Everything seemed so calm. Buffy blinked against the sun, trying to see through her wet eyelashes. She was cold and wet, and at first not entirely sure were she was. Then it all came back to her. How she had climbed the rig, trying to get down when the storm had surprised her, the power and rage of it almost throwing her into the sea. Spike had been there, too, saving her. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but it must have been hours. She was still clinging to the rig, and Spike was pressed against her back. Everything was so quiet; such a contrast to the storm that had roared so loudly that she had thought it would make her deaf.
Buffy could hear him breathing, and then she felt him move.
“We’re in the centre of the storm,” he said in her ear. “If we are going to get down, this is our chance.”
She nodded. She knew she had to let go of the arm he had around her waist, so that he could start the climb first, but when she tried to open her clutched hands it seemed impossible.
“It hurts,” she gasped.
“Yeah, I know,” he answered, and she could hear the strain in his voice as he too tried to open his own hands. Slowly, she managed to do it, letting go of him, and he moved behind her, climbing to her be at her side. She thought nothing could be worse than removing her hands from the rope they had been holding on to for hours, but when she tried to untangle her legs she knew she had been wrong. It felt as if her legs were being pierced by hundreds of needles. Still, she started the climb down. Spike climbed beside her, slowly, keeping an eye on her, making sure she was safe.
They silence that met them when they stumbled inside surprised her. She looked up at the sailors, and their pale faces. Then she saw Giles in the back. He stood up, and looked at them
“Dear Lord,” he exclaimed, and that made all the others start to react to. They gathered around them, and someone handed her a blanket, and someone else went off to get some hot soup for them both. She wrapped the blanket around her, and then she looked up and met Spike’s eyes. He had a blanket wrapped around him too, and his hair was all wet and curly.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Couldn’t just leave you there, could I now?” he asked. “Wouldn’t have been very nice of me.”
He turned around, leaving her behind. Buffy was tempted to shout out after him ‘Since when do you care about being nice?’, but decided not to. Instead, she went over to the bag where she had all her belongings and changed into dry clothes. The storm was starting to pick up again, and she wanted to be back in her hammock before they were in the middle of it again.
The storm seemed to have passed when Buffy woke up. She stared out into the darkness around her, her heart thumping in her chest. She had dreamt of the storm, of the two of them up in the rig, and her screaming out to the whole world that she was a girl. She listened around her to see if anyone was awake, but the only thing she heard was the snores of the other sailors. She got up from her hammock, tiptoeing across the ship until she found him. His hammock was set up almost at the other end of the ship, near one of the canons, and the open canon hatch showed that the storm was indeed over, and that dawn was near.
“Spike?” she whispered, hoping he was awake.
When he didn’t answer, she poked at him, which made him grunt a bit. She tried again, and he sleepily opened an eye.
“What?” he grunted.
“Are you awake?”
“I bloody well am now,” he grunted, sitting up and wiping a hand over his face. “What do you want?”
He looked at her, and suddenly Buffy remembered why she had tried to avoid him before the storm: he was scary. She swallowed and looked away, not sure how she should begin.
“Before,” she tried, “up in the rig…”
“Yes,” he interrupted.
Her head shot up, and she looked at him. His blue eyes were still an icy blue, but she could see a soft glimmer in them. Or at least she thought she did.
“Yes, I heard you,” he said. “Loud and clear.”
She swallowed again. She had hoped that he hadn’t.
“Listen, Ben,” he started, but then he stopped and looked at her again, rising an eyebrow. “That’s not your real name, is it?”
“No,” she admitted.
“Good. I would’ve felt sorry for you if it was. What kind of mother names her baby girl ‘Ben’? What’s your name, then?”
“Buffy.”
He actually laughed, but when he saw her face he did his best to stop, and sat up a bit straighter.
“Right then. Nice name. Listen, Buffy, I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Why not?” she asked, and his eyebrows shot up.
“’Why not?’ Thought you’d be glad, pet. Didn’t think you’d want it all over the ship.”
“I don’t,” she admitted. “I just want to know why you won’t tell anyone. I thought you wanted me off the ship.”
“Changed my mind.”
She looked at him. The bell up on deck rang, declaring that it was time for everyone to wake up and gather up on main deck.
“Thanks,” she said, and with a last look at him she turned around and left.
Where the storm had made her cold to her bones, the strange weather that followed it made her sweat. The sea was perfectly still, and even though they rigged the sails there was no wind to move them. The next day the sky was filled with dark clouds again, and thunder rolled in the distance. They took the sails down again, and Buffy climbed up the rig, finding her favourite place up at the yard. There was some lightning at the horizon, and she could feel a soft breeze against her face. She liked being high up above everyone else, watching them from a distance. She could see Spike making his way over to the rig, and she watched him as he climbed up and joined her. He sat down at the same yard, but on the other side of the mast.
“Thought I’d keep an eye on you in case you forgot to climb down in time again,” he said as they watched a flash of lightning.
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Fine. I just came up to get a better look at that storm, then.”
Buffy kept looking at the storm at the horizon, determined not to look at him again. Even though he had promised he wouldn’t tell anyone that she was a girl, she didn’t trust him.
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that boys don’t pout?” Spike asked, and when she finally turned to look at him he had an amused gleam in his eyes.
“I don’t pout.”
“Fine then, you don’t,” he answered, trying to show patience he didn’t have. “Buffy, I’m not gonna tell anyone about you, but you’re on your way to give it away yourself.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s in all of your movements, pet. The way you hold your head to the side, or the way you smile. It’s definitely in that pout.”
She could feel the hot tears threatening to overflow, and she blinked against the wind to make them go away.
“If anyone finds out, I’m off the ship,” she said. “There won’t be another ship that will take me on. I won’t be able to stay on the sea, and then my life will be over.”
The wind really was increasing now, making her hair blow back over her shoulders. He looked at her.
“We can’t let that happen then, can we, pet? I’ll help you.”
“You’ll help me? How?”
“I’ll help you act less like a girl. I can help you fight a bit better, too. That Giles doesn’t know too much about fighting.”
Buffy laughed.
“You sure showed that the other week,” she said, and he winced.
”Yeah, sorry about that.”
“Don’t say you’re sorry,” she protested. “You wouldn’t have been sorry if I had been a boy.”
“You’re right, I wouldn’t. I’m not sorry. But I’ll teach you how to fight. If you want to?”
She looked at the horizon again. What choice did she have? She wanted her life to be a life on the sea. She nodded.
“That would be great, Spike.”
“Good. It’s settled then.”
He turned around to climb down, then stopped and looked at her again.
“Buffy.”
She turned around and looked back at him.
“Yes?”
“What’s your last name?”
“Summers.”
He smiled.
“Summers, huh? I like that name.”
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