Chapter 1 * Chapter 2 * Chapter 3 * Chapter 4 * Chapter 5 * Chapter 6 * Chapter 7 * Chapter 8 * Chapter 9 Chapter 10 * Chapter 11 * Chapter 12 * Chapter 13 * Chapter 14 * Chapter 15 * Chapter 16 * Chapter 17 * Chapter 18 Chapter
19 * Chapter 20 * Chapter 21 * Epilogue
Chapter 1
The ballroom was filled
with joyful couples and businessmen trying to network with other attendants of
the party. The black-tie affair was being held at the prestigious Beverly Hills
Hotel. It was New Year’s Eve, a time for celebration, but Buffy Summers
couldn’t be more frustrated and irate. Glaring at the dance floor, she watched
as a couple danced passed her table once again. Grinding her teeth together,
she tried to ignore the older man holding the younger woman in his arms.
"Buf, sweetie, just ignore him," Xander Harris tried to pry her
attention away from the dance floor. Xander and Buffy met during their sophomore
year in high school when Buffy transferred from a boarding school into the
Sunnydale Public School System. Buffy’s father, Hank Summers, owned a brokerage
firm that had fallen on hard times forcing her extravagant education to an end.
Hank was forced to sell the business to a larger company but stayed on as a
senior partner. Buffy and Xander became almost instant friends. After
graduation, Xander enrolled himself in a business college and interned at
Buffy’s father’s company. After he finished at the top of his class, the firm
hired Xander on permanently.
Buffy swiveled her head
back to her companion, "I’m sorry Xander, it’s just that I can’t believe
he is so blatant about it." Buffy totally turned her body away from the
dance floor, deciding to totally ignore her father’s philandering with someone
probably younger than herself. Paying attention to her friend and the occupants
at her table, Buffy forgot about her father and started to enjoy the evening.
Willow, another high school friend, and her husband, Daniel Osborne (Oz) sat
across the table. Willow left Sunnydale to go to college on the east coast,
earning a degree in psychology and woman’s studies. After she came back to
Sunnydale, the firm was hiring human resource people and snatched the talented
girl up. Oz and Willow were expecting their first child in seven months.
"Tell you what,
Bufster. Once they leave the dance floor we’ll go out and cut a rug."
Xander knew Buffy loved to dance. It must be a by-product of her skating. Ever
since they had known her, Buffy had been an avid ice skater. Recently, she
started to move up in the ranks of the local ice skating competition.
Buffy’s eyes lit up with
the promise of dancing but decided to tease her good friend, "Cut a rug?
You are such a dork!" She slapped his shoulder and giggled.
"Hey, stop
laughing, I’m a good dancer." Xander puffed out his tuxedo-clad chest in
hopes of intimidation. Buffy smiled and straightened his bow tie.
"By definition
anyone that uses the phrase ‘cut a rug’ cannot dance." Xander sat back in his
chair, a little emasculated that Buffy didn’t think he was cool. "Hey,
you’re still my cool Xander!" Buffy tried to smooth his feathers and
patted his shoulder.
~*~*~
Behind the head table, a
pair of cool ocean blue eyes watched the activities below him. His new
employees seemed to be having fun with their spouses and dates. William
"Spike" Winthrop sat back in his chair observing the partygoers. The
past thirty days have been literally a living hell. Not only had his mistress,
Drusilla, left him, but he also had gone into the final stages of taking over
Mercenary and Associates, a brokerage firm. A few weeks ago, he’d uncovered
money missing from the brokerage’s books. Finally, last night he tracked down
the trail to one of the senior partners. Tugging at his infernal too-tight
bowtie, he grabbed his whiskey and swallowed it down. He watched most of
workers sitting at the tables discussing families and the local sports teams.
He sighed, slightly jealous that he couldn’t sit down at the bar and discuss those
trivial things. It’s been so long since Spike has been able to go to a local
pub and watch football. Raking his eyes over the crowd, Spike noticed the
beauty he’d been studying all night. Her eyes narrowed as she looked out on the
dance floor, probably upset that her date wasn’t dancing with her. Smirking, he
wondered if what Harris would do if he asked his date to dance. The junior
executive impressed Spike from the very moment they met. Unlike most in the
office, he was sharp as a whip and knew the company inside and out.
The blond’s eyes pivoted
to the couple now exiting the dance floor. Her eyes met the old man’s and she
looked away. Crestfallen, the man continued to direct his dancing partner back
to her table. Hank Summers, one the previous owners of Mercenary, helped his
secretary back to her seat. There was a rumor going around that Hank has had an
affinity for his secretaries and had gotten the last one pregnant. Already
married, Hank quickly got rid of the bastard child and secretary in hopes of
saving his marriage. The young blond must be a jilted lover of his, gauging by
the looks she was sending his way. Deciding not to go after sloppy seconds,
Spike ordered another whiskey from a passing waitress and continued his perusal
of the crowd. He noticed that Harris now escorted his date onto the dance
floor. The awkward first few steps almost made Spike smile, this girl was not
well suited to the young manager. He was clumsy while she was graceful. His two
left feet stepped onto her perfect ones. Smiling, like nothing was wrong, the
blond carefully assisted him into the right dance moves. The girl had class,
Spike had to give her that. Maybe she was worth a go as she was very much
unlike the women he had seen Hank woo.
Losing track of the
twirling couple on the dance floor, Spike looked around the tables again. Hank
was standing behind his secretary staring out on the dance floor, following the
movements of Harris and his date. Hank didn’t look too happy as he watched the
couple. Smirking, Spike got up from the head table and walked over the older
man. "Hank, there you are mate!" Spike came up behind him and slapped
him on his shoulder in a faux show of comradely. Spike’s English cockney accent
slipped through. Even though Spike was raised by wealthy parents and had an
excellent education at the finest Oxford schools, he made his accent rougher.
He found that it disarmed his opponents in the boardroom and out.
"William! Great
party, I must say." Hank turned his eye from the dance floor and greeted
his new boss with enthusiasm. "You remember my secretary, Shelly?"
Hank motioned at the sitting woman. The woman could be considered anything but
classy. Her makeup was overdone and her dress was to low cut. How ever did Hank
find these girls?
"Good evening, Shelly."
Spike smiled down at the young woman, but he noticed Hanks attention went back
to the dance floor. Looking up, Spike located the blond again. "Beautiful,
isn’t she?"
"What?" Hank
looked back at Spike. "Oh yes, very beautiful." His attention went
back to the dance floor.
"Who is she?"
"Uh, no one of
importance." Hank dismissed the inquiry. He turned completely around,
blocking the dancers from his line of sight.
"Must be someone
the way you keep looking at her and the way she looked at you while you were
dancing." Spike saw the color drain out of Hank’s face. Sputtering, Hank
didn’t know how to introduce who Buffy was: a daughter or an enemy?
Shelly stood up and
moved to the other side of Hank, "She’s Buffy." Spike’s eyebrows rose
in question. "Buffy Summers, Hank’s daughter." Understanding filled
Spike’s eyes as his gazed moved once more to the woman dancing around the room.
The deadly glares she was sending Hank’s way weren’t those of a jealous lover,
but of an irate daughter.
Chapter 2
Back at the head table,
Spike watched Harris and Buffy make their way back to the table. Uninterested
in the male, Spike focused his attention on the blond. Her light pink cocktail
dress seemed to float behind her as she made her way towards Willow Osborne and
her husband. He watched her golden tresses bounce behind her, like she was in a
shampoo commercial. He watched their conversation and the way her face became
animated and amused. He almost could see the twinkle in her eyes all the way on
the other side of the room. He admired her perky nose and bee stung lips. Her
skin glowed as she talked to the other woman. All too soon, Harris came back
with new drinks and sat down, blocking Spike’s view. Getting up from his
vantage point, Spike moved around the room, maybe he could figure out a way to
get an introduction.
Thirty minutes passed
and Spike was no closer to his object of affection. Four times he was stopped
by someone wanting a bit of his time to talk about business. Every time Spike
bit his lip wanting to say, "It’s new Year’s Eve. Stop with the
work!" Twice a single female would cross his path, in hopes of enticing
him, but they just annoyed him. Finally, he was within hearing range. Her
laughter rang out clearly and melodically, making Spike close his eyes and savor
the noise. Never had a woman entered his being so thoroughly and he hadn’t even
touched her or talked to her. He stepped closer to the group at the table,
waiting for an introduction, but none was forthcoming. The foursome was so
wrapped up in their discussion of the latest Survivor show that they didn’t
even notice the bleached white hair of their benefactor. He inhaled, letting
the whisper of her scent pass through him. Such sweetness deserved words of
poetry written about it. Kicking himself out of his romantic musings, Spike
almost missed the man approaching the table.
"Buffy, dear."
Hank said, getting her attention. The occupants at the table looked towards the
approaching man.
Buffy’s head snapped up,
eyes glaring at the intruder. "How dare you come over here."
"Sweetheart,
please. I understand why you are upset, but…" Hank held his hands up as if
to surrender. Oz stood up, prepared to forcefully move Hank away from Buffy.
They all knew of her tumultuous past with her father and didn’t want her hurt
again.
"There is no
excuse, Hank. I don’t want to hear it anymore." Buffy’s green eyes blazed
into a deeper shade with yellow highlights forming around her irises, making
her eyes almost brown. Her skin turned from a glowing gold to a more heated
color. Red rose in her cheeks as she tried to stave off her anger and
humiliation.
"Buffy, please.
Let’s go somewhere where we can…" Hank moved forward as if to grab her
arm, but she stood up and put distance between her and the wretched man. Xander
stood up and Oz came forward, ready to extract Buffy from the situation. Willow
sat back, holding her hands against her precious belly, trying to protect it
from the harsh words.
"What? Where we can
what? Talk? You finally want to talk to me?" Her arms crossed over her chest,
making Spike squirm in appreciation of her cleavage. He imagined her skin
heated from his touch, writhing underneath him. Lost in his erotic world, he
shook his head out of it and listened once more. "I wonder why? I’m sure
it has to do with you not wanting me to tell Mom about the latest bimbo you are
sporting. Don’t worry, dear old dad, I wouldn’t do that to her. She doesn’t
need me to break her heart. She has you for that." Hank looked resigned
and started to back away. Xander and Oz backed down. The threat to their friend
has been alleviated.
This was Spike’s chance
to meet this vision. It would be difficult to wiggle his way in through Xander
and Willow, but with Hank being senior management, it would seem appropriate.
Before Hank could totally turn around, Spike came up to the little group.
"Is this a private party, or can anyone join?" His eyebrow rose in
appreciation as he finally came with in touching distance of the blond woman.
She was even more beautiful up close than from afar.
"Will," Hank
stuttered out. "I’m sorry if we got a little loud, we were having a family
discussion and…"
Spike waved the
explanation off, not breaking eye contact with the green-eyed beauty. "No
need, Hank. I just came over to see what this get together is all about. Now,
who is this beauty?" No one from the office noticed the change in his
accent from cockney to more upper class. He noticed the slight increase of her
breath as he talked about her.
Hank turned to look at
his stricken daughter. Her eyes were wide and lips parted slightly as she
looked at Spike. "This is my daughter, Buffy."
Spike stepped forward
and took Buffy’s slight hand in his. Bending down, he bestowed a soft kiss on
her hand. "I am William Winthrop. Glad to meet your acquaintance." Spike
noted the surprised expression on her face and the slight tremble of her
fingers as he kissed her hand. Smirking to himself, he reluctantly let go of
her warm inviting skin. "Hank, I was hoping I might steal away your
daughter for a dance." Spike watched as Harris stepped forward as if to
stop the dance, but Buffy put her hand up to stop him.
"No need to ask
Hank’s permission, Mr. Winthrop. I would love a dance." With that, Buffy
left Hank, Xander, and Spike staring after her as she walked slowly to the
dance floor. Almost bouncing on the balls of his feet, Spike headed after her.
Her hips swayed with every step she made, like a golden jaguar stalking through
the forest, instead of a woman walking through the crowd of tables towards the
dance floor.
He caught up to her just
as she came to the edge of the dance floor. "Want to tell me what went on
back there, love?" Spike stepped forward to take her body into his arms.
Her hand slid up his well-toned arms to rest on his shoulder as her other hand
took his.
Buffy looked up into his
blue eyes, startled at this question and term of endearment. Tempted to reply
with a scathing remark, Buffy decided to play nice with this man. He was Xander
and Willow’s boss and anything she might say could be used against them.
"It was just a family squabble, Mr.Winthrop, that got out of
control." She looked away, afraid he might see the pain in her eyes.
Spike was amazed that
this little spitfire could go from ninety to zero in five seconds flat. Her
eyes returned the sparkling emerald green and her skin returned to glowing
instead of heated. She felt perfect in his arms. If he could move closer
without appearing to have ulterior motive, he could rest his chin on her soft
head, smelling her hair. As it was, he could smell her intoxicating perfume,
shifting his libido into hyper-drive. Instead of thinking about her and what he
could do, he decided to get her talking. Maybe conversation as a distraction
would allow him no embarrassment when the song was over and he would have to take
her back to her date. Her soft voice sounded so good when it was directed his
way. "So, pet. Tell me a bit about yourself." Spike looked over at
the table where she sat. Hank and Xander were watching ardently as they twirled
around the dance floor. A look of longing was plastered on Xander’s face while
a grim look was set in place on Hanks. Willow and her husband sat quietly at
the table, trying not to stare at the dancing blond couple. Other partiers
couldn’t help but watch the striking couple on the dance floor. The image of
pale white surrounded by gold struck a beautiful combination.
Buffy looked up again at
his question. He certainly was charming and his accent was so sexy.
"Nothing much to tell." She looked over his shoulder at Willow who
gave her thumbs up sign. Instead of being encouraged, she spat out, "You
know my name and that I am Hank’s daughter, what else is there?" She felt
his hand shift lower on her waist, almost unnoticeably, but it did shift. She
looked into his eyes and saw something she’d seen before… lust. Growing up, she
saw that look in Hank’s eyes when he looked at other women. Indignant, Buffy
tried to be pleasant for Xander and Willow’s sake. She knew of men like him,
her father being one. It seemed they viewed a woman as property and as a sex
object, never as her own person. When she stepped forward, she could feel his
erection. Almost fuming, Buffy gritted her teeth, intent on finishing the dance
without cutting Mr. Winthrop down to size.
"Oh, I am sure
there is more, love. Like what do you do for a living? Is that Harris bloke
someone special to you? And, why do you hate your father so much?" Her
head snapped up again, and her eyes narrowed. He saw the sparks of yellow
forming around her irises.
"Mr. Winthrop, my
relationship to my father is none of your business. And if you would be so
kind, I don’t feel very well and would like to go home." She stepped away
and ended the dance. Turning on her heel, she moved through the sea of dancers
back to her table. Xander grabbed her wrap and purse from her chair, ready for
his friend. Stalking past her father she said few words to Willow and Oz and
then continued out into the night. All Spike could do was stand there with
cold, empty arms and watch the spitfire leave.
New Years came and went.
Everyone’s back at work and the status quo continues. Spike picked up all the
latest gossip from his secretary, Harmony, and found out that Hank was still
indeed married, but continued to flaunt his infidelity around the company and
community. His wife, Joyce, was considered a non-issue because she was put into
a long-term care facility. A few years back, she developed a brain tumor that
demanded surgery. After coming back from it, she never was the same again. Talk
about her being crazy and irrational riddled the community, embarrassing Hank
His "crazy" wife would not ruin his reputation and therefore was put
into the facility. The mystery about Buffy was a little harder to understand.
Harmony went to high school with the girl and described her as a freak without
any friends, certainly not the beauty that met him on New Year’s Eve. Little
details of Buffy being an ice skater and competing in local competitions didn’t
escape Spike as Harmony gushed all she knew on the illusive firecracker. He
learned about her love of art and of her mother’s small art shop she managed.
Harmony’s account of what happened between father and daughter was sketchy.
Sometime during high school when the lovely Miss Summers came back to Sunnydale
from boarding school, her father and she’d had a huge fight. Details were not
given because they were not known, but it was implied she caught him with a
mistress. Ever since then, a blinding hatred had shown through the blonde’s
eyes towards her father. Filing the information away, Spike continued his
tracking of missing money, coming back to one prime suspect, Hank himself.
As Friday approached,
Spike became more agitated. The lack of a warm body in his bed and heart
haunted his mind. To add to everything else, Spike uncovered even more money
missing. Frustrated and at the end of his tether, Spike picked up the phone and
dialed information. Unfortunately, Buffy Summers had an unlisted number,
probably trying to keep her father at bay. Procuring the art shop’s phone
number, he dialed it and waited for an answer. A woman, not Buffy, answered the
line and within a few moments, Spike had directions to the shop and
confirmation that Buffy would be there.
He walked up the
sidewalk, holding one red rose, and opened the door to the art shop, allowing
the bell to clang announcing his entry. Expecting dull and lifeless knockoffs
for sale, Spike was amazed to find a very vibrant and exciting gallery. Large
oil paintings covered the two story open space. At eye level, paintings and
sculptures adorned every open space. Lost in the haze of wonderment, Spike
didn’t hear a young woman approach him. "Hi, can I help you?" Spike
turned around and found a tall girl, not much older than eighteen staring back
at him. Small freckles dotted her face, bridging her upturned nose. Her long
brown hair, hung low on her shoulders. Her nametag identified her as Dawn
Summers. Kind brown eyes looked back at him and realization hit, she looked
like a taller and younger version of Buffy. Some how, this girl was related to
Buffy. Angry that his research did not mention this girl, he flashed his most
charming smile at the girl. "I called earlier. I am looking for Buffy
Summers."
Her cheeks tinted pink
as she stared into his eyes, "Oh yes, of course. Let me go get her."
She stepped behind the desk and into a back room. Spike heard a few murmurs and
the young girl came back. "Buffy is working. She said you could just go on
back." The girl ushered Spike through a storage area and into a workshop.
Easels in various degrees of completion and style littered the outer edges of
the room. Standing in the middle were two spotlights centered on a large
canvas. A small woman stood with her back to him. Her hair was in a sloppy
ponytail and she wore paint covered overall pants. Without looking up she
questioned, "My sister said you were looking for me, can I help you?"
Knowing the voice, Spike
didn’t hesitate with his answer, "Yes, I was looking for you, love."
He saw her hand still on the canvas and her back straightened when she
recognized his voice.
Twisting around, Buffy
almost dropped her paintbrush. Struggling to keep her composure, she set her
work utensil down and looked at the man that invaded her nightly dreams since
New Year’s Eve. "Mr. Winthrop, what brings you down here?" Buffy
moved over to a workbench and grabbed a rag. She worked on wiping her hands as
Spike moved closer to the painting. A green field dominated the canvas. In the
background, rolling hills beckoned the eye to see their secrets. Swirls of
browns, greens, and blues dominated the canvas almost dancing in their
combinations. Spike was entranced as his eye followed a small country road
through the field and over the hills, stopping at a tiny cottage. Smirking, he
turned to face her, "It’s quite beautiful, love." He suppressed a
gasp at the vision before him. The spotlight engulfed her tiny form,
highlighting her natural beauty. Eyes aglow from the passion she put into the
painting, a little splotch of green paint swiped down her cheek, and little
brow furrowed in an attempt to figure out why he was here made her the picture
of perfection.
"Uh, it’s not
finished. Anyways, Mr. Winthrop. The reason?" His eyebrows rose as she
became flustered at his compliment. "To why you are here?" Spike
stayed silent and went back to looking at the painting.
His fingers itched to
trace the road and follow it to its home, but he knew better. "It’s like
I’m there on one of the rolling hills, looking down at the field."
"Uh huh. Can I help
you?" Buffy wanted no part with this man. He was a tie to her father she
did not want. She spied a rose he put down on a table near the door and pursed
her lips, she was afraid he would have designs on her.
Snapping out of his
hypnotic stare and watched her move around the studio. She put brushes and
scrappers in cleaning solution to soak. Her hands continued to pick up objects
and move them some place else. Spike considered her constant movement as being
a nervous habit. "Pet, please stand still for a moment. You are giving me
a bloody headache with all your movement." She stopped where she was.
Turning, she put her hands on her hips and he saw her eyes light up.
"Why are you here,
Mr. Winthrop?"
"Call me Spike,
please."
"Spike?" He
saw her anger turn to gaiety as she tried to suppress laughter.
"What? It’s my
nickname?"
"Is there another
name I can call you, because I don’t think I can cal you," Her fingers
came up to her mouth, hiding a smile, "Spike and have a straight
face."
"And Buffy is any
better?" He saw her mood change instantly. Gone was the small smile and
glittering flecks of joy in her eyes and back was the hard steel.
"My mother gave me
that name, thank you very much." She turned away from him and started her
movement again. Paint supplies put away, she moved onto rearranging the canvases
in the room.
He sighed, "Look,
pet. I didn’t mean anything about it. Call me William instead, yeah?"
"Ok, William. What
can I do for you? Interested in some art? We have a couple very good pieces out
front from some talented local artists." She moved towards the front room.
"Not exactly, love.
I was hoping…" Spike felt like a teenage boy asking his first date out. He
quickly moved to where he put the rose and picked it up. He twisted around and
presented her with it. "This is for you. I was a git to ask you about your
father. I deeply apologize." Spike thought to himself, ‘could I get any
more poncier?’
"What’s a
git?" She eyed the rose with appreciation. Her fingers itched to touch the
graceful lines of the budding flower, but she resisted.
"A git? Oh, bloody
hell, woman…" Spike looked up in heaven, praying for divine intervention.
"A jerk. I was a jerk to you. I stepped over the line. I’m sorry,
here." He held out the flower and she tentatively took it. She brushed the
soft petals against her cheek and brought it up to her nose. "I meant what
I said. I want to get to know you better." She looked up at him with wide
green eyes. She looked so innocent, yet so much more. "Have dinner with
me, tonight." Her eyes widened as her lips trembled. God, the woman could
launch a thousand words filled with her beauty.
"Tonight?" Her
voice was low, almost a whisper.
"Yes,
tonight." Spike nodded.
Buffy looked down at her
outfit and looked back up at him, "I can’t. I’m sorry." Spike’s
hopeful look fell as she declined his invitation. "I… I’ve just been
working all day and must be a mess." Her fingers unconsciously rose up to
her hair, running her hand through the ponytail.
"No, you’re
beautiful, effulgent, even." Spike stepped forward and grazed her hand on
her arm. "Please. I just want to get to know you. We don’t have to go
anyplace fancy. Anywhere you want." How could she say no to his baby blue
eyes pleading with her? "Just to talk, promise." He held his hands up
and she nodded in consent. He grabbed her elbow and started to move them out to
the front room, "Good, where to, love?"
Buffy stopped dead in
her tracks. "First off, please stop calling me that?"
Spike looked over at
her, "What, love?"
"That… love. I’m
not your love so please stop using it." She looked at anything but him as
she spoke.
Smiling, Spike took her
arm again, this time bringing her hand to his elbow, "Sure thing, pet.
I’ll try not to use it."
~*~*~
Forty-five minutes later
over the remains of a pepperoni pizza, Buffy and Spike were talking. He told
her tales of his boarding school in Oxford and his absentee parents who spent
more time on vacation than at home. Adolescent pranks and problems riddled his
teenage years as he became the man he is today. Bringing the topic back to her,
Spike inquired about the gallery. "So what made you say, I want to run a
gallery in this Podunk town?"
Buffy giggled as she
sipped her coke. "I didn’t. The shop is my mother’s, but she is too sick
to run it. I stepped in when she got sick." Her eyes misted up in unshed
emotion. "So anyway, I don’t own it, just run it."
"Where’s your mom
now, pet?" Spike reached out and patted her hand in a comforting way.
"At the Sunnydale
Long Term Care Facility. After her operation when they found out she had brain
damage from the rumor, my father put her in there instead of hiring someone to
take care of her at home." He not only could hear the bitterness in her
voice, but also feel it down to his bones.
"How long has she
been there?" Buffy allowed his fingers to intertwine with hers on the
table. He rested her hand in his making it so comfortable for her that she
would never want to let go.
"Three years. I go
visit her every week, telling her how the shop is going. She has good days and
bad days." Buffy withdrew her hand and put it in her lap. Spike knew she
was withdrawing from the conversation and from him, he knew he had to do
something quick to get her back. "During her bad days, I just sit by her
side holding her hand."
"So you want to be
a painter versus a manager of a gallery?" Spike wanted to change the topic
to something less melancholy maybe to talk about her passionate work would draw
her out more.
"I didn’t.
Actually, I’m an ice skater. I’ve been competing pretty heavily lately and I am
going to regional in a few weeks. The shop and my painting just pays for the
bills, you know?" Spike nodded as she continued. "I always love the
cool grace of the ice. You could put your foot down and never lift it off of
the ice. One continuous line twisting and twirling around the blank white
canvas of the ice." He saw the wistfulness in her eyes.
"I’ve never thought
about the ice like that, but you are right, love." Spike saw a spark in
her eye and realized what he had unconsciously done. He bowed his head and
peeked at her through his eyelashes. "So how about your sister? Is she an
artist?"
Smiling again, she shook
her head, "No, she just runs the main shop floor. She just started college
so she’s there less and less. I miss her sometimes."
"I bet. So does she
go visit your mom with you?"
"Actually, my
mother is not hers." Buffy looked away as if ashamed.
"What do you mean
pet?" Spike sat forward, hoping she would extend her hand again, but she
stood stock-still.
"My fath… Hank. He
brought her home one night. We didn’t know… not until she was older that… well,
Dawn and I look alike… you know?" Buffy looked out the window. "She
was… is… solid evidence of his… and when she figured out that Joyce wasn’t…
well." Buffy looked down at her fidgeting hands in her lap. "Dawn…
she’s a sweet girl. But, she feels the guilt he should…" He heard her take
a deep breath and let it out.
"I understand,
pet." Spike sat back, giving her the space he felt she needed. Not wanting
to pressure her, he picked up the check and went to pay their bill. Coming
back, Buffy finished her drink and her gloomy mood was gone. They walked in
silence to his car and he helped her get in the classic black Desoto. Content
to just sit with her beside him, he didn’t feel the need to talk. She gave him
short directions to her place but that was the only sound coming from inside
the vehicle. Parking his car in her apartment building lot, Spike helped Buffy
out of the car and walked her up to her apartment door.
As she unlocked the
door, she looked back at Spike. He was leaning against the wall, looking
straight at her with lust in his eyes. Carefully choosing her words she said,
"I had a very nice time… William." He gently smiled at her hesitation
to use his Christian name.
"I did too,
pet." Spike moved forward a bit, waiting for an invitation into her home.
She opened the door a
little and looked at him again. "I have an early morning tomorrow, I’d ask
you in, but…" Buffy wasn’t entirely lying, she did have an early morning.
The fact that she knew he wanted an invite inside and probably wouldn’t want to
leave when he got it, she didn’t want him to think that something would happen
between them.
Straightening up at her
rebuff, Spike grazed his fingers over her upper arm, "All right, pet.
We’ll do this again, yeah?" Buffy numbly nodded, all to aware of the goose
bumps his fingers were creating. She didn’t even notice his head coming closer
until she felt a warm, moist kiss on her cheek, overlapping her lips a bit.
Smirking, Spike moved away and headed down the stairs. Buffy shut her door
quietly and rested her weight against it. William Winthrop was an enigma. Part
of her wanted him to insist that he come in to see her place and part of her
was thrilled that he didn’t.
Chapter 4
Two weeks later Buffy
was carrying groceries up the stairs to her apartment. She hadn’t heard from
Spike in about a week. He showed up at her mom’s shop last weekend looking for
her, but she was out on an errand with a local artist. He left another red rose
with Dawn. Buffy shook her head, she shouldn’t be missing him; he was just like
her philandering father. Climbing up the last set of stairs, Buffy headed
towards her door and a flurry of color stopped her dead in her tracks. Looking
in front of her door was a huge bouquet, more like an arrangement, of flowers.
Red, orange, yellow, and purples dominated the buds offset by flowing greens of
the foliage. Stricken, she moved towards the door before she dropped her bags
and opened it. She put her groceries down and went back to retrieve the flowers.
A card peaked out from under a purple rose and she snatched it up.
Buffy-
Thinking of you
-William
No other explanation to the delivery as given. Smiling like a schoolgirl
she took the flowers over to her sink and filled up the reservoir. She took time
to smell each perfect bud and fingered some of the petals. Why was she feeling
this way? This was wrong! He was supposed to be rude and crude instead of sweet
and sentimental.
She stalked over to her
grocery bags and started to put away her findings. This would not do, all she
has to do is call him and tell him she didn’t want to see him again. He would
give up, wouldn’t he? Without time to change her mind, Buffy called Willow at
work. "Hello, Willow Rosenberg-Osborne. May I help you?"
"Wills?"
"Hey Buffy, what’s
up?"
"I need to talk to
Mr. Winthrop. Do you have his number?" Buffy twirled a piece of hair
around her fingers.
"Sure… hold on… OH…
You have to go through Harmony, his secretary."
"Harmony? They let
that ditz be a secretary?" Buffy shook her head, what kind of moron runs
that company… Hank.
"Yeah, she’s
actually pretty good. Hold on and let me transfer you."
Several clicks later she
was connected with William’s office. "Hello, Mr. Winthrop’s office, this
is Harmony, may I help you."
Trying to disguise her
voice, Buffy said, "Yes I would like to speak to Mr. Winthrop."
"May I ask who is
calling?" Damn, Buffy should have known she wouldn’t get past Harmony.
"Buffy
Summers." She could hear the gears in Harmony’s brain working hard.
"Oh my god, Buffy?
How long has it been?"
Biting the inside of her
mouth, Buffy was about to tell her just to transfer her when she heard his
voice. Low murmurs of protest on Harmony’s part and then the next moment Buffy
heard several clicks and the phone ringing again. "Hello, pet." His
deep timber excited her blood stream.
"William, I need to
talk to you."
"I was hoping you
would call."
"William, please…
let me speak." She paused and he stayed silent, continuing, "The
flowers are lovely, thank you. But… I don’t think we should see each other
again." She knew she caught his attention when she heard him quickly
inhale.
"Why is that,
pet?"
"I’m really busy
and my schedule is packed…"
"That’s bollocks,
love, and you know it."
"Our schedules
don’t mesh, William. I’m sorry." She hung up before he got a chance to say
anything. Within two minutes, her phone was ringing. How did he get her number,
it was unlisted: Willow or Xander? It was the only explanation. He knew she was
friends with both and probably threatened life and limb to pry it out of either
one of them. When the phone stopped ringing, she set it off the hook. He would
know she was home, but not wanting to talk to him. Maybe he would get the clue.
The rest of the day went
fine for Buffy. She finished painting a canvas at home and took it when she
went to visit her mother. Grateful that she had a new painting to look at,
Joyce was in high spirits. Buffy took the painting that she finished two weeks
ago back to her apartment to contact the buyer that it was ready. Three hours
of practice on the ice, proved beneficial when she met with a local competition
coordinator, learning of a statewide convention in less than a year. She set
the painting on her mantle and made dinner for herself. She put the phone back
on its cradle and continued her preparations. She pricked the potato and put it
in the oven. Setting her steak to the side, Buffy started to make her a salad.
Thirty minutes later,
someone was knocking on her door. She wiped her hands on a towel and went to
answer it. Not to her surprise, it was William. He looked gaunt and tired. His
blue eyes no longer twinkled with mischief and the start of dark circles
surrounded them. His hair was no longer slicked back, but little tiny white
curls formed at the top. "May I come in, pet?" Buffy nodded and
stepped to the side. She was so flabbergasted at his appearance, she forgot
about her earlier decision about him. William stepped in and handed over a
black leather duster and suit jacket. Hi maroon dress shirt was rumbled as were
his pants. She hung the coat up and turned back to him. He moved away from her
and headed toward her mantel, memorizing the painting she just placed there.
His eyes roamed over the seascape. The beach glittered with shells and hidden
animals while the angry sea beat down on the beauty. Filled with wonderment, he
looked at the tiny girl that created the painting. Smelling the food cooking
and eyeing the steak on the counter, he looked hopeful, "It’s been a long
day, is there any chance I could get some of that?"
Nodding, she went to
clean another potato and stuck it in her microwave. She came back into the
living room to find him sprawled out on her big blue overstuffed couch with his
shoeless feet up on the maple coffee table and his arm flung over his eyes.
"Would you like anything to drink?" She stood to the side of the
couch, when he lifted his arm slightly and his lips turned upward.
"Anything would be
fine, don’t go to any trouble."
Buffy went back to her
fridge and found a beer Xander left the last time he was over. Grabbing the
bottle, she opened it and poured it into a glass. On her trip back, Spike’s arm
was removed from his face and he was watching her with half closed eyes.
"Tough day?"
"You could say that
again." Buffy sat on the couch, as far away from him as possible when he
took a deep drink of the liquid she provided him with. With a grimace he tipped
the glass and asked, "Domestic?"
"Only thing I had,
sorry." She tucked her feet underneath her, waiting for him to start
talking, but he never did. Instead she watched his eyes filter back to her
painting. Interested in what he thought about her work, she watched him trace
the crests and troughs of each wave as it broke on shore. The microwave
finished and she got up to take it out and put it in the oven with her potato.
With twenty minutes left on the potato, she went out to her patio and started
up her gas grill. Coming back in, she noticed he took off his tie and
unbuttoned some of his buttons on his shirt. She went back into the kitchen and
fixed William a salad. Eventually he came into the kitchen, watching her
prepare the dinner. Silently, she moved around getting sour cream and butter
from the fridge and putting them on the table. He helped setting the table with
silverware and napkins as she put the steak on the grill.
Dinner was eaten in
quiet. Buffy didn’t know what to say to her intruder. He looked so beaten and
tired. Tempted to ask what was wrong, Buffy decided that if he wanted tot ell
her, he would have. She also concluded that her phone call wasn’t the worse
thing that happened to him, if it had, he most certainly wouldn’t be on her
doorstep like a little orphaned child. Clicks of silverware on her dishes and
low chewing were the only sounds heard in her dinning room.
Spike sat in Buffy’s
dining room eating quietly. Luckily, she grilled the steak rare, just like he
liked it. The potato was done to perfection, soft on the inside and a bit of
crunch on the outside. Savoring the food and company, Spike ate quietly,
knowing what he was about to do would totally change their lives. Either she
would call his bluff and he would be totally shut out of her life or she would
go along with it and they would be bound together forever. Praying that it
would be the latter, Spike began to formulate a plan.
After dinner, Buffy
cleared the dishes and began to clean up the kitchen. Standing side by side,
Spike helped her by drying the dishes. If a stranger would look in on them, it
would look so absolutely domestic and natural. Leaning on the counter Spike
waited for Buffy to finish wiping the counters down. She was such a beautiful
creature, how could he think about crushing her like he was? Working up his
nerve, Spike took her hand and led her back to the couch. He let her sit down
and he sat on the opposite end, knowing being within arms reach could have
detrimental consequences. She looked expectantly towards him and he looked at
the painting. "Your work is very good, you know?" She nodded her
head, not knowing where he was going with it. "I would like to buy that
painting." He pointed at the seascape.
"I’m sorry you
can’t." He looked over at her with his eyebrow raised. "It’s already
spoken for."
"Really? How much
are you selling it for?" Spike leaned his arms on his knees. When she
didn’t answer, he continued, "I’m sure it isn’t enough." Silence fell
again and she started to fidget. What did he want?
"William?"
"Yeah, love?"
She grimaced at the term
and he shrugged his shoulders. "What’s wrong? Why are you here?" She
motioned at her apartment. "I know I didn’t let you talk on the phone,
but… I meant what I said and it would be a waste of breath for you to try to
convince otherwise." A his lips twisted in a rueful smirk. Such innocence…
how does she not see it?
"Pet, I… see… oh
bugger!" Spike slid down the couch and sat next to her. "Now, here me
out… this… isn’t easy… but it’s the only conclusion I can come up with."
Her green eyes sparkled bright with partial morbid curiosity and fear. Sighing
heavily, Spike’s eyes became unfocused as he looked at the painting. "Over
the past month I’ve been looking through the books of Mercenary. That’s what I
was doing today." She nodded, not sure where this was leading. What did
she care of the books at the company her father used to own. A budding of realization
started to bloom inside her head. "Moneys been missing, you see. Lots of
it. I’ve been tracking it down." Spike ran his fingers through his hair,
messing the curls even more. "That’s what I was doing today when you
called." He looked over at her and smiled a little, "Heard Harmony
say your name and I knew I had to talk to you. She didn’t want to transfer you
in." His eyes went back to the painting, staring a something in the
horizon. After a minute of silence he continued, "I finally got hard proof
today. Bloody thief wasn’t very cleaver about it."
"Hank?" Her
suspicions were confirmed when Spike whipped his head around and looked at her.
His blue eyes were wide and his lips slightly parted as he nodded.
"Thought so. Hank never was known to be smart about anything." Buffy
pouted, thinking of his infidelity and years of harsh treatment of her mother.
"Yeah, not smart. I
don’t know what to do." Spike clasped his hands together. "See, if…
hank was arrested it would be bad for the company. Stock prices plummet and… workers,"
Spike spared a glance her way, "would get laid off." The induendo was
not lost to Buffy as she gasped. "But, see… I just… he’s stolen something
from me… from all the workers… and I can’t just let him get away with
that."
"Oh god!"
Buffy gasped and her eyes welled up with tears. Spike looked over at her,
wondering what she was thinking. "My MOTHER!" Spike’s eyes widen when
he realized she fell in a deeper trap than the one her set. Her mother was the
perfect reason to get her to marry him. To save her mother from more pain,
Buffy would do anything.
"Oh, pet. I never
thought of her. I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to do. Dragging him through
the courts isn’t going to be good."
"Can… if… if he
gave the money back… would you just let him go?" Buffy’s eyes sparkled
with tears and he wished he could make them go away.
"Pet… it’s just…
it’s so much money… over a long period of time. I talked to him this afternoon…
he claims he didn’t do it."
"Maybe… maybe if I
talk to him…" Buffy’s brain was whirling around with possibilities. This
would just squash her mother’s health.
"Even if you did,
sending him to jail would be bad all around. And if I don’t persue it, what
does that make me look like?"
"Oh god Spike… this
will crush my mother. After all these years and all the women, it would
certainly crush her!"
"Shh, pet. We’ll
figure out something." Spike put his arm around the now crying Buffy. Her
sobs moved him to the core as he tried to comfort her.
"We have to think
of something, Spike!" Buffy pulled away and looked at him.
"Well, there is one
idea I have… it’s… not very good, but it might solve all our problems."
Spike looked deep in her eyes, trying to gauge what she would say. "If… if
we would get married… I couldn’t very well turn in my father-in-law… now could
I? We would be family. If
he gave the money back…
and if the investors ever found out… I could point to the returned money and
that he’s your father… I think that would work." Spike sat back and
watched the emotions run through her eyes.
"You want us to get
married? I can’t!"
"You want us to get
married? I can’t!" Buffy’s eyes looked into Spike’s. There was no way she
could marry him. One thing in her life she promised herself was she would never
lead the life her mother did. She spared him a glance; his eyes were the
deepest blue she’s ever seen. "Look, we have to find another way."
"There isn’t
another way." Spike stood up and started to pace around the room. His trap
was set but she narrowly escaped or was it that she never entered it in the
first place? This wasn’t good. Maybe he could lure her in again.
Buffy stood up and faced
him. Her body spoke of desperation. "Find another way, please. You said
yourself, bringing it to light wouldn’t be good for the company. There has to
be another way."
"Are you
daft?" Spike stopped his pacing and looked at the tiny slip of a woman.
"If the investors ever found out, it’d be my head." How could this
little woman be the spitfire that he had first met? She looked so fragile, so
innocent. Spike wanted to hold her in his arms and make all the bad things go
away, if only she would let him.
She looked so
compassionately at him, "I know, but William, it’ll break her. One more
wrong to shame her, you know? I can’t do that to her."
Spike stalked over to
her and grabbed her shoulders, "What do you want me to do, give up my
career?" He shook her body once, trying to reign in his anger, but it was
obviously too far gone. Her eyes were wide and glistening with moisture. He
could tell he was scaring her, but she was being difficult. If only she would
agree, he could make the pain go away. "Here’s the deal, I’ll pay the
money back to the company, and the books will be even then. Hank can pay me
back over time. No one would be the wiser. Then if someone does find out I can
explain that I couldn’t put my wife through that. Don’t you see that,
woman?" His eyes burned into her, trying to will her into agreeing.
Buffy stepped back,
extricating herself from his grasp. She desperately tried to come up with another
solution. "Why marriage?" Spike looked over at her and breathed in
heavily. "I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t."
Spike’s eyes closed for
a moment blocking his pain from her. A tell-tale twitch in his jaw told her he
was trying to reign in his temper, but he was not succeeding, "Why is
that?" Spike briefly wondered why she didn’t want to marry him. Lots of
women were lining up in the wings to have just one night with him, why was she
having such difficulty with a lifetime? It was more than he offered anyone
else.
"William, please.
We have to find another way." Her pleading fell on deaf ears. He felt the
blood rush through his arteries and veins. She was rejecting him! That’s what
she had tried to do this afternoon and what she was doing now. Anger boiled up
in him. He could feel it start in his legs, washing over his torso, and finally
heading up to his brain. Frustration, loss, and pain were running through his
stunned mind as he faced off with Buffy.
"Are you already
spoken for? Is that it?" Incredible jealousy bubbled within him,
overriding his anger. Was she seeing another man, is that why she had tried to
break it off earlier today? Someone she thought was better than him? Was
another man spending time with her, touching her, kissing those sweet lips, taking
her out?
Shocked at the
insinuation, Buffy gaped at him, "Oh course not! I… I don’t love you,
that’s why. I could never love someone like you." Spike couldn’t believe
his ears. This woman was telling him she could never love him! And, what was
that comment about ‘someone like’ him? Obviously, she thought she was better
than him. Damn bloody bitch!
Three quick strides
later, Spike grabbed Buffy and hauled her towards his chest. "Don’t say
nasty things you don’t mean, little girl." His lips came down with
bruising force. She twisted and turned, trying to free herself from his grasp,
but he only held on tighter. One at a time, his arms snaked around her…holding
her more closely and fiercely than before. Forcing her lips to part and their
teeth to clash, Spike picked up her slight form from the ground and headed over
to the couch. A faint taste of coppery blood hit her tongue as he mashed
himself into her, she wasn’t sure if it was hers or his. Struggling, she tried
to whip her head away, but by now, she was firmly seated on his lap. One hand
held the back of her neck still and the other tightened around her waist. The
frantic and violent kiss started to become gentler. A tip of his head one way,
the soft puckering of his lips, the movement of his fingers on her waist all
made Buffy want to give in. Her inner voice reminded her that this was wrong,
that he was evil, that he had grabbed her and kissed her, and it even compared
him to Hank. Despite all that, her arms wiggled free and crept around his neck,
seemingly of their own volition, touching the soft hair above his collar.
Noticing the slight change, Spike wanted more. He wanted everything from her.
Softening his lips more, he let up on the pressure against her, letting her
lips return to a plumper state. He licked her bottom lip, wanting her to open
up for him. The struggle in her brain intensified as new sensations assaulted
her body. Her pursing her lips closed and pushing on his chest alerted Spike
that he had not won this round. Holding on to her waist, Spike refused to let
go. He did pull his head back to look at her. She was an angel in his arms and
it was like heaven when she cooperated with the snogging. He could tell she was
even enjoying the kisses. Why did she stop them? He rested his forehead against
hers. "Don’t… no… don’t you see. It could be so good between us. Didn’t
you feel it?" Buffy shook her head, trying to break the contact he had.
"Baby, we’d be perfect. Please, there is no other way. You’ll see, baby. I
know you felt it, too."
Buffy struggled and he
finally let go, letting her stand. She turned around with her fingers at her
mouth, touching the bruised skin, "Ask me again, why I wont marry
you." Her voice held poison as she watched him run his hand through his
hair. "How? How can you do that and think its ok? The only thing I feel
for you is disgust."
Spike sat with his feet
planted on the floor. A hysterical laugh formed, "Don’t you see, you silly
bint? It’s the only way we can protect ourselves? It could be wonderful, pet.
We have the passion." Breathing heavily, he peered at her from his
position. She was walking away from him, wringing her fingers together as she
walked slowly into the kitchen. He heard clattering sounds and water running
briefly. Deciding he should see what she was doing, he followed. She stood with
her back to him, fiddling with a coffee pot. "Pet? What are you
doing?"
"I won’t marry you,
William," she said, so softly, he almost didn’t hear her over the
percolating machine.
"Buffy, love…"
her back stiffened at his term of endearment, "pet, it’s the only way to
protect your mum. You want to do that right?" Buffy moved over to a drawer
and opened it up and took something shiny out. She stared intently on the
object in her hand. Spike walked slowly behind her and touched her shoulder. He
peered over her head to look down at the diamond ring she held within her hand.
It looked like an engagement ring. Spike surmised it must be her mothers.
"I’m sorry Hank put you in this position." She shrugged off his hand
and he stepped back. He knew silent tears ran down her face, but he couldn’t
stop this, it was what he wanted, she was what he wanted. She put the ring into
the drawer and picked up something else. "I don’t want to hurt you, Buffy,
but it’s the only way to protect her. Don’t you see?"
"She still loves
him, you know? After all the lying and cheating, she still sees him as the man
she thought she married. I will never do that, William." Buffy stayed
silent for a moment. The only noise in the apartment was the coffee percolating
and their breathing. "I can’t marry you." She turned around to face
Spike, "But… what if everyone thought I was your… if we were involved…
would that do?"
"What?" Spike
looked over at the woman, with a determined face and her eyes were filled with
tears, she faced him with an alternative. "Pet, no. You don’t want
that…"
"I will not marry
you. If… if you are serious with the investors… just say I’m your
mistress." Buffy moved over to the coffee pot, pouring it into two cups.
Spike leaned against the opposite counter.
"But, pet… don’t
lower yourself to mistress status… it’s…" Spike was at a loss for words.
"Make it so with
Hank. I won’t cut you out of my life. Here…" she handed over a key to the
apartment. "This should be proof that we are… involved. We can have dinner
or something once a week. Tell whoever whatever, I don’t care. Just take care
of it. Protect my mom." Spike felt bad, had he just defeated her? Had he
just broken the strength that he’d admired so much?
"Buffy, no. Don’t
you see? I’ll marry you, it’ll be OK. You don’t have to be…" This wasn’t
supposed to happen. She was supposed to be his wife, not be his…. mistress.
Buffy slowly looked up
and directly into his eyes, "I don’t want to marry you, Mr. Winthrop… I
cannot offer you that. What I have offered… it should be enough for your
precious stockholders." Buffy dumped her cup of coffee out in the sink.
"I really don’t feel like company. Please lock the door when you
leave." She stepped out of the kitchen and disappeared into the bedroom,
firmly shutting the door. William stood in the kitchen, staring at the key for
a long time. Breaking out of his reverie, he left the apartment barely
remembering to take his suit jacket and duster with him.