Buffy sat poking her fork at her untouched breakfast. Liam was next to her, reading his newspaper, just like every morning. This was the life she had chosen seven years ago and she’d made a point never to question that decision, after all, at the time, there wasn’t any other choice. Living here in this mansion, with a closet full of clothes, a garage full of cars and a husband who offered her every luxury imaginable, Buffy knew she had no reason to complain. However, lately she couldn’t help feeling more empty and alone than she ever had before.
When she looked in the mirror, she was horrified at what was reflected back to her. Gone was the bright eyed, hopeful Buffy Summers and in her place was a woman she could barely recognize. The woman Liam had groomed her to be.
Buffy knew why she was only now allowing herself to question her life. She’d foolishly let herself believe that somehow, Spike would save her, but she didn’t honestly know what was left of her to save. He was right to question her identity. She’d been pretending for so long, she wasn’t sure who the real her was anymore. The one thing she knew for sure was that he was no savior.
“Elizabeth…” she heard Liam’s voice calling.
“Huh?” Buffy looked up, half-dazed.
“I was talking to you, are you fucking deaf?” Liam snapped, clearly annoyed.
Buffy looked into his eyes, angry they were cold and dead. Is that what mine look like? she silently wondered. “I’m sorry…I’m just a little out of it today.”
“I asked what your plans were for today.” he repeated.
“Oh I…I’m going to meet with Willow and Tara later.”
Liam let out a long sigh, “Elizabeth, I really wish you would find friends…within our social circle.”
Buffy rolled her eyes, “What are you talking about? Willow is a college professor and Tara owns her own bookstore, you act as if they’re vagrants.”
“I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with them…it’s just…”
“They’re gay?”
“Elizabeth,” Liam groaned. “I’m not getting into this with you today.”
“Why not? You don’t mind criticizing everything else, why not my friends?” she snapped, aware she was goading him.
Liam placed his hand on hers. “Sometimes, I think you intentionally try to make me angry. I’m not trying to criticize you, darling; I’m just trying to help you.”
“Yeah, like the other day when you took over my meeting?” Buffy cocked an eyebrow.
He smiled, leaning in to place a kiss on her cheek. “You did a wonderful job getting Radcliffe to sign the contract.”
She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “What was all that about anyway…you know, having him stay here?”
“Just business,” he replied, gathering up his newspaper, before sneering. “It seems he is gaining quite a name for himself. He was about to get a deal worth twice what we were offering…and as you know, I always win.”
Buffy’s eyes widened, she couldn’t believe what her husband was telling her. A part of her couldn’t deny that Spike had only signed the contract immediately because he had felt sorry for her. She’d drawn him into her life. She’d been the one pushing Liam to sign him. Though truth be told, a part of her, still stung by his cruel words, felt he deserved whatever he got. After all, he was a big boy, making his own decisions.
“Don’t you feel like we should have told him?’ she asked in a small voice.
“Elizabeth, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. You’re never going make it in the business world by having a bleeding heart.”
“I didn’t want to sign him on to make money; I did it because…I enjoy his writing.” she stammered afraid her husband would start to question her motives.
When Liam moved to place his hand on top of hers, Buffy had to stop herself from physically yanking it away. “Honey, let’s just drop it. He’s signed now and it’s over. Now, there’s something more important we need to talk about,” he said dismissively. “I’ll be really busy the next couple weeks, we’re in negotiations to take over a small brokerage firm in New York, but what do you say at the end of the month we go to Hawaii?”
“Hawaii?” She furrowed her brow.
“Or would you rather just throw a big party?” he asked, leaning in to kiss her.
“Liam, what are you talking about?”
“Your birthday? Do you want a party, Hawaii, both?” He smiled.
Buffy rolled her eyes; she had completely forgotten her birthday was coming up. Time had started to meld together into one big blur of days, months, and years of her life disappearing before her.
“I…I guess a party is ok, as long as I get to make the guest list,” she challenged.
Liam sighed, bringing his hands up to rub his temples. “Is this about the fucking lesbians again?”
Buffy narrowed her eyes. “No, it’s about having a party that is about my birthday, not your business contacts.”
“When are you going to get it, Elizabeth? It’s those business contacts that pay the fucking bills around here!” he spat.
She stood abruptly, slamming her fork down on her plate. “Just forget it, I don’t want a party and I don’t want to go to Hawaii.”
Liam roughly shoved the plates from the table. “Stop acting like a spoiled little bitch,” he roared, grabbing her arm.
“I’m not,” she defended. “I just don’t want to spend my birthday with your friends.”
He pulled her so hard that her feet left the ground as he slammed her into the wall. Buffy cried out in pain when his grip tightened like a vice on her arm.
“You just couldn’t let it go, could you? Here I am trying to plan a nice birthday party for you and you have to push my buttons. Are you happy now?” he asked, shaking her like a rag doll.
Buffy knew from experience she say nothing, but the words left her mouth before she could stop them. “I’ve never been happy with you,” she screamed to his face.
Liam roughly shoved her to the ground, hovering over her. “You ungrateful whore! Why do you make me do this? Can’t you see how much I love you?” He seethed, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her back up against him.
“Please just leave me alone,” she sobbed.
“Never…you hear me? You’re mine and you always will be,” he answered, lifting her chin to look at him.
Buffy felt the bile rise in her throat as he smashed his lips against hers, then as if none of it had ever happened, he released her.
“I’ll be home late tonight, go get cleaned up and call me when you get home from your lunch,” he instructed.
Buffy watched as he turned and casually walked over to gather his papers and left the room. She sagged back against the wall, letting her body slide down until she reached the floor. Closing her eyes, she was overwhelmed with a feeling of hopelessness. This was her life…there was no savior and she knew she no longer had the strength to save herself.
“Bloody Hell,” Spike cursed, as he slammed his leg once again into the sharp corner of the coffee table. He paced back and forth across the small cottage like a caged panther. Upon first appearance, the place had seemed perfect, now only days later, he felt imprisoned. The small, decorative coffee table had turned into a torture device with its lethal metal corners perfectly placed at shin height for maximum damage. His bed was covered in an endless sea of fluffy pastel pillows that drove him to fall asleep on the plush sofa, which apparently was meticulously positioned to face the morning sun.
He was groggy and irritated, his fingers itched to pick up the bottle beckoning to him from across the room, but he knew he couldn’t. He had to talk to Buffy. Spike hadn’t been able to contain the guilt from gnawing at him ever since their last encounter. That one brief flash of pain in her eyes haunted him. She was such a mystery, all sweet and seductive one minute, then guarded and unreachable the next. Something deep inside of him compelled him to learn more about her, but he knew he had to keep his distance. There was no future in pursuing a married woman, especially one whose husband could end his career with a swipe of his pen.
Spike was pulled from his thoughts by the vibration of his cell phone. A quick check told him what he had already suspected. It was his agent, Wes. Probably calling to bitch me out about signing that contract, Spike sighed. But he’ll have to wait until later. Spike smiled to himself, noticing the shiny black Mercedes rolling down the long driveway.
Buffy wasn’t sure how long she’d been slouched on the floor when she heard the faint knock at the back door. Struggling to stand, she numbly moved to the kitchen toward the faint sound. She was certain it was only one of the staff arriving early. She didn’t even bother to clean up, her husband’s violent tendencies were well known by the staff and right now, she couldn’t bring herself to care about how she must look.
The weary look on Spike’s face quickly turned to one of concern when Buffy opened the door. Her eyes were puffy and red and fresh tear tracks stained her flawless face.
Spike placed his hand on her shoulder, “Pet, what’s the matter?”
He pulled his hand quickly back when Buffy winced in pain. His eyes narrowed as he saw large bruises forming on her small arms.
Buffy’s eyes widened as she noticed the fresh marks on her arms, she pulled them to her hugging herself. “What do you want?”
He moved past her, holding up a stack of papers.
“I brought you an outline,” he said, placing the bundle on the kitchen counter.
“Buffy, who did that to you?” he asked, trying his best to keep the rage from his voice.
She could see the distress in his stormy blue eyes and for a brief second was tempted to break down in his arms, but his hurtful words came rushing back to her, are you the cold bitch who was at your office…or the whore I met at the party?
“Why? Are you here to save me, William?” she snorted.
“Buffy, he has no right to hurt you like that.”
“Oh please, don’t make me laugh. You don’t know me, so don’t pretend you do,” she spat, turning her back on him and trying to control her shaking voice.
“Love, maybe I don’t know you, but I know you deserve better than to be treated like that,” he replied in a whisper.
Closing her eyes, Buffy fought for control of her emotions. Part of her desperately wanted to believe this man could still be her savior, but her battered soul refused to trust his words.
Steeling herself, she whirled around and shrugged. “I don’t need your sympathy, the truth is I like it a little rough.”
Spike looked at her skeptically.
“What, does that surprise you? You think that just because I spread my legs for you, you know anything about me? I only did it to get you to sign that contract.” She sneered.
“That doesn’t even make sense, I wanted to sign.”
“Oh yeah? Did you know you were about to get another offer?”
“What are you on about?” Spike frowned.
“If you don’t believe me, call your agent,” Buffy said, placing her hands on her hips.
Spike opened his mouth to protest but closed it again. Wes had been calling him continuously for the past two days. It made sense that what she said could be true.
Buffy felt her chest tighten as realization spread across his face. “You were easy, Spike, pathetically so.”
Spike took a menacing step forward, his face only inches from hers. A chill ran down her spine as she looked into the fiery depths of his eyes.
“What are you going to do, Spikey, hit me? I just might like it. I…” Her words were interrupted when he dipped his head and covered her lips with his.
Buffy was stunned. Feeling his soft lips on hers had her mind spinning with confusion and her body humming with desire. His tongue danced along her lower lip, not harsh and demanding, only eagerly begging entrance. Losing herself in the sensation, she slowly opened her mouth, stroking his tongue with her own.
The tension left her body as she felt one of his hands come up to tangle in her hair, while the other traveled down her back to the swell of her bottom, pressing her firmly against him. Buffy heard a low growl erupt from his throat as her leg came up to wrap around his.
Desire flooded through her as his growing erection pressed against her stomach. Then as suddenly as he’d started, he broke the kiss.
Buffy’s eyes fluttered open. Spike smirked at the dazed expression on her face.
“What…why did you do that?” Buffy muttered softly.
“There’s more than one way to shut a pretty lady up.” He chuckled when he saw the fire in her eyes.
She was still reeling as she watched him walk out the back door and across the vast lawn. She was angry, both with him and herself for allowing it to happen, for letting herself get so caught up in his touch.
She numbly walked over to the table and picked up the stack of papers. Shuffling through them a small folded sheet dropped out. Buffy bent down to pick it up.
It was notebook paper and at first glance, appeared to be simply trash, but as Buffy slowly unfolded it, she saw the small handwritten lines.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue
Buffy stood frozen rereading the poem as a thousand questions filled her head. Had Spike written this, if so… when? She couldn’t stop the wave of jealousy that filled her as she wondered who he could have written for. Was he involved with someone? Of course there must be women in his life. He was attractive, successful, but he hasn’t mentioned another woman, a small hopeful voice inside her said.
There was such fire and passion in his words, the poem invoking feelings inside her that she was not ready to admit. Yet, much as she liked to, Buffy couldn’t escape the desire for those words to be for her.