Buffy closed her eyes and rubbed her arms, attempting to dispel the chills that were part of her life, the worries that were scrambling up and down her body. The past two months had given her new wrinkles, sleepless nights, and unshed tears. She had to stay strong, to be the one who comforted Dawn in her tears--and there was no one to comfort her.
And her mother was dying. Dying! The word bounced off the walls of her mind, reverberating and leaving residual pain with each crash. Her eyes were dry, sucked hollows from the stifled crying and worried rubbing and insomnia that had become familiar to her. She waited patiently for the doctor to finish his examination before spending her daily visit over tea and cookies.
Minutes crept past, and eventually the doctor with his entourage of interns and nurses left the room. Buffy slowly gathered her strength and entered the room.
"Hey, mom. Sleep well?" Buffy asked nonchalantly as she gave her mom a big smile.
"Buffy. I've been thinking that it's time we talked." Joyce smiled wanly as she beckoned her closer.
"What do you mean?" Buffy responded, biting her lip in nervousness.
"We never really resolved our issues--please, don't interrupt me." Joyce lifted her hand in protest when she saw Buffy begin to voice her thoughts. "I know you probably don't want to talk about it, among many other things, but we need to. I need to. Hear me out."
Buffy sat on the chair near her mother's bed and looked down. She remembered first coming back, her thoughts overwhelmed with irrepressible anger at her mom's actions with Spike battling feelings of guilt for not being there when she had taken her first bad spell mixed in with frustration for her own weird relationship and continuing attraction to Spike and topped off with her denial of the possibility that her mother might, indeed, die. She wanted to be the comforting daughter who was supportive and loving, but she couldn't ignore the resentment she still felt towards her mother; such conflicting feelings had been suppressed when, upon arriving at the hospital, Joyce hadn't recognized her own daughter. She'd had to avoid the whole incident and corresponding emotions when she and Dawn had had to deal with the much more serious issue of cancer and its fast spread through her mother's body.
And now, with her mom being much more sound in mind, those jumbled emotions returned full-force, much to Buffy's dismay. She began fiddling with the zipper on her jacket.
"Buffy, the last time we had a real talk, one where we were honest and upfront with each other, was right before you took off to New York. Now, you're an adult and have the prerogative to go where you want and when, but we never finished our conversation. And I want to do that now."
"Mom, it's nothing. Really, in comparison to what--"
"No, Buffy," Joyce interrupted. "Just because this, this disease is now in me doesn’t mean that everything else is gone. It's not that simple." She sighed and then looked out of the tiny window of the hospital. "You need--deserve--to know what happened. Not details or anything, but just why. For the record, I didn't cheat on your father. The divorce was simply being finalized, and your father had already moved in with his new woman--I don't even remember her name."
Cringing at the thought of her father's many women, Buffy let out a bitter laugh. She waited for her mother to continue.
"What happened with William was probably not the smartest thing I have ever done--I know that." Joyce sighed, shaking her head slightly. William and I were both in need of some comfort, believe it or not, and it just ended up being that kind of comfort. It only happened once, and though I regret the effect it has had on you, I don't regret that I did it. I needed it, needed some kind of affirmation of who I was, my attractiveness as a woman--and I think he needed it, too, as much as you may not want to hear it."
Reaching out to grip Buffy's arm, Joyce forced her daughter to look at her directly.
"Buffy, I'm human, with faults and insecurities and hopes and fears. All of those things got the best of me that day, and then I moved on, continued with my life--and I'm sure William did, too. I wasn't out to seduce him, but I wasn't trying to stop it, either. Why am I telling you this? Because, to be quite frank, I feel terrible that my indiscretion has left you feeling like you can't pursue him. And this is not some deathbed request or anything--except that I want you to be happy. I understand if you can't get over it or are completely disgusted by the idea, but I just hope that you understand how minor it was, and hopefully how minor it is, in the grand scheme of things. I love you, and I want you to be happy. It pains me to think that I might be hindering that, and so I just wanted to explain it to you. Be mad--don't think I'm so fragile that I can't handle it. I may be frail in body, but I still have that Summers feistiness that seems to be so thriving in you." She tried to smile a little. "I'm sorry, Buffy. I really am. Sometimes we don't realize the consequences that our choices make. But I am sorry." She looked into Buffy's eyes to see her reaction. She closed her mouth, signaling that she was done.
The whole time her mom was speaking, Buffy crossed her hands over her chest and tried to figure out how she wanted to react. Her initial choice was to be angry, to have all those feelings come back and crash over her, lash out at her mom and make her feel triumphant. But as her mom continued to talk, the anger started to leak out of her, making her feel like a deflated balloon.
"You know, if you had asked me a month ago, I would have been really pissed. I would have ranted and raved and accused and cursed." She chuckled softly, as if trying to disperse the tension. "But now? I don't know. Maybe it's because I haven't seen him in over a month. Maybe it's because, in light of things, it's not really that important. Maybe I just no longer think it's that important. Maybe I just don't have the energy to be angry anymore. I don't really know how I feel."
"Buffy, just because I'm sick doesn't mean you have to stop living. You don't have to come see me every day. I know your job in New York begins in two weeks, and I fully expect you to be on a plane to New York to start on time."
"Mom, there's no way I can. I've already asked for a delay in starting, and--"
"Buffy Anne Summers, you better call your boss back and tell him that you're coming in that Monday as planned," she interrupted. "I'm serious. I do not want you changing your life because of me. That means starting on time AND not letting my past get in the way of your possible future with William--not William, Spike. Don't make me feel guilty for getting in the way of your plans."
"Mom, you're not getting in the way of my plans! But I'm not going to travel across the country for work when I can get another job here and be closer in case--" Buffy stopped herself. She had been fairly optimistic about her mother's illness for the first few weeks, but the doctors had met with her last Friday, and the prognosis didn't look good.
"Buffy, that's the other thing I wanted to talk about." She took her daughter's hand carefully.
"Mom, please. I--" Buffy's eyes slowly teared up as she tried to ignore the possibility of her mom's death.
"I know you don't want to talk about it, but we have to. Buffy, if I'm going to die, I need to know that everything is settled. I don't want to have you all confused about what to do--I don't want you to have to deal with that on top of everything else." She turned to her nightstand and picked up a packet of papers. "Buffy, this is my will. I just met with my lawyer to finalize changes and make sure everything was in order. Dawn will have to end up with Hank in LA, but only till she finishes school. Then she can go to college. Once she turns 18 she'll have full control of her finances and won't need to stay with Hank unless she wants to. My gallery will be turned over to you in name, but I've talked to a potential buyer this week because it might be easier just to sell if it comes down to it. The house, all my belongings, they'll all go to you and Dawn. I want--"
Suddenly, finally, her calm and composed demeanor broke down, and Buffy was in her arms. They both held each other as Joyce sobbed, her frail body shuddering as she wept for her own diminishing life. Buffy tightly embraced her, her own bawls adding to the mix. They tried to give each other strength and provide an outlet for the barrage of emotions falling in the tears.
The waves of sorrow finally receded, and Joyce pulled away, reaching for tissues.
"Oh, God, aren't I a mess," she said, trying halfheartedly to laugh away her pain.
"I still think you're the prettiest one here," Buffy reassured sincerely, smiling through her tears.
"I love you, Buffy. My life may not have had lots of wealth and fame, but I look at you, at Dawn, and I know I'm leaving behind something wonderful." She reached out to caress her daughter's cheek. "Take care of her for me, will you?"
Buffy's eyes began to well again, and she could only clasp her mother's weak hand in assurance.
"Now, enough of this. Tell me all about things that have absolutely no consequence on my life. Like, I heard that Barbie and Ken broke up? What is the world coming to?"
Buffy laughed, her cheeks tight with salty tears, and they temporarily lost themselves in the world of plastic dolls with movable parts.
***
She died quietly in the night. True to her wishes, Joyce had organized everything so completely that Buffy had very little problem with setting up the funeral or dealing with the paperwork for her will. Buffy and Dawn had spent the night of the funeral together, huddling in her mom's large bed, wishing the warmth of the comforters were their mother's arms. Their father had helped them the best he could, but though he did all that was expected of him, his words of sympathy were belied by his quick departure and the uncomfortable ease with which he handled everything. Dawn was unhappy about her move to her father's house, but there was nothing she could do about it. The gallery was sold, the clothes were given to charity, the house was placed on the market, and Buffy packed everything else to be held in storage until other arrangements were made. All Joyce's plans were completed so smoothly that, too soon, Buffy found herself on a plane, wondering what had just happened.
Ch. 13: Approaching Normalcy
Eventually, Buffy got used to the bustling pace of New York City, with people flying by in their heels and suits, talking to cell phones more than people. She got used to living with Cordy in her apartment, with skeezy guys leaving messages under the pretense of job offers and no one leaving messages for her except for the occasional call from Dawn. And she got used to seeing Spike every day--his picture, that is. Her editor had been incredibly impressed with her beach photo shoot of Spike. Buffy had been tempted to leave it out, in her desire to bury those days in the bottom trunk of her brain's basement, but the shots had been too good to leave out--and it would have made her portfolio unacceptably short. So when her editor had asked for copies of certain photos, she complied. This gift, however, soon became the wall montage of her editor's office. Five prints of Spike's body and soulful eyes and sexy grin--all in a row--greeted her every time she walked into the office. But even that became a daily routine, and she barely noticed him anymore. Barely.
Buffy looked up at the clock--9:25 pm. This past week she'd been working crazy hours due to the unexpected firing of the assistant copy editor, among others. She didn't know the reasons or the story behind it; what she did know was that, as the newbie and as the English minor, she was stuck doing double duty. Though the work wasn't difficult and she was getting paid extra, she couldn't deny the soreness in her neck from being in front of the computer for hours, nor could she deny the soreness in her butt from sitting in the same chair for hours. Just one more article to proofread and submit, and then she'd be done.
Blinking hard to refocus her eyes on the screen, she returned to the writing. This article was highlighting some of the massage parlors in the area, which ones were worthy splurges, which ones were good deals, and which ones were not worth noticing. She groaned, wishing she could experience a massage that would work out all the kinks in her neck.
Her proofreading began earnestly enough, with Buffy's inner grammar Nazi kicking in to add the necessary comma and semicolon, but her thoughts began to take a different bent when she reached the second paragraph. Lately, now that she'd been starting to develop a routine that was almost comfortable, she'd been finding herself thinking about Spike. Perhaps it was just time, that enough months had elapsed that she could think about him without too much pain. Perhaps it was those photos in her boss's office, finally wearing down her defenses and affecting her the way she knew they would eventually. Regardless of the cause, her thoughts wandered to that part of her brain once more, recalling more about him than she wanted to admit.
Buffy remembered the day she'd taken pictures of him in the water. They'd kissed and touched and moaned and sighed in each other's arms, the water lapping around them. Then they'd returned to the sandy shore, and the sun drank up the water from their skin. She'd sat on the blanket, gathering her things, and he'd sat behind her. His hands had skittered over her shoulders and arms and neck, adding warmth to the heat of the sun. His warm fingers had gently kneaded her skin, rubbing and softening her tense muscles.
Buffy closed her eyes for a moment, convincing herself that it was merely to rest her eyes from the glare of the computer screen. A few moments later, her memories merged with fantasies and sucked her in.
Her shoulders began to sag under his ministrations, her head lolling forward as her body yielded to his every touch. She felt him direct her towards the blanket, and she easily submitted, crawling onto her stomach. He continued his massage down her body, working the flesh of her lower back and above her ass. She moaned softly when he began to kiss her skin with each stroke of his hand. Their bathing suits somehow disappeared, and she could feel his strong thighs around her, pressing her tight. His hands stroked the sides of her breasts, and her pussy ached as his body slowly slid down hers. His fingers touched her sex, jolting her with burning electricity. Even as he touched and kissed and licked, his massage never stopped, creating contrasting sensations of loosened sinews and tightened muscles. And finally she felt his cock, rubbing against her ass deliciously. She spread her legs apart, wanting to feel his head against her wetness.
"Spike," she breathed, arching her hips to let him in.
"Buffy," he moaned, pressing his cock forward to graze her buzzing clit.
"Now," she cried out, pushing herself against his flesh.
"Buffy?" A hand shook her, breaking her dream and leaving her unsatisfied. "Buffy, wake up."
Squeezing her eyes and her pussy, Buffy looked up slowly to see Knox, the layout editor. "Oh, hey there."
"You okay? You fell asleep at the screen. I thought I was the only one who did that," he said lightly. "You should get out of here. It's getting kind of late."
"Yeah, but I just have to finish this one last article," she explained, stifling a yawn.
"Understandable. Do you have a lot left?" he asked peeking at her screen.
Buffy cracked her neck and straightened her posture. "No, just two more paragraphs. I'll be done in no time."
Knox put down his bag and said, "Do you want me to wait for you? I could walk you to the subway or wherever you're going."
"No, don't worry about it. Go on home. I'll turn the lights out and everything."
"Are you sure?" he asked, still holding the strap of his bag.
"Positive. I'll see you tomorrow morning." She pushed him slightly, as if to get him moving, and smiled brightly. When he finally left, she rubbed her temples and emitted a long sigh. Quickly whizzing through the text, she saved, closed, and left the building.
***
"Okay, guys, this is the last day of deadline week. Yes, I know some of you might be thinking that it's been deadline month, with the loss of some people, but this is the real crunch time. I truly appreciate the extra work some of you have been putting in, and you will be compensated according to..."
Anya's voice began to fade out as Buffy studied the photos of Spike on her wall behind Anya's desk. That one, when he'd come out of the water and walked towards the shore--that one was the precursor to the one she'd omitted from the collection, the one where he'd looked at her with such unadulterated lust that she became wet just thinking about it. That look of hunger and passion and lust, deepened by love and pleasure and delight--it'd been a while since she'd seen that look on anyone, if anyone at all captured it the way he did. It made her blood sing through her veins, her heart beat erratically with cravings, and it made her want to sink her teeth into him. She wanted to kiss him till he was breathless, touch him till he moaned with that sexy low voice of his, rub her body against those hard muscles, ride him till he was--
"Buffy? Meeting's over. I know you've been working some late nights, but that doesn't excuse you from listening to my inspirational speech," Anya stated bluntly. "Now go do your work."
Flustered by being caught in the midst of a very wet scenario, Buffy quickly grabbed her things and went back to her cubicle.
"Oh, god," she whimpered, trying to erase the images from her mind.
"What's wrong?"
Buffy looked up to see Willow, the co-worker at the next desk, peeking over the cubicle walls. "Nothing, nothing. Just having some difficulty concentrating." She smiled and tried to gather herself together.
"Late night again? I think I'm going to be here late tonight as well, so at least we'll have company. Maybe we can grab a drink or something afterwards. Might give us something to look forward to after this hell week," Willow suggested with a smile.
"Yeah, that might be nice. Who knows? Maybe we'll finish early," Buffy added. She and Willow had been slowly becoming friends, both being new to the city. The redhead was fun to hang out with and seemed to be free of all the biting New York wit that seemed to be wearing her down.
"Unlikely, but it's a nice thought. Back to the salt mines," Willow grumbled, disappearing from view.
Buffy hoped that having real company would keep her from daydreaming too much. Directing her attention back to her work, she tried to forget the sexy Spike scenes.
Hours passed, the sun set, and still Buffy was working. Magazine work demanded completion, and Buffy was struggling to stay on top of things.
On top of things...the innocent phrase that normally drove her to perfection was currently driving her crazy. Buffy on top of Spike, Spike on top of Buffy, both on top of a blanket on a beach, on top of a car hood at night, on top of the kitchen counter...
She sighed, rubbing her eyes. Focus, she commanded herself, again trying to squeeze the thoughts out of her mind. Two more proofs and then we can go have a drink. With that motivation in mind, she threw herself back into her work, determined to come out on top.
On top. Oh, fuck...
***
"Well, at least we can say we finished our part. We'll probably get more next week, but tonight, right now, we're done. So here's to finishing," Willow declared, raising her martini.
"Here's to finishing," Buffy agreed. They clinked glasses and then drank with the satisfaction that they'd done a good job.
"So, you seem more distracted these days. Anything going on?" Willow asked, playing with her olive.
"No, yes, I don't know. Is it something going on? In reality? No," Buffy confided, snacking on peanuts. "It's just an old fling, someone I haven't thought about in a while." That sounded innocuous enough.
Willow nodded in understanding. "The job certainly takes up time, doesn't it? I can't remember the last time I had a date, and it certainly wasn't someone I met here in the city." She finished up her martini and signaled to the bartender for another one.
"Yeah, this was someone back in California. Actually, you've probably seen him, the one posted up in Anya's office?" Buffy shrugged as she downed her drink and then asked for another.
"That was your man? I thought he was just a model," Willow commented, the awe apparent on her face.
"Well, he was a model, but he was sort of a boyfriend, but then there was extreme baggage, and then there was badness, and then I left. I never saw him after that," Buffy finished, a note of sadness in her voice.
"Was it that bad? You seem like you really liked him, just from the sound of your voice," Willow noted.
"I did." She sighed, popping more nuts in her mouth. "I did, but I couldn't deal with this thing in his past. I couldn't, and then I went home, and then my mom died, and now I'm here." Her summary neatly compacted her emotions into digest form, and it only made her sadder.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Was it sudden? Your mom's death, I mean."
"Yeah, it was. I mean, I knew she was going to die, so we were able to have a goodbye, but it was still hard." She sipped her drink slowly. "But I'm not trying to be a downer. We're celebrating!" she exclaimed, a little too brightly.
"Yes, we are. Let's leave the past behind us and trudge on to the future." They clinked again,
Willow paused thoughtfully, considering where the conversation should head. She decided to go with the less personal hottie road rather than the more personal mother road. Swallowing more of her drink, she asked, "So why the long face? He may be a fling of the past, which is fine, but that doesn’t mean he can't go into your spank bank, so to speak."
Buffy shrugged, playing with her maraschino cherry. "True, I suppose. I guess I'm not used to being so plagued by fantasies."
"Well, when's the last time you got some?"
Buffy gave Willow a look, grabbed the cherry with her tongue, and then took a quick shot of her drink.
"That long?" Willow concluded, grinning at her antics. "Well, maybe you're just suppressing your emotions too much. Don't make him out to be taboo; imagine every single possible position whenever you feel like it. If you don't treat him as off-limits, maybe you won't fantasize about him so much, you know? Sometimes we just like the unattainable."
"You know, that makes a lot of sense. I totally beat myself up whenever I think about him. Maybe that's why I think about him so much." In her slightly inebriated state of mind, Willow's logic made perfect sense.
"Great! So we've figured out the solution to your problem: think of this hottie whenever you touch yourself. Now, how about my problem? I don't even have a guy to fantasize about. What are we going to do about that?" Willow cried out, the alcohol starting to make her voice high-pitched and whiny.
Buffy laughed as Willow began listing all the items on her Willow-friendly list for eligible men. It was close to sunrise when they finally said their goodnights, pleasantly drunk and surprisingly satisfied with their lives.
***
Staying faithful to Willow's advice, Buffy stopped quelling the tendency to imagine Spike pleasuring her; in fact, she capitalized on the memories she did have and made them more, keeping her as satisfied as being alone could be. With the end of the weekend drawing near, Buffy was attempting to release the inevitable Sunday night tension before the work week. Currently she was replaying fantasy #12: on the bike.
He leans back on his bike sexily, clad in leather and his pimp necklace--can't forget the necklace. The sun is beating down on him, making his hair glint with diamonds. Diamonds are a girl's best friend, she think as she draws near to him, her short miniskirt swinging in the wind. There's this look on his face, this 'I want to eat you up and lick my fingers when you scream' face, this 'you'll never want to let go of this ride, baby' face. He doesn't have to say a word; he just looks, and she gets wet. She bites her lip, almost knocked over by her arousal, and stands before him, waiting. He slowly unzips his pants to reveal his fascinating cock, hard with desire for her. For her. He continues to watch her, his gaze unclothing her, and she finds herself completely nude, the sun her only garment. There's a sense of excitement, her naked body and his clothed one, save for the glistening cock beckoning her. He lifts her up, his strength making her shiver, and then her mind explodes. He eases her down, her insides burning with every inch, until he's completely sheathed and pressing against her most intimate parts. She throws her hair back as he devours her breasts, sucking and lightly biting and making her animalistic ferocity emerge. She roars as he pounds into her pussy, breasts bouncing and body writhing. So hard, so tight, so wild--she clenches his leather while he snarls into her neck, her skin red with love bites and lust scratches, some self-inflicted. She's so close, her cunt tightening around his cock, when he reaches forward and guns the engine, ripping vibrations through her sweaty body. She howls with wanton pleasure, and he growls with orgasmic ecstasy. He strengthens his grip on her body, flesh against leather, until she falls.
Buffy's clit throbbed in post-orgasmic bliss, and she stretched out lazily, letting the sensations race over her tired body. She purred deliciously and then fell asleep, resting in preparation for the busy week.
Ch. 14: Doors Opening
Though Willow's advice to embrace her fantasies had certainly given her an excuse to dream till her palms rivaled King Kong's, it wasn't abating her lust in any way. In fact, her desires were merely expanding into other areas of her life. Tired of recycling the short moments she'd spent with Spike, Buffy's vivid imagination began creating elaborate situations from the Xerox machine in her office to the little park bench outside her apartment building to the large rock in the middle of Central Park. For someone who hadn't had sex in months, her brain certainly had no trouble remembering various positions and techniques to keep her pleasured and satisfied.
Work was finally beginning to slow down, and she was starting to leave the building at decent hours--sometimes even before 7 pm. On those early nights, she and Willow sometimes went to Happy Hour, sometimes caught a movie, sometimes just went home. She was seeing Cordelia less and less; her roommate was finally getting acting gigs, which meant late rehearsals and weird hours. She missed her friend but was happy for her success. Today had been a long day at the office in front of the computer, and now Buffy was ready to soak in the tub, read a cheesy romance novel, and let Calgon take her away. Packing up her things, she walked tiredly towards the elevator and began her trek home.
When she approached her apartment door, Buffy noticed a plainly wrapped package she had been expecting sitting innocently on her welcome mat. Feigning nonchalance, she picked up the package and quickly went inside, her nervousness only betrayed by the faint flush on her face.
The apartment was empty, as usual, and Buffy knew that Cordy was not going to be home till late. She placed the package by her nightstand and undressed, wanting to take a long bath. Trying not to look at the package, she filled her bath, let the water soothe her work-weary body, and allowed her mind to wander around her library of fantasies. When she finally emerged from her bath, she felt sufficiently relaxed to open her package.
Seated on her bed, hair still damp from her bath and body only clad in a short terry robe, Buffy opened the parcel. She first took out a large, thick, pink dildo complete with dual-speed vibration, rotating head, and rolling pearls for g-spot stimulation. Then there was the interactive dvd with scenarios where the viewer could choose the situation and the reaction of the characters involved. And then there was the Nipple and Clit Sucker, which would work her top while she worked her bottom. It was a treasure chest of sensual delights. And still the blush would not leave her face.
It was silly, really, that she was getting so worked up over these things. It wasn't like she'd never touched herself or had never watched porn. The thing is, she'd been getting so hot and horny lately that the fingers simply weren't enough anymore. She wanted a cock in her, wanted to feel something touch her, but she was not so desperate that she'd pick up a random guy and fling with him. No, she was still a little old-fashioned in that sense. Her solution: discreet, on-line shopping.
Quickly, she disposed of all the packaging with busty women biting their lips in pleasure, put in the appropriate batteries, and turned off the light. She didn't need the DVD tonight; she knew which fantasy she wanted to visit.
Ding. The elevator arrives, and Buffy enters the empty car. The doors quickly close behind her, and she turns to watch the numbers light up with each descending floor. 12th floor, and the doors open. He walks in, all blond and sexy, and he cocks an eyebrow as he notices that she is alone. The doors close, and he is immediately on her, his lips bruising her with passion and his hands searching for her wetness. They press their bodies against the railing, and she lifts her legs to wrap around his waist and avoid the way the railing cuts into her back. He moans in response and pushes against her, wanting to be closer. Ding. 8th floor. He quickly lets her go and pushes her forward a little, wanting her to hide his excited state. She breathes in and starts playing with her nails, barely acknowledging the stodgy man who enters their car. The car begins to move again, and Spike surreptitiously slides his hand down her skirt to play with her ass while she bites her lip, playing with her nails. The business man is simply reading the newspaper, waiting for the 2nd floor to light up. Ding. 2nd floor. He leaves the car, and the two are left alone again. The moment the door closes he palms her cheeks and bends her over. With his hands undoing his belt and pants, he lifts up his foot to punch at the red emergency button. The car jolts to a stop, and the sounds of heavy breathing and moaning make the air heavy with desire. She holds onto the rail in front of her while her hair falls forward, her ass pushing back against his cock. Pulling her thong away, he thrusts into her. She cries out in pleasure as he begins to fuck her from behind, his large cock sliding easily into her wet pussy. His strong hands capture her hips and control her movements, the consistent rhythm of his thrusting quickly making her fire rage higher and higher. And then before she can fly over the edge, he spins her around, picks up her body, and pushes her against the car wall. The elevator groans with their bouncing movements, as if cheering them on. She instinctively wraps her legs around him, and he finds her nipples with his tongue, sucking the sexy whimpers out of her. One hand is gripping her tightly around the waist, and another finds that pulsing button underneath her skirt. Circling that tight bud of flesh, his fingers dance in tandem with his tongue, and she swirls in ecstasy. Such eddying movements coupled with his hard thrusting quickly shoot her into the air, and she screams in pleasure, her pussy tightening around his cock and willing him to join her. He groans with satisfaction as he fills her completely, gripping her body so that their unity is consummate. Slowly, her legs hit the ground, and their lips touch, finishing their animalistic coupling with human tenderness. Their tongues dance, and their bodies rejoice in each other's warmth. Hair is smoothed, clothes are straightened, and the car jolts back to life. The doors open, and the two calmly enter the lobby, hand in hand.
Buffy's breathing finally returned to normal, her voice a little hoarse from her orgasmic moans, and eventually she found the strength to pull the dildo from between her legs. Her toys had done good, but still she ached for a real man. When she closed her eyes, she dreamt of blue eyes looking at her with affection and love.
***
Another day of work passed, and Buffy slowly made her way towards the elevator. She'd decided not to go out with Willow, preferring to spend some time alone. Why, she wasn't sure, but she simply didn't have the desire to spend another night out at a bar where drinks and cigarette smoke seemed to be her only male companions.
The doors dinged and opened. She entered and then leaned back on the rail, her mind filling with images of last night's incredibly arousing and satisfying fantasy. Being in the place of her fantasy made her glazed with desire, thinking about how the elevator would bounce with their fucking and how the security guards might get an eyeful. She was so enthralled by her own lust-filled thoughts that she didn't realize the opening doors were not yet at her floor. Assuming the car had reached the lobby, she automatically moved towards the doors.
And ran smack into Spike's chest.
The two stared at each other, both in shock and in confusion. Buffy had to blink several times before she could separate reality from fantasy--that Spike was, in fact, standing in front of her.
Spike, who had entered the car without even looking, was completely flabbergasted. He'd just been thinking of her, wondered what the chances were of running into her--when she'd run right into him. There she was, staring up at him with those wonderfully large eyes--when the doors began to close on them. Jerked out of his trance, he quickly stuck out his arm to keep the doors from closing on their relationship once more, and he stepped into the car. The doors closed behind him and headed down again. And still, the two said nothing.
And the doors opened into the lobby, opened and closed, and still the two said nothing. But when the two realized that they were simply staring at each other inside the unmoving car, they each finally awoke, blushed, and both reached for the open door button at the same time. Their fingers collided clumsily, and when the lobby finally appeared before them, they both rushed out, eager to breathe normally again. They took two steps, and Spike reached out and tentatively touched her arm. Buffy looked up at him, her eyes still wide with surprise and confusion.
"Buffy?" His voice was soft, slightly tinged with awe and filled with longing and a little regret. His voice flowed over her body and called out to her.
She could only mumble inarticulately; she continued to stare into those blue eyes and wonder how this had happened, what she could possibly do or say that would be right or appropriate or even simply comprehensible.
"Buffy."
Again, that voice flowed over her and comforted her. There was something about his timbre that made her feel at home, and yet the stubborn streak resented deriving such sensations from him. She tore her gaze away and looked down at her feet, but she could still feel his gentle touch on her arm, his gaze on her face. To see him in the flesh, after imagining for so many nights--her emotions were exploding all over the place and there was barely any room to process how she was actually reacting to this unplanned meeting.
Spike was not doing much better. She was beautiful, more beautiful than in his dreams, and he'd had quite a few. She looked confident and comfortable in this building, which indicated that she was enjoying her time in New York. That made him happy, and he was just starting to figure out whether this was the building she worked in regularly or whether this was merely a coincidence. Merely a coincidence? He couldn't believe that. He didn't know what powers or beings controlled these things, but he held to the idea that someone had worked this out. He thanked that person with everything in him; seeing her again made his whole being wake up again. These past months had been busy, fulfilling in terms of work, but his social life had been limited to books and movies and nights alone in his apartment. And now that she was standing before him, he'd be damned if he'd let her slip away again.
He said hesitatingly, he said, "Can we--"
Before he could finish, she nodded at him, still incapable of articulating full sentences. If he would just give her some time, she'd be fine. Not wanting him to misunderstand her wordlessness, she smiled slightly at him, giving him a little encouragement. She started walking slowly, her nervousness needing some kind of release. And he walked alongside her, still watching her, drinking in her presence conspicuously, though she was doing the same thing in her own way. He smelled nice, faint cologne oddly mixed with his male scent and a tiny bit of cigarettes. So much had happened since they'd last seen each other. She simply continued walking, eventually ending up outside the office building and in the streets of the city. She walked, and he followed alongside. Wordlessly, they seemed to be communicating to each other their mutual desire to be in each other's presence, though they were not quite ready to speak.
They ended up at a small café nearby, and Buffy turned to go inside. He held the door open for her, got a table for two, and then sat across from her. And finally, she spoke.
"Spike." Her voice sounded flat, unemotional, but her eyes belied such indifference.
"It's so good to see you again, Buffy," he said first, wanting to set the tone for their conversation. He didn't want to scare her away, and the emotion in her eyes threatened to push him away with finality. He couldn't deal with that. He opened up the menu and motioned for her to do so as well.
Buffy bit her lip, still trying to sort out her reaction to him. She distracted herself for a little bit by ordering food, but when the waitress had come and gone, she found herself staring at him again, as if his face would help her understand what to do. He was squeezing lemon into his water and setting the napkin in his lap. He seemed at ease, though his body seemed a little tense. Maybe she should take his lead and act like they didn't have sordid history, that she hadn't been dreaming of him for the past months, that she wasn't struck dumb when she looked at him. Yes, she would try to be normal Buffy. At least that would buy time.
"So when did you get to the city?" she asked, her face attempting to look normal. She leaned forward a little, as if forcing her body to participate in the ruse. She looked ready to listen.
He smiled at her attempt at normalcy. Tilting his head a little he replied, "Oh, it's been about two months since I first moved to the city, but then I had to go out West for this conference. I only just got back this past weekend. And you?"
"Yeah, a few months. That's the building I work in, where the magazine is housed. What were you doing there?"
"Coincidentally, my magazine is on the twelfth floor. I know that there are several publications there--I had no idea that yours was. I'm glad, though, because the odds of randomly seeing each other again would be pretty low."
She smiled in response and tried not to acknowledge the slight disappointment that pinched her side. Part of her wondered if he'd sought her out, and his answer, though expected, deflated her a little. Had he thought about her at all?
"I thought about you a lot, after you left. I was hoping we'd run into each other," he said simply, his eyes conveying the sincerity in his tone.
Buffy's eyes widened with his words; it was as if he could hear her thoughts. It was still there--the connection that had burned so brightly when they'd been together, the connection that had made her so happy when they were together, the connection that she'd resented when she'd realized that he'd been with her mother. Her brow furrowed slightly at the turn of her thoughts.
Spike noticed the progression of emotions flying across her face, and his own spirits sagged a little when he realized that the final thoughts had ended sourly. He assumed that her thoughts had returned to their awkward and unpleasant parting. He tried to turn things towards a more cheerful topic of conversation. "So are you enjoying your work? Did your portfolio project turn out okay?"
She immediately brightened at the change in subject, almost grateful that he wanted to talk about their present rather than their past. Spike breathed a mental sigh of relief; if things went the way he wanted, they'd have plenty of time to figure their past out.
"Work has been really good. Tiring, exhausting, and at times annoying, but I really love it." She smiled again, her whole demeanor changing. "And my portfolio turned out beautifully." She lowered her eyes and blushed slightly, the reference bringing a Speedo-clad Spike to mind. "Thanks again for your help. Your pictures were a big hit."
"I'm glad I could help." His smirk draped sexily across his face, but his eyes were trying to convey his delight in being helpful, in having done something good for her.
"No, really, my boss absolutely loved the photos of you. In fact," she added as she leaned closer, as if trying to whisper conspiratorially, "she asked for reprints."
Spike cocked his eyebrow briefly before laughing heartily. "You're kidding, right?"
"Not at all," she replied gleefully. "She got them enlarged and hung them up all around her office." She shared in his laughter and allowed herself to loosen up a little. This was nice, chatting and laughing and simply being together. She remembered this part of their friendship very fondly, and it was nice that they were returning to their previous comfort level.
"So you got to see me every day, every time you were called to her office like a naughty girl?" he teased lightly, wondering how she'd felt about that. It gave him hope, that she'd still used his photos and could talk about that day without malice or discomfort. For him, it'd been one of his favorite memories. The fact that that night had ended sourly was something he tried to forget, and he hoped she did as well.
"I'm never naughty at the office," she replied before she could stop herself. Flirting was harmless, she convinced herself. He brought it out in her, and she hadn't felt this good in months. "But I wasn't the one enjoying you every day. That was Anya. She's convinced that you're a fantasy. Imagine if you walked into the office."
"Is that an invitation?" he purred, ecstatic that she was warming up to him so quickly.
"Maybe," she replied coyly.
She smiled again, making his insides melt and harden at the same time. The waitress came with their order, and Spike allowed himself a moment to stare again, fully take in this beauty before him, this witty and charming woman who'd quickly made him fall. She wasn't exactly different, but it seemed like life in the city had made her mature, become wiser and yet happier. He was eager to find out all that she'd experienced, and he hoped she'd let him be a part of her future. After taking another long look, he turned towards his food.
Buffy knew that he was watching her, looking at her with those piercing blue eyes, but she couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. Part of her felt she should avoid seeing him, refuse to allow him into her life; Buffy tried to make that anger resurface and make its presence known--but she couldn't. Time had worn away those emotions, and she simply didn't have the fervent anger that she'd had before. There was still hesitation, unwillingness to throw herself back into the passion of their relationship, but who knew if he even wanted that? She was content with what seemed to be a returning friendship. Smiling again, she breathed easily and let herself enjoy a man's company for the first time in months.
Ch. 15: Office Flirting
Buffy was nervous. It wasn't because she was seeing Spike again. No, that had become rather consistent in these past weeks. They often walked home together, actually living only a few blocks away from each other. They had dinner together, had seen a movie once, had even gone jogging together through Central Park. No, seeing him wasn't making her nervous. She enjoyed his company, and their friendship from the summertime seemed to be returning. What made her nervous was that she was actually introducing her to others, to the office, to the world outside herself. Allowing him into other parts of her life meant acknowledging that he was important, real, substantial. What exactly did that mean? What did he mean to her?
She lay awake in her bed, trying to sleep. Tomorrow Spike was picking her up at work, actually coming into her office to get lunch. Part of the reason he was coming was because she wanted to surprise her boss, but part of her knew she just wanted to see how he'd get along with her friends, react in company that extended beyond her own. She knew that meant something; she simply didn't want to define what it meant. Right now they were friends, good friends; that was all she could handle right now.
***
Spike sat on his fire escape stoop and smoked, staring out at the lit city blurred beneath him. Buffy. Her smile and laughter swam in and out of his thoughts. Little by little, she'd let him in. They'd talked on the phone, met for drinks, taken walks, enjoyed each other's company--little by little he was becoming part of his life. That made him feel very excited--but it wasn't quite enough. Every moment was torture. He knew, even though they laughed and chatted and smiled together, that she was holding him at a distance. Her eyes were warm, but they didn't have the affectionate spark that they used to. He did see a struggle, which gave him hope, but he was not going to push the situation. Instead of brooding about the current relationship, he simply thought about her.
He loved the way the scent of her hair and skin lingered with him after they'd spent time together. He loved how she nodded and listened actively whenever he had a story to tell or a joke to share, making him feel like he was the most interesting person in the world. He loved how she was so confident and mature as a photographer and a woman but that she scrunched up her nose at a putrid scent or squealed in terror at the sight of a rat. He loved the way she walked around the city, her eyes still eagerly devouring the various sites with an expression of awe mingled with pure joy at being alive. There was just so much about her that called out to him, thrilled him, warmed him. He was in love.
He flicked his ashes from his burning cigarette and exhaled slowly. It pinched him that he was so restrained, that he couldn't simply proclaim how much he loved her. He'd been spending time at his guitar writing both maudlin and hopelessly romantic songs--songs that were even beginning to annoy him with the whining and the sappy lyrics. He felt perpetually hard, to the point that even the scent of vanilla aroused him--bakeries were becoming an erotic treat. It was crazy, really, the way she had taken hold of him. The months spent apart had been difficult, but in some ways being with her was harder. Knowing that she was right there, tangible and visible and yet untouchable--really it was the lesser of two evils, he supposed. Sighing for the last time, he put out his cigarette and turned in for the night.
***
Spike was nervous. He pulled a little at his blue button-down shirt, smoothed his hair down, and pressed the elevator button to make his way down to Buffy's office. It was part of a dare, of course, to tease her boss and show the actual flesh of the model that graced the walls of the magazine's office. However, Spike knew that it was a big step for Buffy; up till that point it'd always been just the two of them, and she seemed to like the sense of secrecy, of not having to explain who he was to others. Now he was entering a different part of her life. How was she going to introduce him? The elevator went up, the doors opened, and Spike strolled into the office, feigning nonchalance. He went up to the receptionist and smiled charmingly.
"Hello, there. Could you tell me where Buffy is?" he asked politely, putting his hands into his pockets in an attempt to hide his nervousness.
"Huh?" Harmony responded inarticulately. The blond secretary was utterly speechless; this was the model from Anya's office, and damn if he wasn't fine even with clothes on. Her eyes slowly slid down his body, undressing him till he was down to the Speedos from the photos, slightly wet from the ocean. She hungrily took in this sight and began moving her eyes up again, pausing at the only part of his body that she still hadn't seen yet, and--
"Like what you see?" Spike said, interrupting her ogling. He had an amused smirk on his face--who wouldn't be flattered by such blatant appreciation? He smiled slowly at her, enjoying how she was blushing under his blunt question.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I just..." Harmony began gesticulating in an attempt to hide her own arousal. This man was so incredibly sexy, and looking at him just made her want to jump him, nibble on his skin, and ride him till she screamed. "My name's Harmony." She extended her hand, still ignoring his question about Buffy.
"Hello, Harmony. Name's Spike," he replied, shaking her hand and briefly squeezing it. He smiled again, smirking as she blushed and stammered under his gaze. "As I was asking before, do you think you could tell me where Buffy is?" The girl was cute, but Buffy had him completely under her thrall.
"Why don't I escort you personally?" Harmony purred. She linked her arm in his before he could say anything and slowly began to walk towards Buffy's cubicle. Rubbing his arm, she deftly felt his muscles and giggled with glee at touching this walking sex. "Ooh, nice biceps."
Spike looked down at her in amusement, his eyes dancing with laughter. She certainly was forward. He chuckled a little and was about to reply when he heard a cold voice.
"Looks like you found the office okay." Buffy stood by her cubicle, trying not to let the furious jealousy creep into her throat. She was rather unsuccessful. That stupid bitch was touching her--her what? She was taken back by her own reaction to Harmony's pawing of Spike. She had no claim on him, no reason to feel like Harmony was encroaching on her territory. Still, the way he had looked down at her with that smile--it made her want to pull on all that fake blond hair and claw at the stupid pink outfits she always had on. Surprised again by the intensity of her response, she pasted a bright smile on her face.
Spike looked up quickly, hearing her voice carry over to where they were approaching. He tilted his head slightly, trying to understand that awkward smile on her face and how it related to the slightly cold tone of her voice. Could she possibly be jealous? He knew it was terrible of him, but he decided to test his theory. Just a little bit--just enough so he could figure her out.
"Thank you so much for personally escorting me," he said graciously to Harmony. He watched for Buffy's reaction as he lightly squeezed Harmony's hand and gave her a stunning smile. Buffy seemed to be looking for her purse and didn't even notice.
"Any time. You know, if you ever want to model for me, I do a little photography myself." Harmony flipped her hair back and leaned forward a little, her breasts pushed together for his pleasure.
Spike chuckled at her brazenness and shrugged. "I think my modeling days are over. But thanks for the offer." He smiled again and then turned to look at Buffy. She looked a little bored, as if he was taking up time in her busy day. "You sure you're up for lunch? You look a little busy or distracted."
"If you can't, I'm sure I can take Spike out to lunch," Harmony piped in quickly, still not ready to leave.
"Oh no, I'm fine. I was just cleaning up a little before I left. I got a lot of work done this morning so I could have a leisurely lunch." She smiled genuinely at Spike. Just a moment before, she'd had to use almost every effort not to push Spike behind her and hiss at Harmony. She'd had to force herself to look indifferent and unaware of how they were flirting with each other--yes, he was definitely flirting back. Her look must have been too successful. She smiled again, not wanting him to feel unwelcome.
He smiled back, and Harmony was a distant memory. He turned his back to her completely as he reached for Buffy's jacket to help her. "I'm so glad. I was really looking forward to lunch today. There's this great café that I found nearby."
"I'm glad you have something planned. I don't feel like making a decision." She zipped up her jacket and enjoyed the way he did little things like that without making it uncomfortable. There was no one around--no one important, anyway--for her to introduce him to. Willow had run out to meet a friend for coffee, Anya had a meeting outside the office, and those were the only two she really felt needed to meet Spike. It all worked out, because now she had time to ease herself into his presence; by the time they got back, she'd be fully ready to handle things, not react insanely the way she had to Harmony's actions. Grabbing her purse, she said to him, "Oh, Anya's out of the office right now, so we'll go make our little visit after lunch."
He nodded and moved towards the elevator with her at his side. The two walked past Harmony without a second thought.
"Oh my god. Is that the Speedo guy?" Faith, another employee at the magazine, asked Harmony as the couple left the office.
"Yes. That Buffy is trying to keep him all to herself." Harmony stared daggers into the girl's back. "She could at least have introduced him properly. I'm lucky to have that front desk--never thought it would serve me till now."
"Well, Buffy has to come back sometime. We'll just have to make sure we're around. Unless they're dating, which it doesn't seem like since he didn't put his arm around her or anything, he's fair game. We'll just have to pounce when he gets back." She cocked her head in confidence and smiled as the two girls began plotting.
***
They were seated in a cozy booth in a small café, just two blocks from their building. It was tiny, so tiny that their legs couldn't help but be entangled underneath the tablecloth. It was made for intimacy, and Spike expected her to move her legs or apologize for the touching or something--but she simply smiled and allowed their legs to fall where they may. He tried not to let his glee show on his face, hiding his grin in the menu.
Seeing the attention that Spike seemed to get from all of the women and some of the men in the city, Buffy was starting to feel a little unsettled. How was she supposed to keep him interested, ensure that Spike stayed focused on her when all she was offering was friendship? It wasn't that Spike would ever say such things, or even think them for that matter, but she couldn't escape these fears. Okay, friendship was there--she knew she'd always find a friend in Spike--but the past weeks had been unfettered by other people. The whole thing was pressuring her to define things sooner than she wanted. All she wanted to do was enjoy the light pressure of his leg on hers, the way he tilted his head and listened to every single word she said.
"So are you still up for going to the concert in Central Park tonight?" His voice broke into her thoughs. They had been planning to see one of the local bands playing in the park, but details hadn't been set yet. Spike didn't want her to feel that they were spending all their time together, but there was no harm in asking.
Buffy nodded. "Definitely. And the weather's supposed to be great, so I'm looking forward to it. Did you have any ideas for dinner?" Friends went to concerts together. Friends had lunch together. Did it really matter that they were spending more and more time together?
"Actually, if you don't mind staying in, I was thinking I could just whip up something quick and eat in. Does that sound okay?" He was very proud of his place, the way he'd been able to decorate and call it home. For whatever reason, he really wanted to share what he'd done with her.
"That sounds great. Besides, we're eating out now. Don't want to waste too much money. Oh, and then I can finally check out your apartment!" she said excitedly, a smile brightening her face.
Spike soaked in that smile and let it warm his toes for the rest of the lunch.
***
When they got back to the office, the place was hopping. It was as if the news had spread during their absence, and now Spike was a hot and wanted commodity.
"Hi, Spike. Glad to see you again," Harmony called out the moment he'd entered the floor. She didn't even acknowledge Buffy at first, her attention so focused on Spike, but eventually she greeted her as well. "Buffy, hi. I have a message for you." She held out a phone message to Buffy but kept her eyes on Spike.
The two lingered in front of the desk, and Faith decided it was time to be introduced. "Hey, there, you look mighty familiar. I'm Faith." She shook his hand but held onto it while pulling herself forward. Smiling coyly, she let go but trailed her hand down her chest as she backed away.
Spike grinned at her and almost laughed out loud at the look of fury on Buffy's face. "Glad to meet you, Faith," he murmured, turning on his charm. He smiled at both women before turning to Buffy and saying, "Buffy, you didn't tell me there were such--"
"Let's go meet Anya, okay?" she interrupted. Buffy knew he was about to give those two airheads some sort of compliment, and it was difficult enough not to push them aside physically. She put her hand lightly on Spike's arm and then led the way.
"See you later, ladies," he said politely, reining in some of his earlier charm. Buffy had made herself known, and that was enough for him. A large grin on his face, he followed her down the hall to the large corner office of the magazine.
"You know, they attack every male that comes into the office," Buffy commented, keeping her eyes away from his observant face.
"I'm sure they do. They're harmless. Just a little innocent flirting." He shrugged.
"Ah, so you admit that you were flirting with them," she noted with triumph.
"Well, yeah. I didn't know flirting was a bad thing." He looked down at her in all innocence, wondering if she could hear the possessive tone in her voice--not that he minded, of course.
"Of course it's bad! I mean, leading on women is generally a bad thing," Buffy explained, keeping all of her justifications on a very global level, even in her own denials.
"Of course." He smiled again at her as they heard Anya's voice calling out for them to come in.
"Anya, I want you to meet--"
"Oh my god. You brought him. My very own Speedo man." Anya stood up and blatantly stared at his body. Suddenly Spike felt a little violated.
"Anya, please. This is the real thing, not a picture. You can't just stare and no expect him to get a little wigged out." Buffy tried not to be annoyed by her boss's obvious attraction to her, well, her friend. She was looking out for her friend.
"Hi, I'm Spike." He held out his hand in an attempt to get her to stop looking at his crotch.
"Anya. Nice to meet you. Ooh, nice grip," she observed, still not seeing him fully as a person.
As flattering as the attention was, he was starting to get a little annoyed. He pulled his hand back and then moved to look at the various photos adorning the walls. "I was wondering which ones you ended up choosing." He walked from one to the next, amazed at Buffy's ability to capture so many of his emotions on film. That day came flooding back to him, the way they'd held each other in the water and came in each other's arms. He began to become aroused, and he tried to subtly adjust himself.
Buffy was being bombarded with memories, the photos of Spike bringing back the feel of her legs around his waist and the water up against her body. She thought she'd become inured to those flashbacks, indifferent to his face staring down at her each time she'd entered the room, but his presence surrounded by the photos had broken down her defenses.
Anya noticed the tension between the two and pulled Buffy to the side. "What's going on between you two?" she whispered.
Spike tried not to eavesdrop, but the office was not that large--and he hoped that it would help alleviate the growing tightness in his pants .
"What do you mean? We're friends," Buffy whispered back, trying not to let the flush of her cheeks unnerve her.
"Yeah right. That's why you're blushing like a horny virgin and he's adjusting himself in his pants."
Spike starting coughing loudly, choking on something--whether it was surprise, horror, or laughter, Buffy couldn't tell. Whatever the case was, she needed to get out of that office.
"Oh my god, Spike, are you okay? Come with me--I'll get some water for you, and then I should probably get back to work." With a final glare at Anya, she led the choking man out of the office.
"She's got it bad," Anya said, shaking her head. She watched them walk away--watched that tight ass walk away--and sighed. "At least I have my photos." Turning back to look at the gorgeous model, she closed the door behind her.
A glass of water later, Spike could finally laugh the way he really wanted to. He threw his head back and laughed, the sound zinging up and down Buffy's body. It was only laughter, innocent laughter, and it made her hot. She shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry if she made you uncomfortable."
Spike shook his head as his laughter died down. "No, it's no problem. I mean, I wasn't expecting it all, but I guess those women have seen most of my body already. I must look strange with all these clothes on." He smiled again, not wanting her to feel awkward.
"I'm glad you don't mind that women are throwing themselves at your luscious body," she said dryly, rolling her eyes.
"Luscious? That's a new one," he said with a smirk, curling his tongue.
"You are so terrible," she teased, laughing. "I should have known the modeling would go to your head."
"Those aren't all the photos, though," he said, suddenly growing serious.
Buffy's blush returned full force. "Uh, no. I didn't give her all of them. You know, some of them were a little more personal." Her voice lowered to a hushed whisper, as if she were sharing a secret.
He stared at her, wanting her to look up. "That was a wonderful day, our time at the beach." He reached out and touched her hand lightly.
She gasped at the sudden contact, the first he'd initiated since she'd left him so long ago. For a moment, she was speechless, but then all the memories came surging back--all of them. She pulled her hand back slowly but kept her eyes on him.
"Buffy!" Willow's voice approached. "So who was this mystery guy that you--Oh. Uh, hi! I'm Willow, normally not with her foot in her mouth." Spike had been seated at her desk, so Willow had mistakenly assumed that Buffy was alone. She mouthed an apology to Buffy.
Buffy awoke suddenly, as if shaken out of a dream, and then turned on her polite voice. "Willow, this is Spike. He's my, uh, he's a friend of mine." She widened her eyes for emphasis when Spike had turned to greet her, and Willow nodded in understanding.
"So good to meet you. Hope Harmony didn't give you too much trouble. She's been obsessed with you for a while." Willow smiled, trying to make up for her earlier slip.
"Good to meet you. Listen, I better get back to work. You want me to meet you back here, or should I call you about dinner?" Spike asked, getting ready to leave.
"Oh, why don't I just call you when I get home? I have some errands to run after work."
"Sounds good. I'll talk to you then. Lunch was great. Nice meeting you, Willow." He waved, not wanting to seem like Willow had broken into a moment, and then walked towards the elevator.
When the elevator had safely closed its doors, Willow neared to hear what had happened. "I'm so sorry if I goofed. I didn't see him at first."
"God, everyone else did. I was fighting to keep them off of him." She sighed heavily while sinking into her chair.
"So you have been keeping a secret! This is the guy you've been fantasizing about, right? With the baggage and all?" Willow's voice lowered to a whisper.
"Yeah, and I'm still not sure how I feel about it all."
Willow said nothing, not commenting on what Faith and Harmony had said about her jealous behavior and certainly not commenting on the way he'd been looking at her and how Buffy's face had expressed such longing.
"It'll all work out, right?" Buffy asked, her eyes desperately wanting an easy answer.
"Yes, it'll definitely work out," Willow reassured her. They shared a smile before Willow returned to her cubicle.
Alone again at her desk, Buffy closed her eyes and tried not to remember too
much. "It'll all work out," she repeated one more time. Breathing
deeply and then opening her eyes, she launched back into her work before her
thoughts could take control of her.