Chapter 12
“You saw me a week ago, why didn’t you ask for it then?”
“I need to see your license please, sir.”
“Mitchell, right?” Spike said, glaring as he lifted his hips to pull out the wallet in his back pocket.
Mitchell the guard said nothing, only extending his hand to wait for what he required.
“Bet you feel pretty special in your tiny house with your magic button pad,” he grumbled, yanking out his I.D. and passport.
Mitchell looked them over while the VW bug rumbled and spat exhaust, desperate to be turned off and put out of its misery.
“This is not an American driver’s license.”
“No shit! Really?”
“You better not get pulled over.”
“Got a visa, mate. Now are you gonna let me in or not?”
Mitchell sighed and pulled out a clipboard to write something down.
“What’re you writing?” he said, straining his neck to see. “You gonna do a background check on me or something?”
He handed the I.D. back to the teenager and punched in the security code to the wrought-iron gate. “Have a nice evening, sir.”
“Answer the question.”
“Do I need to do a background check?”
Spike put the car in first, shaking his head in disbelief, and drove through the gate without answering. His ire managed to kill the last bit of nerves he had on the drive to Buffy’s house, but the sight of her estate had them tumbling back again. He only had four hours with her, four hours which he had been unable to stop thinking about for the past week.
Rupert didn’t budge on the curfew, no matter how many promises Spike made to clean whatever he wished and for however long it might take to stay out later. Midnight, Rupert said, was the witching hour and that little monsters such as him should not be out during the witching hour, lest he forget all the progress he’d made in the past two weeks and start causing mischief.
After Spike finished snickering at his uncle for his vernacular, Rupert had told him more seriously that this was his first test of trust. If Spike could come home at midnight tonight in one piece, he might consider bumping that curfew to a later time. Spike conceded, but only because he was afraid if he kept pushing his uncle, he might not be able to go at all.
Thankfully, Rupert put his trust in him, handed over the keys, and Spike was determined not to let him down. That was a faraway thought however, because he was here now, his fist lightly rapping on a glossy black door, and his teeth gnawing on the corner of his mouth.
Buffy opened the door instead of the butler, and the first look at her had Spike’s mouth dropping open to make way for the large gust of air she’d knocked out of him. She wore a white strappy dress with a skirt that looked like a turned-over and wilting tulip, just short enough to show him the thighs he dreamed of, dainty little black heels to match the smudged liner around her eyes, and a shimmery-lined smile that seemed to be surprised with his reaction.
“Whoa…” he said reverently, taking a moment to swallow. “You look fantastic, Buffy.”
She closed the door behind her, smiling shyly at him. “I do?”
He nodded dumbly. “I um…I feel very under dressed now.” He wore another variation of jeans and a tee shirt, only he’d thrown a black button-up over it this time.
“Why?”
“Why?” he said incredulously, his eyebrows rising. “I look like your roadie. Or the guy you hired to come tow your car.”
She giggled and linked her hand into the crook of his arm, guiding them down the front steps. “You look great.”
“Well, I know I look great…I could look better is all.”
She rolled her eyes playfully and then made a noise of surprise when Spike opened the car door for her. “Thank you. You don’t have to do that.”
“Can’t help it.” He winked at her, took a second to peek at her legs when she crawled into the car, quickly smiling innocently when she was facing him again.
Her hands were between her knees, her back was straight as a board, and her eyes were trained forward when he sat beside her in the driver’s seat. At least he wasn’t the only one who was nervous. When he popped the clutch and started up the car, it backfired with a loud bang and lurched forward. Buffy bit her lips to stop from laughing when Spike started cursing angrily.
“Don’t laugh!”
He tried it again and this time it seemed like it was going to go but then it stalled after only two feet of driving. Buffy covered her mouth with her hands.
“Think it’s funny?”
She was laughing louder now, shaking her head no, and she was too cute for him to be angry. He sighed in amusement and made a show of starting the car up again, emphasizing every movement comically, and finally it rumbled to life, the two of them cheering as it pulled out of the circular drive. If the car broke down in front of her house, he’d have buried himself inside of it. Small favors, so far, were on his side tonight.
Buffy waved politely to Mitchell on their way through the gate.
“What’s up with the third degree when I came here, anyway?” he asked, turning onto the road when she pointed to the right to direct him.
“Oh, it’s just precautionary. I know it’s lame, sorry. We had some cable guys come to install a box in the kitchen and they came back a week later to break in.”
“The bastards! What happened?”
She shrugged. “It’s all right. They didn’t get anything. The police were here before they ever tried leaving. But ever since then, my dad asked Mitchell to take a record of all our guests since he’s gone all the time. Don’t worry about it. Everyone has to do it eventually when they come here.”
“So, your dad…what’s he like?”
Buffy laughed softly. “Turn right on the second street ahead.” He thought she might avoid his question, but she had only pulled a stray hair out of her mouth. “He’s my dad and he’s gone a lot. But you know, he’s a nice guy, he just travels more than he stays home. I see him holidays and birthdays and some weekends. I’m used to it.”
He hated that she was used to it. “Sorry to…we don’t have to talk about that.” He turned on the radio, frowning that it was set to the classical station.
“It’s ok, really. See, I know you’re Mr. Mysterious over there? But I actually like having conversations about things.”
He quickly looked over at her when they came to a stop sign, taking in her broad, teasing smile. “I like having conversation.”
“That right?” she said, doing a terrible, mock-impersonation of him, holding an imaginary cigarette and puffing her lips out. “Bloody…I need a smoke. Look, I’m Spike and I’m smoking.” She exhaled through her pursed lips a dense plume of smoke and mirrors.
He snickered, on the verge of saying something uncouth. “I don’t look or sound anything like that.”
“Right.” She sniffed and puffed out her chest, flicking her cigarette. “That’s how we sodding do it in bloody sodding Hackon. I’m going to say something really bloody moving and then walk the fuck out before you get any bloody closer.”
“I don’t say bloody that much and it’s Hackney, points for trying. But Buffy, if being close to me is what you really wanted, all you had to do was ask.”
She sighed, her normal voice back where it belonged and her eyes rolling at the sight of his sultry leer. “You see? Do you see what I have to put up with?”
He put the car in park and tugged on the hand brake when they pulled in front of Cordelia’s, smiling mischievously at her. “Don’t act like you don’t love it.”
“Oh, please…”
“You like not knowing, and I like not telling.”
She shook her head with a tiny smile on her face, opened her car door before he could tell her not to, and he sighed, getting out of the car quickly to catch up to her. They started to walk across the lush, green lawn towards the front door, Buffy walking backwards as she smirked at him.
“I’m going to get under that skin of yours Spike.”
“That a threat?”
“Oh, yeah.” She was so fucking gorgeous that it was starting to piss him off. “I’m pretty damn sneaky and I will figure you out.”
“Bring it on, princess.” He pinched her on the side playfully, his tongue wetting his smiling lower lip when she squealed and arched her back.
“Don’t do that! I am very ticklish,” she said nervously, walking backwards quickly now, afraid to turn around in case he did it once more.
“Good to know.” He was about to ignore her request and pinch her again, but the front door of Cordelia’s house flew open and a girl with brown hair, a beauty mark on her cheek, a white angora sweater dress and seventy-million inch heels on emerged, holding up a martini glass with something bright yellow in it. If it weren’t for the fullness of her cheeks, she’d have looked like a movie star, but her age belied the image of experience she seemed hell bent on presenting.
“Buffy! Guys, Buffy’s here!” she said over her shoulder to a crowd of people inside that were instantly satisfied with the news, and then turned to face them as they walked up the steps. She was grinning from ear to ear, looking the newcomer over.
“Are you Spike?”
He glanced at Buffy who appeared to be amused, so he said, “Yeah…that’s me.”
“I’m Cordelia, and this is my gorgeous house! Well, not as gorgeous or grand as Buffy’s of course.”
“Of course,” Buffy said good-naturedly.
Cordelia wiggled between them, putting her arm with the martini around Spike’s shoulders and hooked the other with Buffy’s. “Entrare, entrare, amici!” she said in a terrible Italian accent and ushered them inside.
A mass of teenagers, all dressed to the nines, shouted, “Buffy!” because they loved her.
“And Spike,” Cordelia said, scolding them. She whispered in his ear, “They’re harmless.”
Before he could reply, she’d left their sides and shimmied through the crowd to an unknown room, and all eyes were suddenly on him. There was a jock in the corner sizing him up, a blonde girl with hamster cheeks giving him sexy eyes, six blokes by the patio door looking suspicious, and too many tits and smiles and flirty waves for him to count. There were a lot of people there and this was just the front room.
He stood tall and smiled a little. “Hello.” They continued to look at him silently.
Without saying a word, Buffy tugged him down the foyer steps into the sunk-in living room to follow after Cordelia. She saved him from a staring contest with a crowd of people who had finally forgotten he’d entered, turning back to whatever conversation they were having when he and Buffy arrived. She led him into the kitchen, where Cordelia was already pulling down glasses for her guests.
“Buffy, Caravella lemon drop?” She wiggled a martini glass in the air.
“Sugar on the rim?”
“Naturally! Spike, you want?”
He watched Cordelia squeeze a lemon into a glass, saw lemon rinds at the ready, sugar and shakers and…good God, didn’t these people ever drink beer? “I’m good.”
“Sure?” Cordelia asked, pouting as she poured way too much vodka into the shaker.
“Spike, you don’t want a drink?” Buffy said, dipping her finger into some sugar and sucking it off, her dark-rimmed eyes slowly rising to meet his, right as she pulled her finger out of her mouth.
And that’s how Spike was persuaded into trying his first Caravella and Grey Goose lemon drop martini.
* * *
“So, I’ve got fifteen minutes to make it to the tube before it shuts down for the night. I’m hauling ass, but I know I’ll never make it back to Brixton in time and I spent my money at the pub so I’m fucked for a cab, right? Meanwhile, this bastard keeps trailing after me and I know he’s looking to put wrongs to rights again, so I’m keeping my eye on him.”
“Wait, was he the one with the soccer jersey or was he the old man with the trench coat?”
“No, no, you’ve got the story wrong. I’d already helped the trench coat fucker out onto the street with the bartender, and the soccer jersey had already picked a fight with my mate, Jimmy, which is why I bolted in the first place because the authorities showed up,” Spike said, correcting the details as three large frat boys in the making listened in rapt awe to his greatest adventures.
It turned out that once these spoiled brats had some alcohol in them, they weren’t so bad. In fact, only twenty minutes had passed since he and Buffy arrived before he was accosted by a large group of people anxious to meet him. The crowd eventually dwindled down to these three gits who were too drunk to know any better.
“He’s talking about the one with the ABBA shirt,” a guy with brown hair and broad shoulders said to the confused listener.
“Ok, keep going.” Dale – or maybe it was Steve, Spike couldn’t remember – took a sip from his cocktail. Buffy leaned against the wall beside Spike, her arms folded, her lips tilted into a smile.
“So anyway, I’m getting wound up because he starts name-calling behind me. But he doesn’t know that I’ve got the stones to show him what’s what if he decides to get ugly. I know now I’ve missed the last train and I’m set on walking. So I turn around to deal with this bastard, because why the fuck not, right? My night’s already gone to piss. And he sneers at me like, real threatening. I take two steps forward and pull out my switch—”
“You carry a knife?” Dale-Steve asked.
“Well, I did! It’s dodgy at night in London, mate. You don’t want to be stuck out there without means to protect yourself. Case in point, this poor sod with the ABBA shirt.”
“So did you cut him?” the other jock asked.
Buffy turned her body away slightly, her eyes drifting over the crowd, and Spike swallowed the last sip of his sour, girly beverage. “No.” He did kick him in the ribs and call him a pussy after the guy swung at him and barely missed Spike’s jaw, but he didn’t think Buffy wanted to hear that part.
Dale-Steve, the other one, and the brunette groaned in disapproval. “Lame!”
“But he pissed his pants when he saw the knife!”
That saved his reputation, and the men started laughing in masculine approval. When he turned to face Buffy, she was walking away. He cursed beneath his breath, set his empty glass down and followed after her, ignoring the guys that were waiting for the rest of the tale. He caught up to her and lightly grabbed her arm to turn her around.
“Where you going?”
“To the bathroom,” she said, her eyes never meeting his.
He released her, confused over her change in attitude. He thought she’d be happy that he was getting along with her mates, but she seemed upset about something. “You all right?”
“Yup, I’m fine.” She smiled for his benefit. “I really do need to go to the bathroom, though.”
“Oh. Right. I’ll just…be over here then.” He watched her turn around, grab Cordelia’s hand and tug her away from the lively conversation she was having, and then they were gone. He shoved his hands in his pockets, fiddling with his lighter, wondering what he’d done wrong.
“Spike, right?” he heard a female voice say from behind him.
When he turned around, his eyes widened at the sight of Hamster Cheeks. She smiled flirtatiously, her eyelashes batting over her goofy-eyed stare, and she arched her back to present her round bosom encased in pink sequins.
“Hello there.”
“I’m Harmony,” she said, holding her hand out like a princess. He simply looked at it and smiled tightly. She laughed, bringing her hand up to her cheek as if she’d meant to do that. “You are so hot.”
He snorted a laugh. “Uh…thanks.”
“I mean it. My friends and I have been looking at you all night. You should like, come hang out with us.” He looked to where she was gesturing behind her, to a group of pretty girls all waving at him invitingly, sticking out their tits and arranging their bare legs sexily like the cover of a 70s sexploitation flick.
Now, two weeks ago, Spike would’ve gone headfirst into the sumptuous flesh of girl thighs, where he could have his pick like the king of the booby mountain. He’d have done it with a smile on his face. He’d have done it with a girl on his face, too, if only because he was greedy.
But that was two weeks ago, and he’d since met Buffy, and this girl was really annoying.
“No thanks, pet.”
“Ooh, pet…I like that.” She reminded him of those carnival dolls with the eyelids that opened and shut, only one lid never closed all the way unless you shook the devil out of it, making everything look a little creepy. He assumed part of that was the massive quantity of alcohol she’d probably consumed, but she wasn’t a pretty sight, staggering on her heels and struggling to look alert.
He turned to the side, showing focused interest in something not Harmony, but she just kept going. “I didn’t know that Buffy was a cheater, but hey, bold move bringing you here in front of all our friends.” She took a sip from her martini glass and mumbled, “Like mother like daughter.”
“What did you say?”
Harmony flinched a little when Spike turned to glare at her. “Well, it’s just… I mean, everyone knows that Mrs. Summers has men on the side. And you’re Buffy’s side,” she said, smiling haughtily. “Can’t say that I blame her, but still. Kinda dumb, too.”
Spike was suddenly very angry at this girl. It didn’t matter that seconds before, Spike would have gladly partaken in some naughtiness with Buffy, even though she had a boyfriend. But he didn’t like this bitch spreading rumors that weren’t true.
“Buffy and I are friends. That’s it. You hear me? You get your story straightened out before you start gossiping to all those bitches over there.”
Harmony balked in offense. “I can’t believe you just talked to me like that! Who the fuck do you think you are, street trash?”
There was a resounding “Oooh!” that rolled over the room and Spike’s nerves were beginning to unravel when, for the second time that evening, all eyes were on him.
“Wasn’t two seconds ago you were ready to roll in it, so bite your tongue, little girl.”
“Daaaamn!” “What a dick!” “Hell yeah, son!” “Cold blooded, yo!”
“Like I would ever give you the time of day!”
Spike’s mouth opened to say the words, “You dumb cunt,” but he was hastily cut off when a hand curled around his bicep and a mouth was pressed against his ear.
“Not worth it, come with me.” A look to his right had him staring at Cordelia’s stern expression, and then he was suddenly following after her outside, the sounds of laughter trailing off as they got farther away.
Cordelia turned to face him once they neared a brick and metal railing that outlined a large swimming pool. Her arms came up to fold over her chest, and then she was looking at him like a school teacher.
“What is your problem?”
Spike spared a glance at her, cigarette already in his mouth, before he flipped open his Zippo and lit it. “That bitch had it coming.”
“That bitch happens to have the biggest mouth in our school.”
“Noticed that part,” he said, exhaling towards the sky.
“What did she say? I mean, before the yelling.”
“She said that Buffy’s mum was unfaithful and that she was doing the same thing with me. So I told her she was full of it and to get stuffed. She doesn’t know what the fuck she’s talking about.”
Cordelia smiled at him. “I like you.”
He shrugged and took a hard drag off his smoke.
“Just be careful what you say to Harm.”
“You think I give a shit what she says about me?”
“No, but you care what she says about Buffy, don’t you?”
She’d caught him there, and he smiled at his boots when he leaned against the railing. Then he remembered, “Where is she? Wasn’t she with you earlier?”
“She was.”
“Girl talk?”
“Kinda.”
“I do something to make her upset?”
“No, you didn’t do anything. She’s just…” Cordelia sighed, her fingernails drumming on the railing as if she wanted to say more. Then she looked over at him, narrowing her eyes for a long moment.
“Buffy is a strange girl.”
“You’re not wrong,” he said, smiling.
“You weren’t hitting on Harmony at first, were you?”
“No! Course not. I…well, I like Buffy. A lot, actually. I know I’m not what she…” Spike suddenly stood up straight, smiling evilly with knowledge. “Fucking women!”
“What?”
“You’re trying to trick me into info, aren’t you?”
“Who, me?” Cordelia put her hands up in submission. “I would never!”
He shook his head, laughing through his nose. “She said she was going to get under my skin one way or the other, that dirty girl.”
Cordelia smiled brightly, and then she said, “Buffy had nothing to do with that. I’m her best friend. Interviewing boys about their intentions is what best friends do.”
A loud click of a closing door had the two of them turning to face Buffy, whose hand was still gripping the patio doorknob and her mouth wide open in surprise. “Uh…I was going to…”
Spike smiled lazily at her, exhaling a steady stream of smoke. “Just talking about you.”
Buffy took a cautious step forward, her eyes wide and worried as she looked at her best friend. “Oh?”
“Yeah, we were just talking about how Spike put Harmony in her place,” Cordelia said, gesturing with her hand low where she thought Spike couldn’t see, to get Buffy to come over.
She stole a quick glance at him in curiosity, her feet taking cautious steps towards the pool beside them. “What did you say?”
“He said she was a fat bitch and that he’d never touch her, not even with Angel’s dick.”
Spike almost choked on his cigarette, bending over forward to laugh. “I did not! Wish I had though…”
Cordelia smiled proudly, wrapping her arm around Buffy’s shoulders. “Oh, you know Harm. She was being her usual shitty self, and since Spike wasn’t into her, she proved predictable again and caused a scene.”
“What did she say to you?” Buffy asked, her eyes closing in exhaustion.
“Don’t worry about it, Buffy,” Spike said, nudging the side of her foot with his toe to get her to look at him. “Anyone believes her bullshit, they aren’t your friends.”
There was an expression on her face then that seemed to say a thousand words, and none of them were very pleasant. “You’re absolutely right.”
“Well, I need another drink,” Cordelia said, already walking to the patio doors. “I’ll see you guys inside.”
Buffy waved at her friend as she left, smiling sadly when she looked up at Spike. “Sorry if Cordelia gave you the third degree, and I’m sorry that Harmony was a bitch.”
He shrugged. “I can take it.”
“Are you having fun?” she asked, leaning against the railing beside him.
“Yeah, it’s all right. Got interesting friends.” He crossed his ankles and tapped his cigarette, smiling warmly at her.
“Looks like you made a few back there.”
“Not really, no. Just being social.”
“So…you don’t want Dave and Mikey’s phone numbers so you can go hang out and play ball on weekends together?”
He laughed. “Oh yeah, sounds like a blast.”
She smiled as she looked up at the sky, and a comfortable silence fell between them.
“Did you get into a lot of fights back home?” she asked after a long while. She looked so innocent then, and whatever image she had of him might be tarnished if he told her the truth. But he figured there was no use in lying, not when the answer should have been obvious.
“Yeah. Not all of them by choice, though. Not like that story I was telling back there.”
She frowned, looking away in thought. He knew something about that conversation inside had bothered her, though what, he wasn’t sure.
“I have no idea how to relate to those jocks back there. It’s the only way I could think of carrying on a conversation. I doubt they’d care about my real interests.”
“What are your interests?” Buffy tucked her hair behind her ears, smiling so sweetly at him that he couldn’t deny her an answer. Plus, he was grateful for the change in topic.
“Well…I like lots of things. Music. Movies. Working with my hands. I used to make metal sculptures. Little things out of shit I’d find on the streets when I was walking at night. Got a soldering iron and some welding tools and started making really intricate little statues. They were crap, but I liked making them. Liked creating something.” He felt his cheeks burning, and he realized he’d been smiling. He blinked and looked away when she seemed to warm up to this side of him. He wasn’t sure he liked this.
“Why did you stop? Making them, I mean.”
“Don’t know.” He shrugged and stubbed out his cigarette. “Got bored with it, I guess.”
She sighed heavily. “So close.”
His answer was a saucy leer, but she didn’t seem amused this time. “What?”
“Why won’t you talk to me? What’s the worst that could happen if you just opened up a little bit? I don’t bite.”
“Why did you ask me to come tonight?”
He tried to convey everything with that question, hoping that she would level with him. Her smile faltered, but she didn’t flinch. She just looked ahead, furrowing her brow as she thought about something.
“It’s just that I know you don’t like me. Except sometimes I think you do and then I don’t know what to say.” He looked away then, feeling like an idiot, feeling worse when she took forever to respond.
“If I’m honest with you, you promise you won’t laugh?”
That was not the response he expected.
“Not if I get an answer, no.”
She exhaled harshly, her cheeks turned red, and he realized he was going to like this answer.
“I was afraid if I didn’t…” She covered her face with her hands, and he had to lean towards her to make out her next words. “I don’t know what is going on, ok? But if I didn’t ask you to come, I was afraid I wouldn’t see you again.” She lowered her hands and braved looking at him, her face as red as a tomato. “And I like you but I don’t know what that means. So I asked you to come and…”
“You like me.”
She inhaled in irritation, her mouth tensing up around a smile of embarrassment. “You would focus on that part.”
“It’s my favorite part, though,” he said, biting his lip as he smiled. That would last him days.
“Look, we both know that we’re…attracted to one another.”
He scooted towards her on the railing. “We know that, do we?”
She put her hand on his arm to halt him from coming any closer. “But that isn’t everything, Spike. I do have a boyfriend.”
“And why is that, exactly? Because I’ve been trying to find a redeeming quality and I can’t find one.”
“You think I’d stay with Angel for three years if there wasn’t anything redeeming about him? You think I’m that kind of girl? That I’m weak, o-or that I’d just date him because I thought I was supposed to?”
Oh, shit, she looked like she might be angry. How the hell did they get here? She was flirty and all with the blushing not two seconds ago and now she was mad? What did he do now?
“No! Just…that he’s so…and you’re…there is no right answer to this, is there?”
She softened a fraction, her head whipping straight ahead. “I’m sorry, Angel is just…” She started fidgeting with the crease in her arm, and he was sad that the smile on her face was gone now. “Well, he cares about me. And I love him. I do.”
“But you’re attracted to me. How can that be?”
She was silent for a while, but he was wary of pressing any further, not when they were getting somewhere for the first time.
“I’m sorry I asked you to come.” She pushed herself off the railing and Spike’s eyes grew wide in panic, the air in his lungs rushing out as she started to walk away. “We can go if you want.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” he said, trotting quickly behind her to catch up. “What’s wrong?”
“Why should I tell you anything? What’s the point?”
Spike’s mouth opened and closed, and he shook his head to snap out of it, but he didn’t know how to respond. No matter what he said, she didn’t like it, if he didn’t say anything she didn’t like it, so he had no idea what the fuck to do. Never had he been more perplexed by a woman as he was by Buffy Summers.
He settled on an old standby when it came to girls. Feign fault, let them vent, and then apologize, even if you didn’t know why. “Are you mad at me?”
“Am I—” She exhaled a little laugh and shook her head, smiling a little. “Let’s just go. I’m going to say goodbye to everyone and then we can leave.”
Before he could protest, she was gone, and Spike stared at the door in confusion. He had no idea how he could make it better, but he was not going to let the evening end like this.