Disclaimer: The characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer are owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Fox studios. This story is not meant to infringe upon anyone's rights, only to entertain.
Credit Where Credit is Due: I began writing this fic while reading Ashlee's then WIP "Criminal Games." If you've read that wonderful fic (and you should) there are some similarities in the set up, especially evident in this first chapter. Remember, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
ONE
She didn’t hear him enter the room. Most people had already left the commemorative show, and Buffy was looking forward to a sound night’s sleep and an easy day loafing in her pajamas tomorrow.
The painting she had been staring at for the past half hour was from her own private collection. It was the first time it had ever been on public display, and had caused quite a stir. Buffy was grateful that her mother hadn’t used her name in the title of the work. “Girl with Stars” was blessedly anonymous, so that most people did not realize that they were looking at a portrait of the artist’s daughter when she had been eleven years old.
The painting captured young Buffy in profile against a night sky, her blonde hair fanning out behind her as if caught in a strong wind. The curls swirled around and behind her face until they melt into the stars of the background. The painting was somewhat reminiscent of Van Gogh’s famous, “Starry Night,” and it reminded Buffy of happier times. Her mother and father had still been married back then, and life had been much simpler. She remembered how ambitious and cheerful she had been as a child, and was wondering if she would ever get those feelings back now that her mother was gone. She was so lost in thought that she startled when she heard the soft voice behind her.
“Why I haven’t seen this picture before?”
The man looked elegant in a black on black tuxedo, black shirt and blue tie that exactly matched the shade of his eyes. Of course some of the effect was ruined by the fact that he was smoking. But it was more than made up for by the way the cigarette drew her eyes to his sharp cheekbones and full lips. His bright yellow hair set the whole image off to perfection.
It was rare that Buffy wished that she had her mother’s talent as an artist, but this was one of those moments. The man looked like an artist’s model – and that was in the suit. She tried to shake the feeling that he’d look even better without the jacket and tie, shirt unbuttoned, or perhaps gone altogether, but the image refused to leave.
Pretending not to be affected by the older man’s innate sexuality, Buffy tried to place him. She knew most of the people who had been invited tonight – after all they had been her mother’s best customers. But her memory came up empty. This man was a stranger.
“Do you know if this picture is for sale, pet?”
She couldn’t very well avoid a direct question. Especially about whether the painting was being offered for sale. She was supposed to be the person in charge of the event after all. Even if all she wanted at this point was to be left alone.
It had been almost a year since her mother’s death, and Buffy had hoped that the exposition would help her gain a sense of closure. Instead, it had only reopened old wounds.
“No. This one is not for sale. It’s part of a private collection. But most of Joyce Summer’s other works on display tonight are available for purchase. Is there anything else that interests you?”
It was no surprise that the collector didn’t recognize the work. Buffy was tired of telling patrons that it was part of a personal collection, and that this was the first time it had ever been up for public display. If they would only bother to read the sign next to the picture, then they wouldn’t need to pester her.
Looking pointedly from the painting and then back at Buffy, the man blew out a column of smoke. “I’ll get back to you on that. I can’t say offhand that any other painting has caught my eye tonight.”
The soft emphasis on the word ‘painting’ and the look accompanying the words made Buffy color slightly as she realized what he was implying. It took her a moment to quell the rushing in her ears and to focus on what he was saying.
“Really, this is the work that intrigued me the most. She had quite a talent, don’t you think?”
Despite, or perhaps because of the man’s beauty, Buffy really wished that he would go away. She had put up with the polite talk of near strangers all night, and she was sick of it. It was late, she was tired, and she just wanted to go home and curl up in her bed and cry. She was too old to be crying over the loss of her mother, and she knew it. She just couldn’t bring herself to care right now. She was ready for the showing to be over.
In fact, looking at her watch, she realized that the event had been officially closed to the public for fifteen minutes already. Time to wrap this up and go home. Give the gentleman a brochure and send him on his way. If he was really interested in buying a painting, he could come by the gallery during business hours. She started to say as much, but the man had already begun talking again.
“I didn’t know Joyce as well as I would have liked, but I knew her well enough that I miss her sometimes. She was a very good painter – but she was a great lady.”
Buffy didn’t know how to respond. Who was this guy, and if he had known her Mom, then why didn’t she know who he was?
“I guess most people here would’ve put that the other way round,” he continued. “Hope I didn’t offend, but painters come and go with the fashion, while people with genuinely kind hearts are much harder to find, and can’t be replaced once they’re gone.”
“You knew her that well?” Buffy was surprised. Surely she had to know this man.
“I suppose. It’s not like I had her over for tea, but you know someone going on twenty years, you learn a lot about them. She was good to talk to. Sometimes we’d meet over a cuppa at the Espresso Pump. That was back when I was still in school in Sunnydale, of course. Nowadays it’s all chains like Starbucks and such. Not the same thing at all. Especially the hot chocolate. Joyce did love a good cup of chocolate. It’s a vice she passed on to me, I’m afraid.”
Finally, that made Buffy smile, and she held out her hand. An easy way to end the mystery. “I’m her daughter, Buffy Summers.”
“Ahh,” he observed, shaking her hand. “I thought I was just imagining the resemblance.”
Her smile had lit up the whole room, and it was clear to him now why he had thought the girl was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen; she had reminded him of Joyce. Her hand was soft and warm, and he wondered if he’d be able to get her to smile for him again. “My name’s William Thorndale. My friends call me Spike.”
There it was again, the smile he would die for. “Somehow I can’t imagine my Mother calling anyone Spike,” she teased.
She could see the mirth in his expressive blue eyes as he snorted and shook his head. “No. Mostly she called me William. But I imagine that we were friends just the same. She was very proud of you, you know.”
Buffy blushed. If he had known her Mother from back in Sunnydale, then he probably knew that things had not always been calm and congenial between mother and daughter. There had been that time when she was suspended from high school, and once she had even run away from home for a couple of months. And of course there had been that incident when she’d just turned seventeen. She still didn’t think her mother had forgiven her for that one.
“It’s nice of you to say so.” She and Joyce had gotten along much better after Buffy had enrolled at UC Sunnydale, and later at UCLA. By the end, before Joyce had died so unexpectedly, they’d been the best of friends.
“It’s true,” he answered as if he knew her thoughts. “Even back in Sunnydale, when you were going through a rough time, she was still proud of you. Proud that neither she nor anyone else was able to make your decisions for you. Even if she sometimes questioned those decisions.” He paused for a moment, giving her time to answer. When she didn’t he continued. “Of course that was a long time ago. Back when you were still in high school. You’re what, 22, 23 now?”
“I’m 28, Mr. Thorndale.”
Spike winced at formality of the title. He wasn’t that old. At least she was still standing here talking to him. That was more than he could have expected from the way she had reacted to him at the beginning of the conversation. But it was time to set her straight. He never wanted to hear her call him “Mr. Thorndale” again.
“Told you, my name’s Spike. I’m only Mr. Thorndale when I’m at work. And before you protest, even though I knew your Mum, I’m not as old as all that. In fact, I’ll tell you a secret.” Looking around he spied an ashtray and put out his cigarette. Then he leaned in close, as if what he was about to say was something he didn’t want to say too loud. “I’m not even really as old as everyone thinks I am. My official biography claims I’m 43. But I’m really only just 38. Not that much older than you, when you think about it.”
His proximity, the tone of his voice confused her – it was almost as if… “Mr. Thorndale, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were flirting with me.”
“Oi! Just told you not to call me that! And what’s wrong with that if I am flirting with you? You don’t mind, do you?”
Before she could phrase a suitable answer around that, he continued. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’d like us to be friends. Don’t rightly know why we haven’t met until just now. And I wasn’t lying when I said I missed your Mum. If I can’t convince you to go out with me, I’d still like to take you out for a cuppa now and again, like I did your Mum, even if it is bleeding Starbucks.”
He paused for a minute and took her left hand in his, “No ring. You’ve ditched that Cub Scout you were dating, didn’t you? Is there someone else? Just tell me, and I’ll back off.”
Cub Scout? There was only one person who could possibly fit that description. Of course there weren’t many guys in Buffy’s past that he could be referring to.
“You mean Riley? No, we broke up a while back, when he went back to Iowa.”
It was disconcerting. This guy really did know a lot about her life. She tired to search her memory to see if her Mother had ever mentioned ‘William,’ ‘Thorndale’ or even the name ‘Spike’ (surely she would have remembered that!). But she still came up blank. If Joyce had ever mentioned this man, Buffy hadn’t paid it any attention at the time.
She was certain she had never met the bleached blond. She would have remembered him; the incredible body, his great clothes, his mannerisms, heck, for the accent if nothing else.
He’d begun talking again while she was musing. This guy really liked to hear himself talk. She wondered how a conversation between him and her mother would have sounded.
“I’m glad to hear that. Not only cause it means I may have a chance, but your Mum never thought he was the right guy for you – too much of a nancy boy. Course she didn’t put it quite like that, but that’s what she meant. Now that I’ve met you, I imagine he was a bit thick-headed too. I can’t imagine how he could have ever let you go, nevertheless cheated on you!”
God, did this guy know every personal thing about her life? It was annoying. She was so gonna get back at him once she figured out who the heck he was. Her Mother had kept computer files on all her customers. She’d just go home and find her Mother’s notes on him. Then she’d know all the juicy bits of gossip about his life, too.
At least she hoped she would. She knew Joyce had kept files on her customers, and that those files often included at least some personal information. Unfortunately she had never before felt the need to delve too deeply into Joyce’s files, so she didn’t really know what type of information they would contain. How she‘d love to be able to find some painful bit of his own history to throw in his face and see how he liked it!
Apparently Spike realized that maybe he’d gotten a little too personal and tried to back off when he finally noticed Buffy had crossed her arms and was tapping her foot as if just waiting for a chance to slay him verbally. If there was one thing he knew, it was when a woman was right pissed at him, and this woman was fuming. He put a little distance between them and reached for another cigarette. He took it out of the package and banged it against the box, but he didn’t light it.
“Guy must have been even more of a nitwit than Joyce let on. She knew you were hurt at the time, but she always thought you could do better.” He couldn’t resist asking the question that he hadn’t been able to get an answer to earlier, “Got yourself a new bloke then?” She was already angry – how much worse could it get? Besides, she was downright spectacular when she was angry.
Furious now, she held her hands together behind her back to keep herself from socking him in the nose. She’d give him an answer all right! “No, no new guy,” but by the way she said it she tried to make it clear that she wasn’t looking for one either, and if she was, it certainly wouldn’t be him.
She was satisfied that she’d gotten the message across when she him wince. What he said next confirmed it. “Just not interested in yours truly? It’s all right pet.”
But her sense of victory suddenly felt wrong as she finally heard the hurt in his voice. He started putting the unlit cigarette back in carton, as if he were getting ready to leave.
With his back to her, what he said next shocked Buffy so much that she could barely breathe. “Just my luck. Mum thinks I’m too young and the daughter thinks I’m too old!”
She couldn’t help but let out a short ‘eep’ at that bombshell. “Are you saying that you dated my Mom?”
“No.” Shaking his head he turned back around to face her again. The look in his eyes was full of regret. “Thought about it, maybe, from time to time. But I never mentioned the idea to her. Like I said, she thought I was too young for her. Maybe because when we first met I was still a kid. Plus I was married for a bit in there.”
He was trying for nonchalance, hating to admit even to himself how much it still hurt him that Dru had divorced him. As if he could ever dismiss his relationship with Dru so causally! If he was being truthful, he would admit that when Dru had left him it had, quite literally, nearly killed him. But he’d already seen that unlike her mother, this kitten had claws, and he wasn’t about to give her something else to torment him with.
Even though his marriage had ended more than five years ago, he was still struggling to put the whole affair behind him. There was so much of his life that he would just rather forget. And this girl was definitely someone who could help him do that.
So he blustered on as if it meant nothing, “That’s why I don’t want to be shy about letting you know how I feel about you. I know we’ve only just met, but I feel like I’ve known you forever, because of Joyce. I’d love to take you out, Buffy, but if you’re not comfortable with that, we can just be friends.” He had stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked almost like a schoolboy as he tried to take back his words. “Think about it and let me know, yeah?”
“Sure. I can do that.” She almost felt sorry for the guy. But blech! The guy had had a thing for her mother and now he wanted to date her? How sick was that? It would SO be a cold day in hell before she ever admitted that she wanted to see Spike romantically. Only he did look awful nice in that tux, and he’d been really easy to talk to…
“Right then,” he nodded, changing the subject. “You run the gallery now? You an artist too?”
“No, I’m not an artist.” To her own ears it sounded a little wistful, as if she regretted the lack of talent, and she wondered if he heard it that way. It’s not that she hadn’t tried when she was younger, but she had never had the patience for it. She had never really liked sitting still for long periods, something that hadn’t changed as she grew up, despite her mother’s best intentions.
“But I do run the Gallery now. You can find me here most days.” Why had she said that? As if she really wanted to meet this strange man again? It was probably because it was what she always said when people asked what she did. It was habit now. Ingrained. Not exactly a lie, but not quite the truth either. She had learned it was always best not to lie, just not to be too forthcoming with the truth.
“It was nice to meet you, Mr. Thorndale.” She put out her hand again. A definite dismissal if he’d ever heard one.
They shook hands once more, but at the hurt look in his eyes she relented, just a little. He really did have very expressive eyes. And he looked so vulnerable when he let his defenses down. It would be cruel to shoot him down too hard.
“Spike. It was nice to meet you Spike. Now that my mother is gone, it’s nice to talk to others who knew her.”
He wasn’t releasing her hand, instead clasping it between both of his. “It’s hard, losing your mother so young. Believe me, I know. Sometimes I think that you never really get over missing your mum, no matter how long she’s been gone, or how old you get.”
“Oh.” Awkward now. Stupid Buffy! Instead of making him feel better, she’d made it worse. “Your mother is gone too?” she stumbled, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
His genuine smile was back now, if still not bright. Finally he let her hand loose and ran his fingers through his hair. With a flash of rare insight Buffy realized that he was nervous, or perhaps embarrassed, to be caught talking about his mother.
“Twas a long time ago, pet. Feels like a different lifetime. But still sometimes I miss her, you know. Seems like I can still hear her giving advice in my head.”
The predatory smile was back as he flashed his bright blue eyes at her. The transition was startling. “Right now she’s telling me to hold on tight to you and not let go. That you could be the one I’ve been looking for my whole life.”
“You never stop pushing do you?” Just that quickly she was angry again. He had just promised to back off, give her some space, and in the almost the next breath he was back to trying to pick her up!
“Nope,” he grinned. She’d been pretty before, but now that he’d gotten her angry again, she was absolutely stunning. Her cheeks were rosy and her green eyes were flashing daggers at him. Provided that he did actually get to see her again, he knew he was going to have to try to resist the temptation to get her riled up, just so he could enjoy looking at her. He remembered Joyce as almost always calm and easy-going. Her daughter was proving to be a horse of a different color.
But it was time to try and seal the deal. “Not when it’s something that could be important. But I guess you’re right, pet. It’s too soon to be talking about happily ever afters.”
Suddenly they were no longer alone. “You got that right! Buffy might be too nice to say it, but I’m not. Get lost. The exhibition closed half an hour ago.”
In jeans and a flannel shirt, the newcomer wasn’t dressed for the exhibition, so chances were good that he wasn’t a client. Plus, if looks could kill Spike figured he’d be about four feet under already. Buffy may have claimed that she didn’t have a boyfriend currently, but Spike would have bet his last dollar that this boy was auditioning for the part.
Buffy tried to apologize, sort of. “Xander! Be nice. Spike is a customer.”
“Didn’t sound like you were discussing Joyce’s work to me. In fact it sounded suspiciously like he was spouting some cheesy pick-up line. Any way, it’s time for everyone to leave, and that means you too, Mr. Fancy Tuxedo Man.” He looked straight at Buffy then, as if Spike were already gone. “The caterers are almost finished picking up.” Xander glared at Spike, unhappy to find he was still present. “If you two have any actual business to discuss, you can do it during business hours.”
Spike returned the glare, then decided the whelp wasn’t worth the effort and turned back to Buffy.
“Just promise me you’ll think about what I said. Either way, it was nice to meet you, Buffy Summers. Nice to put a face to the name I’ve heard so much about over the years.”
He nodded goodbye and took her hand again briefly, still ignoring Xander, and then he turned away quickly and walked out of the gallery.
Looking over at her friend, Buffy was startled to realize that Xander was right. The place was empty. While she’d been talking to Spike everyone else had gone home. Only the catering crew was left, and they were already more than half finished with the cleaning up.
She turned towards her friend. “You know Xander, when I need rescuing I’ll let you know.”
“You’re not seriously considering going out with that guy? He’s… he’s…”
“Rich? Handsome? Help me out here, Xander. Not saying that I’m interested in him, but just why, in your opinion, shouldn’t I be?”
In true Buffy fashion, she turned her irritation at Spike back onto Xander. At least, Xander could have sworn that Buffy had been unhappy with the creep’s attentions. The guy was certainly no one Xander had ever seen with Buffy before. He’d have remembered that kind of competition.
“Well, for one thing, he’s too old for you,” Xander stuttered. “Definitely way past thirty. Maybe older. Plus, well, who the heck is he? How can you trust a guy you know absolutely nothing about?”
“I’m not getting any younger either, Xander. Just like you, I’m closing in on thirty myself. And he knew my Mom. He is a client, Xander. Got any better reasons, or is this just your over protective act?”
“I can’t explain it. I just don’t like him. He seems… too smooth. An operator. I just don’t want to see you get hurt, is all.”
“By your estimation I should never date anyone ever again, is that it? You’ve never liked any of my boyfriends.”
“I liked Riley.”
“Hence showing your good taste. NOT! Point proven. Or maybe you think I should just become a nun.”
“I didn’t say that! Don’t put words in my mouth. Besides, you’ll do what you like regardless of what I say. You always do.”
Without answering, Buffy grabbed a glass and a partially empty bottle of wine and went upstairs to her apartment. Let Xander manage the hired help while she got some rest. He always claimed that he just wanted to make her life easier. Now was his chance to prove that he meant it. She had some research she wanted to do.
~ ~ ** ~ ~
Sipping her wine on the way upstairs, it occurred to her that Xander did have at least one valid point. She had just met Spike for the first time. She went over in her mind exactly what she knew about William Thorndale.
Fact the first: William Thorndale, a.k.a. Spike, had been invited to the commemorative showing of her mother’s work, so he had to be listed in her customer database. That was how they had generated the invitation list. ‘Unless he was a gate crasher,’ a voice whispered in her mind. ‘I suppose it is possible,’ she admitted.
Fact the second: If he was in Joyce’s database he had probably bought at least one of Joyce’s paintings in the past. That meant he probably had money. Unless he hadn’t bought anything since their Sunnydale days, when Joyce had been a far less well known artist. Not that that mattered, or course.
Fact the third: He knew an awful lot about her and her mother’s personal life. So either he really had been good friends with Joyce, or else he had looked up their personal history somewhere, and was only making it look like he’d known Joyce. That possibility sent chills down her spine. Why would someone do that? The only reasons Buffy could think of were terrifying in their implications. Still, the whole idea seemed so far fetched she didn’t want to dwell on it.
Buffy really didn’t like being so suspicious of people, but it was an ingrained habit by now. She’d learned the hard way that she really wasn’t a very good judge of people. You only had to look at the list of her prior boyfriends to figure that out.
And her job didn’t help. She was surrounded by people whose job it was to be suspicious. And to figure out who was lying and who was telling the truth. All nearly impossible tasks when she knew she couldn’t even trust her own instincts.
And despite her insistence to the contrary, right now her instincts were telling her that Spike was someone she might be interested in. If she let herself. As she’d tried to make clear to him, she wasn’t really in the market for a relationship right now. Right now her career was more important.
But what he had said stuck with her somehow. How had he put it? Something about not giving up when something might be important. If he really was the guy for her, it would be foolish not to show an interest just because right now was an inconvenient time. Who knew if he’d still be around when she suddenly decided that she was ready for a relationship?
Slowly continuing her way up the stairs with her wine glass in one hand, she hoped that her mother’s files would verify her impressions of Spike Thorndale. At the very least they should lay to rest the fact that they had indeed known one another personally. Surely Joyce would have made a few notes about someone she had known for so long. And Buffy knew that she would be able to trust Joyce’s assessment of the man. Unlike Buffy, her mother had had a keen sense about people. It was one of the qualities that made her a good artist.
Finally inside with the door locked behind her, Buffy refilled her wineglass and took a few more sips while waiting for her mother’s computer to boot up. With any luck she’d soon know as much about William Thorndale as he knew about her. She told herself that she shouldn’t feel bad that she was hoping to find out more about the ex-wife that Spike had mentioned in passing.
Sitting at the computer she called up Joyce’s records and typed in Spike’s name. She was tapping her foot so hard she kicked the leg of her desk, spilling some of the wine. Absently she cleared off the mess with a few paper towels from the kitchen, moving everything else to the side. Her mind focused on what she was looking for, Buffy didn’t even notice as a few items fell behind the desk. She was just grateful that the computer hadn’t been damaged. That would have been bad. Maybe she should take up her friend Willow’s offer to back up her computer files. Better still, perhaps she should have waited until morning to look up the records, only her curiosity wouldn’t let her sleep until she did this.
Finally, she found it. William Thorndale. President of Thorndale Industries. The page listed both home and business addresses and phone numbers. It recorded the purchases he’d made over the years – several of them, spanning back over about fifteen years. He’d not only been a good customer, he’d been a very good customer.
He’d purchased Joyce’s own paintings as well as several others that she had acted as the agent on, including a Renoir. Something about that particular painting sounded familiar, like Buffy had read something about it lately. But she shook off the feeling. She wasn’t interested in following that line of thought just now. She was interested in what the second page would say. Joyce’s private notes on whatever conversations they had had over the years. What had her mother really thought of William Thorndale?
Anxiously, she clicked on the icon that was supposed to take her to the next entry. She sat for a few moments just staring at the page in front of her. It was completely blank. Why would her mother have created a personal page for Mr. Thorndale and then not written anything?
She pulled up a few more names at random. Clicked on the icon for Joyce’s personal records. Each page was full of dated entries. Customer’s likes and dislikes. Notes about marriages, children, divorces. Peppered with a few anecdotes and personal observations. She called up Thorndale’s page again. It was still blank.
Unsatisfied, she decided to head off to bed. She would try to figure it out in the morning.
squawks
05/18/17 04:16 am
pj! I remember wishing one of your stories would be finished seriously about a decade ago. Amazing. I just tried an old password I used to use and amazingly got in too. Memories!
pj
03/20/17 01:20 am
10 yrs later, i finally rem my username and password. Pari, you rock. Hope you are well.
Rabbit_moon1
12/23/16 01:12 pm
I donate every month. Please donate to keep this site up!
AudryDaluz1
10/06/16 08:34 am
Great post.
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:45 pm
And anyone else who loves this site, it's worth mentioning there's a nifty little "Donate" option just below the shout box here! ;)
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:43 pm
Just wanted to take a moment to thank Pari and all the mods for maintaining such a great site!
05/18/17 04:16 am
pj! I remember wishing one of your stories would be finished seriously about a decade ago. Amazing. I just tried an old password I used to use and amazingly got in too. Memories!
pj
03/20/17 01:20 am
10 yrs later, i finally rem my username and password. Pari, you rock. Hope you are well.
Rabbit_moon1
12/23/16 01:12 pm
I donate every month. Please donate to keep this site up!
AudryDaluz1
10/06/16 08:34 am
Great post.
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:45 pm
And anyone else who loves this site, it's worth mentioning there's a nifty little "Donate" option just below the shout box here! ;)
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:43 pm
Just wanted to take a moment to thank Pari and all the mods for maintaining such a great site!