Chapter 3: Ready, Set, Go
Buffy twisted the ring on her finger, noticing the way the light coming in from the plane’s small window reflected on the princess-cut diamond. It made no sense, absolutely no sense, that Spike would give her this ring, or any at all, considering the fact that their marriage was nothing but a mockery, a means to get something they both wanted. But he’d given it to her, and thrown her for a loop as well. And not only that, but he’d slid it into place while avowing to honor, love and protect her until he died.
What was that about?
Knowing Spike, it was probably part of some devious master plan designed to drive her crazy. Words meant nothing, so she wouldn’t dwell on those… much. She couldn’t deny the maddening flutter inside her when she heard them, though. Not to herself. If only…
No, she wouldn’t dwell on that, either. The past was in the past and that’s where it should remain, no matter if it wanted to resurface in the most inconvenient moments. His promise was just part of his act to fluster her, to shake her very foundation.
That still wouldn’t explain why he would give her his mother’s ring. If there was something Buffy could be certain of, it was how much the band meant to him. She found it difficult to wrap her head around him giving her—who was nothing more than his accidental bride for which she hoped was a very short time—something so invaluable. She wasn’t only thinking of its monetary value, which she esteemed to be quite steep considering the jewel was not only beyond gorgeous but had been in Anne Withers’ family for generations, but for its sentimental worth. It was one of the few objects Spike kept of his mother, one of the few items she’d specifically left for him in her will, and he’d given it to her. Her.
Buffy shook her head to clear it from her muddled thoughts and grabbed one of the magazines the stewardess had brought to her a while ago. If she kept at this, the only thing she’d manage is to give herself a headache. Although, she supposed that’d be the perfect excuse to hide in her room as soon as they got to Insula Paradisului. At least once they got there, she was certain she could find a way to get out of Spike’s way for a good part, if not all, of the two weeks they were forced to spend there.
The main house was almost as enormous as Spike’s London estate, and she’d gotten enough practice in the last decade to become an expert at hiding from him there. So that at least was one less in an ever-increasing list of concerns.
Buffy sighed dejectedly, casting the magazine to the side; she was in no mood to concentrate on the comings and goings of the jet-set, not feeling as she was feeling right now. She threw a cursory glance to the men seated across the aisle, who were hunched over a table going over some paperwork and sipping on the twenty-four year malt that both Giles and Spike seemed to be so fond of. She shivered as she remembered how it’d burned her throat just a few hours ago, almost as much as her husb… ugh, Spike’s touch had.
Just a few hours into this marriage and she was already thinking of him as her husband? Really, the altitude must be messing with her brain. Either that or she was going crazy, which all things considered, might not be all that bad. If they locked her up in an asylum at least she wouldn’t have to spend the next two weeks in the same place as the bleached pest.
Buffy’s eyes strayed to the platinum blond man and she sighed again.
Why did he have to be so handsome?
It would be a whole lot easier for her if she wasn’t so attracted to him. Much as she hated him, she couldn’t deny Spike still invaded her dreams, her nightmares, her thoughts. She couldn’t deny the electric undercurrent that sizzled between them; couldn’t deny she’d melted as soon as those sinfully soft lips touched hers. Buffy rolled her eyes inwardly… and there she went again.
Why couldn’t she forget about him?
Ever since that fatidic night almost ten years ago, she’d done all she could to avoid him and it’d worked… up to a certain point. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Only it wasn’t quite that simple. Not for her. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. She’d tried putting an ocean in between them, concentrating on her studies, on her friends. She dated guys that were as different from him as night and day, guys that were even more handsome than Spike, that treated her like a princess and yet… she couldn’t fall for any of them because she was still hung up on an impossible dream. Silly, silly Buffy. How many times did she have to crash and burn before she learned?
She averted her gaze from Spike and settled it on Giles and then out the window, intent on focusing on anything that wasn’t the blond man. It wouldn’t do for Spike to catch her watching him, after all.
She was curious as to why Giles had come with them, especially since he said he was just dropping them off at the island and promptly returning to London in Spike’s private jet. She wondered if he was following yet another of her Aunt’s ‘instructions’.
What did Jenny think they would do if the barrister didn’t come with them, hijack the plane and go somewhere else? Not that that wasn’t an appealing option, but they’d given in to all of Jenny’s requests so far, so it was a moot point in her opinion.
Or perhaps there was more to it than that; maybe there was more to the will than what the lawyer had told them so far. She wouldn’t be that surprised if that were the case; after all, her Aunt seemed quite adept at throwing them curve ball after curve ball to them, even from beyond the grave.
* ~ * ~ *
“I’m really sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Withers,” a brunet man was saying, although to Buffy’s ears he sounded anything but that. “We’ve encountered a few troubles in the delivery of some of the materials we need for the renovation and that caused a significant delay to the project.”
“What do you mean troubles?” Spike asked.
“Well, we have very specific instructions from Mrs. Withers and finding some of the items she wanted took us longer than we anticipated.”
“That doesn’t explain why the house looks like a battlefield!” the blond man exploded.
Buffy sat on one of her suitcases, tuning him and everything else off.
This had to be a nightmare. It had to be. Aunt Jenny wouldn’t be so… cruel as to subject us to-to this on top of everything else, would she? Buffy thought in dismay as she gaped at the dismantled entrance to the main house. The rest of it didn’t seem to be in much better condition. Then again, she perked slightly, this might actually save her from having to spend the next two weeks here with Spike. Giles couldn’t make them stay here now.
“The guest house is still in livable conditions, you can stay there,” the barrister interjected, and Buffy paled, turning to look at the older man as if he’d suddenly grown another head.
No, no, anywhere but there. A thousand memories swirled in her head. Memories she’d fought to forget, to bury all these years. She wanted to scream, to escape, to run away… only she couldn’t. If she did, she’d lose Insula Paradisului and with it, the only place she considered home.
Two weeks with Spike at the island was bad, but two weeks with Spike in the two-bedroom guest house with no other place to go was worse than anything she could ever imagine.
A nightmare… this had to be a nightmare.
TBC