The Dream
"I've never done this before," she admitted tiredly as Spike rolled them to their sides. She lay comfortably against him, her head pillowed on his chest.
"Which part?" He asked, smiling down at the girl-woman in his arms.
"Sex with a stranger," she giggled.
He couldn't help the smug smile that crept on his face. "Well, I'm not a
stranger anymore."
"That's one way of looking at it."
He kissed the top of her head as his hand found hers and entwined her
fingers with his. Perfect fit. They seemed to fit in everything. He held her
tighter against him. "We've known each other for five days now; almost a
week. How long does it usually take for you to…?"
"At least a month."
He grinned broadly.
"You're grinning like a Cheshire cat right about now aren't you?" She
accused him teasingly.
"I won't deny that I am."
She looked up at him and he mentally noted for the thousandth time how
beautiful she was. Even more so now with her lips swollen from kissing him,
her blond hair mussed from their bouts of love making and her face glowing
from passion and exertion. Her green eyes seemed to shine and he smugly
knew it was because of him. He'd been with many women before, but none
had captivated him as this one had. He felt himself stir to life again as he
beheld her. He leaned over and captured her lips with his, bringing her
closer to him and tasting her sweet mouth.
Spike lay back against the pillows, spent. He watched as she made her way
to the bathroom, looking over her shoulder and blowing him a kiss. He
smiled as he took in her slender, toned form and looked up at the ceiling as
she closed the door. He was going to have to move to Boston. He wanted to
leave his stint as an attorney and pursue teaching instead. It was what he
wanted, and Buffy made him feel as if he could do anything, even move
mountains. And for her, he would.
He would have to make a lot of changes and arrangements, but it wasn't
even a sacrifice. He found his future; he found his life. It was all her. He was
going to have to tell her first, of course. But how could she say no? She had
to feel the same way. Didn't she?
"Idiot. You haven't even told her you love her yet, how could she possibly
know? Once you say it, she will too." He told himself. He looked toward the
bathroom. What was taking her so long?
"Buffy?" He called out. No answer. "Love?" Nothing.
He rolled out of bed and started for the bathroom. Was she okay? Did he
hurt her and she didn't tell him? His overactive imagination started going
into over drive and he knocked on the door. "Buffy? Are you all right?"
Nothing still.
"I'm coming in," he opened the door tentatively and found the light off. He
furrowed his brow and flicked on the light.
"Buffy? Where are you? Buffy?" He shoved aside the shower curtain and
found it empty. He stormed back in the hotel room and found her clothes
off the floor—all traces of her were missing. Throwing on his jeans, he
stormed out the door. There wasn't a single soul in the hallway.
"Buffy!" Spike called out before waking up.
His blue eyes shot open he groaned. The same dream again. He sat up and
turned on the lamp on his nightstand. He grabbed his cigarettes and lit one
up. He inhaled deeply and stared across the room. How was it that one
woman could turn his entire world upside down in just five days? How is it
that said woman could just disappear? Well, no, she hadn't disappeared like
she did in his dream every night, but when he had reached for her in the
morning; she had vanished.
He had to get over it. He told himself that at least a hundred times a day.
All right, so he met someone while visiting Rhode Island. All right, so he
spent five of the best days in his entire existence with that someone. And
yes, he'd fallen completely and hard for her as well. He ran a hand through
his blond locksand shook his head. How long had it been now? Two months. He hadn't even mooned over his ex-wife like this. Actually, he'd been happy of the reprieve. Now he was haunted by the elusive Buffy Summers.
The plain and simple fact was he had to find the woman who turned his life
upside down. He had to find the woman who stole his heart and possessed
his soul. He had to find the woman who brought him to ecstasy time and again on that fateful night he kept dreaming about. He had to find the owner of the beautiful green eyes he couldn't erase from his dreams; the smile that was etched in his brain.
It had been a whirlwind week. William "Spike" Knightly had gone to Newport, Rhode Island to get away. Living the fast life in L.A., he wanted to go someplace where it was quiet, peaceful and people were kind and real, rather than rude and fake. The small New England town seemed the
perfect place. And it had been. He'd gotten away from the cutthroats and
the bimbo's who preyed upon the successful rich men in business suits.
He was burnt out with the job that had once brought him so much pleasure
and found himself at a crossroads.. His girlfriend at the time had split and
he suddenly found himself single. He went away to think, rest and plan.
Then he met Buffy. The vivacious, precocious woman who was, for all
intents and purposes, still a little girl. He was ten years older, she being 26.
It wouldn't seem they would hit it off. He was older, worldlier and definitely
not naïve. It was hard not to be jaded when you lived in L.A. He'd seen
things and done things that the normal person probably never had. She was
naïve, yes, but wise too. The mix was intoxicating. She was jaded and
innocent all at the same time. He had been drawn to her complexity. She
had wormed her way inside, broken down his defenses and just when he'd
thought he'd found the missing link to his life, she'd disappeared.
They'd met on a tour of one of Newport's famous mansions. Both were
alone. The first thing he'd noticed about her was how beautiful she was. He
was used to being surrounded by beautiful women, but she was different.
She was real. Nothing about her was plastic or fake. After spending the tour
watching her instead of paying attention, he decided to talk to her. What
did he have to lose?
At first, she was hesitant about starting any kind of camaraderie with him.
For one thing, he was a stranger. For another, he was from the west coast;
she was from the east coast, what could be gained from a friendship with
that kind of distance? Somehow, he'd convinced her to spend time with
him. She was funny, a touch cynical and yet idealistic. Idealistic…a trait he
thought he had lost with his youth. Somehow she had managed to make
him believe in the ideal yet again.
He still remembered their first kiss. She'd taken him to her favorite
restaurant and there had been dancing. The first time he held her in his
arms, he couldn't stop himself. He'd kissed her tenderly, whilst putting all
that he felt for her in that kiss. Then when she'd molded herself around
him, he knew that she had to feel the same way. They spent the next few
days together, a kiss here a kiss there. Then, they'd made love and
everything was the same as he dreamt it: Until the point where she'd
vanished in the bathroom. In real life he had told her he loved her as they
had lain there in post-orgasmic bliss and she had been gone the next
morning.
He remembered the awful feeling he had as he went to her hotel to find
that she'd gone. He'd searched everywhere for her. He ripped Newport
apart and she was nowhere. Then, his time was up and he'd gone back to
L.A. He searched Boston directories for a Buffy Summers. She was nowhere
to be found. In that time, he'd quit his job and started looking up teaching
positions in Boston. For all he knew, she wasn't even from there. The idea
that she could have lied to him sat like lead in his gut. It gave way to
bitterness. Try as he might though, he wasn't able to forget her.
Though he told himself to get over her and move on. Though he was angry
with her for running out on him, for disappearing, for making him fall in
love with her, for obviously lying to him—he had to know why. He felt as if
he were cracking up, for one thing. He had nothing to trace back to her
aside from his memories. It was as if he spent a moment outside of time
with her and was slammed back into reality where she didn't exist. Part of
him wanted to find her if only to ensure he wasn't going out of his mind. He
snorted. Out of his mind was very much where he was headed. Which was
why he hired the private detective to find his Buffy. What he would do with
the information after, he wasn't sure, but at least he would know where she
was should he want to pursue it.
Grounding out his cigarette he found himself looking longingly at the empty
side of his bed. He would just enjoy not reaching for her every time he woke up.
¨¨¨
"Mr. Knightly? I have the information you've requested. If you could—"
Spike snatched the phone up, out of breath. "I'm here."
"Ah, Mr. Knightly. Were you running?" Detective Schreb asked.
"To the phone, yes."
"Did I interrupt you?"
"You have some information?" Spike rolled his eyes. He had sprinted across
his penthouse once he heard the familiar voice of the detective he'd hired.
He'd stubbed his toe in the process. His heart was racing for a whole
different reason now.
"Based on the descriptions you gave me and the, uh, drawing you gave
me…I'm faxing some photo's of what I think might be your disappearing
girl."
"All right, hold on." Spike was off sprinting to his office now. The fax was
just starting to come through. He could see paper start to come through
and he stared at it as if it were his lifeline. It felt very much as if it were.
"Mr. Knightly? Are you there?"
"I am."
"If this is your girl, then her name is Elizabeth Summers. She's not directly
from Boston, but rather a small town outside of Boston. She just moved to
Cambridge, Massachusetts three years ago. She isn't listed in any
directory—"
Spike inhaled sharply as the photo came through and the detective
stopped. "It's her. That's my—that's Buffy." He stared at the photo until he
had to blink and he gripped the edges of it as if he were afraid that too
would vanish.
"I'm glad, Mr. Knightly. May I call you Spike?"
"Yeah, sure, that's fine. So, her name is Elizabeth, you say?"
"Yes. She lives with her brother in Cambridge, a city just outside Boston."
"She told me she had a brother," Spike whispered as he remembered the
fond gaze that passed across her features as she told him about her
brother.
"She was fairly easy to find. Well, for a professional anyway. It seems she's
spent a lot of time over the past couple months in the hospital."
Spike furrowed his brow. She never told him she was sick. "She sick?"
"Not that I'm aware of. I didn't delve in too deep. You said you wanted a
girl found, I found her." He sounded offended.
"Right, right. Thank you. Do you have her address? Phone number?"
"Yes, I am faxing that as well right now. I also have her job address and
phone number."
Spike stared at the fax machine, willing the information through. His
hands were shaking he noticed.
"What do you plan to do now that you've found her, Mr., uh, Spike?"
"I'm going to get her," Spike replied simply. "I found my girl and I'm going
to get her."
"Suppose she doesn't want to be ‘gotten'?"
Spike glared into the phone. "I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. Seems
to me she has a lot of explaining to do, running out on me like that—and
why am I justifying myself to you?"
"Just curious as to what you would do now. You seemed unsure when you
first asked me to find her."
"Now that I've seen her face and know she's real and I'm not just cracking
up—I want some answers."
"Are you in love with this girl Spike?"
"I feel very many things for her at this moment in time, Schreb. I suppose
until I see her in the flesh, I won't be sure what any of them are."
"Seems it must be something for you to travel across the U.S. for her. To
hire me to find her—"
"Yes, well, thank you for finding her." Spike rushed on. He didn't want to
hear any analyzing from another person about how he felt about this girl-
woman. It was bad enough his friends were concerned about the depth of
his obsession for her. He was already concerned for himself over it, he'd
already done more than enough analyzing—and dreaming—of her to
warrant worry about his own sanity, he didn't need assistance. But now,
now he held the information he sought in his hands. Now that he had a
picture of her lovely face, he found he couldn't stop here. No, he had to get
the girl who haunted him and make her explain to him why she'd left him.
After that, he wasn't sure what his plan would be anymore. Hopefully, his
obsession would be cured by then. He hoped, but something inside him
doubted that highly. Especially if the way his heart was aching in his chest
was any indication to how he felt just gazing at her picture.
¨¨¨
Leaving L.A. wasn't a problem. After many lectures—many concerned lectures on his rash decision to travel to the east coast for a woman who'd jilted him no less, he managed to convince one of his good friends to keep an eye on his penthouse for him. He was gone exactly one week after receiving information on Buffy.
He hadn't spent much time in Boston and the first thing he noticed was the
chill in the air. It was October in Beantown. The weather was crisp and
refreshing. He smiled to himself. He remembered Buffy had been
flabbergasted that he'd never experienced fall. She had gone on and on
about the beauty of changing seasons. So, he looked at the temperature
through her eyes. Summer giving way to fall. Hot to cold. It would be nice
to experience something other than hot days and nights. He rolled his eyes
at himself. Great, now he was extolling virtue on the weather. Thank you
Buffy for turning me into a sentimental fool.
Now that he had arrived, and was fairly settled into his hotel room, he had
no clue how to go about ‘getting' Buffy. He was beginning to think he should
have listened to his friends when they told him not to bother. What kind of
person travels across the country after someone? A stalker, that's what
kind of person. The stalked don't exactly shower their stalkers with
encouragement and talk of how romantic they are. No, that's why things
like restraining orders existed. He sighed heavily and took out the pictures
he had of her. He smiled then. No, he had to find her. He had to know why
she just up and left him like that. His smile vanished. What is was just a
game? Just something she did for fun? She never seemed like the type.
Yeah, Spike, because you knew her oh so well. Five days does not
constitute knowing what kind of person she was. Yet, he truly thought he
did know. How could anyone act that much passion and sincerity? He
snorted, a really good actor, that's who.
Pulling out the file of both her home and work address, Spike decided it
was time to do what he came to Boston to do. Find the girl; get the answers,
close the chapter, and go back home.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
It's a new one. Won't leave me along and I was going to wait...but I can't.