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CHAPTER 12 -- Everything

Author's Note: Thank you, thank you to every single person that review, I'm very grateful. And just so you know, I'm not big with the never-ending angst, so if you're a little irked about last chapter and this one, just hold on, next update will let up some of that "Ahhhhhhhh! Stupid Buffy!" feelings you may have.

Oh -- Question: I read a fanfic I absolutly adored, then I lost it and can't find it again. I swear it was called "Curiosity" (but that maybe wrong) It was about Buffy losing her husband (Angel) and now she's been working for Spike, who seems to have a new fiancee every week. She has a crazy need to have a baby, and he needs someone to pose as his girlfriend in a family wedding. Spuffy results. I can't remember who wrote it, what site I found it on, and what book it was based on. If anyone can help me, my sanity would thank you for it. If you have any idea, please leave a review with any info you may have on it. I'll update crazy early if I get an answer! Thank you!

Buffy left her bedroom before six o’clock the next morning. Rubbing her eyes and sighing she started down the hallway. She planned on catching a quick breakfast downstairs before heading out to explore the city a little more. The sound of footsteps from the other end of the hall caught her attention. It was too early for almost anyone else in the house to be awake. Buffy knew for a fact that the kitchen crew didn’t start breakfast until a quarter to seven.

She turned to see Spike at the end of the hall closing his bedroom door behind him. Not noticing her, he fumbled with the keys in his hand, his head down as he began walking down and hall. Sensing someone openly watching him, he glanced up and halted. They stood staring at each other. Spike took a hesitant step forward, looking to be about to say something, his eyes soft and imploring, words of forgiveness on his lips. But it was a mere second before the beautiful eyes Buffy had dreamed of the night before hardened for her again in cold hatred. She gasped at the disgusted look on his face.

He shook his head and continuing toward the staircase. He wore his long leather jacket, helmet tucked under one arm and a duffel bag in the other. He looked exactly the same as the first time Buffy saw him. She closed her eyes, composing herself for a moment, before continuing her own trek downstairs.

Although the staircase leading to the first floor was wide enough to allow a herd of elephants down it, Buffy and Spike stopped abruptly as they both touched the banister at the same time.

“After you, Princess,” Spike ground out.

Buffy kept her eyes on the ground, not letting herself look into those dagger eyes that scared her, “No,” she said quietly, “You go ahead.”

“I wouldn’t want to keep you from your betrothed,” he replied, making a gesture for her to descend.

Buffy whipped around, looking at him with hurt eyes, “Why are you talking to me this way? You never talked to me like you do everyone else.”

Spike let out a bark of laughter, “Excuse me, luv. I thought you were someone else then. Now I know better.” He flung himself past her down the stairs.

“This place is not what you think it is,” he spoke as she followed him. “You’ll marry him, shoot out a few puppies, and then ten, maybe twenty years from now, you’ll look at your life and wonder what the hell happened? What happened to what you wanted? You’re desires, your interests? You might think your relationship with Angel is a two-person deal, but it’s not. You’ll be a trophy wife, make no mistake. It’ll be about you furthering his career and his desire for the bitch goddess success.”

“It’s not like that with me,” she shook her head, ignoring all the evidence that proved otherwise.

Halfway down the staircase he turned, pinning her with his gaze. The hatred was gone, replaced by gut-wrenching pain, “You’ve already sacrificed your childhood home, your mother’s memory, your love of art . . . .” He tilted his head, “When does your compromising end and his begin?”

Buffy opened her mouth -- she wanted to tell him that she was sorry while tears poured down her face. She wanted to apologize for everything getting so fucked up. She wanted him to hold her, tell her they’d fix everything, put things to the way they should have been. But all the things she tried to convey were interrupted when a young woman, one of Giles’ many secretaries, passed them on the stairs. The spell was broken and the couple quickly cleared their faces of any ruminants of the emotional conversation they were immersed in just seconds earlier.

“Oh, Buffy,” the woman spoke, oblivious to the tension in the room, “Congratulations on your engagement! I heard all about it! You’re so lucky to have found Angel, he’s a wonderful man!” Buffy’s face remained emotionless. “Can I see the ring?” Buffy furrowed her brow at the woman, glancing a quick view of Spike before mutely thrusting out her hand.

Buffy’s eyes began to water as the woman gushed over the ring, the secretary’s face nothing but smiles. It was wrong -- the whole situation. It shouldn’t be Angel’s ring she was looking at. The woman continued to praise Buffy’s fiancée. If the secretary loved him so much, why didn’t she marry him? Or perhaps one of the other ten thousand women on the grounds. Buffy was more than certain Darla Travers would be more than willing to take her place.

The secretary sighed wistfully, letting go of Buffy’s hand, “I better get going -- gotta type up those contracts!” She smiled brightly at them both and walked down the stairs, disappearing into a downstairs office.

Spike rolled his eyes, pushing away from the wall he was leaning against, and trotting down the stairs.

“Spike, wait!” Buffy called, clamoring down the stairs after him.

Spike turned back to face her, “Buffy, why won’t you let me go?” His eyes were pleading, and his question meant more than just the physical freedom he asked for. For the first time she noticed the black circles under his eyes, their color dull. Buffy couldn’t remember him looking that worn when he had first arrived.

“I’m not ready for you not to be here,” she replied softly.

His reaction was not what she expected. His eyes narrowed, “So that’s how you want it? My dick and his money? Sorry, luv, it doesn’t work that way.”

“Spike . . .”

Spike shook his head, “I’m not your whipping boy anymore. You’re going to have to find another whelp to scratch your itches.”

He continued to storm through the foyer, Buffy on his heels. She followed him outside onto the porch, where she stayed while he continued to his motorcycle parked in front of the house.

“Where are you going?” she exclaimed.

“To clear my head.” He mounted his bike, shoving on his helmet, and drove off down the driveway.

Buffy closed her eyes and took a deep breath, shuffling back into the house and into the kitchen.

To her surprise, the cooks were all in full force, scrambling expertly around the kitchen cracking eggs, frying bacon, and pouring tall glasses of orange juice. But their usual cackles of laughter and constant chatter was not present this morning. Buffy barely noticed as she slumped into a chair.

Marge nodded to Sue, who threw a plate of sausage down on the counter in front of Buffy, never laying eyes on her. At the clanging of the plate, Buffy glanced up, startled. She took in the ladies in the room, each one’s movements strained. Not one of them would make eye contact with her.

Realization dawned on Buffy, “You heard us, didn’t you?”

Sarah continued to violently beat the pancake batter, “Heard what? The fucking or the argument?”

Buffy’s jaw dropped, “How dare you! I made no promises! To him or you!”

“I can’t look at you right now,” Sarah dropped the bowl she was holding onto the counter and marched out of the room.

Marge glanced to where the cook had disappeared, then turned to address Buffy, “You have to excuse her, she thought you were different.”

“I am!” Buffy exclaimed.

“No. No your not,” Marge insisted. She wiped her hands on a dish towel, “You disappointed us Buffy.” Buffy moved to object, “You disappointed us because you proved to be human.” The rage that had been building up inside Buffy instantly deflated. “Don’t misunderstand, we feel very protective of William. For years he has been our world. And we put everyone he chooses to be in company with through a very difficult standard test. But there’s something about you Buffy, that we found so very perfect for William that we put you on a sort of romantic pedestal.” She examined Buffy thoughtfully, “I think it was your strength. I’m not going to lie to you, we did hope something would happen between you two. But then somewhere things went wrong, didn’t they? Real life got in the way. I suppose it was inevitable.”

“Oh God, I can’t do this,” Buffy wound her fingers tightly through her hair.

“So, Buffy, life has thrown you a curve. Question is, what are you going to do?”

Buffy sighed and began rattling off the arguments for both sides, sounding like she had done it thousands of times before, “Angel finally let me into his life -- I can’t betray him. He was the first man I’ve ever loved and he supported me in the most difficult time in my life. It’s not just a twisted sense of duty that caused me to say yes to Angel’s purposal. I love him, and I thought what I had with him was it.”

“And William?”

“I can’t ignore what I feel for him. I thought what I had with Angel was it -- the love that lasts forever. But the emotion and the . . .” she blushed slightly, “passion with Spike, is something I didn’t know existed. But if I throw away everything that is dependable and stable and my relationship with Spike implodes, then what?” Buffy sighed, standing up from the kitchen seat.

“Oh, Buffy, I almost forgot.” Buffy turned around and looked at Marge questioningly, “I think you left something here a couple nights ago.” On her fingertips dangled Buffy’s underwear. Buffy turned a flaming shade of red, snatching them away. “And anytime you would like to use the kitchen to . . . Ah . . . Spend some time with William, the two of you have my blessing.”

TBC





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