14.
The next morning Buffy awoke on Spike’s sofa having spent a restful night dreaming contentedly. For the first time in years she opened her eyes with giddy anticipation of the day ahead. She showered quickly and prepared herself for the work day.
Spike didn’t sleep a wink. He’d spent a tormented night of pacing, thinking about the crisis he’d found himself in and how to keep Buffy safe from any number of unforeseen and fatal calamities. Casual morning interaction ended quickly as Spike’s restlessness flowered into an argument.
“I don’t want you to go in to work today. It’s not safe.”
“I’m a big girl, Spike. I can take care of myself.” Buffy opened Spike’s cupboards and found them empty. Mornings required some sustenance. At the very least a cup of coffee would do but a quick inspection revealed he had no coffee, no bread for toast, no fruit, no donuts, no miniature marshmallows even, not even a lousy stick of gum. It wasn’t like she was expecting croissants and cream cheese. Spike had a documented sweet tooth and she’d seen him with the munchies but there was nothing but a couple of bottles of beer in the fridge. That would not do. Buffy needed to refuel soon. She stared at the crumpled wrappings from the previous night’s fast food feast with longing. She’d have to hit the Stop ‘n’ Go on the corner for a coffee. Buffy wondered if it was too early for nachos.
“You can’t go,” Spike persisted. “I don’t want you there.”
“What’s with you?” Buffy eyed him suspiciously. “I can’t miss a day’s work. I just started.”
“Anything could happen. You’re all out in the open in that lobby.” He felt his obligation keenly. She was under some sinister influence and it was his duty to keep her safe.
“Spike.” Buffy didn’t want to argue. She wanted to get to the corner market as soon as possible and then get to work. Her stomach grumbled in accord.
“It’s a spell!” Spike blurted out. “You’re in danger.”
“What danger? What’s a spell?”
“Harmony’s behind this. She’s the bloody Queen of Sheba now, it has to be her.”
“You’re not making sense.”
Suddenly, a solution popped into Spike’s head. Hours of pacing and panic coalesced into simple common sense. Somebody up there liked him after all. “Quit your job! Then you’ll be safe and we’ll figure this out together.”
“Quit my job?” Buffy flared her nostrils and folded her arms tightly in front of her. “I’m not quitting my job. And there’s nothing to figure out. This is a new opportunity for me, Spike. I’m excited about the future again and I don’t think a little support from you would be asking too much.”
“You can’t be there. It’s all wrong. Angel and Harmony and who knows what kind of oogly-woogly is just lurking around the corner ready to pounce.”
“Oogly-woogly? Don’t be such a drama queen. You hang around there all the time. It’s not that bad.”
Pushed to the brink by mounting panic, Spike blurted out what amounted to an ultimatum. He didn’t want Buffy near Wolfram and Hart, Harmony or Angel for that matter. “You don’t know what you’re saying, love. It’s worse than a nest full of Harmony worshipping vipers in there! You need to stay away from that place and that’s final.”
“Oh really. You seem to be operating under the misguided notion that you’ve got the right to tell me what to do,” Buffy asserted.
“It’s for your own protection. This is no time for your slayer stubbornness to show up. I am serious about this.”
“So am I,” Buffy’s tone hardened. “I don’t know why you think this he-man crap is going to work. I run my life, Spike and I don’t like being told what to do. For your information, you’re not the boss of me.” She spoke in the same defiant tone she’d used to challenge many a baby sitter in her childhood days. Unfortunately, the sentiment sounded ridiculous coming from the mouth of an adult.
“Well, somebody bloody well needs to be!” Spike stared at her hoping for fists. Scrapping made perfect sense. Anything was better than the prospect of Buffy hopping off to Wolfram and Hart, bound and determined to be the best greeter in history. Instead of retaliating in a predictable manner, Buffy turned on her heel, impulsively grabbing her shoulder bag. A quick stop in the bathroom produced her make-up kit and other toiletries which were unceremoniously stuffed inside the case.
“I can’t believe you’re acting like this.” Buffy shoved her few clothes into the bag with an exaggerated flourish.
“What are you doing? Stop packing! You’re not thinking clearly, that’s all. That bloody building has done this to you. You have to stay away.”
“I can’t believe you’d actually be threatened by my job. I have goals and ambitions, Spike and I’m not putting them aside ever, ever again.” She was in motion and heading for the door. For all Buffy’s protestations of maturity her rash actions spoke louder than words. Stormy exits were still part of her repertoire. She gave no thought to what next or where. She simply heeded the call to be somewhere else.
“No, Buffy. Don’t go.” Spike blocked the door with a determined stance.
She refused to meet his eyes. Two days back and they were already at an impasse. She swallowed the initial pangs of regret as they scrambled up her throat. Once a course of action began she had no idea how to unravel its potentially dangerous strands. “I swear, if you do anything to get me fired,” Buffy heard herself say, “you’ll regret it.” She pushed Spike out of the way and surged down the hallway with him in barefoot pursuit.
“Buffy. Please. Don’t leave like this.”
She turned at the exit and glared at him, her stubborn pride at full throttle. “Maybe Angel would appreciate a roommate.” With a savage push she opened the door and left, letting sunlight spill into the lonely hallway.
“Buffy! No!” Spike jumped back as smoke rose from his feet.
*
When Spike burst into Harmony’s office he found her dangling in a massage chair with her face wedged into a padded circle. Angel stood at her side working the muscles of her shoulder.
“What the bloody hell have you done to Buffy?” The stridency of Spike’s voice disrupted Harmony’s relaxing interlude and caused the muscles in her back to tighten in an all too familiar spasm.
“Ow!” Harmony complained and stared at Spike’s boots.
“Spike! Get out,” Angel fumed. “Can’t you see that Harmony is busy? She’s a very important person who doesn’t have time for your incessant nonsense.”
Harmony shifted slowly to a normal sitting position on the chair. “That will be all for now, Angel. I’ll deal with Spike.”
“I don’t think you should be alone with him, boss. He’s been acting really strange lately.”
“It’s okay, Angel. I’ll be fine.”
“If you say so, Harmony, but I’ll be right outside.” Angel wiped his fingers on a towel and walked slowly past Spike, glaring daggers until he slipped out the door.
“What is your issue, Spike?” Harmony pulled her blouse up over her camisole and rolled her shoulder slowly. Nobody unclenched her like Angel did. Well, there was Hamilton, but that was a whole different category of unclenching. “You’re driving everyone crazy and by that I mean more so than usual. What is so important you had to interrupt my massage?”
“I want to know what you did to Buffy.”
Harmony’s forehead arched in perfect parallel wrinkles. “I didn’t do anything to the Slayer, short of giving her a job and a pay check which, I might add, she practically begged me for.”
Spike narrowed his gaze in accusation. “Meet any interesting demons lately, Harm? Blow out some candles? Make a wish, did you?”
“What are you talking about? I meet plenty of interesting demons, Spike. I, unlike some, have a vibrant social life and a brilliant career. You on the other hand can’t seem to get over the fact that I dumped your ass all those years ago.”
“You– What? Excuse me? Who dumped whom?”
“History, Spike.” Harmony waved her expensive manicure in a dismissive manner. “Ancient and uninteresting. Is there something specific that you want?”
“Did you do this?”
“Did I do what?”
“Change things.”
“Change what?” Harmony looked at him expectantly. He was still pathetic at twenty questions. Maybe if he gave her a topic they could approach useful communication.
“Every bloody thing that ever made sense!”
“Feeling unfulfilled, Spike? Is that it? There’s a group dynamics tune-up in the upper foyer in twenty minutes. They can lend you proper shoes. Maybe you should give it a try.” Harmony’s sincerity soon drifted into a blank stare. Why did she even try? He was obstinate and willfully stubborn; far beyond the reach of even the perkiest of fox-trots.
She couldn’t get rid of him due to some outrageously small print in the margins of an ancient Wolfram and Hart tome regarding vampires with souls and some stupid prophecy. Frankly, all that prophecy gobbledygook went right over her head but the Senior Partners had taken an interest. Hamilton explained the particulars during the throes of an enthusiastically erotic coffee break. Spike was off limits. Like the imprints of wayward song birds who met their untimely ends against her sparkling office windows, Spike was a smudge to be endured.
Spike stared into Harmony’s blank face looking for the slightest clue that she had orchestrated this whole thing. What was he thinking? Harmony was incapable of coming up with even a half-assed plan and she never could keep anything a secret. Maybe she hadn’t done this. With a sigh Spike stepped toward the upholstered cat tower, a vertical play land for the prestigious mascot of Wolfram and Hart, and grabbed a length of curved wire with a fuzzy knot tied at its end. He dangled the prop in front of the self-satisfied feline and engaged him with a casual bout of swatting practice.
“You be nice to Mr. Pussy, Spike.” Harmony warned.
“Keep your knickers on, Harm. I’m just saying hello to the little guy.” Spike’s expression softened as he toyed with the kitten. “What on earth possessed you to name him that?”
Harmony’s face slanted at a stern diagonal. “I like that name and Mr. Pussy does too!”
Spike raised his hand and scratched the kitten behind its ears. “He looks more like a Bob or maybe a Spot.”
“Are we done bonding for today Spike? I have some crucial meditating to get back to.”
“Yeah. Finished.” This was not the place for answers. Spike gave one final pat to the purring feline and left Harmony’s office.
“God, I can’t believe I ever crushed on that guy.” Harmony stared at Spike’s retreating figure. She leaned over and pressed the intercom button for Angel.
“Yes, Harmony?”
“Get me a tall glass of chilled chinchilla with a twist of lime and then bring your fingers back in here. The knot’s back.”
“Right away, boss.”