Buffy’s Revenge: Chapter 9 ‘Good Will Hunting’


It had been almost six weeks since Buffy had began and acted on her plan of revenge. Since that first time with Connor, she had learned to juggle all three of her extramarital ‘men’ quite well. Xander was the easiest; when Angel golfed on Thursdays with Riley and Connor, Buffy met him where ever and how ever she could.

Connor and Riley were trickier, but Buffy managed somehow. For the first time since her and Angel’s marriage, she was actually glad that her husband took so many business trips. She tried not to think of just exactly ‘what’ he did on those trips, however.

Connor was as eager as a young child on Christmas morning and Buffy found him endearing, if a little annoying. Riley, the only other two times she managed to ‘see’ him, proved to be as inept in bed and out of it. He was a real wham-bam-thank-you-Mamm, kind of guy and Buffy often wondered the hell Cordy was doing with him?

Xander was different, he was kind, gentle and adoring of her and it always bothered Buffy when she left him, afterwards. Those big brown, puppy dog eyes of his were like windows to his intermost feelings and she knew he may very well feel rather sad and ‘lost’ when she was gone from him. Which, of course, was most of the time. Buffy was almost proud of the way she had pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes, especially good old Angel’s.

This Monday morning, Angel and Buffy shared their breakfast on the patio. It was beginning of the end of Spring, Buffy’s favorite season besides Fall and the weather was gorgeous; mild and sweet with the scent of the jasmine bushes in the air. While Maggie poured the next round of coffee for the couple, Angel scanned the Wall Street Journal.

When he finally pulled his nose from the paper he graced Buffy with that charming smile of his, “what’s on the agenda today, babe?” he asked, not really looking at her.

“Not much, as usual,” she sighed. Angel had made it clear from day one of their marriage that Buffy would be a stay-at-home-wife; no real job, just the one that meant running ‘his’ household.

“Hey,” Angel interrupted her thoughts, “why don’t you go get a manicure thingy and meet me at the office for lunch?”

Buffy visibly brightened at this, “okay!” she replied with real enthusiasm, “I’ll be there about 1:00 PM!”

Angel looked so damned pleased with himself for coming up with the lunch idea that Buffy felt an old tinge of warmth for him. At that moment, her husband looked just like he did when they were first married; happy, enthusiastic and most of all, hopefull.


“Make reservations at ‘The Masters’ okay, babe. For 1:30 sharp?”

Buffy nodded quickly, her mind raced ahead. Maybe Angel wanted to go back to the good old days, when they were newlyweds, young and totally wrapped up in each other. Heck, back then she would drop by for lunch all the time and Angel would drop what he was doing, just to be with her. This happy memory reminded her of that horrible day about two months ago when she’d tried to surprise him and…

Angel toddled off to work around 9:30 AM and Buffy scampered upstairs to pick out a great outfit and call ‘The Masters’ the newest and most ‘in’ place in Sunnydale to eat lunch, dinner or supper. After she’d chosen a lovely sundress (it was really hot for late May), she did up her light makeup and drove her car to Angel’s office building.

Much later, after lunch when she was leaving to go back home, Buffy would remember seeing that damn Harley sitting in the ‘Handicapped’ zone up closest to the parking lot entrance.

However, she failed to notice the red and black motorcycle when she first pulled into the parking structure; perhaps she would have just turned around, right then.

This time, when she passed Johnathan, at his security desk, the little guy kind of looked pensive at her.

“Hey, Johnathan!” she chirped as she passed with a warm wave and smile.

“Hi Buffy,” he replied happily, a look of relief on his face.

“He must be still reeling from that horrible day I bolted like an escaped convict!” Buffy punched the ‘up’ button of the elevator and waited patiently for her car to come. The elevator car came, the doors opened and Buffy Travers went into a near coma!

“Hey, Summers,” she cringed when she heard that British accent, saw the bright blond hair and the black clothing.

William ‘Spike’ Giles smirked back at her, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, his whole demeanor a study in cocky arrogance.

“William?” she stammered, “what are you doing here?” He looked her up and down, quickly, kind of like a lion sizing up his next kill.

“What are you doing here, Princess?” he retorted.

“My husband works here, William,” she said softly, a bright red blush began to cover her neck and face.

“I’m here to see Angel, of course,” she finished, a bit more sure of herself as she caught his ice blue eyes with her own hazel ones.

Buffy strode into the elevator, defiantly.

“I came to see your darling Angel, too,” he chuckled, “seen him, done with him.”

She didn’t look at him, just stood in front of him at the floor panel and first punched Angel’s floor number ‘7’ then hit the ‘open’ button.

“Well, that’s good, now you can leave!” she quipped, her smirk as smug as Williams on any day. Instead of leaving, William punched the close button and actually laughed at Buffy’s stunned expression as the elevator doors closed in front of them, leaving both of them alone, together.

“Oh for God’s sake, William!” Buffy hissed as she glared at the blond man now beside her. “What’s your problem? Why are you here? And for heaven’s sake why are you wearing that horrible leather duster? The temperature must be close to 80 degrees!”

Before Spike could answer, she added, “and who said you could smoke in an elevator?” Spike laughed again, his look of delight infuriated Buffy to no end, but she just shook her head in frustration.

She really got frustrated when the blond haired man punched the button that stopped the whole car abruptly and literally threw Buffy into his arms. Buffy pulled away from Spike violently and actually brushed herself off, almost as if she’d contracted some kind of ‘cooties’ from him.

Spike laughed out loud again, causing Buffy to burn with indignation.

“That’s a lot of questions, Princess,” he smirked, “don’t fry your brain trying to come up with such profound ones!”

Buffy growled, her face red with growing anger.

“First off,” he continued as he held up a finger for each answer he gave; “I don’t have a problem. Second, I don’t go anywhere without my bloody duster, third, I ‘like it hot’ and fourth, I don’t follow rules or laws, so, I’ll bloody smoke where I bloody please!” With that, he lit the offending smoke and blew the first puff right into her indignant little face.

“God!” she cursed him, “you’re incorrigible!”

“Oh,” he said smugly as he pinned her in a smoldering stare, “fifth, you’re a bitch!”

Buffy had to refrain from punching him in the nose.

“Start this damn elevator, Giles!” she hissed. “Start it now or I swear to God I’ll hit the alarm and…..”

but Spike didn’t start the elevator, he didn’t ‘do’ anything, he just stared at her, a puzzled look on his face.

“Why are you, besides me Mum, the only one calls me William,” he asked, his smug smirk gone now, replaced by a serious expression.

“You’ve never called my Spike, Buffy, why?” Buffy looked away, embarrassed and far beyond able to tell him she felt the nickname ‘Spike’ was beneath him.

She had a notion how he’d come by that moniker and it offended her somehow. In all of the years, even since that awful night in School, Buffy tried to keep William in ‘her’ fantasy universe. The one where they were close friends and where he still ‘held her on a pedestal.’

Spike, that awful nickname, was never going to be good enough for her ‘Wild William.’

“You’ll always be William to me,” she mumbled softly.

“Years ago you called me Will,” he recalled wistfully.

“We were friends then, William,” she replied with regret, “we haven’t been friends since our Senior year at Sunnydale High.”

She still couldn’t look at him, even when he retorted, “it was you that ruined our ‘friendship’ Buffy. You’re the one that went and fucked it all up when you…..”

Buffy finally hit the ‘up’ button herself, her face a closed book to the man beside her.

“Tell, me, William,” she asked quietly, “what do ‘you do’ for my husband and his firm?” She glanced up to her once good friend.

“Well,” he started, his snarky tone a warngin, “what do ‘you’ do for your husband and his firm?”

Buffy shook her head ruefully, “go to hell, William!” she spat.

“You really want to know? I mean, what I do for your precious hubby?” he asked as he cocked his head to one side, raised that darned scarred left eyebrown of his and stared into her eyes again.

Suddenly, Buffy felt very, very uneasy, “No,” she answered, honestly, “I guess I really don’t.”

The light and bell for the 7th floor dinged, breaking the tension in the little elevator car. Buffy scurried out of the doors the minute they opened but was dismayed to see that William followed her.

“Thought you were done with Angel, today,” she snipped as she turned to face him in the hallway.

“What can I say,” he smiled, “I like elevator rides; up and down, down and up, up and down, down and up, you know.”

Her face burned red again, “you are truly a pig, William Giles!” she spat as she turned to leave him behind. “And unless you’re invited to lunch with my hubby and I, I suggest you go home. Or go do what it is you slime around and do all day!”

She heard his sardonic chuckle behind her, “Buffy,” he called softly, “look at me, luv.”

“I’m not, never was and never am going to be ‘your luv’ William!” she spat as she turned to face him.

William, his left hand holding the open/stop button on the elevator that carried them upstairs, looked at her, the old smirk back in place, his head again cocked to one side.

“ I will definitely ‘catch you later’ Princess.,” he murmered as he stepped back into the elevator.

“Now, what the hell does that mean?!” Buffy asked in exasperation. Before she could finish the question, the elevator doors closed, cutting them off from each other and leaving Buffy alone in the 7th floor hallway.

By the time Buffy reached her husband’s office, she was rattled and somewhat disorientated. She barely noticed Anya in her secretary’s station and totally ignored the other woman’s yawn when she entered the room.

“Could you please tell Angel, I’m here,” she asked Anya, her voice closed and quiet.

“Well, I guess,” Anya replied smugly, her face pinched in a bitchy expression.

‘That’s it!’ thought Buffy, ‘this stops now!’ “Anya,” she stated, curtly, “sit your rather plump ass down and listen. Don’t say a word because you and me are going to come to an understanding, right here, right now!”

Anya’s look of shock was priceless and Buffy had to stifle a laugh. It was high time she took things in hand and laid the law down, and the truth.

“You want this job?” she asked Anya, her left eyebrow now cocked self-righteously. The other woman sat with a huff, on her ergonomic chair, the model Buffy herself had chosen for Angel’s staff.

“Okay,” Buffy said with a smile, “you and me are getting some shit straightened out right now!” Buffy sauntered over to the secretary’s desk, hunkered down on it and looked her straight in the eye. “I had nothing to do with you and Xander breaking up, got it!”

Anya just nodded, dumbly as she watched her bosses’ wife begin to pace back and forth before her.

“Xander and Willow,” Buffy continued, with determination, “have been bestest friends since they were five-years-old. If Xander and ‘you’ couldn’t make a go of it, it’s the way it is! I’m not involved in this. You knew how Xander felt about Willow, about me for that matter, ‘you’ chose to become involved with him. Quit blaming me for your problems and dissapointments with Xander Harris!”

Buffy ranted on and on, never letting the other woman get a word in edge wise.

“Now,” Buffy went on, her voice even; her tone rational; “you need to get on with your life. Get over Xander, move on and try to get some happiness for yourself!”

Anya was still struck dumb with shock and what Buffy said next truly silenced her completely.

“You know that new intern for the office, Andrew?” Buffy asked, her voice was soft and sweet. Anya nodded, she knew him.

“Well,” Buffy smiled, “he’s absolutely crazy about you, did you know that?” ‘No’ Anya didn’t know that.


“Well,” Buffy said evenly as she leaned over the desk to look Anya right in the eye, “now you do! Do something about it!” With that, Buffy sashayed into her husband’s office and slammed the door behind her.

Angel smiled, his most angelic smile, “hey, baby. I couldn’t help but overhear what you said to Anya, you’re the best!” And for a moment, Buffy believed that.

“Just saying the way it is, Angel,” she sighed, “poor Anya, she needs to move on, right?” She looked at her husband, expectantly, “what do ‘you’ think of Andrew?”

Angel chuckled and walked over to his wife, “I think that Anya better jump on that train and ride it to the end. She’s not all that, is she Buff?”

Buffy looked away from her husband, “Anya’s a lovely woman, Angel. She’s just not right for Xander, maybe Andrew is the one?”

The conversation turned when Angel clasped her little hands, “we need to get going if you got that reservation. Let’s talk about this later. Maybe at dinner tomorrow, at the Club. We’re meeting Cordelia and Riley at the Country Club. You know Cordy, babe, she has something to say about everyone!”

Buffy felt like throwing up, but she nodded, obediently, “yeah, that’s Queen C. The talker of the town.”





 

Buffy’s Revenge: Chapter 10 ‘The Bronze’

Dinner with Riley and Cordelia had been a nightmare. Angel was the perfect gentleman, Riley acted like a pandering idiot to Cordy, Buffy and Angel. And Cordelia? Well, she was the perfect Queen of the Country Club; propriety above all else, right down to her perfectly manicured fingernails.

Buffy would have liked to scratch Cordy’s eyes out with her own polished nails. Frankly, it was a mystery to her how everyone behaved so cordially, without at least laughing in mock horror at the stupidity of the whole situation. Angel was boinking Cordelia, Buffy was boinking Riley, Riley was boinking (at least one would hope) his fiance Cordelia. Angel was boinking Buffy, his wife, well…some of the time, anyway.

After the dessert, which consisted of after dinner drinks for all at their exclusive table, Buffy feigned one of her terrible migraines.

“Angel,” she whined, “can we go, please? I’ve got a terrible headache and no medicine with me?”

Angel shrugged at his dinner companions and offerred his rather meaty arm to his wife. Riley smirked (not nearly as cute as Williams smirk) and winked at Buffy, knowingly. Cordelia looked down her $10,000.00 or so nose job and glanced at Buffy, her expression cynical and cold.

“I told you to go see the Doctor about those damn headaches, Buffy, darling,” she stated with her demeanor of royalty.

“I know, Cordy,” Buffy said meekly, as she studied her husband intently, “but I’m a bit afraid of shots, you know.”

Cordelia looked at Buffy like a social worker would at a mentally challenged six-year-old.

“Well,” the Queen of SunnyD began, “if you’d have gotten that silly nose of yours fixed like I told you, years ago…” she left the sentence unfinished.

Angel took the gap in conversation to excuse himself and his wife and lead her to the door of the Club. The valet brought his Mercedes promptly.

The Travers drove in silence most of the way home, until Buffy asked, “why do we socialize with them, Angel?”

Buffy’s husband didn’t answer right away, but when they got to the next red light, he replied simply, “the Chase’s are my firms’ best clients Buff, we have to be civil, at the least.”

When they got home, Buffy hurried upstairs and washed up for bed. After taking a rather large sleeping pill, she crawled into her bed and tried to relax enough to sleep.

That’s when she noticed Angel’s private phone line, lit green, and couldn’t resist picking up the phone to listen in.

Angel sounded very businesslike: “you get this done, hear me, Spike?” he sounded angry, too.

Spike didn’t answer right away, then finally his deep British accent broke the silence: “You know, Peaches,” he began, “maybe you should come clean with your wife about your rather ‘questionable’ business practices?”

Angel snapped back, “you keep your pansy British ass out of my business and my marriage, you prick! I don’t pay you to be a marriage counselor, just a lacky!”

Buffy couldn’t listen to any more and carefully replaced the phone back on the receiver.


It was Tuesday night, a week after the nightmare of a dinner and Angel was on another business trip, New York this time. Buffy took this opportunity to take a break from her naughty activities and just have a night out with the girls.

She met Willow and Tara at the Bronze on a that night, just after Angel had left to fly to La Guardia Airport in NYC. It was a simple plan; Buffy, Willow and Tara, at the Bronze for burgers (the best in town) and then a couple of drinks at the Country Club, via Buffy of course, to listen to Tuesday Night Jazz.

Xander had been a nightmare! Buffy had to plead a night out with Helen Travers, Angel’s Mom, just to get out of meeting him for supper, drinks or whatever.

“But Helen keeps insisting,” she’d whined to Xander, “hoping he wouldn’t catch on.”

It was getting to be a problem, not only with Xander, but with Riley and Connor. However, she didn’t want to think about ‘that’ tonight.

Buffy chose a simple pair of tight leather pants, a red halter and her hair down, around her shoulders; light makeup to finish the ‘look.’ She met Willow and her love, Tara at the Bronze at 7:00 PM, on the dot.

When she strutted through the main bar and grill, all eyes were on her, she could feel them. It empowered her, made her feel like a Goddess. The added plus was the fact that Buffy didn’t feel the need to go scouting about for any more men in her life.

Three paramours were quite enough, thank you very much. Willow, who sat next to her girlfriend, Tara in a large booth in the Grill waved her over and Buffy sidled in across the table from the two lovebirds.

“A Double Martini’ Buffy ordered from the waiter as Willow shot her that ‘careful’ look of hers. Tara slapped her girlfriend’s arm, gently, “let her have some fun!” she admonished, “I’ll drive if she gets soused, promise!”

Willow gave her girl a warm look, “okay,” she replied simply.

Buffy made small talk; what was going on at the University where Tara taught English Literature and Willow taught Computer Science.


“Professor Walsh is a tyrant, still!” Willow giggled and Tara concurred.

“Another, Martini,” Buffy ordered with alcohol fueled confidence.

The food came, they ate and chatted about University life, computers, Shakespeare and Art.

“I have to pee!” Buffy blurted out as she jumped up from the booth.

“Too much info, Buffy,” Willow giggled as she waved her good friend off to the bathroom.

Buffy weaved her way to the nearest bathroom, the one just outside in the hallway, just outside of the main bar. She was tipsy, no doubt, but she held her head high as she sauntered into the bar, appreciating the ‘stares’ of the male patrons (and some of the female patrons) in there.

She was halfway into the darkened bar, way to far to make a casual escape when she saw ‘him.’ There he was, William Giles, his platinum blond hair slicked back, those black clothes, and of course, the usual cigarette hanging from ‘mouth’ of his. Couldn’t miss him for the world.

Before she could turn and make her escape he called out to her, “don’t run away now, Buffy, luv. Have a seat with me and let’s chat a bit.”

Buffy turned bright red, but felt obligated to sit in the small chair William had pushed out with his foot. For some odd reason, Buffy could never turn down William and always seemed to rise to his bait.


(A/N: I will now freely jump from Spike’s POV to Buffy’s POV and visa versa. I write this way more because I’m kind of lazy then for any other reason. Anyway, the story will be told from both Spike’s and Buffy’s POV from now on.)

William (or Spike as the case may be) pushed the bar stool next to him over with his Doc Martin clad foot.

“Sit down, Princess,” he purred, his blue eyes never leaving Buffy. “Let’s have a little chat, shall we?”

Buffy did as she was told, reluctantly.

“Hey, William,” she mutterred, “what brings you here?”

He never really answered, just lit up a cigarette and stared at her, the whole time.

“Want a drink?” he asked her, real gentlemanly like.

“Yes,” she replied, a bit too quickly, “I definitely want a drink.”

William ordered a Martini from the waiter and Buffy had to wonder how he ‘knew’ just what she had been drinking.

“What brings ‘you’ here, Princess?” he asked evenly as he stared at her again.

“Needed a night off,” she murmured, “needed some space.” She stared right back at William, measuring his reaction, but got nothing but a blank look.

Spike’s POV (for the moment):

There was nothing like a Buffy Summers (Spike would never call her Travers) ‘deer in the headlights’ look. Just like the one she had now.

Spike (or William as Buffy always called him) loved that look from Buffy. Her hazel/green eyes would widen, she’d get that ‘what did I do?’ look and mere mortal men would be helpless against it. Spike was not an exception, he was the rule; but he’d never let Buffy know that.

The Giles men, Spike/William and his step-father Rupert had never been immune to the likes of Buffy Summers and her Mum, Joyce; they had been victims of them.

From the first time Spike had ever seen ‘Her’ he had been helpless under her spell. He had just moved here, to Sunnydale, California; he was only seventeen-year’s-old and a Junior in High School. His Mum, Anne and his step-dad Rupert Giles had moved from Liverpool, England, to this small town in Southern California to live.

Rupert was to be the Sunnydale High librarian and although William, or Spike as he was called now, liked the idea of change, he was a bit wary of the new atmosphere he’d been so rudely shoved into. Upon landing in this berg, Sunnydale, he’d sought out the most popular place to go, the one all the best kids in town went to hang out. The Bronze.

When Spike (or William as his Mum still called him) walked into the Bronze, he was happy to note that the crowd seemed to part for him. Some alternative rock song was playing on the loud speakers and Spike swaggered (he’d got that down pretty well) up close to the stage where some locals were dancing.

That’s the first time he had seen ‘Her’ his Buffy. She was shimmying around, a bit too much like a stripper for his taste, with some big oaf of a whelp (boy) who was trying to keep up with her but was failing miserably. Her honey blond hair, long and loose was swaying to her movements and the idiot she was dancing with was practially drooling over her.

This little angel, no bigger then a minute, looked up at Spike, gave him the shyest of smiles, but then proceeded to flip her golden tresses about with her tiny hands; sidle up this oaf of a dance partner and rub herself slowly up against him.

For whatever reason, Spike nearly roared his displeasure, pushed his way into the crowd and up to the little blond tease; where he pulled her from the local yokel and closer to himself.

“Mine!” he thought viciously at the time, “Mine!” From that point on, he, Spike was a permenant fixture in ‘the group’ of Buffy’s friends, but always kept his own growing feelings for Summers to himself.

Buffy’s POV:

“So, Spikey,” Buffy purred, using his nickname for the first time in forever, “what do you want?”

Her words just dripped with honey, she knew that. She watched the reaction in William’s steel blue eyes. He not only looked confused, she thought, but he showed signs of something she had seen before in him; something like want.

“So,” he smirked down at her as he lit another cigarette, “it’s Spike now?” Buffy giggled, drunkenly, “okay,” she threw her hands up in mock defeat, “Will. William, Willie?”


Buffy made a move to get up and leave, but William grabbed her arm and held her fast.

“Not so fast, Buffy,” he whispered as she peered about to see if ‘anyone’ had noticed. “Why don’t you and me have that little chat I spoke of?” he finished, his scarred eyebrow quirked up a bit.

“And what would that be, Spikey?” she slurred, feeling the affects of way too much Vodka and way too little food. “And,” she went on, “by the way. How come you smoke in places you know you can’t?”

The pout of her mouth caused a smile in the handsome face of her enemy.

“I told you, Princess,” he whispered, huskily, as he leaned close and ran his slim middle finger over her palm, “I do what I want.”

Buffy actually shivered, her body filled with all kinds of unholy tingles and an inner horror that she had willingly allowed William Giles to touch her like that. It was a more sensuous feeling then some sex acts she’d done with other men and it made her very, very uneasy.

Once she gotten her breath back, she stared boldly into Spike’s amazingly blue eyes and leaned so close to him that their lips could have met in a kiss.

“So,” she purred, her voice almost a whisper, “what is it, exactly, Spikey, that you want?”

The minute she had spoken, Buffy knew she’d made a terrible mistake. Asking William a loaded question like that was just asking for a major problem. But, instead of giving her a smart ass answere, or one of his patent snarky smirks, William just looked at her, wistfully, and softly ran his finger over the pulse in her wrist.

She was sure he could feel just how fast her pulse was racing, expecially when he looked at her like that, and touched her there. She could only hope he couldn’t hear her heart beating out so loud. ‘Geez they can probably hear it behind the bar!’

“You’d be surprised what I really ‘want,’ Buffy,” he finally spoke, so softly she could barely hear, his eyes never left hers. “Then again,” he added, “maybe you wouldn’t be so bloody surprised.”

This stunned Buffy momentarily, as she tried to analyze what Will meant by this and he looked away from her.

“Did he just blush?!” she asked herself, even more stunned then before. “Hmm,” she continued her inner conversation with herself; “this is interesting. Maybe I’ve misjudged Will. Maybe he’s not ‘in the shadows’ as much as I thought. Maybe he just wants a normal life like the rest of us?”

Now, this was a very sobering thought for the young blond woman and she muddled it over, in silence, while William smoked his cigarette, also in silence.


(per Spike)


Finally, Buffy broke the silence between them, “I hope you get what you really want, Will,” she sounded very sincere, “I want you to be happy, I do.”

Spike realized he must have looked quite puzzled at Buffy’s tender side coming out. Especially where he was concerned.

Before he could reply, she stood, patted his hand gently and whispered, “the problem is, William,” her face was a study in wistfulness, “we don’t always get what we really want, do we?”

Spike thought she seemed reluctant to leave and when she spoke next, her face was serious.

“This is going to sound redundant, Will,” she sighed as she touched his arm once again, almost tenderly, “but remember that Rolling Stones song? The one where Mick keeps talking about ‘getting what you want’ and all?”

He watched her beautiful eyes and nodded quickly, “well, it’s true, Will. You can’t always get what you want, but, if you try real hard…you’ll get what you need.”

Spike watched Buffy turn and walk away from him, headed towards the women’s loo in the back of the bar. He sat and mulled over her words, just for a minute or so, then tossed a $20.00 and $10.00 bill, each, on the small table.

A man with a mission, he strode quickly to a small emergency exit that was right next to the very bathroom that Buffy had gone into and just stood, waiting. The hallway, thankfully, was completely empty, except for him and being Spike, it wasn’t too hard to disengage the emergency alarm attached to the door.

It was only a minute or so before the object of his desire, Buffy, exited the bathroom, oblivious to his presence and apparently caught up in her own thoughts. That’s when he made his move. He grabbed Buffy by her slim arm, not too roughly, but just enough to manuveur her out of the exit, into the alley behind The Bronze.

When he got her out into the dark alley, he checked around to make sure they were alone and slammed the exit door closed behind them with his foot.

Buffy was so shocked by his element of surprise that she could only look at him, wild eyed and mute.

That lasted all of a few seconds, because when he pushed her up against the brick wall behind her, she gasped and cried, “What the hell do you think you’re doing!?”

He smiled at her and replied huskily, “getting what I want, and, what I need!”

Then he slammed his lips down on hers in a bruising kiss; which, finally, at least for the moment, shut her the hell up!


A/N: Wonder what William was doing there, huh? Thanks for reading and please review. Luv, Spuf

 

Chapter 11: ‘Shadow Dancing’


A/N: Sigh, I wish more readers would get into this story…I promise it gets Spuffy here after. There will be much angst to come, of course, but I will concentrate on the Spuffy relationship as this tale unfolds.

I wish someone would review this story, please. If you think I should just forget about submitting more chapters, that’s okay. I’ll listen. Thanks, luv Spuf


Buffy’s first instinct was to push William away from her, or at least put up some semblence of a struggle. Instead, she found her body melded to his while he continued the assault on her mouth. In fact, she seemed to have no choice in the matter, her lips acted on their own and right now, they were kissing him back, with a lot of enthusiasm!

Meanwhile, William’s hands weren’t idle either and Buffy felt them slip up and down her shoulders, then her bare back. For some reason, Buffy was delighted that she had chosen to wear a halter top that evening, giving him easy access to her bare skin.

Spike was delighted too. Delighted that the halter top gave him complete access to her soft, warm skin and the fact that she was not putting much of a struggle against him. He continued to kiss her, much like a starving man at a buffet table. But then again, he had been a starving man, for years. It was Buffy that was the ‘meal’ he had craved all those years and now that he had her, defenseless, overpowered really, he barely stopped his kissing onslaught to breathe.

Not even a minute has passed, not even close, when he felt Buffy’s whole demeanor change. She began to push at him, hard, well at least as hard as her tiny frame allowed.

“Don’t!” he growled at her as he clung to her even tighter, “don’t push me away, God dammit!”

“William!” she snapped harshly, her eyes filled with indignant fire, “stop it! Let me go!”

Buffy shoved him so hard, he stumbled backwards and almost fell on his ass. She wasn’t sure which one of them was more surprised, or angry. William looked at her as if he’d like to throttle her throat and she definitely felt like throwing him into the brick wall. The problem was, she didn’t know if she wanted to kill him or kiss him right at after she threw him there! It was all very confusing and disturbing, much like the hot tingles that continued to shoot through her body.

“I’m leaving!” she stated, although she wasn’t convinced herself that that’s what she really wanted.

“Oh, that’s right,” he spat at her, his blue eyes dark and angry, “just when you get a bloke hot and bothered, you always stop.”

He didn’t know whether he wanted to kill her, or kiss her, right at that moment anyway.

“You let me kiss you Buffy,” he pointed at her, “you let me kiss you and you wanted it. You know you did. God! You’re such a bloody cock tease, always were!”

Unable to vent any other way, Spike kicked an empty beer can into the wall behind Buffy, narrowly missing her with it. Buffy looked at him in disbelief.

“You, you grabbed me! You dragged ‘me’ out here, overwhelmed me with your charm; I mean your kisses, I mean your overwhelmy power thingy of yours!”

He couldn’t help but smile at her, she was so lovely, all flushed from anger and from being kissed, thoroughly.

With the quiet moves of a panther, Spike closed the distance between them and once again caught her in his strong arms.

“You’re beautiful when you’re pissed, luv!” he chuckled as he defiantly kissed her again, but on her forehead this time.

“Well, you sure can piss me off, William!” she hissed back, but failed to push him away again. Instead, she shyly smiled and looked him right back into his dark blue eyes. She definitely saw something there, in those shining indigo orbs; not just lust, something more, she was sure of it.

“You could piss off the Pope, Princess,” he quipped back. “You have to be the most frustrating woman in the world, but I think that may be part of your charm.”

Buffy giggled loudly her eyes danced with merriment and pleasure.

“Yeah,” he thought to himself, “you would get pleasure out of making me pissed!” Spike ran his hand gently down her soft cheek, “you are beautiful, Buffy. Angry, happy or sad, even near tears, you’re breathtaking.”

He watched the blush shoot up her neck into that darling face and found it absolutely adorable.

“Besides,” he continued, “all of this angry ‘act’ of ours. It’s all part the ‘our dance’ you know?”

She cocked her head to one side, a puzzled expression on her face. “Our dance,” she questioned.

“Yeah,” he shrugged as he brushed her golden hair from the side of her face, then cupped her little chin. “We’ve been dancin’ together, forever, luv,” he explained with a soft smile. “When we weren’t dancin’ around each other, I’d watch you, from the shadows. Even when you danced with some other bloke.”

His eyes flickered a dark emotion at the thought of Buffy and other men and he could see it rather scared Buffy.

She weighed the words William had just spoken to her and realized that he was right, they ‘had’ danced around each other for years. With another shy smile, she reached up and ran her little hand across his chiseled cheek. When he clasped that hand and kissed it softly, her legs nearly buckled.

Without thinking, she stood on her tipy toes and kissed him gently on his lovely mouth and was rewarded with a strong, passionate kiss in return. In the next minute she found his arms wrapped around her, like a vice and she was again pushed up against the brick wall.

This time he pulled her up by her bottom and wrapped her legs around his slim hips. In this position, she was all but trapped completely agianst the brick wall to her back, and his hard body to her front. Of course, that’s when she truly realized that it wasn’t just his chest and arms that were so ‘hard.’

Buffy knew she had no choice but to kiss him back, again, but she also knew it was a real bad idea. William was dangerous, very dangerous, she had no dissalusions about that and to encourage him in this way was only a recipe for disaster. Hers!

“William!” she cried out as she pulled her mouth away from him, “we can’t, I can’t, no…..we shouldn’t. Stop!” she finished, frustrated and exasperated at the same time.

“Don’t want to,” he murmered back, “you don’t want me to either. You know it.”

Spike ‘knew’ Buffy didn’t want to stop, but he also knew that she wouldn’t finish this out, especially not in The Bronze’s dirty little alley. He was rather reluctant to finish this in that dark, dank place himself. He had waited way too long for Buffy to ‘have’ her in this rat hole.

His Buffy belonged in the satin sheets of a king sized bed, while he worshipped her body with his. The look on her face warned him that he’d better stop this right that second, at least for the here and now and he stopped his assault on her mouth for the second time that night.

Reluctantly, he lowered her little body down while he kept hold of her backside, and made sure he held her warm body against his at the same time.

Once in place, her feet back on the ground, Spike rested his forehead against hers and gazed into those green eyes, “come home with me, Buffy,” he whispered.

She stood there, looking up at him, totally stunned, he could tell.

“Come home with me, tonight, Buffy,” he repeated, his tone a mix of pleading and commanding.

Spike watched Buffy carefully as he tried to read her thoughts by her expressions. He knew was was actually pondering his suggestion because she wasn’t saying anything, just staring at him under half closed lids, chewing gently on her full bottom lip. If he was going to convince her, now was the time because Buffy Summers (he never even thought of her as a Travers) was never silent if she was ‘sure’ about anything. At least she hadn’t immediately said ‘no’ he reasoned so maybe, just maybe she might say ‘yes.’

“You know you want to Buffy,” he said huskily as he ran his fingers against her flushed cheek and leaned in to whisper it again in her ear, “you know you want to. Just do it.”

Buffy was in a complete quandry now. The sad fact was, disturbing as it was, is that she ‘did’ want to. All sane reasoning aside, Buffy wanted nothing more then to climb on the back of Will’s motorcycle and get to his place as fast as possible to…..well, to what?

That was the million dollar question in her mind. She knew, with all of her heart and soul that William was bad news, that he had been since High School, but he was so, so…..well, he was William. And a part of her had and would always want him, even if she pretended to be his mortal enemy.

However, the sane Buffy, the one Joyce Summers had raised so very well, all by herself, echoed her first thoughts. William ‘was and is’risky, in whatever way it was, he was way too dangerous to get involved with. Buffy knew it, deep down in her soul. But……

“I can’t,” she finally whispered as she turned her face from him, “I can’t, Will, don’t ask again. Willow and Tara are…..”

‘Willow and Tara,’ she screamed in her head, they’re probably wondering where the hell I’ve gone!

“I have to go Will, please,” she pushed him, but very gently this time, away from her, “Willow and Tara, I abandoned them inside!”

The dissapointment in William radiated from his eyes and his body language and Buffy felt quite intimidated.

Before she could get past him, he grabbed her arm and ordered, calmly, “take my cell phone number,” as he pulled out a pen (one of Angel’s law firms, she noticed) and scratched a cell phone number down on a match book cover. “Call me tomorrow, any time. We need to ‘talk.”

Buffy nodded numbly and accepted the matchbook then slipped it into her pants pocket.

“Kay, Will,” she replied, not quite convincingly enough. “I’m going to walk around in front of the building, go back in that way. It’ll look ‘better’ you know?”

William looked away from her, then stated softly, “I’ll walk you close to the front door, make sure you’re okay. This place sucks and someone’ll just love a tasty morsel like you.”

He grinned at her and she suddenly felt like a teenage girl again, much like she had just a few minutes before. Nodding her assent, she walked slowly out of the alley to the front steps of the Bronze, glad that the bouncer was on a break right then.

“Buffy,” she heard William call to her, his voice hoarse, “call me, please.”

Buffy scurried through the front door of the building without even a glance back at him.


A/N: Well, leave it to ‘our girl, Buffy’ to be the only female alive under 60 that would turn down Spike! Even in an alley! But, it is Buffy we’re dealing with here! Okay, so, next chapter we’ll just have to see if she does or doesn’t call him? What do you think she’ll do? Thanks, Spuf





Chapter 12: ‘Cell Phones; The Devil’s Play Toys!’


Buffy woke up Wednesday morning with the hangover from hell! After she had ‘left’ William at the door of The Bronze last night, she caught up with Willow and Tara and went on to drink herself stupid. Tara had to drive Buffy home in her Camaro, while Willow followed in her Explorer. When they had made sure that their buddy, Buffy, was safe and secure at home, in her bed, they left and went to their new home, Tara’s apartment.

When she actually was able to open her eyes (which, by the way, felt like sand paper rubbing together), Buffy lay in her lonely bed for a moment or two. It was then that she remembered the matchbook and William’s cell phone number, glaring like a red stop sign written all over it.

She bolted from her bed, ignoring the urge to throw up from her pounding headache, and sifted through the dirty clothes slated for the cleaners. There it was. The innocent little matchbook with William’s number on it, just accusing her and laughing at her.

Buffy ran into the living room, threw the matchbook with the evidence on it into the fireplace and lit a fire quickly.

“There!” she thought victoriously, her arms crossed in front of her chest; a smug smile on her face, “now I ‘can’t’ call him!”

Maggie and Jenny weren’t due back to the house until Friday afternoon as Buffy, again, gave them an extended day off. Angel wouldn’t be back until Saturday night and Buffy had decided, since her ardor for William ‘seemed’ to have cooled overnight, that she’d meet up with Xander someplace.

Make it up to him for lying about dinner at her mother-in-law’s the night before.

“Christ!” she hissed, somewhat angry at herself, “if I had of met Xander last night, like I was supposed to in the first place, then……”

But, then what, she thought? She wouldn’t have ‘seen’ Will, wouldn’t have formed an their uneasy truce with him, after all these years?

“Well,” she sighed, “I sure wouldn’t have this damn hangover.”

She chuckled a bit as she turned on the water in her tub and then settled in for a nice warm soak.

“A nice long bubble bath; some really strong, awful black coffee from the Grind. I’ll be as good as new!”

After the hour long bath, Buffy wrapped herself in her cozy robe and flopped back on the bed. She was feeling better, but not completely up to snuff. Her cell phone rang, it was Xander.

“I was just thinking about you,” she giggled, truthfully, “what’s up tonight?”

Xander’s deep voice sounded so pleased and Buffy assured him that she would be ‘available’ to meet him that evening. There was a coffee shop that they would go to, quite a way’s from Sunnydale where no one knew them. It was an innocent place and their trysts always ‘started’ from there. Of course, they had to be careful about where they actually went for ‘dessert,’ but oddly enough, Xander proved to be surprisingly creative in that department.

At 7:00 PM that evening, Buffy hopped into her Camaro and headed out for the coffee shop to meet Xander. About halfway there, her cell phone rang.

“Oh,” she thought, kind of relieved, “maybe Xander can’t make it after all?”

She felt guilty for thinking that way, but she really didn’t want to go for some reason, tonight. Her hangover was gone, at least the alcohol induced one was, but William was still on her mind. She knew he would be furious that she didn’t call him.

After pulling over onto the highway shoulder, Buffy answered the ringing phone.

“Yes?” she said bright, fully expecting Xander or even Angel’s voice to answer.

“You didn’t call me, luv,” came William’s calm voice; calm but deadly, thought Buffy.

“What?” she gasped, shocked to hear ‘that’ voice on her cell phone. “How did you…where did you get this number?”

She knew she sounded surprised; she hoped she sounded appropriately pissed!

“I’ve got my ways, Princess,” William answered evenly, “but don’t change the bloody subject. Why, didn’t you call me?”

Buffy desperately ran over a thousand excuses in her head (why? She didn’t really know), and fell on the only plausible one. “I ‘lost’ the matchbook,” she almost sighed with relief, believing this little white lie would fly with Will.

Spike had to laugh at this one. “You’ve never lied too well, luv,” he chuckled, sarcastically, “don’t try to pull it off now!”

Silence at her end of the phone; gave him time to get angry at her again and he repeated the question, “why didn’t you call me?”

He knew his tone was betraying his rage, no matter how hard he tried to keep it in check.

“Bloody bitch,” he thought angrily, “still too good to even call me!”

Buffy’s short, desperate little breaths were almost funny to him, but he maintained his serious tone and again asked the question.

“I don’t know,” came her quiet reply.

Buffy was frantic by this time, although she tried to maintain an even voice. William had ‘her’ cell phone number? He had virtually tracked her down and confronted her, via air waves, about her not calling him? “Oh, bad Buffy,” she thought, “bad, very bad Buffy! You know you led him on!”

William was quiet, for once, now and finally she broke their silence.

“Will,” she began softly, “I’m going to be totally honest with you. Totally honest,” and she meant it. “I’m afraid of you. Afraid of who you are, though I’ve never been really sure of just ‘who’ you really are. Please just hear me out,” she continued before he could reply.

“I’m a married woman, Will,” she reminded him, gently, “I can’t just drop everything at home and ‘call’ men on their cell phones at any time.”

Guilt shot through her, that’s exactly what she’d been doing all along with ‘the other men’ and to not call William made ‘those relationships’ even more sordid.

‘Damn,’ she hated cell phones; they had to be Satan’s play toys!

“I want to meet with you,” he finally replied. “Tonight; right now, actually.”

Buffy began to shake; her hands were gripped so tight on the steering wheel, that they beginning to hurt.

“I, I can’t,” she stammerred, “not tonight, not ever.”

More silence then, “we can meet and just talk if you want, Buffy. William’s voice was so soft and quiet, almost tender; Buffy was stunned again by this different side of him, but she couldn’t answer, right away; her own mind at war with itself.

Bad, crazy ‘consequences be damned’ Buffy was laughing at her. Telling her to meet and just talk with Will. Good, sane ‘the lady Joyce Summers raised’ kept tsking at her; telling her that William was, is and would always be ‘trouble!’ “Off limits,” good Buffy said; “at the very least, a good confidant,” bad Buffy giggled in her ear.

Bad, crazy Buffy won out in the end.

“Kay, Will,” she replied softly, “I’ll meet you. But I can’t tonight, I have other plans. Tomorrow, I can meet you tomorrow.”

William answered quickly; he sounded pleased, but then he said, “what plans? Angel’s out of town, right?”

Buffy swallowed hard and collected her thoughts before she answered, “I have to meet a business associate of Angel’s tonight, in fact, I’m late now.”

It was the truth, kind of, she reasoned and apparently William accepted it.

“There’s this Inn,” he finally said, “It’s way outta town, you know it, I’m sure. The Victoria Cottage, something or other. I’ve been by it, never at, but it looks like your kind of place, rather posh, you know?”

She ‘did’ know the place, although she and Angel had only been once, years before, before they had even married.

“Gee, William,” she hesitated, “I’m not so sure. A motel?”

He quickly reassured her that they would only ‘talk’ if that’s what she really wanted. “Have a drink, talk, catch up, if you want. I promise Buffy,” he finished, sincerely.

She thought for a moment, okay, 6:00 PM, tomorrow. But, what room?”

William told her to go to the Inn, find his motorcycle in the parking lot and look under the seat; he’d have the room number written down on a piece of paper, there.

“Goodnight, Princess,” he said, his reluctance to hang up, evident.

“Night, Will,” she whispered. As she started her car up and pulled out on the highway to meet Xander, she realized something. She could no more sleep with Xander tonight, then she could ‘just talk’ with William tomorrow.

Later, at the coffee shop with Xander, all Buffy could think about was William and that mysterious room at the Victoria Inn. Whatever Xander was rambling on about was lost on her as she toyed with a cup of the worst tasting coffee in God’s creation.

Xander ate some kind of pie, ala mode of all things and gulped his coffee down before it had time to cool off.

“Where the hell does he put it?” she wondered as she watched him gobble up the last bite of pie and finished off his third cup of coffee.

“Well,” he sighed, full and content after he wiped his mouth with the napkin, “where to, Buff?”

“Xand,” she whispered as she reached over and took his large hand in hers, “I can’t go anywhere else with you tonight. I’m, you know, indisposed.”

Apparently, Buffy ‘lied’ better with some people then with William because although Xander looked terribly dissapointed, he seemed to buy her story and let it go at that.

“It’s okay, Buff,” he smiled, bravely at her, “I just like spending time with you. Talking to you. It’s enough, for now,” he added at the end.

Buffy nodded absently, and stood up to leave, “I need to get home, Xander. Angel is coming back, really early in the morning and I have to get home.”

It was another lie, and she truly detested herself for it. Again, Xander seemed to swallow the story, totally.

Once she got back home, Buffy set her alarm for 7:00 AM and took one of Angel’s sleeping pills. If she didn’t help herself along, she knew she would never sleep that night. All she could think about was meeting William tomorrow evening and ‘talking’ with him.

“Yeah,” she mused, “talking, that’s it. We’ll just talk.”

She had to face facts, right then and there; if she could barely resist William Giles in a filthy alley, how could she resist him in the privacy of a nice motel room?

‘No’ they could make ‘nicey talk’ all they wanted, her and Will, but the truth was, she Buffy Anne Summers was totally fucked.

All day, Thursdy, she walked around in a kind of daze. Her mind hazy and muddled from the upcoming ‘meeting’ with William. She had it all planned out; what she would wear, the clothes, shoes, perfume even. Buffy was pretty sure that the Inn would not be overly crowded; it really wasn’t in season yet.

A large pair of sunglasses, her longish hair up in a bun and a simple sundress would be perfect. No one would notice her, she hoped, anyway. When it was time to leave, she had to take a deep breath and force herself to turn on the car ignition.

All the way out of town, she kept telling herself; “it’s only to talk, it’s only to talk.”

But, as much as she chanted this mantra, she knew that William Giles would never ‘settle’ for just talk from her and she would be helpless to deny him anything more.

Buffy hadn’t been at the Victoria Inn in over seven years, but it hadn’t changed. Only the names on her dance card had. True to his word, Will’s Harley set parked in a space at the room furthest from the manager’s office. It was marked #7, discreet, at least, and fortunately matched the number written on the paper she found under the motorcycle seat.

“You can do this Buffy,” she told herself as she checked her watch and noted that it was already after 6:00; almost 6:30 PM to be exact.

“Oh, great,” she rolled her eyes as she knocked on the #7 door, “William is gonna be pissed, I’m so late!”

Spike heard the knock and immediately ‘calmed’ down from the enraged state he had been in only moments before.

“Fuckin’ little brat!” he had stormed about, cursing.

“If she doesn’t show up, I’ll go find her and everything be damned!”

He had stopped ranting about long enough to kick a the small trash can with his foot.

“Bloody hell!” he roared, remembering that he wore only his black Levi jeans, no shirt, no shoes, “that fucking hurt!”

A growl had emmitted from his throat, “I swear to God, if she stands me up; I’ll tear her bleedin’ little throat out of her and shove it up Angel’s arse!”

All this anger suddenly dissapated when he heard that timid little knock on the door. A wave of relief flooded him, “she’s hear,” he sighed.

Spike threw the door open and pulled Buffy inside.

“You’re late!” he growled, trying to sound angrier then he really was.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” she countered with a quick smirk that reminded him of his own.

“Yeah, well,” but he couldn’t finish. He could only look at her, in her little red sundress, her makeup, simple, except for the red lipstick she wore. Her hair was up in a loose, but proper little bun. Spike licked his lips in anticipation; he couldn’t wait to loosen that long blond mane of hers and run his fingers through it.

“You look beautiful, Buffy, luv,” he whispered, catching her eyes with his.

“You look pretty damn good yourself, Will,” she replied with a smile as she ran her eyes over his exposed chest.

In that moment, Spike was aware that for the first time in ten years, he may actually get what he really wanted.


 

Chapter 13: ‘Magically Delicious!’


Buffy glanced nervously around the room of the Inn. It ‘was’ a nice place, one that she would have chosen for Angel and herself. In fact, she had, seven years before.

“Want some wine, luv?” William asked, “I’ve brought your favorite, Cabernet.”

‘Now, there,’ she thought, puzzled, ‘he’s done it again. How does ‘he’ know what my favorite wine is?’

But, she accepted the glass he offered and watched while he poured himself some.

“I always figured you for a beer or whiskey kind of guy, William,” she giggled, “wine? You?”

He smiled at her and just shrugged, “lots you don’t know about me, Buffy,” he finished matter of factly. He then motioned for her to sit down in one of the posh little chairs the Inn provided.

“Actually,” he spoke up again, “old Rupert insisted we have wine for supper every night. Even when I was a young kid. I guess it was his habit from the University.”

Buffy felt a pang of sadness in her heart; Rupert and Anne Giles had been her own mother’s good friends and Buffy herself adored Will’s parents. She also cared deeply for Drusilla Giles, William’s younger half-sister; Rupert and Anne’s only child, together. Although Buffy wanted to ask Will about his family, she thought it best to the keep the conversation light. There was no way to discuss the Giles’ history, especially that of poor Drusilla’s and keep anything discussed ‘light.’

Spike watched Buffy closely as he sipped his wine. Truth was, he really didn’t care much for wine, but he knew Buffy did and he wanted everything to be just perfect tonight. Although he had promised her to ‘just talk’ he was more then sure they would share that large, rather comfortable bed by the end of the night.

‘She knew exactly what she was getting into when she met me here,’ he reasoned to himself, ‘no way are we going to just talk.’

Actually, Spike was beginning to feel quite confident that his little ‘plan’ was going to work out just fine.

‘If she thinks I’m going to let her out of here, with just a ‘thank you and virginal kiss, well…..’ he continued the inner conversation with himself.

“More wine, luv?” he asked, never taking his eyes from hers. She nodded, nervously, and he stifled a chuckle when she began to chew that luscious bottom lip of hers. It was a habit dear Buffy had since they were teenagers and Spike had always loved it.

Before he could pour her another glass, Buffy stood up and began to wonder aimlessly about the room. Looking at pictures, looking into the kitchen area looking at the door, looking everywhere but at the bed, or him.

Spike noticed and began to reponder the whole ‘sure thing’ he’d built up in his own mind.

‘That’s it, Princess,’ he thought silently as he followed her every move; ‘you just keep avoiding me, best way you can. Keep it up and soon I’ll have to force the issue. If you won’t give it up, willingly, sweet, I’ll convince you to.’

He preferred not to have to bring out the arsenal he had, he wanted Buffy to be willing, but he’d gotten this far with her and he refused to let her get away from him now.

For her part, Buffy was really trying to avoid him. She thought if she could ‘dance around’ him and the issue at hand (mainly the big, comfy looking bed against the wall), then maybe, just maybe they could ‘just talk.’ They could reinforce that truce they’d called the other night and become friends again, well at least civil acquaintences.

Her back was turned to him, but she felt him close the distance between them, rather quickly, and spun around to take the glass he refilled for her. Except, the glass wasn’t in his hand, she spied it on the little table next to her chair.

“Oh,” she said, finally looking him right in the eye, “where’s my glass?” she questioned, her voice sounded like a little girls and she was immediately red faced.

“Buffy?” he said softly as he gazed into her eyes.

‘Damn but his eyes were blue, she thought absently, ‘no one’s eyes should be that color of blue. It’s not right!’

“Buffy?” he whispered as he placed each of his large hands on her her face, gently. “You didn’t come here to drink wine and reminisce. You know that. Why have you always done this? You ignore, avoid and try to run from what you’re afraid to face.”

Buffy began to shake her head in denial, slowly, “no William, I’m not afraid to face you. I’m ‘afraid’ of you,” her eyes finally met his.

“Never be afraid of me, Buffy, darling,” he whispered and leaned in to kiss her mouth.

“You said,” she whimpered, her words barely audible, “you said we’d ‘just talk, Will.” He only smiled again and met her lips in the gentlest of kisses.

‘Be gentle, be tender, be patient,’ he chanted to himself as he continued to place little kitten kisses on her lips, cheeks, even the tip of her adorable nose.

“We can talk, Buffy,” he stopped to whisper in her ear. “I did promise. Come here now,” he commanded with tenderness and led her by the over to his chair.

He sat down and gently as he could, pulled her down on his lap. “You talk about anything you want, Princess,” he murmered as he softly rubbed her bare neck and shoulders with his hands. “I’ll listen to anything you want me to. I’ll answer any questions you want to ask. Jesus, Buffy,” he nuzzled his head into her warm neck, “I’ll walk through bloody hellfire for you, if that’s what you want.”

Spike was so wrapped up in being ‘tender and patient’ that what little Buffy said next almost floored him.

“Well!” she cried out in frustration, “that’s a hell of a thing to do to someone! Start the kissy, smoochie stuff and then want to ‘just talk!”

She tried to pull away from him, but he held her fast with his strong arms.

“Buffy!” he gasped in shock, “you are, without a fucking doubt the most exasperating, confusing and spoiled woman I’ve ever known!”

His eyes were bright with fire and again Buffy found herself slightly frightened by him.

“You don’t have to swear at me, Will!” she cried with a pout. He sensed her fear and visibly tried to calm himself down, somewhat.

“Buffy,” he muttered through clenched teeth, “I just wanted to be patient and nice with you. I swear to God your moods go up and down faster then a fucking teeter totter!”

Buffy realized that she had misread him and that he was trying, really hard, for him, to be a gentleman.

‘All’s he trying to do is make me feel comfy and secure,’ she assured herself. But this side of William was unfamiliar to her as she hadn’t seen it in so many years. It confused her, jumbled up her emotions and she looked away from him so he couldn’t see the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes.

“I’m sorry, William,” she said contritely, “I know you’re being especially kind to me. I’m sorry I’m such a stupid bitch, such a failure, really.”

Now the waterworks really turned on and Buffy buried her head into Spike’s bare chest, soon soaking it with her hot tears.

“That’s okay, luv,” he cooed softly and began to rub her back gently, “you are ‘not’ a stupid or a failure,” his sincere tone tugged at her heart. “You’re a beautiful, smart and sexy woman who has been my…..” but he stopped short of finishing the sentence.

Buffy looked up into his face, the tears already slowing and smiled shyly, “I’m beautiful?” she asked in that little girl’s voice again.

“You’re exquisite, luv,” Will assured her with a smile. Before either of them could take a breath, Buffy threw her arms around his neck and kissed him hotly on his mouth.

Spike didn’t waste this opportunity. He picked his small Buffy bundle up and carried her, her soft lips still on his, to the bed. After he half set/half lay her down on the bed, almost like she was a fragile package, he reached around her back to unzip her sundress. Before he undressed her, without any words, he looked into her green eyes and asked her, with his blue ones, permission to continue. Buffy just nodded, shyly, her eyes reflected the passion and want that he felt.

When he removed the dress, he confirmed that she had not worn a bra and the sight that greeted him made him harder then even before. Reaching out, he gently stroked her left breast and was rewarded with a breathy moan from her slightly parted lips.

“Buffy,” he groaned as he looked her up and down, his hand repeating the gentle stroke on her other breast, “you ‘are’ beautiful!”

He pressed her back onto the bed and reached for the little red thong she still had on. It joined the dress on the foot of the bed and Spike surveyed his lovely girl.

“Oh, God, Buffy,” I want you so much he whispered, took off his jeans and lay, in boxers next to her.

“I want you too, Will,” she murmered shyly to him, that adorable blush back on her face.

He touched her cheek as she touched his and kissed her warm, wet little mouth. Soon they were kissing each other, their mouths hungry and greedy. Spike had to have more, now and left her mouth, his own lips trailed down her neck to her breasts.

Buffy held his head to her breasts and encouraged by her pants and soft words, he ran his tongue down her tummy to her hips. Before he continued to his goal, he looked up into her half closed eyes, again asking for permission to go on. As much as he wanted to really taste her, he didn’t want to do anything she didn’t want him to.

“Do it!” Buffy panted huskily, her firey eyes blazed into his, “do it, please, Will!”

The pleading in her voice stunned her, momentarily, as this particular sex act had never really appealed to her. Not even with Angel.

‘Do not think of Angel,’ she told herself firmly and dismissed him instantly, ‘think only of William and this.’

Truth was, Will had been the first man to do this with her, years ago, it was only right that he do it now. Anyway, he was doing it so wonderfully!

“Will,” she moaned as she gazed at him, “that’s heavenly.”

He watched her from hooded eyes and she felt rather then saw him smile against her. William stopped long enough to smile, lazily at her and mumble something about Buffy being heavenly, before he returned to his incredible ministrations.

William was saying something to her about how he wanted her to watch him when she came. Her body felt like liquid by this time, but she managed to pull two pillows down from the top of the bed and place them under her shoulder blades.

When she felt the ‘magic’ start to happen, when the fireworks started up in in her brain, she stared at Will, mesmerized that this guy could do what he was doing and still manage to say the most ‘yummy’ things at the same time.

Finally, in her release, she grabbed his head with her hands and legs, and ground herself against his mouth.

“Oh, God, Will!” she cried out as her orgasm ripped through her.

Spike watched her and felt Buffy orgasm against his mouth; hell her whole body shook the bed. And that in itself made him feel pretty damn proud. He quickly kissed her two inner thighs and crawled up her still trembling body.

“Kiss me,” he commanded and she did, with all the passion he’d dreamed of for so long.

“Buffy,” he rasped, pulling her so close it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended, “I’ve waited ten years for this; I’m not waiting another minute.”

He positioned himself over her and reached down to slip his boxers off.

“Wait!” she cried frantically, her eyes flew wide open and he suddenly felt an instant dissapointment.

‘She’s going to bolt,’ he thought bitterly,’after all of this.’

Buffy must have read his thoughts because she immediately clasped his face in her tiny hands, “no Will,” she whispered, “I want you too, but we need, you know, protection.”

Talk about ‘deflation!’ Spike’s expression of lust instantly changed to one of utter defeat.

“Buffy,” he stammered, “I don’t have ‘protection. I guess I thought you would be you know,” he hesitated, suddenly embarrassed, “using something?”

He looked away, afraid she’d see the bitter dissapointment in his eyes.

“Oh,” she mumbled, also looking away from him, “I do, but you know? Uhm, this day and age and all. I guess I thought you’d want to you know, use something yourself?”

Spike was miserable, here he had the woman of his dreams, in bed, ready to go and they couldn’t? It just wasn’t fuckin’ fair!

They lay in uncomfortable silence for a moment or two when Buffy finally spoke up, “Uhm, Will,” she began timidly, unable to look at him, “uhm, I hope you don’t think I’m a naughty girl, but, I kind of made a stop before I came here.”

Will looked at her, puzzled, “a stop?” he questioned, his scarred left eyebrow raised up in consfusion.

“Yeah,” she mumbled, barely audible to him, “I kind of bought some, you know, protection thingys,” she coughed out, her face bright red.

If she expected a sarcastic retort or a shocked look, she was sadly mistaken. William began to roar with laughter and pulled her to him, peppering her face with kisses.

“Thank you God!” he chortled as he looked upward, “and Bless you, Buffy!” he smiled down at her, placing another kiss on her forehead.

“So,” she asked shyly, her eyes locked on his now, “you don’t think I’m naughty, or a skank?”

William chuckled again and pinched her cheek, warmly, “a skank? No,” he said firmly, “naughty? Oh yeah, thank God!” He leaned in and kissed her again.

Buffy scowled a bit and turned bright red, “well,” she paused, thinking, “I guess it’s okay to be naughty. As long as I’m not skanky, right?” she added quickly.

“You couldn’t be skanky if you took lessons, luv,” he smiled and pulled her close to him again.

“Gee, Will,” she sighed, “I sure can ruin a Kodak moment, can’t I?” remembering where they had been just moments before. She giggled hysterically as William began to tickle her anywhere he could catch her.

“I,” she said, primly, “am going to now go to my purse and get the thingys. If you are a good boy, I’ll actually come back to bed with them.”

She stood and strutted off, proudly, trying not to picture the view that Will got of her bare bottom. And, trying not to giggle anymore.


When she returned to the bed with ‘the thingys’ Buffy saw that Will had removed his plain white boxers. ‘Oh God!’ she gasped inwardly, ‘he’s huge!’

She sat on the bed, quietly, but kept her eyes on Will’s thingy!

“Will?” she she asked quietly as she removed one of the foil packages from the box, “are you sure this thingy is going to fit over your thingy?”

She held up the rubber with her left hand as she pointed to his ‘thingy’ with her right one, a perplexed look on her face.

Spike burst out laughing again, “yes, Princess, it’ll fit!” “Oh,” he added with a wink, “thanks for the compliment!”

His laughter was contagious and Buffy began to giggle again, which he found absolutely intoxicating.

“Come ere’,” he growled as he pulled her flush to him. She squealed like a little piglet, laughing and wiggling about against him.

“Does this feel like it’s ruined?” he asked with a smirk, placing her hand on his still hard member.

“No!” she giggled, “but I still don’t think the ‘thingy’ will fit!”

Buffy seemed to find this hilarious and continued to laugh until tears began to run down her face.

“Well,” Spike hissed, “let’s find out, shall we?” He took the rubber from her and slipped in on, okay, a bit tricky but manageable. By this time, Buffy had sobered up considerably and just watched him while he went about his task, her mouth in a perfect ‘0’ of wonder.

He could feel the want in her and he was amazed that it seemed to match his own want for her.

“Buffy,” he whispered seriously, “I want to take this slow.”

Spike lay, gently over her lithe little body and cupped her chin, pulling her face up for their eyes to meet.

“I want to feel me going into you, inch by inch.”

She moaned lightly, her lids threatened to close completely.

“But,” he said huskily, “when you start to cum, tell me, please. I want to cum with you, the first time, especially. You tell me when it’s about to happen and I’ll go harder and faster. I’ll fuckin’ pound you into the bloody mattress. You understand me?”

She opened her lids halfway, licked her full lips and nodded, her clasped over his.

“I understand,” she replied, her soft, low voice show how mesmerized she really was.

Buffy actually saw stars; big bright red, green, yellow and blue stars! She half expected to see pink hearts, yellow moons and some green clovers dancing about in front of her eyes. After supressing the urge to glance around for a leperchaun or two, Buffy gave in and sounded the alarm for her impending orgasm; assured it was going to be a ‘magically delicious one!’

It certainly promised to be a major one. Will began to thrust into her, frantically, panting some incoherant endearments.

“Oh, Jesus, Buffy!” he roared out as he came himself.

She was right there with him with a cry of “Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” (Something she would feel quite guilty about later; screaming the Holy Familys’ names while she was in the throws of passion, but, oh well)

William collapsed on top of her when he was finished, his head buried into her damp neck. It was a good thing he wasn’t very large or heavy because he probably would have crushed her. He grasped her to him tightly, their bodies slick with sweat and melded together.

“God, Baby,” he groaned in pleasure, “that was fucking incredible!”

Buffy smiled into his hair, her arms wrapped tightly around him. She felt a sense of womanly power that she hadn’t really felt in years. The feeling of a woman who had not only given great pleasure, but had received it as well.

“Yes, Will,” she murmered into his ear with a soft kiss, “it was incredible.”


Another A/N: Gee, I hope that wasn’t too corny? Forgive me for the ‘Lucky Charms’ references. I couldn’t resist. Please read and review. Thanks, Spuf







 

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