ve been doing all that driving, the least I can do to repay you is buy you dinner.”

Spike just looked her straight in the eye and held her gaze until the waitress appeared with a slip for her to sign. As Buffy bent her head to look at the piece of paper she was about to sign, he considered jokingly asking her for a kiss as repayment.

He choked slightly on that idea and drank down the rest of his wine to give him something else to focus on.

Xander always told him that a girl once said to him that jokes were how the truth is told.

Spike really hoped that it wasn’t true.


Buffy glanced over at Spike as they walked back toward the motel. He had his hands jammed into his jeans pockets and his shoulders hunched up. He couldn’t have looked more pensive if he’d tried.

Leaving him to his thoughts, she took to idly perusing the area they were staying in and wondering just how far they would end up driving tomorrow. They were making great time right now, covering a lot more distance each day than she’d thought they would manage. At this rate, she’d be in Sunnydale early.

There was another reason for leaving Spike with his thoughts, a deeper reason. She didn’t want him to go back to being rude to her. Tonight he’d been nice to her. His little derisive comments had been kept to a minimum as he let her talk about anything and everything.

She wanted him to stay that way.

Stopping outside her door, she smiled nervously as he turned to face her and took his hands out of his pockets. She stood in silence for a few seconds before finally finding her voice.

“Night, then.” She went to move but found herself frozen to the spot as he responded.

He paused for a moment and then raised his hand up and brought it toward her, tucking her hair behind her ear and almost smiling as he did it. “Sweet dreams, love.”

Not knowing how to react, Buffy just smiled and pushed her door open. Shutting it behind her, she walked to the bed and flopped down onto it, letting out her breath in a sigh and wondering just what the hell he’d been thinking about all night and what had been going on in his head when he’d said goodnight.

Spike resisted his desire to slam his door shut as he walked into his motel room. He just let it click shut and then walked away from it, feeling agitated as he thought about what he’d done. He moved back toward the door and put his hand on the doorknob before snorting dismissively and moving away from it.

He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and breathed in deeply.

He paused as he realised his fingers smelt of her perfume, her sweet intoxicating fragrance.

Spike frowned and stopped what he was doing.

What the hell had gotten into him? Did he really like this girl?

He had half a mind to go bang her door down and kiss her when she answered it.

The other half reasoned that this was stupid. He was just susceptible after the break up with Drusilla and he would be feeling this way toward anything remotely pretty right now. Buffy wasn’t special.

Heaving a frustrated sigh, he walked into the bathroom and put the shower on.

And this time he made sure it was cold.

He needed to cool the fire that Buffy had ignited in his veins.

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