"Criminal Games"
Author: Ashlee
Contact: ashlee_999@hotmail.com
Notes: This was started for the Reversed Art-a-Thon on the Watcher's Diaries. Hope you like it :-)
Change of Plans
Tilting her head to look at the painting, Buffy tasted her champagne, idly staring at the piece of art as she brushed her hair away from her cheek, almost wanting to get a better look.
"Beautiful."
Turning at the sound of the British accent, Buffy arched an eyebrow at the blonde man standing next to her. "It is," she said with a slight nod of agreement.
"I meant the admirer," he replied with a slow smirk, eyeing her up and down as he bit his bottom lip, taking in the curves that were accentuated by the black dress.
Nearly laughing as she shook her head, Buffy sighed. "Please tell me that line doesn't normally work."
"Wouldn't know, love. Never tried it before. I'm William Reed," he said, holding out his hand.
The familiarity of the name stuck with her as she accepted his hand, smiling when he gently kissed the back of it. "Buffy Summers."
"So, Buffy Summers, are you in the art business?" he asked, tilting his head to look at her in interest.
"I dabble," she said with a soft smile, watching as William grabbed two champagne flutes from a waiter's tray, waiting until Buffy set her glass on the tray and accepted the one that he offered.
"Dabble?" he asked after a moment, glancing around the art gallery as the people continued to mill around, looking at the expensive pieces.
"My mother was an artist," she said, turning her attention back to the painting.
"Summers," William said softly, seemingly considering the name. "Can't say I remember that name."
"Robertson," Buffy corrected. "She didn't go by 'Summers'."
"Joyce Robertson," he said in a quiet tone, nodding as he placed the name. "I was sorry to hear about her passing."
"Thank you," she whispered, glancing down at the champagne, watching the liquid lap at the sides of the crystal.
"Are you an artist?"
"Not really," Buffy replied with a soft smile, avoiding his eyes as she glanced around the room. "I think it's relaxing to paint, but I wouldn't qualify myself as an artist."
"I'm sure you're being too hard on yourself," he said with a soft smile.
Risking a glance across the room, Buffy frowned when she saw Rupert Giles gesturing to her before she slowly turned to face William. "Sorry to cut this short," she said with a regretful smile. "I think it's about time I call it a night."
"Understandable," he replied, checking his Rolex. "I have to be off, myself. Would you care for a ride?"
"Thank you, but I drove myself," she said with a slight nod.
"In that case…would you mind if I gave you a call sometime?"
Raising an eyebrow at the abruptness of his approach, Buffy slowly smiled. "Actually, I would," she said, biting her lip to suppress the giggle at his downcast expression. "I can give you a call, though."
Smiling when he realized what she was saying, he reached into his pocket, handing her a business card with no business insignia on it. Buffy frowned but didn't say anything, looking at the card.
"Thanks," she said softly, raising her eyes to his. "I'll hold onto this."
"Good to know," he said, taking her hand for the second time that night and leaving a soft kiss on it.
Seeing that Giles was getting increasingly frustrated, she quickly excused herself and made her way through the lobby of the gallery, glancing around before following the older man outside through a side door that led into an alley.
Making sure that they were alone, Giles turned to Buffy with a disbelieving expression. "What were you doing?"
"What?" she asked in confusion.
"You were talking to Spike Reed."
Buffy's eyes widened as she glanced over her shoulder, looking at the door of the gallery. "I-I didn't recognize him…the hair and the…are you sure that was him?"
"Positive," the older man replied. "What did he want?"
"He was…he was flirting with me," she said softly.
"Flirting with you?" he repeated, waiting until Buffy nodded. "And there was no sign of O'Neill?"
"No," she said, shaking her head, turning back to her boss. "But those two don't exactly run in the same circles, so they'll probably avoid each other, won't they?" she asked, still mildly surprised at the newest revelations of the night.
"More than likely," Giles said, glancing at the door. "If Reed is planning something, O'Neill will want to stay away."
"So tonight is a bust?"
"Not necessarily," he said, a slight smile coming over him as he formulated a plan.
"I don't like that look, Giles," Buffy said, narrowing her eyes as her nerves took over.
"Instead of infiltrating O'Neill…I think we're going to have a change of plans."
"This is not good," she muttered with a sigh.
"And since Reed has apparently taken a liking to Agent Summers, we are having a change in the schedule," Giles informed the group of people the next day as he slowly cleaned his glasses with a soft cloth. "Angelus O'Neill will still be on the agenda, but he's to be pushed farther back."
"I don't like this, sir," Buffy said, shaking her head. "O'Neill is the cold-blooded murderer and seemingly bigger danger. Wouldn't it make sense to go after him first?"
"O'Neill is in Europe," Giles replied, gaining the undivided attention of everyone in the room. "London, apparently, which pushes Reed up on the priority list. And since we have a clear window of opportunity, Agent Summers will go undercover and work from the inside. Any questions?" he asked, looking around the room at the group of FBI agents. "Very well. Meeting adjourned."
Nervously chewing on her thumbnail, Buffy stayed where she was while everyone filed out of the room.
"You needn't worry, Buffy," Giles said, straightening some papers on his desk before walking over to her and handing her a thick file. "Everything you need to know on Spike Reed. He's a dangerous criminal, but I feel safer assigning you to this than waiting around for Angelus to show his face. So what's the problem?"
"I was prepared for Angelus," she replied. "I don't know anything about Spike Reed."
"That's what the file is for," he said, gesturing to the folder that was now resting in front of her.
"Thanks, Giles," she murmured, looking up at her surrogate father, the man responsible for her having a career in the Bureau. Picking up the file, she pushed her chair back with trepidation, listening to it scraping along the floor, before walking out the door.
Running a hand through her hair as she took a deep breath, Buffy looked at the heavy file before proceeding to walk to her office. Nearly slamming the door, she closed her eyes as she leaned against it.
'How are you going to do this?' she asked herself. She didn't know Spike, but she knew his reputation and she knew that being moderately attracted to a criminal at first glance was not a good thing. 'At least I can fight that,' she thought. And opening the file was a good way to remind her of that fact as she skimmed over the first page.
One of the most brutal businessmen in the world, William Reed (alias 'Spike') is a resourceful and cunning criminal- he's never served time, though charges have been brought forward on four prior occasions. Once he starts something, he doesn't stop until everything in his path is neutralized. Rich, powerful, and not afraid to buy what he wants- businesses, material possessions, or people, he is a millionaire many times over. After inheriting his money from his family, he proceeded to take the family business and turn it into something even larger. Known as 'William the Bloody' in the business world (the name perhaps originated in his dealings with the crime world as well, but that has never been proven) he is a ruthless manipulator.
A very dangerous individual and a known, but not convicted, murderer, he has allegedly killed several who are attached, in some form, to Angelus O'Neill. The two of them used to be friends, but frequently get more pleasure out of hating each other.
A fan of the Impressionist painters, and while he has legally purchased a large number of pieces, he seems to enjoy stealing them more so than owning them. Often described as cold-blooded and unfeeling…
Closing the file, Buffy threw it on her desk, not wanting to read anymore.
"You're an FBI agent," she said, needing to give herself a pep talk. "You can handle yourself with men twice your size, so don't get a jelly belly now. You finally got an assignment that's important."
Hearing the knock on the door, Buffy turned and opened it, mildly surprised when she saw Giles on the other side.
"Here's the information for your identity," he said, handing her a small file folder.
"I kind of already told him my name is Buffy Summers," she said with a sheepish expression.
"I thought as much. You're listed in the Bureau as Elizabeth Summers, so there's not much of a connection. I'm sure he will or has already had your background checked out, and because we successfully covered your identity when we thought you were going after O'Neill, it won't be a problem. All of the normal information is still relevant- this includes your passport and other documents for the name 'Buffy Summers'."
"Independent art dealer, extraordinaire," she said with a nod, confirming the cover story that most people knew.
"When do you plan to make contact?"
"Soon," she said with a nod. "I'll use my cell phone from home- there's too much of a chance that another agent might walk in on me here and I don't want to worry about my cover being ruined."
"That's fine. The arrangements have been made for a tracking device. It won't have a video or audio feed at this time. Reed is a smart man, and I'd prefer him to be completely comfortable with you," he said, turning toward the door.
"And kill me," Buffy filled in.
"You know the odds of that happening," Giles said, not sparing her a glance.
"Giles?" she said, drawing his attention back to her as she nervously fidgeted by her desk. "I'm supposed to get into a relationship with him…this guy is one of the most powerful men in the country."
"All the more reason why we need to take him down, Buffy," he replied.
"What happens if he wants to take me on his private jet and fly us out of the country somewhere? You know he spends most of his time in London, and it's not like that's my comfort zone. If I don't want to blow my cover, I have to go, and if I go…I'm alone."
"Buffy," he said in a gentle tone. "You're one of the most capable agents I know. If anyone can handle what Spike Reed can dish out, it would be you."
"And what if he 'dishes out' his gun and that's the end of it?"
Giles stayed quiet for a moment before gently patting Buffy's shoulder. "He would never kill an innocent woman."
"What about an undercover FBI agent?" she asked, her jaw clenching as she looked at him.
"Very easy solution to that problem, Agent Summers," Giles said, reverting back to her boss.
"And what's that, sir?" she asked quietly.
"Don't get caught."
Covert Conversation
"Don't get caught," Buffy muttered, slamming the door of her house later that day. "Easy for him to say."
Shrugging out of her coat and dropping the file on Spike Reed onto a nearby table, she slowly walked through the house, tossing her keys on the kitchen island as she went over to the counter. Hitting the button for the answering machine, she thumbed through her mail, sorting out the bills as the messages began.
"Hey, Buff, it's me."
Buffy smiled at the sound of her best friend's chipper tone.
"I feel like I haven't seen you in months. Give me a call sometime soon before I get really worried about you. We'll have to go out to lunch on a day that you're not too busy with work. I miss you."
"Miss you, too, Willow," she said softly, flipping through her mail, making a mental note to call her friend as it clicked over to the next message.
"Just a reminder that you won't be required to come into the office, Buffy. All dealings for the next transaction deal can be handled over the company cell phone."
"Subtle, Giles," she muttered. "Do you think that Reed has already tapped my phone?" she asked the empty house, ripping open an envelope and looking at the contents before tossing it onto the counter and starting on the next bill.
Her entire body seemed to paralyze when the machine clicked over to the next message.
"Miss Summers."
Hearing Spike's voice broadcasted through her kitchen, she reflexively gripped the countertop, unsure of what to make of this new development.
"Forgive the surprise of me calling, since you never actually gave me your number. What can I say? Couldn't wait."
The smile was obvious in his voice as Buffy turned toward the machine, staring at it as if Spike would materialize from it at any moment.
"You see, I know it's late notice, but I'm having a dinner party tonight and would love it if you could make it. I trust that you still have my card…don't hesitate to use it."
The click of the phone sounded through the room, leaving Buffy to contemplate what he had just said. He had obviously called recently, since his message was after Giles'. She knew that her personal information was covered since the Bureau had been planning to infiltrate her into O'Neill's life, if it had been at all possible, but that didn't mean that Spike couldn't have had her followed that morning.
What if he'd had her followed to work and now he was setting her up?
"Only one way to find out," she whispered to herself, picking up the cordless phone and staring at it for a long moment.
She briefly considered calling Giles to get his opinion on the situation but decided against it. This was her first big case, and although it wasn't exactly a solo mission, she would be doing it on her own. She couldn't call her mentor every time something unnerved her. Especially considering this was her assignment and Spike was making it that much easier for her.
Dialing the number that she had memorized, Buffy listened to the ringing tone, biting her lip as she paced around her kitchen.
Reaching for the button to disconnect the call after several long moments, she stopped when she heard his voice.
"Hello?"
Opening her mouth, she prepared to say 'Spike', realizing that he hadn't told her his nickname. "Mr. Reed," she said after a moment, trying to keep her voice light, reminding herself that she was a federal agent.
"Miss Summers?" he replied in a pleased tone. "I trust that you're calling to accept my invitation?"
"It's Buffy. And you're awfully sure of yourself, Mr. Reed," she said softly, hearing him pacing along the floor.
"You don't get where I am by being uncertain about things, Buffy," he replied in a smug voice, her name practically rolling off his tongue. "My confidence and resolution is what got me here in the first place. And call me Spike."
"Spike?" she repeated, feigning innocence.
"Nickname. Got it through some old business associates."
'I'll bet,' Buffy thought, biting her lip.
Inhaling softly to calm her nerves, she ran her hand along the countertop, trying to distract herself as she watched it glide along the tile. "Listen, Spike, about tonight-"
"I'll have a limo pick you up at eight o'clock."
Blinking in surprise, Buffy opened and closed her mouth several times to respond. "I didn't exactly accept," she finally said, a hint of irritation creeping into her voice.
"Why prolong the inevitable?" he asked with a smile in his tone.
Realizing that he was used to having women at his beck and call, Buffy finally relaxed, turning around to hop up on the counter as she realized how she could play this game. "Then I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline your offer, Mr. Reed," she said, practically sensing his back straightening as the good humor in his tone vanished.
"Excuse me?"
"I'm not a one-night stand or a potential conquest. I'm afraid that I don't like people making my decisions for me. Have a nice evening, Mr. Reed."
Smiling when she heard him practically sputtering on the other end of the phone, Buffy tilted her head to the side, listening intently.
"Buffy, wait."
"Waiting," she replied, checking her nails.
"I'm sorry," he said, sounding genuine for the first time. "I would appreciate it if you would be in attendance tonight, Miss Summers," he continued, taking on a higher class British accent.
"Well, since you asked so nicely," she said softly. "I guess that would be okay. And I told you to call me Buffy."
"Sounds good, love. I'll have a car for you at eight."
"How do you know where I live?" she asked, knowing exactly how he knew.
"It's my job."
"Really?" she replied skeptically as if she had no idea who he was. "Interesting job."
"You have no idea," he said in a seductive whisper.
Standing in her room an hour later, Buffy studied the halter dress that accentuated all of her best assets. Looking at the plunging neckline, crimson silk, and flowing skirt as the fabric whispered along the floor, she continued to critique her appearance. Her hair was pulled back in an elegant twist, leaving a few face-framing pieces loose to complete the look.
Finishing the minor touch-ups on her make-up, she quickly slipped on her high-heeled sandals before walking to the closet.
Flipping through the contents for a moment, she smiled when she found the matching silk shawl, turning around to toss it on her bed. Picking out a purse, she glanced down at the floor before taking a deep breath. Gathering her dress and carefully dropping to her knees, she raised the false board at the bottom of the wardrobe, extracting the smallest gun she owned.
Quickly checking the bullets, she glanced longingly at the Heckler & Koch USP MATCH resting off to the side, debating for a moment before shaking her head. One gun was enough of a risk, and considering it was her first night discovering things about Spike, she couldn't jeopardize her position by taking the heavier gun. It would come later, when she was more in her comfort zone around him and his home. Compensating for the smaller gun, she grabbed a switchblade and secured it in the lining of her purse.
Putting the gun in its sheath on her inner thigh, she let her dress fall back to the floor, turning every way imaginable to make sure that there were no noticeable lines that would indicate she was armed.
Satisfied that she wouldn't be discovered and that she had proper protection if she was, Buffy slowly nodded as if she was giving her reflection courage.
"It's show-time."
False Impressions
Fidgeting the entire way to the mansion, Buffy nervously adjusted her skirt a half a dozen times as the limo continued to its destination. Topping the hill, she could see the lights in the distance, raising an eyebrow at the huge grassy plain that sat in front of the house, blocking it from the view of the gates as the driveway wrapped around the hill, bringing the house into view.
"It's a helicopter landing," she whispered to herself, looking at the hill for a moment before focusing on the house. The spacious grounds were meticulously landscaped, accentuating the size of the house as they approached. Dozens of cars were parked on the long driveway, and guests were still walking up the stone steps and disappearing behind the open double doors, where a chandelier could be seen in the foyer.
"Oh boy," she murmured, biting her lip when the limousine came to a stop. Clutching her purse as the driver walked around the car and opened her door, she immediately became the person she needed to be.
Graciously taking his offered hand and allowing him to assist her out of the car, she smiled and thanked him, securing her shawl more firmly around her, idly wondering why she chose a dress that was the color of blood.
Keeping an indifferent expression on her face, she slowly walked up the main steps, raising an eyebrow when she was immediately stopped by two oversized men in tuxedos.
"Invitation, Miss."
"I don't have an invitation," she said with an edge to her voice.
"Then you're not getting in there."
"My invitation was by phone," she said, tightening her arms around her body.
"Yeah, yours and a whole bunch of other people who want in," the other man informed her. "No invite, no entry."
Rolling her eyes, Buffy turned and began her descent down the steps. It wasn't worth the fight- she would find some other way to get to Reed.
Listening to the sound of her heels clicking against the stone, she stopped when she heard her name. Turning around with a raised eyebrow, Buffy tightened her arms around her body, pulling her shawl closer to her as she watched Spike seemingly appear out of nowhere, running down the steps.
"Leaving so soon?" he asked with a smile when he stopped in front of her.
"Apparently I'm not a wanted guest," she said, glancing up at the muscle by the door.
Spike looked over his shoulder, clenching his jaw when he realized what happened. He turned around as he took a deep breath, giving Buffy his most charming smile. "Sorry about that, pet," he said before dropping his voice to a whisper. "Please don't leave."
"You really want me here?" she asked quietly, glancing up at the imposing mansion.
"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't," he replied, taking her hand in his and slowly leading her up the steps.
Silently following him, her hand firmly clasped in his, she watched with interest as he maneuvered her until his hand was resting on the small of her back, guiding her through the door. Practically sensing the glare that was coming from him, she tilted her head, catching his whispered words as they passed the two employees at the door.
"Didn't I tell you to ask for names?" he asked in a menacing voice that Buffy could barely hear. "You better hope I'm in a better mood tomorrow."
Wrapping an arm around Buffy's waist, he led her through the throngs of people.
"Powerful man," Buffy observed, feeling him tense slightly before he threaded his way through the crowd, smiling and offering handshakes as they walked, never letting his other hand leave her back.
"And apparently popular," she continued with a smile, finally feeling his eyes on her.
"I would have thought you'd have figured out that much," he said with an amused smile.
"Figured out…what?" she asked, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.
Pulling her into a quiet corner, he looked at her for a moment, almost as if he was searching for something. "You don't know who I am?" he asked quietly, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
"William Reed," Buffy replied, looking around the interior of the house. "Apparently called Spike and very expensive taste. Should I know you?"
'She doesn't know who I am,' he thought in amazement. 'A man who has been on more power lists than most celebrities, and she has no idea who I am.'
"No," he said with a charming smile. "Not at all."
"Well, apparently you're someone important, or all these people wouldn't show up," she said with a smile. "Unless they just want the free food."
"More like the free drinks," Spike corrected with a grin, leading her away from the crowded area and through some back halls.
"And where are you taking me, Mr. Reed?" she asked with a smile.
"Someplace we can have a little more privacy," he said, turning to look at her with a wink. Seeing the look on her face, he continued, "Not what you think."
"I hope not," she replied, looking at him with a teasing expression. "I'd hate for you to go to sleep tonight as half the man you are now."
Raising an eyebrow at the suggestion, Spike gently took her hand in his, running his thumb along her fingernails. "And the kitten has claws," he said in amusement.
"Surprised?"
"Pleased," he replied, never letting go of her hand.
Continuing their walk through the house, Buffy tried to subtly become accustomed to her surroundings, taking in the spacious rooms and high ceilings.
Frowning when he brought her to a back door, she looked at him quizzically, surprisingly put at ease when he smiled at her. Following him through the door, she looked at the beautifully landscaped backyard, the lights shimmering off of the huge pool as a few of the guests mingled around the deck.
Bypassing them quickly, Spike led her further into the gardens until the sounds of the party were whispers in the night.
The comforting feel of her gun brushing against her thigh when she walked kept her from shying away when he continued to lead her further away.
"Spike?" she said, letting an appropriate amount of nervousness enter her voice, reminding herself that she was supposed to be a helpless young woman. "I-I don't really like this."
"Just a little further, love," he whispered, turning toward her and gently cupping her cheek in his hand. "I want to show you something."
"If that's some kind of sexual innuendo, buddy, you've got another thing coming," she said with a teasing smile, hearing his answering chuckle.
"I promise, nothing sexual…unless you decide to initiate it, that is," he said with a sly smile, earning a light slap on the chest from Buffy.
Spike took her hand, leading her further down the path. Unable to see the house anymore, she finally stopped, a playful smirk on her face as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Tell me why a strange man, who I just met, tracks me down, invites me to his house, and leads me out to the middle of nowhere when I've barely even known him for fifteen minutes."
Smiling as he grabbed her hands and walked backwards, he led her through a small clump of trees, revealing a breathtaking view of the ocean.
"That's why," he replied.
"That's not an answer," she whispered, unable to take her eyes off the crashing waves below them as the moonlight reflected off the glassy surface.
Walking behind her, his hands intimately grasped her hips as he looked at the view of the ocean from over her shoulder. Staying quiet for a long minute, he finally responded, "Maybe I just wanted to share this with someone."
Listening to what he said, Buffy rolled her eyes with a disbelieving smile on her face, shoving his hands away from her body and walking back to the path.
"Buffy?"
Turning around to face him with a heavy sigh, she shook her head, looking up at the sky. "I swear, you're all the same," she said with a slight laugh.
"Who?" he asked in confusion.
"Men!" she cried in exasperation. "It's always 'how fast can we get under her skirt'. Did it ever occur to you that not all women are the plastic bimbos you're used to? I don't fall for the smooth lines or the 'love at first sight' crap…"
Forgetting for a moment that she was undercover, Buffy trailed off, hoping she hadn't just blown it with her little outburst.
Stunned into silence for a moment, Spike stared at her, his lips parted in an unreadable expression.
"Look," Buffy said after a moment, taking a deep breath as she stared at the ocean in the distance. "I'm flattered…really. Girls like me aren't usually singled out by the…millionaires," she said, struggling to find a word as she gestured in the direction of the house. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to compromise anything to get closer to you. I just…I'm not swayed by the attitude and the money and the…whatever else you have," she continued, noticing the slight smile as he glanced at the ground before his eyes raised to hers once again.
Unable to say anything else, Buffy turned to leave, knowing that she was possibly compromising something.
Her job.
If she failed this assignment before it really began, she didn't want to think about the consequences. But she also wasn't willing to jump into the bed of a known criminal just to get some information that may or may not help the Bureau.
"I'm sorry."
Buffy stopped when she heard the voice behind her, nearly breathing a sigh of relief that she hadn't blown it.
Turning to face him, she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt as he approached her with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, a sheepish expression on his face.
"You're right…I am used to getting my way with 'smooth lines' and money. It's never exactly hurt my chances when it came to my…company…in the past. And I'm sorry if I insulted you."
Smiling slightly as she looked at the ground, she brushed her hair away from her face before looking up at him again. "You didn't insult me," she said, shaking her head. "I just…you hear one line, you've heard them all and…maybe I should go," she finished, slipping back into 'character' as she gestured over her shoulder, hoping that he would do what she planned.
"No," he said quickly, taking a step toward her as Buffy tried to hide her smug look. "I mean," he continued in a slightly nervous voice. "If you'd rather go…I understand, but if you want to stay…"
He trailed off, tilting his head to look at her.
Deciding to surprise him once again, she took a step forward, looking up at him as if she was searching for something. "On one condition," she finally said, staring at him with an unwavering gaze. "You drop the act. Because if you really want to get to know me, then that's fine, but I'm telling you right now that you will not be getting me into your bed tonight."
"Direct, aren't you?" he said with a slight smile.
"I'm just letting you know…if that's your goal tonight, you won't be reaching it with me."
Seeing the strength that she possessed and the spark in her eyes, Spike nodded. "Alright, Miss Summers," he said with a gentle smile, offering her his arm, which she happily took. "I believe there's a party that we should be attending."
Open Opportunities
Standing at the top of the stairs, Buffy tried to maintain some distance from the partygoers. She had been there several hours, and even though Spike had been attentive toward her, he still had to play the role of host, leaving her alone every now and then.
Staring over the railing, she looked at the hundreds of people who were still wandering the ballroom and foyer of the mansion. Feeling someone walk up behind her, she tensed when an unfamiliar hand settled on the small of her back.
"Unless you want to pull back a bloody stump, I suggest you remove your hand," Buffy said, tightening her jaw.
Turning around, she raised an eyebrow at the sight of the middle-aged man standing behind her.
"I'm assuming you have a purpose for touching me, but I'm thinking it's just because you're looking to get lucky."
"Charming girl," he said in a British accent, offering her a smile that might have been attractive if her 'creep radar' wasn't going off the charts. "I'm Ethan Rayne."
Buffy watched, raising an eyebrow when he extended a hand toward her, making it known she wasn't interested in meeting him.
"Is there a problem?"
Turning at the sound of Spike's voice, she gave him a dazzling smile, grateful that he was there to rescue her from the other man. Not that she needed rescuing, but she appreciated the gesture.
"Not a problem, Spike," Ethan said, putting a friendly arm around the younger man, earning a glare from Spike in return. "I was just introducing myself to this lovely young woman."
"I think she can do without your introduction, Ethan," Spike said with a cold smile, walking over to Buffy.
"Can you blame me?" he asked, looking at the younger man. "I had to discover the woman who seems to have you so enamored by her presence."
Stepping closer to Spike, Buffy looked at the older man through narrowed eyes. She was definitely not getting good vibes from him.
"Buffy Summers, meet Ethan Rayne," Spike said after a moment, his tone of voice making it obvious that he didn't want them to meet.
Accepting his hand, she kept an indifferent expression on her face when Ethan lifted her hand to his mouth, leaving a lingering kiss on the back of it.
Feeling Spike's hold on her waist tighten, she felt relieved when he forcefully pulled her away from the other man, offering him a slight smile when he looked up, meeting Spike's gaze with a slightly startled expression.
"Good seeing you, Ethan," Spike said, guiding Buffy away from him and down the hall, not bothering to wait for a response. "God, I hate these parties," he groaned, causing a genuine smile to play on Buffy's lips.
"Then why do you throw them?" she asked in amusement.
"One of those expectations that I can't seem to get away from," he replied, leading them out to the privacy of the balcony.
Looking at the view as people milled around below them, Buffy took a deep breath, letting it calm her nerves.
"What do you do, Goldilocks?"
"What?" she asked, looking over at him and seeing him watching her with interest.
"Your job."
"Oh," she said, smiling in comprehension. "I'm an independent art dealer."
"Really?" he asked with a smile. "Wouldn't think that would be your chosen profession."
"Why's that?" she asked, turning toward him with a smile of her own.
"You just seem a little too…strong, I guess is the word."
Her smile immediately melted away as she turned to look at the view once more. "Strong?" she repeated, shifting on her feet and feeling the gun brush against her thigh, putting her at ease.
"You just exude this confidence and assurance," he clarified. "Definitely assumed that you were a strong woman."
"And I can't be that if I'm an art dealer?" she asked, relaxing enough to look into his eyes again.
"Guess I just figured you'd own a martial arts studio or something," he said, laughing and shaking his head at the absurdity of what he was saying. "Forget it," he continued, chuckling. "Don't know what I'm saying- must have had too much to drink already."
Giggling softly for a moment, Buffy paused when she saw his thoughtful expression.
"And what do you do?" she asked after a moment.
"I own a company in Los Angeles," he said, avoiding her eyes.
"And the 'company' gave you this fully-furnished mansion and limousine?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"That was my dad's," he said softly. "Everything you see in the house was inherited from some family member."
'And everything I don't see?' she wondered silently.
"Anyone ever tell you you're easy to talk to, love?"
"You haven't really talked to me that much," she answered with a smile.
"Guess I haven't," he replied with a slight nod. "But I feel a hell of a lot more relaxed than I have in a long time."
"That's always good to know," she said quietly, pulling her shawl closer to her to ward off the chilly night air.
Seeing her discomfort, Spike quickly shrugged out of his coat, draping it around her shoulders in one fluid movement. Turning toward him, Buffy felt her stomach tighten when she watched him tenderly adjust the collar, letting his hands linger on the fabric as his eyes met hers.
"Thanks," she murmured, blushing under his gaze, seeing the way his eyes were drifting from her eyes to her lips. Her breath caught in her throat when he slowly tilted his head toward her, seconds before she turned away, narrowly avoiding the brush of his lips against hers and causing him to pause for a long moment, trying to figure out what had just happened.
"Why me?" Buffy asked with interest, swallowing hard at the thought of the near-kiss.
"Why you?" he repeated with a raised eyebrow, standing up to his full height, trying not to think about the rejection he'd just received.
"Look around, Spike," she said, gesturing toward the crowded area below them. "I'm not the most beautiful woman here. I'm not the smartest, the richest, the most confident. I'm just me . That's all I know how to be. So…why me?"
Spike stayed quiet for a moment, solemnly studying her as if he was trying to figure out if she was serious or not. "Why not you?" he replied.
"Come on," she said, rolling her eyes. "You've had women drooling over you all night- probably your whole life- and you're standing here with me. You obviously have everything you could ever want…is this just some kind of game to you?" she asked, trying to keep the accusation out of her tone.
"No," he said softly. "Is it so hard to believe that I might be genuinely interested in you?"
'Yes,' Buffy silently told herself, outwardly shrugging.
"You've been hurt before," he said softly, finally understanding where she was coming from when her eyes raised to his.
"Hasn't everyone?" she whispered, seeing him contemplate what she said for a moment before nodding.
"So tell me, Miss Summers," Spike said, offering her a smile while he readjusted the collar of his coat that was still securely wrapped around Buffy. "Is it worth the risk?"
"Maybe," she replied softly.
Looking down for a moment, Spike took a deep breath before raising his eyes to hers again. "Will you have dinner with me?"
"Will this be a quaint little dinner party like tonight?" she asked in a teasing voice.
"I was thinking more of a one-on-one scenario," he said, looking at the crowd below him with disdain.
"And will I get to know the real Spike Reed?" she asked, seeing the flash of something unidentifiable cross his face before it disappeared.
"We'll see what happens," he said in a teasing voice, but Buffy could hear the underlying truth in the statement. She wasn't stupid enough to think that he would just open up to her after knowing her for such a short time, but she was definitely not going to let this opportunity pass her by, giving him a bright smile before she spoke.
"When and where?"
Know Your Work
Standing in front of the mansion a few days later, Buffy took a deep breath, uneasy with the situation.
This would be the first night that she would be with Spike without the shadowing company of hundreds of other people within reach.
Now they would be alone.
Ringing the doorbell, Buffy smoothed the black pants she was wearing, fidgeting with the silky cream-colored top while she waited. Narrowly refraining from biting her lip when the door opened, she tried to smile at the man on the other side.
"You're here for Mr. Reed, I presume," he said in an upper class British accent.
"Yes," she said softly.
"Come in," he said, opening the door wider for her to enter.
"Thank you," she murmured, walking into the house and actually getting a chance to look at the impressive foyer, the marble floors, and the beautiful chandelier now that the area was empty.
"I shall tell Mr. Reed you've arrived."
"Thank you," Buffy repeated, wandering around the foyer. Seeing the crystal vases, expensive modern art, and numerous antiques that decorated the area, she took a deep breath, feeling truly out of her element. "The man does have good taste," she muttered to herself.
"Why thank you."
Spinning around at the sound of the smug voice, Buffy flushed nervously when she realized that Spike was right behind her. Opening and closing her mouth a few times, she gave a nervous laugh, caught off-guard at the sight of him in black jeans and a black shirt that seemed to be molded to his muscular chest.
"Wasn't too hard to find again when you were driving, was it?" he asked, gesturing to the house.
"No," Buffy said, shaking her head and wringing her hands together to have something to do. "Not hard at all. Unhard as a matter of fact," she said with another slight laugh, seeing Spike smile at her.
"Do you want anything to drink?" he asked, effortlessly slipping into the role of host as he led her through the house and into the formal dining room, walking toward the bar.
"Um…martini, if you've got it."
'Good job, Summers, start drinking on the job,' she said to herself before nearly rolling her eyes. 'The man expects you to drink- it's…in character,' she thought, nearly nodding her head in satisfaction.
"Dinner won't be ready for a few minutes," he said a moment later, walking toward her and handing her the drink of her choice. "Would you like me to show you around?"
It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse, but she realized it would be in her best interest to learn the layout of the house since she didn't see much of it the night of the party. "Sounds great," she said with a smile, blushing slightly when he took her hand in his and began leading her through the spacious hallways.
After seeing nearly every room that was downstairs, Buffy was guided into a room near the back of the house with a spectacular view of the pool. Looking at the deep cherry wood and burgundy leather couches and chairs, she had to smile. "Is it really wise to have an office that overlooks the pool? I wouldn't think you'd get much work done," she teased.
Smiling in response, Spike shrugged. "It motivates me to finish whatever I'm working on," he said, walking up behind her, his hand gently resting on her hip. "Care for a swim later?"
"I didn't bring my suit," she said softly, turning toward him.
"I won't complain," he replied with a smirk, causing her to raise an eyebrow in response.
"Maybe some other time," she said with a smile, looking at him over her shoulder to see his reaction. Her smile slowly faded when she saw the painting that was hanging on the opposite wall.
"Monet," she breathed, staring at the beautiful piece of art, turning around to get a better look at it.
"You know it?" Spike asked, tilting his head to study her reaction.
"Not as well known as his haystacks or water lilies," she said softly.
"The Water Lilies are in the other wing," he said, looking up at the painting as Buffy turned to face him.
"Excuse me?" she asked with a raised eyebrow that brought a smile to Spike's face. He didn't even have to look at her to hear the unasked questions.
"The Clouds ," he clarified. "I believe Water Lilies is currently showcased at the Art Institute of Chicago. Water Lilies-The Clouds is a part of a private collection…mine."
Blinking rapidly as she turned back to the painting and tried to take in all of the information, her mind was trying to figure out if there had been a Monet stolen in the past few years. Realizing that she didn't remember seeing it in his file, she finally breathed a sigh of relief, walking a few steps closer, admiring the brush strokes and use of color.
"So tell me about this one," she said with a flirty smile, turning toward him once again.
"I think you probably know more than I do, love."
"Humor me," she said, looking up at him with wide eyes before turning back to the painting.
"Alright," he said with a slight chuckle. " The Artist's Garden at Vetheuil , quite possibly one of the flattest landscapes ever painted, many things are not individually distinguishable. It raises a number of questions- are the building in the background side-by-side or is one meant to be in front? There are no clouds, no shadows, and the sunflowers have raised numerous questions. The flowers themselves don't get smaller, as would be normal for a painting, leaving many to believe that it was a wall of flowers at the base of the staircase."
By the end of his speech, Buffy had looked away from the painting, turning to look at Spike instead.
Feeling her eyes on him, he slowly turned to look at her with a smile. "What do you think?"
"About the painting or the theories?" she asked.
"Either," he said with a slight shrug as Buffy turned to look at the artwork, letting out a deep breath as her brows furrowed and she bit her lower lip, lost in deep thought.
"Not one of my favorites," she said after a moment, causing Spike to raise an eyebrow in amusement.
"And why's that?"
"It shows how talented he was, but it's just so unlike some of his other work that I think he would have been better off adding some more depth to it." Seeing the slight smile on his face, Buffy rolled her eyes. "What? What's that face for?"
"I suppose you're more of a fan of the haystacks, then?"
Walking away from the painting, she smiled as she shook her head. " The Artist's Garden at Giverny ," she said, looking at him to judge his reaction, seeing the smile pulling at his lips. "Nineteen years after he painted this one…I guess his work just had to mature some more," she said with a grin.
"Why that one, love?"
"Because it was a water garden- it gave everything such depth and richness. The way he painted them from overhead, intensifying the surroundings."
"Ever seen it?" Spike asked, following Buffy around the room.
"At the Musée d'Orsay in Paris?" she replied with a smile. "Not exactly in my budget."
"An independent art dealer?" he asked, looking at her with a curious expression. "I would think you would have to go overseas."
Realizing her mistake a moment too late, Buffy's eyes widened a fraction before she pasted a smile on her face. "'Independent' being the key word. It's not like I have a boss paying to fly me all over the world."
Narrowing his eyes slightly, Spike slowly nodded. "Maybe you'll see it someday."
"I'm not holding my breath," she said with a smile, walking across the Persian rugs to the painting on the other end of the office. "Renoir?" she said with interest.
"You don't seem too impressed."
"It takes a lot to impress me, Mr. Reed," she said, her voice taking on a serious tone as she turned toward him.
"I'll remember that," he said in a raspy whisper. "And in case you've forgotten- it's Spike." Leading Buffy out of the room, he let his hand trail along the small of her back as they walked. "So, who decorates your home, Miss Summers?" he asked in a teasing tone.
"Oh, you know how it is," she said with a playful smile. "A few by Rembrandt, Bazille, a couple of the other Impressionists."
"S'that right?" he said, smiling in amusement as he led her toward the dining room. "You'll have to show me sometime."
Biting her lip and giving him a flirtatious glance, she raised an eyebrow for a more seductive look. "Play your cards right."
Kids at Heart
"How's your dinner?" Spike asked, tilting his head to look at her.
"Excellent," she said, cutting into her filet mignon. "And I'm guessing you cooked the entire thing, am I right?" she asked, holding back the giggle as she took a sip of wine.
"You know it," he replied, taking a bite of vegetables. "It's one of my hidden talents."
"So, have you ever actually cooked your own dinner?" she asked in amusement.
"Does ordering pizza count?"
"No," she replied, shaking her head. "I guess that means I'm going to have to get you to cook, huh?"
"You're offering?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, slightly surprised at the comment.
"If you wanted to," Buffy said, shrugging as she became a little nervous with her abrupt invitation.
"When and where?" he asked with a smile, repeating the words she told him a few nights earlier.
"Whatever night is good for you and my house," she replied. "I want you to get the full experience."
"This oughtta be good," Spike muttered, seeing her raise an eyebrow at him. Holding up his hands defensively, he shook his head. "Kidding, only kidding."
"You better be," she said, pointing her knife at him, a stern look on her face before she began giggling.
Eating in silence for a few more moments, Buffy looked up at him, tilting her head to study him. "Favorite color?" she asked, watching him look at her in surprise.
"Excuse me?"
"We have to go through all that 'getting to know you' crap, don't we?" she asked, seeing him chuckle in response. "I repeat- favorite color?"
"Black," Spike replied, looking at her as she rolled her eyes. "What?"
"It's just so…blah," she said, sticking out her tongue to indicate the distaste for his choice. "I mean, you couldn't go with something a little better like yellow or purple?"
"Purple?" he asked indignantly, practically spitting out the word. "You do realize who you're talking to, right?"
"A man who doesn't like purple?" she replied, smiling slightly when he rolled his eyes.
"A man," he said as if it was the most natural choice in the world.
"That's no excuse. I know plenty of men who like purple. It just proves their masculinity."
"Fine," Spike muttered. "Red. That better?"
"Much," Buffy replied, a satisfied look on her face as she took a bite.
"What about you?" he asked.
"I don't know," she said with a shrug, sitting back as she finished her meal. "Blue, maybe."
Making small talk for the next twenty minutes, Buffy learned more about him but knew that it was too soon to venture into more personal territory.
"Ready for the rest of the tour?" Spike asked, getting up from his seat and walking over to pull her chair out for her.
"There's more to this place?" she asked with a smile.
"Two more floors," he replied, offering his arm to her, which she happily accepted.
"Lead the way."
Paying careful attention to the layout of the house, she followed him up the stairs. Her eyes widened at the sight of the huge game-room that he led her to. Seeing the expensive pool table, big screen TV that was equipped with every electronic device and game system imaginable, and the authentic video games that looked like they belonged in an arcade, Buffy had to smile.
"Kid at heart?" she asked in amusement, walking a little further into the room.
"You could say that," he said with a nod, grabbing a pool cue. "Feel up to a game?"
"Maybe," she murmured, looking around the room before squealing at the sight on the far wall. "Ms. Pac-Man? Oh my God, I can't believe you have that game!"
Spike had to laugh, watching her run over to the system and eagerly sit down in the seat. "Press the start button and play to your heart's content."
Turning to look at him with an appreciative smile, she shook her head. "Let's play pool."
"Buffy, it's okay, if you want-"
"No," she interrupted, shaking her head. "I think pool sounds like more fun. But I should warn you…I'm not very good."
"Fair enough," he said, tossing her a cue.
Leaning against the side of the table while he rolled up his sleeves, she unconsciously licked her lips, looking at the muscles that were exposed to her gaze. Feeling his eyes on her, Buffy looked up for a moment, catching the wink and smile that he gave her before turning his attention back to the table, preparing to break.
Breathing heavily, Buffy nearly yelled at herself for her irregular heartbeat and the way her stomach was flipping.
'This is a job,' she told herself. 'It's business…that's all. You're not supposed to have reactions that you can't control. Level head- remember?'
All thoughts were soon forgotten as she watched him lean across the table, biting her lip as she watched his muscles flex subtly.
Barely noticing when it was her turn, Buffy shook her head to try and clear it before walking around the table to take her shot. Missing the pocket by a horrible margin and sinking the cue ball into the pocket, she turned back to Spike with a sheepish smile and a shrug. "Scratch."
"Not your game, love?"
"Not really," she replied, watching him take a few more shots, taking a step back to admire the rear view when he bent over the table. Raising an eyebrow in appreciation, she put an indifferent look on her face when he turned to face her, indicating that it was her turn.
Buffy walked to the side of the table, preparing to take her shot, stopping when she heard his voice.
"Just a second," he said softly, leaning his cue stick against the wall and walking over to her. Wrapping his arms around her, he proceeded to show her the proper technique, smiling when she shivered against him. "Feel that?" he whispered, his breath caressing her cheek.
"I think so," she murmured, biting her lip to keep from smiling as he helped her hit two balls into the pockets. Letting him help her for a little while longer, she finally straightened, turning to face him with a little hop. "Now let's play."
"You sure you're ready?"
"Yep," she said, smiling confidently.
"Alright, then," he said softly. "I'll go easy on you."
Seeing the wink that he cast in her direction, Buffy merely raised an eyebrow, watching him rack the balls. "Do you want to break or should I?" he asked in an amused tone.
"I can do it," Buffy said, walking around the table.
Looking away for a moment, Spike's eyes widened when he heard the distinctive crack of the balls breaking, looking up in time to see three shooting into the corner pockets.
Biting her lip, Buffy merely shrugged. "Beginner's luck," she said softly.
Five minutes later, when she sunk the eight ball, she slowly turned to Spike, giving him a bright smile.
"Look what I did."
"Still beginner's luck, love?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in her direction.
"Well…I might have had just a little bit of practice, but how was I supposed to know I'd beat you?"
"Beat me?! Hustled me, is more like it," Spike replied, obviously trying not to laugh at the fact that he fell for one of the oldest tricks in the book.
Tossing her cue stick to him, she smiled. "Be glad you weren't playing for money."
Pinning her against the table before she could move out of the way, Spike looked into her eyes.
"What?" she asked nervously, hating the tremor that threaded through her voice. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he whispered, slowly lowering his head to hers. "Nothing at all."
Closing her eyes when his lips brushed against hers in a tender caress, Buffy felt her stomach flip. Feeling his hands gently settle on her hips, grasping them gently, she couldn't help but feel the underlying possessiveness that was intended. Wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her, her knees began to grow weak.
Spike's tongue gently slipped into her mouth, brushing against hers and eliciting a soft moan in response.
Realizing that things were spiraling out of control, Buffy put a hand against his chest, lightly pushing him away until their lips separated.
Pressing his forehead against hers, Spike seemed to be searching her eyes for something. Brushing his fingertips over her cheek, he offered her a soft smile.
"Stay the night," he whispered, his lips barely ghosting over hers, mildly surprised when she pulled back with a slight smile, breaking the trance they seemed to be in.
"Am I staying in a guest room?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I was thinking of showing you where I sleep, Goldilocks," he replied with a sexy smirk.
Running her hands along his stomach and chest, she tried not to think about the powerful muscles beneath the shirt as her hand moved even higher, up his neck until the back of her hand was gently grazing his cheek. Moving to close the distance between them, she brushed a tender kiss to his cheek, letting her breath caress his ear as she spoke.
"I don't have one night stands," she breathed, taking a step away in time to see his surprised expression. Turning around, she walked out of the room, making her way down the stairs, never looking back as she walked through the foyer and out the front door.
Breathing a sigh of relief when she walked outside, she briefly closed her eyes, inhaling the night air that hit her face. Unable to keep the satisfied grin off her face, she nearly giggled when she remembered the look on Spike's face. She knew that if she'd stayed the night, the chances would not have been good that she would return to his house. Not to mention the fact that she really shouldn't be having lusty-wrong feelings about a man she was assigned to bring down.
Challenging him practically guaranteed that he would come back for more…she hoped.
Conflicting Interests
Cleaning her house a few days later, Buffy felt like she was going stir-crazy. She didn't know what was worse: sitting around waiting for a phone call as if she was in high school again, or being forced to stay away from work because it might blow her cover.
Her house was almost spotless after all the attention she'd been able to give to it, burning all of her nervous energy. She'd even managed to repaint the two guest rooms. Sorting through her desk in the living room, she left the piles of useless papers on the flat surface. Everything incriminating had been removed from her home or locked away when she found out she was going to be trying to track Angelus O'Neill, knowing that he wouldn't be above breaking into a woman's home and searching through her things. Buffy honestly didn't think Spike would do the same thing, but she didn't want to test the theory and run the risk of him discovering who she really was.
Flipping through the stacks of paid bills, receipts from some of her favorite stores and various odds and ends, she stopped when she heard her phone ring.
Buffy quickly jumped up and ran into the kitchen, grabbing the cordless. "Hello?"
"Good morning, lamb."
"Hello, Spike," she said, walking back into the living room to sit on the couch, curling her legs up beneath her.
"I had fun the other night," he said in a sensuous voice.
"Me, too," she replied, slightly surprised that she was telling the truth.
"Care to have dinner with me tonight?" he asked, faltering when Buffy didn't answer right away.
"Tell you what- we'll do dinner, but tonight you come over to my place."
"Fair enough," he replied, a smile in his voice. "Tell me where and when and I'm all yours."
Opening the door later that night, Buffy offered Spike one of her thousand-watt smiles when she saw him. "Hi!" she said in a chipper voice that immediately brought a smile to his face.
"Hi, yourself," he replied, looking her up and down. After seeing her three nights in two weeks, this was the first time she actually looked completely comfortable and relaxed. Wearing stonewashed blue jeans with a ripped knee and a spaghetti-strapped white tank top, she looked like she was a teenager. Taking in her lack of make-up and her long blonde hair pulled back into a high ponytail, his smile widened at the fact that she was comfortable being so natural around him after such a short period of time.
Walking into the house, he held up a bottle of wine, offering it to her.
"Oh, that's so sweet," she said, accepting the bottle and kissing him on the cheek, letting her lips linger on his skin longer than necessary before pulling away. "I'll go put this on ice," she said, happily walking into the kitchen while Spike took off his coat, smiling to himself that she seemed to be so at ease with him already.
He was also shocked at the way he seemed to automatically relax around her. The vibrant quality that she exuded practically radiated through the room. Hearing her moving around in the kitchen, he tossed his coat over the banister before walking into the living room, taking the opportunity to look around the room.
Wandering around the comfortable area, he took in the overstuffed couch and chairs, the fireplace mantle that was covered in pictures, and the large desk in the corner that was piled high with papers. Artwork and pictures hung from each wall, but Spike's attention was soon drawn back to the fireplace. Slowly moving to stand in front of it, he looked at the painting that was hanging above the mantle.
"Drink?" Buffy asked, holding out a martini as she walked into the room.
"Thank you," Spike said, smiling at her before turning back to the art. "Ice Floes Morning Haze," he said softly, the words practically rolled off his tongue as he stared at the reproduction of Monet's painting, swallowing a good portion of the drink. "What happened to The Artist's Garden at Giverny? I seem to remember that being your favorite."
"Just because it's my favorite doesn't mean it represents me," she said softly, avoiding his eyes as she looked into her glass.
"And this is you?" Spike replied with a raised eyebrow, gesturing toward the reproduction.
"I think it could be representative of a lot of people…don't you?" she questioned, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow.
"I would have figured you more for Japanese Bridges," he said with a slight smile, avoiding the question.
"Ice is better," she said, taking a sip of her drink, letting the alcohol burn its way down her throat.
"Why's that?" he asked, tilting his head as he waited for her response.
Turning to study him for a long moment, Buffy never looked away from his strong gaze. "Because…to live in this world, you have to be hard. You have to have a mask."
Lightly biting his lip, Spike looked at the floor, apparently deep in thought before turning to look at the painting. "And if you look below the surface?" he asked, staring at the glassy water, reflecting everything around it.
"You might not like what you see," she said softly, unsure of what she was talking about. Setting her drink on an end table, she turned and walked toward the kitchen, leaving Spike to think about what she had said.
Slowly following her, he stopped in the doorway, seeing her standing at the island, chopping vegetables.
Feeling his eyes on her for several long minutes, Buffy gritted her teeth together as she tightened her hold on the butcher knife. "What?" she asked in irritation.
"What's wrong?" he asked softly.
'Oh nothing,' Buffy thought to herself as she continued slicing through the vegetables. 'I'm just having all kinds of wrong feelings for the man who I'm working to arrest and I don't know what to do.'
"Why do you think something is wrong?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him as she met his gaze with an indifferent expression.
"You seem a little worked up," he said, tilting his head to study her.
"I'm fine," she replied, grabbing a tomato and cutting into it, jumping when she felt Spike walk up behind her, pinning her against the counter with his arms on each side of her.
The move was so similar to what he'd done the night before, but Buffy still tensed at the unfamiliarity of someone being so close to her. Reflexively maneuvering the knife into a more defensive hold, she closed her eyes when his hands came up to rest on her shoulders, too close to Buffy's neck for her comfort level.
"You just need to relax," he whispered in her ear, sending shivers racing along her spine as a mixture of raging emotions ran through her- fear, contentment, anxiety, exhilaration. Completion.
Exhaling in a gasp when his hands began kneading the muscles in her back, she trembled when his lips brushed against her throat, traveling lower until he felt her tense again.
Standing up a little straighter, Spike gently rubbed her shoulders for another minute before letting his hands abandon her soft skin, trailing down her body to rest on her hips. "Guess it's time to eat," he said with a soft smile when she glanced back at him.
"Um…y-yeah."
Helping Buffy carry the food to the table, Spike had to smile. "She's beautiful, sexy, successful, and she cooks…be still my heart. Martha Stewart better watch her back."
Giggling as she shook her head, she replied, "First of all, Martha Stewart knows jack about hand-cut prosciutto. Secondly…beautiful?" she asked softly, turning to look at him with a hopeful expression.
Spike smiled but didn't answer as he bit his bottom lip, turning around to grab the wine off the counter.
There was something so endearing in that expression that it nearly took Buffy's breath away. She had to remind herself, not for the first time, that this wasn't a date. This was her job.
An assignment that she was dealt, and she shouldn't be getting this much… enjoyment out of it.
Second Thoughts
"Life's ambition?" Spike asked, taking a sip of his wine. After finishing their meal an hour before, they sat calmly in each other's presence, staring up at the night sky from the steps of Buffy's back porch.
"Hmmm," she said, putting a finger to her chin as if she was thinking heavily. "Marry rich, move to Europe, divorce the guy and take half his money."
"Interesting," Spike replied, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm kidding," she said, looking at him in exasperation. "I honestly don't have a lot of ambitions. I've reached a lot of them, and I basically just take things one day at a time right now."
"Sounds like a plan," he said with a smile.
"Works for me," she replied, hiding her own smile as she brought her wine glass to her lips, taking a small sip.
"And what was tonight's plan, Goldilocks?"
"Dinner," she said, turning toward him. "And the lackage of burning. I think I succeeded, don't you?"
"I have a feeling if I said no, I'd be in serious trouble," he said in a teasing tone.
"It's entirely possible," she said, leaning over to gently nudge her shoulder against his before her expression turned serious. Sitting in silence for a few more moments, she took a deep breath, gathering her nerves. "Can I ask you something?" she asked softly, staring into her glass as she spoke.
"What's that, love?"
"What is this?" she asked, turning toward him, knowing that the job aspect of her feelings was rapidly slipping away, leaving her to turn and stare into the eyes of a man she was falling for. A man who had never shown her a side of himself that could be considered illegal or dangerous, simply proving to her that he could be good. She hoped.
Reaching up to tenderly brush her hair away from her cheek, Spike looked at her for a long moment. "I don't know," he said softly. "What do you want it to be?"
"That's not an answer," she whispered, looking up at him with bright eyes.
Sitting back with a sigh, Spike looked at the sky for a moment before speaking. "It's not like I've ever done this before," he said with a slight smile. "Over thirty years old, and it feels like I'm a teenager again."
"Are you saying you have a crush on me, Mr. Reed?" she asked softly, smiling at him.
Spike chuckled before slowly leaning toward her, seeing her eyes briefly widen before fluttering shut as he met her lips in a soft kiss. Fighting every instinct to immediately deepen the kiss, he focused on the feel of her soft lips caressing his.
Pulling away before it could get out of control, Spike pressed his forehead to hers, seeing the indecision on her face before she pulled away, avoiding his gaze as he continued to look at her.
"You don't even know me," she whispered after a moment.
Seeing the sadness that seemed to cross her face, Spike frowned, moving closer to her. Hesitantly putting a hand on her shoulder, he tilted his head when she raised her eyes to his. "I know enough," he said softly. "I know the kind of woman you are…the strength you have."
"You can't possibly know that," Buffy whispered, looking down and closing her eyes as she tried to forget his purpose for being here.
"I can," he replied. "Strength isn't a show of force- it's something deeper. Something you can read in the eyes. Something that you possess."
'Don't fall for him- this is all just an act. Just some elaborate plan to get what he wants from you. Don't fall for him.'
"Tell me about yourself," she said, wanting to change the subject as she turned toward him, immediately lightening the mood.
"What do you want to know?" he asked, leaning back slightly, knowing that she probably wanted a little bit of distance.
"Doesn't matter," she said with a shrug, taking another drink. "Something that no one else knows."
"Something that no one else knows," he repeated with an amused smile, sitting up a little straighter as he thought of an answer. "Alright…I watch Passions."
"You watch Passions?" she asked in disbelief, a smile playing on her lips.
"I'm addicted to the bloody show," he said, chuckling to himself. "And Dawson's Creek."
"You're kidding," Buffy replied, nearly laughing at the absurdity of what he'd just told her. "So, tell me, William Reed…were you a Dawson fan or a Pacey fan?"
"Pacey," he replied immediately. "Even though I used to think he was a blind idiot, but it turned out alright in the end."
Biting her lip to keep from laughing, Buffy looked at the ground, taking a deep breath.
"What's running through that mind of yours, pet?" Spike asked, seeing her restraining herself from laughing.
Turning toward him, her eyes bright with unshed tears as she continued to hold in her laughter, she continued calmly, "Please tell me that you don't have the DVDs of all the seasons."
"Alright…I won't tell you," he said, chuckling when he heard her giggle. "Now it's your turn."
"Something no one knows," she said softly. "Well, I have some New Kids on the Block posters shoved in the back of my closet because I couldn't bear the idea of parting with them."
Seeing him duck his head to hide his smile, Buffy bumped her shoulder against his. "Don't give me any of that- your little guilty pleasure is ten times worse than mine. And you have two of them," she reminded him.
"Didn't say a word," Spike replied, holding up his hands as he suppressed another laugh.
"Let's keep it that way," she said, raising an eyebrow in a mock warning.
Sitting in comfortable silence for another minute, Spike sighed as he looked at his watch. "I think it's time for me to get going," he said softly, the disappointment evident in his voice.
Standing up, he turned and smiled when he saw Buffy reach for him. Helping her to her feet, Spike loosely wrapped his arms around her waist, waiting for her to make the first move.
Taking a deep breath after a moment, Buffy's arms slowly wrapped around Spike's neck, bringing him closer to her for a tender kiss.
Knowing that he wouldn't have self-control much longer, he tried to keep a safe distance from her as her tongue ran along his bottom lip, begging entrance. Parting his lips for her, Spike nearly moaned at the feel of her warm body pressed against his while her hands ran through his hair, loosening the gel and freeing his curls. Fighting every natural impulse in his body to pick her up and press her against the side of the house, Spike continued the soft kiss for a moment before reluctantly breaking away.
Both panted for air, staring into each other's lust-filled eyes.
"Guess that's my cue," he said softly.
"Guess so," she murmured, smiling when he took her hand in his, leading her around to the side of the house.
Reaching the driveway a moment later, Spike turned to face her, taking in her features as the moonlight bathed over both of them. Leaning down, he brushed his lips over hers.
"When can I see you again?" he asked, his breath caressing her lips.
"Soon," she whispered, hating the churning that accompanied the flip-flopping in her stomach.
Giving her another soft kiss, Spike tenderly ran his hand along her cheek, smiling when she shivered at the contact. "I'll call you," he said softly, waiting for her nod of agreement before he got in his car.
Buffy watched him drive away, hugging her arms around her body for some form of comfort. She hated that she didn't know where she stood anymore.
Was this man really how his reputation claimed? Or was all of this some kind of elaborate plan on his part?
Walking back into her house, her hands came up to her face as the frustration and stress of the situation seemed to catch up with her.
Grabbing her cell phone that was for emergencies, she walked onto the front porch, dialing the familiar number, listening to the dial tone as it rang.
"Hello?"
"Giles…it's me."
A Job to Do
"Buffy?"
Giles' voice traveled through the phone, obviously trying to wake up. She could hear the sound of mattress springs as he sat up and nearly smiled when she pictured him putting on his glasses, only to take them off and polish them.
"Is something wrong?" he asked after a moment.
"I can't do this, Giles," she whispered, feeling her stomach flip as she sat down on the porch swing, her nerves leaving her strung out and confused.
"If you're talking about your assignment-"
"I am, and I can't," she said softly. "I know you were counting on me, but…"
"Do you really need to know my response to that?" he asked.
"If you knew him," Buffy continued, feeling desperation begin to sink into her. "If you knew who he was, you would understand…"
"Buffy," he said slowly, speaking in a soft voice. "I want you to rationally think about what you're saying to me. You know who this man is. You know what he's capable of."
"I know," she replied in a strained voice. "I do know that…but Giles…I just don't think we should be focusing our energy- at least not to this much of an extent- on him. Angelus is the bigger and more dangerous threat, and if we could just-"
"He is… but he's not the one we're going after at this time. His time will come, Buffy. Right now, we're focusing our attention on Reed, and that means you have to handle the situation- whatever that may be."
"I just think…"
"You have an assignment, Agent Summers," Giles said, a hard edge in his tone. "I expect you to remember that."
"Yes, sir," she murmured, fighting the tears in her eyes. She hated it when she had something that she genuinely wanted to say and Giles pulled rank on her.
Sighing heavily, he continued, "I know this is hard. Your job is to get close and find out where he's going to strike next. I know that has to be difficult, but the fact remains- you're not in his group of friends; therefore, he's not going to tell you what he's doing. You have to earn that trust, and it is our hope that he either trusts you enough or he slips up. You're to play the role of his girlfriend, Buffy, and I know you can do this. If you feel that you can't, I can take you off of the assignment and put Faith in your place, but that's your choice."
"No," Buffy said quickly, a little louder than she intended. The idea of Faith Lehane getting close to Spike made her want to gag. "No…it's okay," she said, softening her tone. "I can do this."
"It's difficult," Giles said in an understanding tone. "You get close to the man and not the criminal, and it's extremely hard to differentiate between the two…but I know you, Buffy. I know you have it in you to do this. You're an extraordinary woman, and your strength shows in everything that you do."
"Strength isn't a show of force- it's something deeper. Something you can read in the eyes. Something that you possess."
Closing her eyes at the memory of Spike's voice, Buffy shook her head, needing to clear it of her thoughts. "Thank you," she said. "I'm sorry I woke you."
"You know I'm here for you," he said in a comforting voice.
"I know," she whispered, taking a deep breath as her emotions began to get the better of her. "Thanks, Giles."
"Good night, Buffy."
Hanging up the phone, she let it fall onto the cushion of the swing as her head dropped into her hands.
'Giles is right,' she thought to herself, running her hands through her hair. 'This is a job…a job. Nothing more than that.'
Slowly sitting up a little straighter, she ran her hands through her hair, pushing the loose strands away from her face as she stared into the darkness.
'Then why is it so hard?'
Wandering through her house later that night, Buffy irritably rolled her shoulders as she entered the kitchen. After lying in bed for over an hour and unable to go to sleep, she had finally given up.
Making some hot chocolate for herself, she carried it into the living room, smiling at the memory of her mother doing the same thing every night that she couldn't sleep. It was one of her favorite memories and one of the times she missed the most.
Staring sightlessly into her living room, Buffy's gaze soon focused on a bookshelf sitting in the corner. Carefully setting her mug down on the coffee table, she pulled her robe tighter as she walked over to it, selecting a photo album and carrying it back to the couch.
Settling down on the soft cushions, she began to slowly flip through the pages. Finding herself lost in the memories of her childhood, she smiled at the images in front of her. Pictures of her mother and father together, holding their baby daughter after she was brought home from the hospital.
"It's amazing how pregnant women always have a glow, but women who've just had their babies always look bloated."
Buffy giggled at the memory of her mother's voice. She'd always hated that picture, but Buffy had insisted that it was a beautiful picture and that it showcased the family that she dreamed of. The family that now existed only in photographs and memories.
Smiling at the evolution of herself- coloring on an easel while her mother painted when she was a toddler, holding her lunchbox and smiling proudly at the camera on her first day of school, nervously standing next to her Homecoming date in Junior High- Buffy got lost in her walk down Memory Lane.
Seeing herself getting ready for the prom, standing next to her parents at her high school and college graduations, and smiling with her mother on the day she graduated to become an FBI agent, she took a deep breath to control her emotions.
Closing the album, Buffy shut her eyes, remembering the conversation she had with her mother that day.
"As long as you're happy, I'm happy for you," Joyce said, hugging her daughter. "I'm sorry your father couldn't be here."
"Me, too," Buffy said softly, eagerly returning the hug. "Guess he couldn't be bothered by his daughter."
"Don't think that," her mother said, brushing the hair away from Buffy's face. "This is your day and you deserve to be happy."
"I think I will be, as long as I don't marry a man like my father," she replied dryly.
"You'll find a man who's right for you," Joyce said, wrapping an arm around Buffy's shoulders. "Someone who puts you above everything else and loves you for who you are…not for who he wants you to be."
Curling up on the couch, Buffy felt tears sting her eyes at the memory of her mother and the truth behind what she'd said to her that day.
Had she found that man?
It was her responsibility to bend the situation to her advantage, but that still didn't tell her what Spike's reaction would be, no matter what the circumstances. And if he was the man for her, what would happen when the truth came out?
Because the truth always comes out.